“You’ve been daydreaming again,” Analise accused with a grin, lifting a soup spoon from her place setting. She knew if she hadn’t said something, her father would be lost in thought and probably miss the opportunity to eat his soup.
“I apologize, he murmured as he blinked at the sight of the bowl of soup before him. He was about to ask how long it had been sitting there when he noticed tendrils of steam rising from the surface. Not long then. “Which is the very subject of what I was daydreaming about,” he admitted.
Analise paused in lifting her spoon to her lips and regarded him with a raised brow. “Apologies?”
He nodded. “I owe one to someone who I have apparently vexed. I wish to clear up the matter before she’s had a chance to think about it too much and form a poor opinion of me,” he explained. He took to eating his soup and then paused when he noted Analise still watched him. “What is it?”
“Lady Wadsworth?” Analise guessed, returning her attention to her soup. She quirked a lip when she caught her father’s look of shock from the corner of her eye. “Really, Father. I saw how you looked at her last night,” she murmured. “While you were dancing with her. So I suppose I shouldn’t have been so shocked to learn you were courting her.”
Marcus was about to put voice to a protest, but he instead allowed a sigh. “I’m not courting her,” he replied. “But would it bother you if I might wish to court her? I had the distinct impression you were... displeased with me this afternoon in the park.”
Her eyes widening with her surprise—on two counts—Analise started to respond and then stopped. She hadn’t thought her father was of a mind to court the widow. She hadn’t considered her father would ever remarry. He seemed content as a widower. She thought she would have him all to herself, at least until she married and moved into her husband’s household. “Bother me?” she finally repeated. “Of course not. It’s just a bit... unexpected is all.”
“Unexpected?” he repeated.
Analise gripped her spoon tighter. “I didn’t realize you were considering remarriage. But I think you should.”
Marcus gave a start. “You do? I wasn’t. That is, I wasn’t considering it until just recently.”
Until just last night, he nearly added, but thought better of it.
“What happened to change your mind?” Analise asked.
“Nothing.”
At her arched eyebrow and look of disbelief, Marcus finally relented. “I watched the Morganfields dance last night,” he said, remembering how David and Adelaide Carlington held one another during the waltz. Far too close, their eyes never leaving one another. He was sure their wordless stare was a prelude to an assignation. Probably in the Attenborough’s library. Or perhaps in the gardens.
Before that moment, he had only been concerned about how Analise fared with her dance card. About how the Morganfield’s son, Lord Haddon, gazed at her. About how he was thinking of her as an innocent lamb about to be devoured by a wolf. About how he might have to send her to a convent. About how he might have to move to the country and take her with him.
And then he had spotted Lady Wadsworth and all thoughts of Analise and the Carlingtons flew from his head.
What had she been doing that had him so intrigued?
When Analise continued to stare at him, Marcus gave a quick shake of his head and added, “And I saw that Lady Wadsworth was without a dance partner, so I...”
When he didn’t finished the sentence, Analise’s eyes rounded again. “You didn’t,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
Marcus blinked. “Didn’t what?”
“Imagine her as your wife. Round with your third heir and fawning over you as you went about your daily life. On your arm as you walked about town shopping. Kissing you good morning every day in the breakfast parlor like Mother used to do—”
“I did no such thing,” he argued, rather shocked she could come up with such an intriguing scenario. And one that wasn’t too far off the mark. He slumped in his carver. “At least, I didn’t get quite as far with the...” He waved his hand in a rolling motion. “... the shopping and the kisses before breakfast,” he said quietly. “The domestic considerations.”
It was Analise’s turn to blink. Twice. “You feel affection for her,” she murmured as her normally ramrod straight back fell against her chair back.
About to put voice to a protest, Marcus found he couldn’t. Analise had guessed his situation correctly. As for the ‘round with heir’, he would be satisfied with another daughter, if only to see the look on Charity’s face when she held their babe.
“And it wasn’t another heir I imagined, but rather a girl. Lady Wadsworth would like a daughter, you see,” he whispered.
Analise straightened at the same moment the footman entered to remove their soup bowls. “She cannot have me,” she said, just before she realized how spoiled she sounded.
“She doesn’t want...” Marcus stopped and stared at his daughter, horrified by what he had almost said. “She’s always wanted a daughter. Wadsworth only ever got two sons on her.”
Relieved she wasn’t about to gain a doting mother in the next few minutes, Analise allowed a sigh. “I met the new Earl of Wadsworth earlier this year,” she said then, her brows furrowed. At her father’s expression of curiosity, she added, “It was just after he had been officially declared the new Earl of Wadsworth. He was at Warwick’s to pay a call on someone there, and all the girls nearly fainted, they were so excited by his presence.”
Marcus frowned. “Did you faint?” he asked.
Analise resisted the urge to leave the table. “I was not the least bit affected by Lord Wadsworth, I assure you,” she said with annoyance. “Nor was the young lady on whom he paid a call. At least, not like that.”
“His betrothed?” Marcus guessed.
Shaking her head, Analise said, “Cousin, or so he called her, although he did so in a most demeaning tone of voice. Told her she could no longer attend Warwick’s. Said he wasn’t going to pay her tuition now that he was the earl. That she was to go home to her...” Here, she stopped, realizing she couldn’t repeat what the cur had said within her hearing.
