Chapter Twenty
I t only took two days for the families to begin flooding Michael’s doorstep. After the first few knocks, he couldn’t stand it anymore and forced Lady Alice and Maggie to come to his home each day and facilitate the return of the animals. The newspaper posting had done its job, and Michael spent most of the hours in his study listening to sobbing pet owners being reunited with their four-legged children.
Naturally, Maggie was in heaven being in the middle of the happy gatherings, which only added to his contentment. He liked hearing her throaty laughter, having her in his home taking charge as if everything was hers. Which it was. She just didn’t know it yet.
On the third day after the newspaper announcement, Michael was ready for one of his own.
Oddly enough, it was his father who spurred him to act. And for once, Michael was ready to listen to him.
Late in the afternoon, Maggie peeked through the opening of his study door and entered before he had a chance to tell her to come in. He’d never seen her look lovelier. Half of her hair had fallen from her bun and rained down her back. The other half was barely holding on and hanging loose around her ears. Her face was exultant and pink, her expression two parts proud and one part miserable regret.
“They’re all gone,” she announced, coming to his side of the massive desk. Michael backed his chair away, hoping she might sit on his lap, but she chose to lean on the corner, her lips puckered in disappointment.
Michael trod lightly. When it came to dogs and Maggie, he was learning that that was always the best course. He’d even reached a détente with George. He hadn’t teased the pet about its nonexistent hunting skills since the rescue, to spare Maggie’s tender feelings—and the dog’s.
“I thought you’d be happier…” He trailed off.
Maggie frowned, brushing hair off her forehead. “It’s just so quiet without them. I suppose I’ll have to go back to looking for a partner for George again. I think he liked having the others around.”
Michael stole a glance at the lazy dog who was stretched out next to the window in a patch of waning sunlight. He didn’t want to point out that the animal had spent most of the past three days with Michael, avoiding the racket and commotion in the rest of the house. If he could hazard a guess, it was that George enjoyed being an only child.
“Well, you have your cricket club,” he pointed out.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Practice will pick up again soon in time for the Matrons match at the end of the season. That will keep me busy.”
“And you have me…”
Finally, a light broke through the clouds. Maggie laughed when Michael slid her backside across the polished wood to land on his lap. She hung her arms around his neck. “That’s true, and you have your own special way of keeping me busy.”
“Yes, it is special.” Though not busy enough. Ever since the rescue, Maggie had insisted that Michael not come to her room at night. She said the animals would be too afraid to be left alone. He had disagreed—adamantly, since he had plenty of servants to keep them company—but lost the debate soundly.
Needless to say, holding her on his lap was both a luxury and a misery. But that could end now… with one little question.
Michael reached behind her and picked up a letter from a pile on his desk. He tapped it against the surface, searching for his voice. He’d thought this would be easier. But then, maybe easier wasn’t better in this circumstance.
Maggie grinned, enjoying the frog in his throat. “What is it?”
“Um…” Michael smiled ruefully. “I received a letter from my father this morning.”
“That’s lovely.”
“Yes, it was actually, for once.”
“Well, what did he say?”
He grimaced over his smile, trying to contain the damned cheerful thing. “Would you like to read it?”
Maggie gave him a curious look. “If you want me to.” Michael handed it to her and watched her eyes rove across the page and her mouth soundlessly read the words. He waited for the right moment. He would know it when he saw it. When her eyelashes flickered… when her lips stopped moving… when her eyes fell away from the lines…
But, as ever, Maggie did things at her own speed. She dropped the letter to her lap and her expression clouded with a question. She fixed her gaze on him, her eyes impossibly large. “Your father says that he’s delighted by your decision. He says… he says that he couldn’t ask for a better daughter-in-law. He can’t possibly be writing about me.”
“Who else would he be writing about? And he says more than that!” Michael said, snatching the paper. He pointed toward the middle of the letter. “He says you’re a wonderful, beautiful, smart lady who will make a fine countess one day. Right there!” He smacked the letter with the back of his hand, but Maggie wasn’t paying it any heed. She could only look at him.
“Did you tell your father that you were going to marry me?”
Why did she sound so surprised? Michael ducked his head, worrying that he’d done something wrong, been too heavy-handed. He traced the grain of wood on the desk with his thumb. “I might have mentioned it in a letter. We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he said with a shrug. “We can keep going on as we have been…”
Her mouth twitched. “Would you want that?”
Michael exhaled, expelling all the breath in his body. “No, not particularly. I would like to be married before our son is born, but I’ll leave it up to you. As I’m sure you’re aware, my family is not immune to controversy.”
