Page 4 of When We Touch

“I know, Angus, that this is something completely beyond your realm of understanding, but I married Nathan because I fell in love with him.” She was standing herself, and realized that her fingers had knotted so tightly into her palms that she was digging holes into her own flesh. “In fact, sir, I remember your kind, sympathetic, and so completely understanding words at his funeral. That I was somewhat young still, and though tarnished, I might still have some redeeming value!”

He didn’t notice mockery or reproach in her words; he found in them a note of her own understanding. “Aha! There, you see? What I said was true. The time has come. I was at the club the other day and a most remarkable thing happened. Charles, Viscount Langdon, approached me about you. He had heard about your unfortunate marriage, and the death of your husband, and was quite concerned for your welfare. He remembered you, and believes still that you are the most beautiful young woman ever to walk the earth. Beautiful—and available, I fathom. But that is far beyond the point. The marriage portion he has offered would pay off the gambling debts and allow Justin an opportunity to redeem himself, and the family name. Money means nothing to Lord Charles. He has properties throughout the known world and made quite a fortune to add on to his family inheritance, which includes vast stretches of land in Scotland as well as on the Continent and in the Caribbean.” He glared at Justin, indicating that the nobleman in question knew how to responsibly handle a family fortune while Justin most assuredly did not. “Well, my dear? This is a rare opportunity for you. Society would accept you once again.”

“Uncle Angus, surely this cannot come as a vast surprise to you—I have attended those ‘society’ teas, balls, and parties that have had any appeal for me for the past several years. This, I know, will surely shock you, but the opinions of dandies, fops, and braggarts do not mean a great deal to me. When Nathan died, I said that I would not marry again.”

Angus waved a hand in the air impatiently. “A sweet sentiment, voiced by many a young widow, and certain to be changed.”

Justin cleared his throat. “I believe that Lord Charles is looking for a companion, rather than a bride in the way that a man does in his first youth.”

She glared at her brother. He flushed, and looked away. Then he stood, as well. “Uncle Angus, the idea of this marriage is repulsive in my sister’s eyes. I incurred the debts. If it be Newgate, sir, then I shall go as the Crown commands.”

“The pair of you will likely rot with the rats!” Angus said impatiently. “I was stunned and greatly relieved to entertain the offer of such a man, especially when I certainly could not offer a young lady of good reputation and sound family.”

“The family you speak of is yours as well, Uncle,” Maggie said. “And I do beg your pardon! I hardly walked the streets of Whitechapel propositioning laborers, nor did I tease the married men of the Ton, which others you would consider to be of excellent value have done.”

“You married a commoner, and you are past your first youth. Like it or not, my dear, that, indeed, lessens your value in the marriage market. Not to mention the fact that you bring no fortune, indeed, one is needed to salvage you both from the dank cells of debt.”

“Sir, do you realize that this very conversation is common?” Maggie demanded. And so it was. Yet it was blunt, and she was shaking because she knew that he was speaking a certain amount of truth. Common, yes, it was all quite common. She had married a commoner. She had never once regretted her decision, not even when she had laid Nathan to rest. The two sweet years they’d shared before a cutthroat’s knife had brought him down had still been worth whatever agony of loneliness was left to bear in the years to come. She hadn’t minded not being rich—the very concept of true wealth and elegance had died with her parents. She had a mind and a spirit for causes, and she had certainly thought that they were living well enough on their allowances.

She looked across the room at her brother, and for a moment, fury raged through her. Then she knew that he was not at fault. Angus had instructed him after their father’s death. And Angus had taught him that society was everything, winning the friendship of the Crown, being among the most elite of the Ton. She had known that he ran with the heir apparent and his crowd; they had often argued about the Empire, and the responsibilities that were inherent with power, the greatness and the splendor of so much, while beneath their very noses, the people often suffered appallingly. Oh, yes, she had known. She had even made a few perfunctory appearances, as she had assured Angus. She loved Justin, and they were close.

Not close enough, she realized. For she had known nothing about his growing debt, and yet, it should not be a surprise, for few men had such a reputation for debauchery as Eddy, Duke of Clarence, heir presumptive to the throne after his own father, the eldest son of Queen Victoria.

“I can’t begin to imagine any venue of employment where either of you could so much as begin to make enough to clear the debts,” Angus said. “I’m afraid, though, that the house must go immediately.”

“We can sell the estate in the north,” Maggie suggested.

Angus shot Justin a chastising glance. “It’s been gone quite some time already, dear child,” he said softly.

She sank back into her chair.

Justin walked to her with purpose and determination. Down on a knee, he took her hands in his. “Don’t worry, old girl. They’ll lock me up, and perhaps a toothless old hag—but one with plenty of money—will come rescue me!” He tried to speak lightly.

She was angry enough for one moment to let him rot—and marry a toothless old hag. But she would never give Angus that satisfaction. Her brother was going to have a bride young enough to procreate if it killed her.

She looked past Justin. “You may arrange a meeting, Uncle, between your Viscount and myself.”

“That will be satisfactory,” Angus said. “Tomorrow morning. At ten. And good God, girl! Don’t be dressed as a crone, in rags and darkness—and dirt!”

“I shall wear something entirely suggestive, in shocking yellow, perhaps,” she returned, too angry to remember any modicum of respect. How had this man been her father’s brother?

“Come to think of it, my dear,” Angus said, pleasantly enough, “you are quite well and properly dressed right now—should you choose for your destination to be Newgate.”

With that, he bowed and departed, calling over his shoulder, “We will call at ten. Promptly.”

The parlor was still, dead still, until they heard the door slam. Angus had not needed to ask Clayton for his great overcoat—bless dear Clayton. The man had been ready with her uncle’s fine wool garment, cane, and silk hat.

“There is no reason for you to marry miserably to save my skin,” Justin said flatly. He no longer appeared pale and ashen, but rather resolved. “I knew better, as I incurred the debt. It is my mistake. Though the idea is not appealing, I deserve a debtor’s imprisonment.”

Maggie stared at him, and the anger that had boiled within her evaporated in a single breath. “No.”

“Maggie, you will not pay for my sins. Seriously. This is not false bravado on my part. I don’t intend to go quietly. I have made the acquaintances of a few blushing widows who would not be averse to my attentions.”

“No.”

“Maggie, dammit—!”

“Justin, don’t be crass.”