Chapter Sixteen
Archie let his smile slowly fade and closed his eyes, leaning his head back in his comfortable chair with a sigh.
He had meant what he said. At least his daughter would be looked after, safe in Donal MacKenzie’s hands.
Agatha was the sweetest girl, so how could the boy not love her?
Watching them last night, Archie suspected they were both head over heels.
His financial situation had been weighing on him for a long time now.
He had protected his daughter by keeping the truth from her.
She would probably have noticed his recent attempts at economizing, except her thoughts were otherwise engaged by Richard leaving her.
Then she had wanted to follow him to London.
Archie had known he had to help her in any way he could, whatever the cost. It had meant borrowing more money to lease a house in a decent area, paying for sundries, and having enough in hand to keep up the appearance that they were flush with funds.
And then Donal had come upon the scene, and Archie had realized that here was a much better prospect for his daughter’s husband than Richard. And it had all worked out so much better than he could have imagined.
Donal marrying Agatha would lift a great weight from Archie’s shoulders. Which left only the question of his wife’s legacy and the home they had shared. His own happiness seemed a very distant consideration.
Miriam.
Until recently, he had been fooling himself that he would ask her to marry him, but how could he do that when he was likely to be penniless?
And that was apart from his suspicion that she was keeping something from him.
In the circumstances, Archie did not think it was sensible to allow his feelings to grow any deeper than they already were.
Even though he suspected it was already too late.
Last night when they had sat together with Agatha and Donal, drinking toasts and laughing, it had felt as if they were a family. Since his wife had died, Archie had rarely felt like that. He wanted to grab those feelings with both hands and hang on to them. But time was against him.
If he was lucky, he had another week here in London before his funds ran out.
Then he needed to go home to Setholm and face the disaster that awaited him.
Agatha, he hoped, would travel on to Bonnyrigg, and begin to make her life there.
He did not want her to see what would happen to their house and her mother’s charity—the sanctuary and the donkeys. It would break her heart.
He would have to tell Miriam. He wondered what she would say, what she would think. Would she be relieved she had kept her own secrets from him? And did it really matter when he was certain she would leave him as soon as she knew?
Archie allowed himself to remember the first time they had met at Vauxhall.
She had been wearing a mask, and he had watched her standing alone, observing the people enjoying themselves around her.
He had sensed a sadness about her. He had made it his mission that night to cheer her up, and they had sat together over supper and laughed and talked.
They had danced too, and the wonder of her in his arms had given him hope for the sort of happy future he had thought lost to him forever.
As he had grown to know her better, he had found Miriam intelligent and kind, and when they kissed, there had been a frisson between them that boded well for sharing a bed. Despite his financial catastrophe edging closer, Archie had allowed himself to dream.
That had been a mistake. Now his dreams were about to vanish in a puff of smoke, and his loneliness would dig its claws into him even more painfully than before he had met her.
At least Agatha was safe, he reminded himself again. That was all that mattered. He had already lived his life, he had married the woman he loved, and they had been very happy together. It was greedy of him to want more.
He would see Miriam tonight at the ball he was attending with Agatha and Donal.
Should he tell her then? After one more dance.
One more kiss. His heart sank. He did not want to tell her at all, and perhaps that was how she felt when it came to her own secrets, but he would not turn coward. Tonight he would confess to her.
She would probably say how sorry she was for him—she was a kind woman—but then she would walk away, and that would be that.
Archie finished his brandy and set the glass aside. The cigar needed relighting, and he did so, enjoying it as if it were his last. It probably was. They were too expensive for him to indulge now he was about to become a pauper.