Page 51 of Desperate Proposals
Walter, to his credit, barely moved; he merely shifted his gaze about the room in irritation from his position of repose.
“It’s Mrs. Wolfenden’s daughter. She’s in a state.”
“Is she?”
Marcus tilted his head, realizing the sound didn’t carry up here.Well done, Platt Lodge, he silently thanked his house. Though it obviously wasn’t due to any effort on his part—the house had been built in the previous century and by another family altogether—but he allowed the pride to bloom in his chest all the same. He’d been chasing accomplishments his whole life, and he would take them where he could.
“Her riding horse is stuck on the baggage train, as it were. Have we any toys… sitting around?”
“It is your house, not mine,” his mother said, indignant. “What toys, pray tell, might I carry about my person? Why, as if I were some pack mule!”
Marcus rolled his eyes.
“At any rate, all your old odds and ends are somewhere in the attic back at the London house, if that’s what you’re after.”
Suddenly he had a memory of being stretched out in the front room of that house, shooting marbles with his father, which was quickly followed by that nostalgic lump in his chest. He had to make this right, had to soothe Leonora.
He had to show Evelyn how people truly ought to be. He looked to his mother with as serious a face as he could muster.
“Then, Mama, I must beg a favor of you.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Well now, what’s this?My goodness, such tears!”
Evelyn stepped back, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides, in awe of the woman who’d just swept into the room and gathered Leonora up. Her mother-in-law, Mrs. Hartley, had transformed into a person who in no way resembled the silly lady overly concerned with the table settings at their wedding breakfast. It was nothing short of miraculous.
Leonora muttered something into Mrs. Hartley’s shoulder, to which the older woman tutted.
“Yes, well, it’s awfully difficult to do without. I can only imagine. Perhaps poor Penny is as distraught as you are, being bereft of your company.”
Leonora pulled back and nodded solemnly before wiping her snotty nose on her arm.
Evelyn winced, involuntarily placing a hand upon her middle. Her eyes drifted to Mr. Hartley. He was watching her. She didn’t look away, allowing him his stare, and feeling herself warm in the face of it. What was he thinking right now? Was he worriedthat she might bear him such a creature, forever wailing, with nose dribbling?
The prospect was rather sobering.
Then he crossed the room to stand alongside her, and placed a light hand upon her shoulder.
“Don’t fret,” he murmured, his head inclined toward her, his voice low so only she would hear. “You did well, and youwilldo well.”
Evelyn froze, partly from his words, partly from the vibration his low rumble sent through her. “I don’t know what you mean,” she attempted, praying it would throw him off the scent. The thought of appearing frightened of a mere child was abhorrent to her.
He squeezed her shoulder.
“She’s quite good with children,” he mused, watching his mother and Leonora as they chatted while Mrs. Hartley smoothed down the little girl’s hair. “Always was,” he added as an afterthought.
Evelyn thought she detected something there—a wistfulness of sorts—but she dared not press him on it. Not when she’d already been all too brazen in her bedroom manner. She ought to maintain some measure of propriety.
The next few days passed in a bustle, with Evelyn too busy acquainting herself with her new home and its inner workings to think much further on how closely she held her new husband. Indeed, he had not visited her chamber again after that first night. Sometimes, when she found herself in a quiet moment during the day, such as walking the walled garden or inventorying the silver, the memory of their night together would come to her, unbidden, and she began to worry that perhaps Mr. Hartley had been displeased with her.
But then she recalled his voice—uttering such wonderfullyawfulwords as he found his pleasure in her, and the deep purrhe made as he offered to remain in her bed—and she reassured herself. He would be back.
To sire a child at least, if nothing else.
Evelyn made her way down the hall before pausing at one of the nicely sized windows. She hadn’t expected to enjoy the natural light they afforded as much as she did, having spent her entire life until now calling an ancient fortress home. But she told herself that anyone’s spirits would be buoyed by such a bright interior, and it did not mean her allegiance to Methering Manor waned at all.
Outside the window, not far from the house, Leonora chased after Mrs. Hartley’s little spaniel. Mrs. Hartley and Selina followed a short distance behind, strolling at a much more sedate pace. Things with her niece had seemingly settled since her mother-in-law had taken charge of Leonora’s fit. Oh, there had certainly been more tears and bouts of defiance since then, but the woman was an old hand at child-rearing, and most of the recent tantrums had sputtered out before reaching the banks of the Rubicon.
