When We Touch (12 page)

But then, just as she stood by the carriage door, stiff and furious, Clayton arrived. He opened the carriage door quickly, and as he helped her in, he said, “Ah, lady, try to understand the lass. She feels as if she's failed as a daughter.”

“Oh?” Maggie looked at Clayton, who flushed.

“Begging your pardon, m'lady. Servants talk, you know.”

Maggie nodded, then whispered, “But Clayton. She's . . .
vicious!
”

“Just a scared child, trying to be much, much more,” he told her sadly.

“I'll try very hard to take that into consideration,” Maggie told him. But once she was seated in the carriage, she felt a chill. She had expected that Lord Charles's daughter might not greet her with open arms. But she'd never expected the girl to be this passionately vile!

The carriage lurched forward. Justin had actually haggled for it, and it wasn't new, only the coat of arms on the door. Their debts were paid, but apparently, her brother had set what wasn't direly needed aside, should she discover that she needed it.

Rather than take a chance that he fall into gambling again, Maggie had quietly agreed.

So, here it was, the day before the wedding and she had been well and duly bought and paid for.

She began to shake. It was true that she had come to care deeply for Lord Charles. It was true as well that she couldn't help but note the liver spots on his hands, the gauntness of his cheeks, the snow white color of his brows. Which would be just fine, if only she, too, had snow white hair, wrinkling flesh, and perhaps even a token liver spot somewhere.

She gritted her teeth, grasped her hands tightly in her lap.

Yes, she'd been bought, and paid for.

No wonder the girl hated her with such a violent fervor. She had a right.
Had she suddenly fallen madly in love with Lord Charles? No, of course not. Did she intend to be a good wife? Yes, Lord Charles had made her world right again.

It didn't matter that she hadn't suddenly fallen in love with Charles. Lots of people were still married by arrangement. And most people didn't just suddenly fall in love.

She stuck her head out of the carriage, calling to Clayton, “Please, stop! I think I'd like to walk around a bit, Clayton, have a sip of tea at a coffeehouse.”

Tea, hell, a nice sip of sherry would be lovely. Maybe several sips.

From the driver's seat, Clayton gave a nod. A moment later, he drew the carriage to a halt, out of the way of traffic. They were not far from Buckingham Palace, and there was a row of shops and coffeehouses along the very hectic and busy thoroughfare.

Still, Clayton looked at her worriedly as he helped her from the carriage. “M'lady . . . shall I wait? I can find a good place to draw up, read me papers, while some time.”

She shook her head. “I really need some time, Clayton.” She touched his dear old cheek. “I will so miss you every morning, Clayton.”

“You'll be fine. You'll have the good Mrs. Whitley.”

Maggie made a face. “She's very stern. And proper.”

“As a good housekeeper should be.”

Maggie shook her head. “I prefer a dear family butler with whom one can enjoy chocolate and gossip in the kitchen. Even if the gossip is all about one's self! Get on, now. I shall be quite fine by myself.”

“I can wait, Maggie.”

“We've done just fine with hired carriage for several years now, Clayton. I know my way home.”

Sighing, he left her.

* * *

“Maggie! My, my! Dear Lady Maggie Graham!”

Maggie had found a darling little place on the corner with an outside garden area, and there, she'd ordered tea and scones, had been sipping the first and playing with the latter, when she heard her name called. Looking up, she saw Cecilia, now Countess de Burgh, since her marriage to Count Eustace de Burgh of Cornwall.

They had come out together, attending their first season of balls and teas and the social whirl of the Ton together. Maggie had liked Cecilia, despite her friend's absolute determination to marry Eustace, who hadn't seemed very interested in marriage, other than that his family had determined that he would find a wife, and quickly. He was more than a bit of a fop, a total ne'er do well, but he also owned several castles, manor houses, a dozen racehorses, and all manner of property.

Cecilia looked as charming as ever, brown curls artfully arrayed, her lavender day dress only a shade too risqué, and the parasol she carried a pretty little piece that added nicely to her outfit. Her bonnet was small, emphasizing the richness of her curls.

“Cecilia, how are you?” Maggie rose with an honest pleasure at seeing Cecilia, who was ever cheerful, and, customarily, far too honest. She had always enjoyed a sense of adventure and fun, and hadn't been appalled when Maggie had determined on marrying Nathan. She had thought Maggie entirely foolish, but hadn't excluded her from any social events. However, in the last few years, they had grown apart.

“Delightful, absolutely delightful,” Cecilia said. “Preparing the town house for the autumn season, you know, and then we'll stay through Christmas and head to the Continent. We've decided to winter in Spain.”

“Lovely.” Cecilia had found the spare chair across from Maggie. She beamed. “And you—about to become the wife of none other than Charles, Viscount Langdon! I'm quite thrilled for you.”

“Are you?”

“Well, of course. Aren't you thrilled for yourself?”

“He's a very dear man.”

Cecilia laughed delightedly. “Oh, Maggie! Leave it to you. ‘He's a dear man!' He's one of the most important peers in the realm. Marriage is a contract, a convenience, something for the perpetuation of heirs, and society. Good heavens, do you think that people believe you're required to be madly in love with the man? Ah, yes, well you did marry that poor fellow. Nathan. He was gorgeous, but . . . Maggie, Maggie, Maggie! Gorgeous men are one thing, and marriage is quite another. You should have had an affair with your glorious young Nathan, and married such a man as Charles from the very beginning.”

“Cecilia!” Maggie protested. “I loved Nathan.”

