Page 16 of The Widow's Scandalous Gentleman
His words carried the sort of ominous satisfaction that Thalia had learned to recognise as a precursor to schemes that invariably involved the sacrifice of her own preferences in favour of what he considered more practical considerations of family duty and social advancement, though she wondered what new complications he had devised during his private morning reflections.
“And this course of action involves what specific arrangements?” she asked with deliberate calm, each word sharpened by the effort to keep her temper in check.
“As I have already said, I have renewed correspondence with Mr Templeton,” Marcus replied with evident satisfaction, “to suggest that, in light of present complications, a more immediate engagement might be advisable. For everyone’s peace of mind.”
He pressed on, encouraged by his own sense of reasoned authority. “And I plan, in addition, to initiate a most promising exchange with Lord Jasper’s family. Given the storm damage and other pressing matters, it seems wise to explore avenues that might serve the interests of all concerned—commercial and otherwise.”
The implications landed like a stone in a still pond.
“Correspondence with my family?” Lord Jasper said, his voice low, unmistakably tense. “Regarding what, precisely?”
Marcus lifted his chin with the air of a man announcing a settled matter. “Arrangements that would allow your family to acquire this property for whatever future use they deem suitable. In tandem, your acquisition would relieve my sister of the burdens she has shouldered here and enable her to fulfil more traditional obligations through marriage to Mr Templeton—thus addressing any lingering concerns regarding the nature of her domestic establishment.”
There was a pause, heavy and still.
“You have taken it upon yourself to discuss the sale of my own household without consulting either my wishes or my legal rights?” Thalia asked, each word measured and sharp as drawn steel. Though her voice remained composed, the effort required to maintain it was evident in the rigidity of her posture and the glitter of restrained fury in her eyes.
“I have explored options that I believe serve the broader interests of the family,” Marcus replied, with condescending certainty. “It is difficult to reasonclearly when one is overly attached to a particular enterprise, no matter how well-intentioned.”
Before anyone could respond, the distant sound of carriages approaching shifted the room’s attention to the windows, where a small convoy of vehicles could be observed making their way up the drive with the sort of purposeful determination that suggested official business rather than social calls.
“It would appear,” Violet remarked dryly, her voice touched with the same dark humour that had seen her through more than one theatrical disaster, “that our day is to become even more interesting than first promised.”
At that moment, a young footman entered with such uncharacteristic haste and disquiet that silence fell at once, as though even the walls of the house recognised the gravity of what he carried.
“My lady,” the young fellow said, his voice tight, “we have received visitors who claim to be acting under official authority. They request immediate access to inspect the premises.”
“On what grounds?” Thalia asked, though her voice betrayed little surprise. The direction of events was becoming unmistakably clear.
“They represent both the magistrate’s office and the local parish board,” the footman replied. “They bear documentation referencing regulations governing licensed boarding houses—particularly those involving the cohabitation of unmarried persons and the necessity of moral oversight.”
A silence settled once more, deeper this time—thick with unspoken calculations and dread.
Thalia drew a breath and surveyed the room. Her brother’s interference, Lord Jasper’s unwitting involvement, and the sudden arrival of official scrutiny—none of it, she now suspected, could be dismissed as mere coincidence.
She had not been undone by catastrophe, but by accumulation: of pressures, private and public, advancing under the guise of duty and concern.
But surrender had never suited her.
“Very well,” she said, her voice level and commanding, the steel in it unmistakable. “If we are to be examined, then let them see the truth of this place. Let them find a household guided by principle, not impropriety—a refuge where talent is nurtured and dignity upheld.”
***
“I have no doubt, Lady Greaves,” Jasper said as he stepped closer to Thalia’s side; his voice pitched low but resolute, “that Seacliff Retreat could withstand the most exacting scrutiny. What you represent here—what you have built—is nothing short of honourable.”
She turned toward him, her gaze steady. “Then why do I detect a ‘but’ waiting in your throat?”
“Because the eyes that come to judge us,” he said quietly, “may not be looking with clarity. They carry pre-formed opinions, biases nurtured by rumour and expectation. Truth, in their presence, may find itself unwelcome—unless we seize the narrative first.”
A long breath escaped her. “And how do you suggest we do that?”
“We meet them with calm confidence,” he replied, “but we do not permit an inspection—not today. We propose a time of our own choosing, one that allows us to set the tone and terms of engagement. In doing so, we regain the advantage.”
Lady Greaves considered this, the rigid line of her shoulders softening as reason overrode instinct. “And what pretext shall we offer that does not suggest evasion?”
Jasper’s lips curved faintly. “The truth—only shaped to our purpose. We tell them the household is presently occupied in preparations for a significant cultural gathering. That the house is bustling with activity, and that to invite them into such disorder would risk misrepresentation. Instead, we invite them to the event itself. Let them see for themselves the character and civility of this place—not through a cold audit, but through lived experience.”
Thalia’s eyes lit with a flicker of interest. “A salon,” she murmured. “One that honours our creative pursuits while asserting our moral standing. Clever. If we are to be judged, let it be on our own stage.”