The only reason she had heard Benedict Wadsworth’s words was because she was in the same classroom as Marguerite Fulton. Most of the others had already taken their leave. She and Hannah Simpson had been left to pay witness to the earl’s treatment of Marguerite, his words making it clear he thought her a bastard.
His father’s bastard.
Marcus was sure she was about to say, “Mother,” when he noted Analise’s expression. “Home to her...?” he prompted.
“She is really his sister,” Analise said softly, ignoring his query. “We weren’t supposed to know, but everyone at school knew she was Lord Wadsworth’s daughter.”
Arching an eyebrow, Marcus gave a shake of his head. While they had been dancing, the countess had made it quite clear that she had never had a girl. That she wished for one. “But Charity doesn’t have a daughter. Why, she told me...” He halted his remark when several footmen delivered the next course and poured wine, the same moment he understood the implication of his own daughter’s words.
Marguerite Fulton wasn’t Charity’s daughter. Which meant she was a by-blow. An illegitimate daughter.
Did Charity know about Marguerite? He felt a twinge of regret on the countess’s behalf, for if she did, she must have felt doubly deprived that one of Wadsworth’s mistresses would be allowed to bear him a daughter when she was not.
“Wadsworth refuses to acknowledge her?” he asked when the last footman had disappeared behind the door to the butler’s pantry. Then he gave a huff. This sort of discussion with his daughter was entirely inappropriate.
“He refuses to continue the arrangement his father made on the girl’s behalf,” Analise whispered. “Marguerite was heart-broken. Her mother cannot afford the tuition. She was supported by the late earl, too, and Wadsworth has seen to cutting her off.”
His eyes darting to on
e side, Marcus had a mind to ask Analise just how much she knew of such arrangements. She shouldn’t know anything, but he supposed there were other illegitimate daughters who attended Warwick’s Grammar and Finishing School at the expense of their fathers.
Marcus felt relief at never having sired a bastard. Although he would have gladly recognized the child as his own, he knew their life would never be as good as a legitimate child’s life. And he knew he hadn’t fathered a bastard because he had never employed a mistress. Before he inherited, he couldn’t afford the lease on a townhouse and the accoutrements a mistress would demand in addition to pin money.
He wasn’t sure he could afford one even now.
“I’m sure Miss Fulton’s mother will find a new... arrangement,” Marcus murmured, thinking there was usually another man who wanted what someone else had. “Although if she meant anything to Wadsworth, he surely would have made provisions for her in his will.”
Analise stared at her dinner plate. “Her living until she married, and then a dowry, which the new Lord Wadsworth claimed he would not pay.”
Furrowing a brow, Marcus regarded his daughter for a moment before he realized just how annoyed he was with Benedict Fulton, Earl of Wadsworth. Why, if he was still a practicing solicitor, he might seek justice on behalf of Marguerite just because he could.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted to confront the young earl and make his position clear. If Edmund Fulton had made provisions in his will on behalf of his illegitimate daughter, then it was Benedict’s duty to see to it those provisions were carried out.
And if he refused?
Marcus imagined how he might bring up the topic with the young earl. Introduce himself, since he had never been formally introduced to the cur. Make a bit of small talk, mention the weather and remark on the fact that the earl’s sister and his daughter were classmates at Warwick’s.
If the earl feigned no knowledge of a sister, then Marcus would be sure to apprise him not only of the girl’s existence, but also of the late earl’s arrangements on her behalf. “You do realize you must honor those obligations?” he would ask. Or tell, rather. In a firm voice that gave no choice in the matter. “Or be prepared to find yourself forced to pay more should your malfeasance be discovered.”
Oh, he liked championing a cause such as this. Why, he might have to come out of retirement for this very case!
“You’re doing it again,” Analise said as she placed her fork on her plate. She had finished nearly all her fish and most of the potatoes.
“Doing what?” Marcus asked as he shook himself from his reverie. He glanced down at his plate, realizing the fish course had been served and was now probably cold.
“Daydreaming,” she accused. “I do hope it was something having to do with Mother.”
Marcus felt a twinge of regret. “Actually, I was thinking of what I might do for Marguerite Fulton,” he replied. “From a legal perspective.”
Analise’s face brightened as she allowed a smile. “You would do that? For me?” she replied as she sat up straighter and nearly bounced in her chair.
“I would do it for her,” Marcus responded in a quiet voice. He frowned suddenly. “Except I would need to be sure of the provisions of the late Wadsworth’s will.” His furrowed brows nearly joined one another into a single line. “I don’t suppose you have a copy in your possession?” he teased.
Her food forgotten, Analise looked as if she was trying to decide whether to humor her father or leave the table. “I do not, but Miss Fulton has a copy. Or rather, her mother does. She found it in an escritoire, all rolled up and marked with a seal and several signatures.”
Without seeing the document in question, Marcus couldn’t know if it was an official copy of the late earl’s will. “I must make an appointment to meet with Miss Fulton’s mother, but I cannot be seen calling on her at her house, of course. Nor can she come here,” he added when it appeared as if Analise was about to suggest it.