“Yes, yes, all well, good, and fine. And our dear Queen Victoria adored her Albert, and so now we're all supposed to be so moral. Well, she is deceiving herself, of course. Her son is a tremendous rake, and his son, I assure you, no better. We all pretend that such things aren't going on, but underneath, well . . .”

“Underneath,” Maggie said, “a lot is rumor.” Her smile deepened. “It is good to see you. You and Eustace are doing well?”

“Indeed, it's nearly a marriage made in heaven.”

“There! You love your husband.”

Cecilia hesitated just a moment, then shook her head. “Maggie, Maggie! Of course I love the fellow. He's provided magnificently for me.”

“Congratulations. I'm very happy for you.”

“We've two sons now, you know. A three-year-old and a two-year-old. One to inherit, and a backup.”

“Cecilia, what a way to talk about your children.”

“Oh, I adore the little urchins. But you've always been such a practical girl, Maggie. Surely, you still are.”

Maggie must have stared at her a little blankly because she leaned forward then, a strange smile curling her lips. “Maggie, please! Eustace prefers different company.”

“He has mistresses?”

Cecilia giggled. “No, silly. He prefers . . . the company of men. I always knew, of course. Ours was very much so an arranged marriage. We've done the proper thing and produced two legitimate heirs. Now, he enjoys himself as he prefers . . . and I do the same. And we're very dear friends. Actually, ours is a far better marriage than most. We never fight. And!” She lowered her voice, speaking excitedly, “I tell you, I know many a rumor about young Prince Eddy is true, because Eustace has assured me that it is so!”

Maggie gasped. “My brother is friends with Prince Eddy.”

Cecilia laughed, shaking her head. “Your brother and many other a man with more customary preferences is friends with the Prince. There are friends, and there are friends.”

“I'm relieved.”

“Are you judging?” Cecilia asked.

“Never. I'm just hoping my brother will find the woman of his dreams soon, marry, and produce an heir.”

“Well, my Lord, he should be able to do so easily enough. He's as handsome as a fairy-tale prince!”

“Thank you.”

“So! You'll be the wife of Viscount Langdon. It will be fine. The old fellow has a child, doesn't he? Oh, that's right, how could I forget? A daughter. He'll be trying for a son. Give him that heir as quickly as you can, and you'll be on your own.” Her eyes twinkled. “Have you considered any prospective lovers?”

“Good Lord, no!”

“Oh, come, Maggie! You might be a widow as we sit, but you're young and, sad to say, you were the most stunning among us the year we hit society. I've no lack of confidence, myself, mind you! Maggie! This wedding is tomorrow. I have an idea. Come out with me tonight. I know places where we can go. I can see already that you're thinking about being all moral and dedicated and loyal once you've wed, but . . . well, you're not wed until tomorrow. Let's play tonight!”

“Cecilia,” Maggie began, but her words caught in her throat. Looking just a few feet beyond her friend's parasol, she froze. There was a man at a nearby table, now peering at the two of them over the top of his newspaper.

He hadn't been there when she had first chosen the table.

It was Jamie.

He lowered the newspaper. She wasn't certain whether he was just realizing that she was there as well or not. He stood. “Why, Lady Graham. How lovely to see you. And your friend, of course.”

“How lovely to see
you
!” Cecilia exclaimed, looking him up and down a bit too boldly. “Sir James Langdon! Indeed, what a pleasure.” She extended an elegantly gloved hand. “We have met.”

“Forgive me, then, my memory is sadly faulty.”

“Cecilia, Lady de Burgh. You knew me as Sir Cavanaugh's daughter.”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me. What a pleasure to see you again.”

“Well!” Cecilia said, “How amazing that the two of you should just happen to meet at a coffee shop, just the day before the wedding! You must be delighted for your uncle, Sir James.”

“Indeed. Delighted,” Jamie said.

“Are you standing up for him?”

“Quite so.”

Cecilia smiled wickedly. “Are you having some form of a wonderful party for Lord Charles this evening? I was just trying to convince Maggie that she should allow me to take her out for a last evening as a single lady. Well, she's widowed, but the point is really, before she's married again.”

“Don't tell me Lady Maggie is hesitating?” Jamie said, staring at her.

“She's being no fun at all,” Cecilia pouted.

“Ah, well, neither is my uncle. He is heading off to bed at an early hour, anxious for the morning to come, the day of his wedding.”

“Is he really?” Cecilia said, her eyes sparkling. “Well, then, Sir James, perhaps we could convince you to join the two of us!”

“Cecilia, I haven't agreed that I'm going anywhere,” Maggie said uncomfortably. She was also tremendously uncomfortable with the way that Cecilia was looking at Jamie. A bolt of something shot through her, and she was disturbed to realize that it was jealousy.

“What did you have in mind?” Jamie asked Cecilia.

“I would never dream of being rude to Sir James, but if he accompanies us, it would hardly be a night out for the ladies,” Maggie said.

“Alas, true,” Cecilia said. She stared at Jamie with a smile that was so blatant that, even given the conversation they'd just had, Maggie was shocked. “But, of course, with my dear friend Maggie marrying into the family, I'm sure we can meet again, Sir James.”

“Yes, definitely,” Jamie said, bemused. “I am acquainted with your husband, my lady, which makes it all the more pleasant to make your reacquaintance.”

Cecilia's smile deepened. Maggie wanted to hit someone.

She stood. “Cecilia, if we're to be out and about this evening, I believe I'll head home so that I might be properly dressed for the occasion.”