Page 4 of A Very Roguish Boxing Day
Maurice promptly collapsed face down on Gwendolyn’s bed and started to snore.
Gwendolyn was not precisely disappointed by this development.She wasn’t particularly eager to sleep with Maurice Simpkins, especially when he smelled like a distillery.
Still, she didn’t much enjoy the state of anxious anticipation she was forced to endure for the next eight hours.She attempted to pass the time sitting at the table by the window with a book but found she was too anxious to focus on the words.
Finally, he woke with a yawn.If he was surprised to find himself in an unfamiliar room, he gave no sign of it.
Gwendolyn steeled herself.“Good evening, Mr.Simpkins.”She gestured toward the washbasin.“Shall I have a footman bring warm water so you can?—”
Ignoring her, Maurice stumbled off the bed and crossed the room to the chamber-pot.Gwendolyn squealed as he opened the falls of his trousers without the slightest sign of embarrassment and took out his limp member.
Gwen spun to face the window but not before she noticed that he had a large mole just below the rounded tip of his penis.She felt her cheeks burning.This was not the sort of intimate knowledge she had ever wished to have about Maurice Simpkins.
Much to her horror, he began to relieve himself, with her right there in the room!It went on and on, which she supposed made sense.He smelled as if he’d imbibed a gallon of gin.
When he finally finished, she cleared her throat.“As I was saying, I would be most happy to have the servants bring warm water so you can make yourself comforta?—”
She abandoned the sentence halfway through as she heard the click of the door opening.He strode out into the corridor without giving her the slightest acknowledgement.“Brocklesby!”he shouted from the corridor.“Where are you?Let’s go out and celebrate!”
Gwendolyn slumped back in her chair.She was tempted to just leave, to go to Frogcroft Cottage.With any luck, it would take her husband, who had given every sign that he was heading out to restore himself to a state of complete and total inebriation, days, or even weeks, to notice she was missing.
She doubted her brother would allow her to escape, however.And so she requested a supper tray be brought to her room, managing to eat only because she was still recovering from her week of deprivation.After requesting fresh linens for the bed, she changed into her night rail and settled into a fitful sleep.
She was awakened by a rapping on her bedroom door.Coming slowly awake, she saw that light was just starting to break behind the drawn curtains.
Her maid slipped inside the room.“What is it, Mariah?”Gwendolyn asked.
Mariah threw the curtains open and hurried over to the bed.“It’s yer husband, Miss Gwendolyn.”
An involuntary shudder went through her as she clutched the counterpane to her chest.“Is he on his way up?”Gwen asked, voice full of dread.
Mariah’s eyes were bright.“I can safely say he’s not!The whole house is abuzz with it.Last night, he was out drinking with yer brother.Apparently, he had a few too many?—”
Gwendolyn gave a humorless laugh.“What a surprise.”
“—and he took a tumble out of his highflyer and broke his neck, he did.”
Gwendolyn froze, not trusting her own ears.“Hewhat?”
Mariah seized her hands.“He’s dead, miss!Yer a widow!”
“A widow!”Gwendolyn couldn’t believe it.As a widow, she would have her independence.She could leave her brother’s house and live on her own.
“There’s more,” Mariah said.She dropped her voice to a whisper.“Yer brother isfurious.Apparently, he and Mr.Simpkins didn’t sign the paperwork transferring most of yer money over to him, as they’d agreed.The solicitor wouldn’t allow it on account of Mr.Simpkins being insensible with drink.It was such a rushed-up affair, there was no marriage contract, and no will, either.Which means?—”
Gwendolyn gasped.“Which means Joseph can’t take it!”If Maurice had indeed died intestate, then Gwendolyn, as his widow, would be entitled to half of his estate.The rest would go to his closest male relative, whoever that might be.
Maurice was his parents’ fifth son, so she doubted he had any significant assets other than those she had brought to their marriage.But she could live out the rest of her life quite comfortably on half of what Aunt Agatha had left her.
The important thing was getting away from Joseph.
She grabbed Mariah’s hands and squeezed.“I’ll be able to live on my own, as an independent widow!”
“You think so, do you?”
Gwendolyn and Mariah’s eyes snapped to the doorway, where Joseph stood with his upper lip curled into a scowl.
“You may think you’ve won.You haven’t!You’ll be marrying another one of my friends.Donald McCullough has agreed to the same division of assets as Simpkins.You’ll marry him tomorrow.”
