Page 57 of Desperate Proposals
Wandering back down the hallway, she considered the gesture. It seemed cheeky, a silly, unnecessary thing. She raised her hand to her mouth, two fingers pressing gently against her swollen lips.
So why did it affect her so?
Chapter Fourteen
Marcus endured the nexthalf hour with the patience of a saint.
Mr. Reed’s conversation meandered about, as he offered up his opinions on the prime minister’s “mission” to pacify Ireland (unfavorable), a gentleman in town whom he suspected of being a Nonconformist (appalled), and the implementation of the Education Bill (a headache).
Marcus paid close attention, filing away every scrap of information the councilman shared. As of late he’d held a sneaking suspicion about Reed: The man would block him in any official capacity, by any means. He had previously thought him merely a pedantic bore, and had chalked up his long, monotonous diatribes as nothing more than minor annoyances. But after Towle’s warning, and the embarrassing fact that Evelyn had initially been ignorant of who he was, Marcus had been considering his own local standing with more scrutiny.
“The thing is, Mr. Hartley, the town council agrees with the school board. We must use our funds to pay whatever school fees we’re able to, so a greater number of… unfortunate childrenmight attend denominational schools and learn by the Holy Scripture.”
“Well, that’s above water.” Marcus frowned. He didn’t agree with it, but Reed spoke the truth; Clause 25 of the bill allowed for it. “But what of the board schools? Surely they must pay teachers, buy books, repair roofs… it would all be rather difficult to manage if substantial funds are being diverted to subsidize church schools.”
Mr. Reed scoffed and shook his head, which accentuated his considerable jowliness.
“You do not realize—you do not know. You are from London, and only of Knockton these past several years. People are scared. They see the government overreaching, threatening their church.”
“Not everyone in Knockton counts themselves a member of the Church of England,” Marcus cautioned.
“Hmm,” Mr. Reed said, leveling a stern look at him, no doubt wishing he could respond that such people mattered little to him and those of similar ideology.
The opposite was true of Marcus, of course. In fact, even as he’d stood unopposed, he knew for a fact that a large share of Catholic recusants, of whom there were plenty in Lancashire, had cast their votes in his favor.
“Why, this region was the most Jacobite in England after the Revolution.” Marcus grinned, thinking of Evelyn’s eyes, staring up at the windows in Methering Manor’s chapel. “That included my wife’s family as well, if you’ll recall.”
The elder gentleman’s face darkened at the shift in conversation, away from the minutiae of their local implementation of the Education Act and toward Marcus’s new wife.
Ah, he didn’t like that, did he? Interesting, Marcus thought.
“And how are you enjoying married life, Mr. Hartley?”
He liked it far too well. That was the problem.
He enjoyed teasing Evelyn and watching her blush. He’d felt a strange pride and empathy watching her attempts to comfort Leonora. And then there was today, of course. He’d been so chuffed when she’d all but begged him to return to her bed that he’d pressed his advantage and won quite a victory: the privilege of calling her by her Christian name. He’d committed himself to the physical aspect of her, and he knew himself too well; before long he’d lose his head, were he not careful.
He could not afford that. He had more important things to accomplish than falling in love with his wife.
“Far superior to bachelor life,” he responded blandly, thinking it a vague enough platitude.
“Yes, I’m in agreement. More young men should set themselves up with a gentle and biddable wife,” Mr. Reed responded in kind, offering no insight into his true opinion. “My Lucy is an excellent helpmeet; how she minds the children and keeps our home such a pleasant and agreeable sanctuary, I do not know.”
“How many children again?”
Mr. Reed furrowed his brow; Marcus could practically see the hash marks hovering in the air before him as he tallied up the count.
“Six,” he finally answered, his chest bursting with pride.
Marcus recalled the screams of little Leonora. And then those of Georgiana, his cousin Harmonia’s daughter. That girl had been born with an impressive set of lungs as well.
“I pray that you and Mrs. Hartley will be as blessed as we have been. I know you’re not much of a family man, Hartley, but I believe—”
“What?” Marcus cut in. “Not a family man? How do you mean?”
“Oh, you know.” Mr. Reed chuckled amiably, though his beady eyes darted about, uneasy at being called out.
“No, I don’t,” Marcus said, his tone firm.