Reflexively, Maggie flattened her hand over her belly. “Our son? I didn’t know we were expecting one.”
Michael nodded, gaining in confidence. “Oh, it’s coming, sooner rather than later if I have my say.”
Maggie’s cheeks colored. She lowered her head, tapping her fingers lightly over her white day dress. “And… is that the only reason why you’re asking me?”
Michael had had enough. How had this gone so badly so quickly? He rose from his chair, plopping Maggie on the desk, then ran a frustrated hand over his face before leaning forward to make their heads level. “Are you daft, woman? I’ve told you I love you. What more do you need?”
Maggie blinked. “I’m not sure. I’m just a little shocked, that’s all. This seems rather sudden.”
“Sudden! Sudden? There’s nothing sudden about it!” Michael backed away from her, shaking out his hands before reclaiming his spot between her legs. “I want you to be my wife—not just my lover. And the mother of my children. So give me an answer—and by the way, I’m only accepting one, so don’t think about saying the other.” He threw up a hand when she opened her mouth. “And don’t mention your parents. They are not us. I can love you and still be a fully functioning person. I will spoil our children rotten and never allow them to go to boarding school unless they truly desire it. I will let you have as many dogs as you want and not bat one eye if you play with them more than me. I will go to all your cricket games and not ridicule you over your swing. And, most importantly”—he dropped to his knees, clutching Maggie’s hands between his own—“I will never, ever ask you to leave your children behind. Wherever we go, they will go. I will give you a family in every sense of the word. Just say yes, Maggie. Please tell me yes.”
Tears were his only answer at first. One dropped from each of her eyes, slow rivers of light and hope that Michael clung to.
Then she squeezed his hands back, and he was finally able to release the breath that he had been holding. She smiled and pulled him in, wrapping her arms around him with laughter.
Michael had thought that would be enough, but he found that he needed more. He needed the words.
“Dearest, please answer me,” he whispered into her neck. “Please tell me what you are thinking.”
He held her at arm’s length and watched as she wiped the tears from her round, charming face. “I’m thinking”—she hiccupped—“I’m thinking that this is truly something.”
Michael grinned and cocked his head. “And?”
“And what you just said was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.”
“And?”
Maggie kissed him lightly on the lips. “And yes, I will marry you.”
*
The most austere butler Maggie had ever met led her and Aunt Alice somberly to the drawing room. The Countess of Waverly’s townhouse was simple and elegant, not cluttered with bric-a-brac, but chiseled and honed with centuries of good breeding and taste. The ceilings were high and daunting; the walls were trimmed with exquisitely carved wood paneling. The scene was all the more alarming because one day, Maggie realized, it would all be hers.
Michael’s mother placed her sewing aside and rose from her seat as the butler announced her guests. She was a petite woman, fine boned and delicate, like a piece of china. Maggie searched for signs of Michael in the woman, but with her pale, light-brown hair and restrained smile, his mother appeared to have been stingy with her polished features.
But as she clasped Maggie’s hand tightly, the lady made her feel welcome, and that was all Maggie could ask for.
“I hear we have exciting news to discuss,” the countess exclaimed, inviting the ladies to sit. Maggie followed the lead of Alice, who never looked out of place in a sumptuous house and always knew the right thing to say.
“Indeed,” Alice replied. “We couldn’t be happier, nor ask for a better pairing. Since the families have always been so close, it seems like it has always been destined to happen.”
“I quite agree,” the countess said. “I miss my friends, but they’ve always loved to travel. Where are your parents now?”
Maggie blinked when she realized the countess had directed the question at her. “Oh, um… Mother and Father are in Spain, I think, but they are on their way to India.”
“India…” The countess smiled wistfully. “Yes, I could see them enjoying India—all the adventure, the vibrant colors. So, the wedding will wait for them to return? That sounds sensible.”
Alice laughed casually, though Maggie detected nerves. “I’m afraid your son has different ideas.” Maggie coughed, and Alice raised an eyebrow. “My niece does as well. A quicker marriage is their desire.”
The countess’s eyes narrowed sharply, though her pleasant smile stayed intact. “I hope there isn’t any particular reason for a quicker marriage…”
Maggie coughed once more, understanding the countess’s meaning perfectly.
“Not at all,” Alice responded with confidence. “ Your son seems to be the impatient type.”
Maggie held her breath as she watched a silent conversation flow between the two women. A battle of wills ensued, and Alice surprised Maggie with her steely front line.