“Can you meet with Marguerite? I can invite her for tea and ask that she bring the document,” Analise suggested.
“Without her mother’s knowledge?” he asked, wondering if the mistress might already be pursuing assistance from a solicitor. Perhaps his help wasn’t required.
“Her mother...” Analise paused, slumping once again in her chair. “She cannot read, at least, not well, so Miss Fulton said she has just believed what she’s been told.”
Marcus frowned. “And what might that be?”
Analise sighed. “That the late Lord Wadsworth made provisions for her and for Marguerite. A living for them both, at least until Marguerite married, and then a dowry of not less than five-thousand pounds.”
Marcus allowed a shrug. “Seems fair,” he hedged. “So... was the Earl of Wadsworth the bearer of this news, or did he send someone else with the information?” he asked, not expecting Analise to know. He was already rather surprised at just how much she did know.
“A solicitor paid a call on Miss Fulton’s mother two days after the earl’s death. He gave her a box, mostly of small gifts she had bestowed on the earl, and some jewelry as well as a necklace for Marguerite. He explained everything, and Marguerite said they have lived comfortably for nearly two years. And then, after Lord Wadsworth paid a call on her at the school, the monthly payments stopped.”
His eyes darting to one side, Marcus felt a hint of anger. Wadsworth had no right to circumvent the terms of his father’s will. “It’s all rather odd he waited nearly two years before he ceased the funds,” he murmured. He had a thought that perhaps the Wadsworth earldom couldn’t afford the monthly payments, but he hadn’t heard the new earl was in financial straits. Most lords had recovered from the debacle brought on by the Year of No Summer, their tenants unable to farm or pay the rents on their lands due to the inclement weather of 1816.
What if the Wadsworth earldom had not?
Marcus shook his head. Wadsworth had coal mines. Forests. At least a sawmill or two.
So maybe Wadsworth had suffered losses at the gaming tables. Spread vowels all over London and no longer had the funds to cover them. Or perhaps his man of business had been helping himself to more than he was entitled.
Surely I would have heard something, Marcus thought.
Then he realized he had no idea if the earldom had suffered because Benedict Wadsworth was an inveterate gambler or not. He hadn’t been at his men’s club more than a few nights since his wife’s death, and Parliament had only reconvened last week.
Analise leaned over the table and lowered her voice. “You’re doing it again,” she accused.
Marcus angled towards her and whispered. “I am trying to reason why it is Wadsworth would suddenly take an interest in a rather small monthly cost to his earldom,” he replied.
“You’re excused then,” Analise said, her lips quirking a moment before she once again sobered. “Her mother is beside herself with worry. She claims she is too old to attract a suitor—”
“Invite Miss Fulton for tea. Be sure she brings the will, and we shall see what we can do,” he said before he settled back into his carver, just as the footmen appeared with the next dinner course.
“I shall do so. Right before I take a ride in the park,” she said as she tucked into her food. “With whomever asks me to accompany them.”
But she knew her father wasn’t listening. He once again appeared lost in thought.
What she didn’t know is that he was musing as to how it was she knew things she shouldn’t at her age.
Chapter 20
A Note of Apology
The following morning
Marcus reread his note of apology to Charity for the sixth time, frowning when he realized how messy it looked. With so many words crossed out and blotches of ink obliterating his best words, he knew he had to start over.
At least he had some time before he needed to leave for Westminster. He wanted desperately to finish and have the note delivered to the countess’s offi
ce before noon. It wouldn’t do to have Charity think the worst of him for any longer.
He drew another sheet of stationery before him and copied from his original letter.
Dearest Lady Wadsworth,
Will you please accept my humblest apologies for the poor choice of words I used in your company yesterday? Although their meaning was clear in my mind, they were obviously misconstrued in yours, and you had every right to feel offense.
First, let me be perfectly clear. I wish to employ you. Not as a mistress, but in your capacity as a matchmaker.
You see, I have reason to believe Lord Haddon has set his cap on my daughter, Analise. I wish said cap to be set on someone else. Anyone else but my daughter.
Second, my first reason for asking you to go riding with me in the park was so that we might spend time in one another’s company. Perhaps you would come to realize I am not a rake and that my intentions and my affections are sincere.
Third, there is a matter of some concern and delicacy which involves your oldest son. I hesitate to bring it up with you for I know it may cause undue pain, but in the interest of justice for the injured parties, I feel it is my duty to pursue their cause.
May I still call upon you at one minute past four o’clock today at your office as we discussed yesterday? Or somewhere else? I will have instructed the footman to await your reply.
Your humblest servant,
Marcus, Viscount Lancaster
Marcus stared at the finished letter, wondering if the second half made it sound too ominous. Perhaps Charity Wadsworth knew nothing of her son’s machinations. Perhaps the two were estranged. Benedict, Earl of Wadsworth, didn’t even live at Wadsworth Hall. But Marcus thought she needed to know what the earl had done. Far better Charity learn of the issue before the gossip rags started printing word of what he had learned.
The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass the widowed countess.
Chapter 21
The Charity of a Viscount Page 12