of my dependents. I am quite prepared
to sacrifice a few pleasurable evenings at cards for my wife and
children.” Mary covered her mouth with the handkerchief and started
coughing. “Is she alright? Do you think there might be something
about my cologne that makes people ill?” Mary managed to repeat
Buckingham’s words before falling into another coughing fit.
Marshall
sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. “It is rather pungent. Were
your grandparents cousins by any chance?”
“Good heavens
no, I’d be a congenital idiot. We’ve been lucky so far. Cousin
Pelham has strange visions of carriages that move without horses
and numbers being the language of the future, but he’s
harmless.”
“Is there
anything else I should know about you?”
“Well there is
the problem of always feeling like I’m missing something. Mother
used to say I was missing my twin; he was born dead. I can never
remember where I put anything and I’m just as likely to forget what
day it is. It’s most inconvenient when travelling. I won’t forget
my wife though, if I can figure out which one I love.”
“My
handkerchief Wife…” It was Marshall’s turn to cover his mouth and
cough over his laughter.
“I hope you’re
not coming down with a cold Marshall. Your sisters would be utterly
disappointed to miss the ball this evening.”
Buckingham sat
upright in his chair as if a puppet master had yanked on his
strings.
“May I be so
bold as to enquire which ball they’ll be attending?”
“Lady St.
John’s…” Marshall coughed one more time and then unmasked his face.
“I believe it might be best for my sisters to give you the details.
They should be finished breaking their fast; if you’ll follow me.
Merry, lie down and have a rest.”
“Rest? But I’m
not…”
“I’ll
personally check on you later so don’t think you can sneak off to
work in the kitchen. It’ll be a long night; I don’t want you
wilting at my ear.” Mary picked up her box of combs and tried to
think of an excuse to remain downstairs. Every hour spent sleeping
would be lost memories.
“But I don’t
want to sleep, I want to…”
“Rest! That’s
an order.” The words were a gentle bark. Mary respectfully
curtseyed to both men and left the room with her head held
high.
“Fine woman
your wife, there’s something magical about her. She looks like a
Dutch painting come to life…”
“I can’t hear
you! Follow me.”
Mary shut her
bedchamber door and looked at the tidy pile of empty boxes. The
maid had put all the new clothes away. She stood by the window and
looked at her tortoiseshell combs in the sunshine. They were
something a man could give to a loyal female servant without fear
of inspiring improper regard; simple, but elegant. That was what
she’d have to fight, but it would be an uphill battle with those
burning blue eyes smiling at her every day. She set the combs on
her dressing table, removed her shoes and crawled onto the bed. Her
tired body sighed with pleasure as she closed her eyes. It was
vexing to have to admit the man was right, but her heavy eyes
assured her that he was.
…
Four hours
later the door quietly opened and closed as Marshall checked on his
sleeping wife. She could sleep a little longer before she’d have to
eat an early dinner and start getting ready. He watched her stretch
in her sleep and roll over. She looked like a contented stray cat
who’d found a merciful hearthrug. He sat on the bed and indulged in
poetic thoughts as his eyes wandered over her person. He could
easily imagine pulling her into his arms every morning. His heart
was starting to lose the battle, but it hadn’t given up. It pinched
his chest and dragged him off the bed with several uncomfortable
reminders. There was no point lusting after a woman who’d be
leaving in a year. His head retorted, she might not love you, but
there’s something in her eyes. His heart pinched him again in an
attempt to distract him