The countess tapped her teeth together, breaking first. “Yes, I’m afraid Michael can be a bit bullish, although I never thought it would be over marriage, of all things. I thought he would drag his feet forever there.”
Alice’s smile was tight. “That was before Maggie. Men have a habit of jumping in line when they find exactly what they’ve been missing.”
The countess angled her head. “You’ve never been married, isn’t that right, Lady Alice? I suppose watching everyone else do it has given you a distinct perspective.”
Sweat slowly dripped down Maggie’s back as she waited for her aunt’s response, hoping it would be more levelheaded than her own would be.
Alice reached for her teacup, giving the moment time to breathe. “You’re right, my lady. I did develop a perspective while I watched all the happy marriages”—her gaze sharpened over the top of her cup—“and not-so-happy ones.”
Maggie jumped in. The atmosphere had become much too sticky for her liking. “We wrote to my father. We hope to hear back from him soon to receive his blessing.”
The countess’s attention remained on Alice for an extra beat, but then found its way back to Maggie. “Oh, I’m not worried about his blessing. Your father has known my son since he was born and recognizes the man and earl he will be. No doubt he will be proud to call him his son, just as I will be so proud to call you daughter.”
Maggie bowed her head. “Thank you. I cannot tell you how happy that makes me—”
“Although,” the lady’s voice lifted as she cut Maggie off, “things will have to change. You’ve always been a rather colorful girl… spirited. That will all have to be tempered when my son takes you to be his wife. Countesses can’t go riding pigs in the mud.”
Maggie flushed. “Rest assured I haven’t ridden a pig in a very long time—”
“But you have taken a carriage to Whitechapel… by yourself, correct?” There was a distinct warning in the countess’s tone, and Maggie realized that underneath the woman’s fine bones and expensive fabrics was a wildcat just waiting to scratch. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear. I have a way of hearing about things that others don’t, and I won’t hold it against you. We all make childish mistakes from time to time. Just as long as they don’t happen after you marry my son. Do we understand each other?”
“We do.”
“What was that?”
Maggie cleared her throat. “I do.”
The lady’s expression softened. “Excellent. Then I will rely on you to be a good, calming influence on my son. In fact, I’m relying on you to encourage him to set this boxing aside. I’ve heard he has a fight scheduled, against a man who has the potential to truly hurt him. I need you to speak sense to him and make him call it off. Enough is enough. Then we’ll start making the wedding plans in earnest—after your father’s letter arrives, of course.”
Maggie could feel the color draining from her face. Had she just been given an ultimatum? She couldn’t tell. The countess was back to wearing her placid expression, pure sweetness. Her words and her countenance were enough to give a person vertigo.
Maggie was at a loss. As always, she was an expert at knowing what she should say, though not so good at actually saying it.
Nevertheless, she was also good at loving Michael—Lord knew she’d been doing it long enough. And that love gave her the strength to face the countess head-on.
“I’m sorry, my lady, but I have no intention of asking Michael to stop boxing. He’s worked too hard; he loves it too much.”
The countess’s eyelashes flickered as if she weren’t used to differences of opinion. She pursed her lips, smothering her disappointment. “But he loves you, yes? So, he will choose you if you ask him to.”
Maggie’s resolve grew stronger. “I would never ask him to choose. He can have both.”
“But he is a viscount, soon to be an earl.”
Maggie shrugged. “He is also a boxer.”
The countess chuckled and took her time placing her teacup back on the table. She regarded Maggie as if she were searching for the best way to get through to her, finding a common language that they both could understand.
“You think it’s something now, this boxing,” she began gently. “You only see the good because you can’t see past your young infatuation. But mark my words, this boxing will embarrass you, embarrass the family. If you want to be a part of this family, you need to act in its best interest. Now.”
If. Family . Maggie let the words sink in, and they cut her with their threatening implications. But in the end, they didn’t matter, not as much as the life she and Michael were ready to share.
“Thank you again, my lady, for your hospitality today,” Maggie said, rising from her seat. “We shouldn’t take up any more of your time.”
The countess nodded, barely disguising the annoyance at the topic being dismissed so fluidly. “I will ask you to think this through,” she said as the butler returned to escort Maggie and Alice from the house. “You need to be sure of the man you’re marrying. I tell you this as a friend—as a new mother—for your own benefit.”
Maggie already had a mother. She mightn’t be the most present one, but she mattered.
She turned to face the countess. “I am well aware of the man I am going to marry,” she said. “I’m marrying him because he is that man.”