Reckless (Mockingbird Square 4)

“We were at school together. I’ve known him for years.”

“Oh.”

They found the small parlour. It was a cosy room which opened off the larger dining room—one of the rooms Mrs MacLeod had not prepared. Margaret was rather glad when she saw more animal heads lining the walls.

Their supper was simple—cold meats and bread and cheese—and had been set on a table by the fireplace where logs burned merrily. A lamp stood near the door behind them, but otherwise the room was lit only by the flickering firelight.

Margaret found she was hungrier than she had thought. She supposed she could have refused to eat and locked herself safely in her room. Shouldn’t starvation have been preferable to ruination? But the thought didn’t appeal to her at all. What was the point in starving herself? She was ruined in the eyes of society regardless. Besides, the room was warm and comfortable, and Dominic was pouring her a glass of red wine. She’d much rather be here with him.

She looked up and found his dark eyes intent upon her. He took a sip of his wine, and she let herself take in his strong fingers clasped about the goblet, and the movement of his throat. His dark hair was a little untidy, as if he’d merely run his hands through it instead of using a brush, but as always his clothing was immaculate.

Outwardly he was the same man she had first encountered in Mockingbird Square, but he was no longer a stranger. She felt as if she had come to know and understand him.

“Sir Peter Grey must know I’m not really your wife,” she said. Then, with a spurt of anger, “I imagine there are many ‘friends’ of Sir Peter who bring their supposed wives here.”

“I’ve never been here before now,” he said, “and I’ve certainly never brought another woman.” He reached for her hand.

She let him hold it, wondering what he was going to say. It occurred to her that even if he had not been to this place before, Dominic could still have stayed elsewhere with women he passed off as his wife. How did she know? And why was she feeling this hot spurt of jealousy?

He was not hers, just as she was not his. They were not married and could never be. And there was grief in that acknowledgment.

She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her. When she looked at him the earnest expression on his face made her go still.

“If I could I would take you to the border and marry you right now,” he said. It was as if he had read her mind. “Or we could return to London and I would arrange a grand ceremony with guests from the highest to the lowest in the land, so that you would know how much you mean to me. But I cannot.”

“Because you already have a wife.”

He looked down at her fingers, his own tangled with them, and she could see he was considering his next words. In the end it was Margaret who spoke.

“I’m not so naïve that I don’t understand there are many marriages of convenience,” she said, trying to sound reasonable and ignore the pain in her chest. “People marry for reasons other than affection, especially the wealthy and the aristocratic. Olivia married for love and I envy her that. She fought against the naysayers to get her way. I understand that isn’t possible for everyone.”

“My own situation wasn’t quite as simple,” he said, and glanced up at her as if to gauge her mood. Or perhaps he just felt uncomfortable speaking about something so intensely personal, something she knew he rarely talked about.

She began to remove her hand from his but he tightened his hold on it. After a moment she let it be.

The fire had burned down to glowing coals and everything was still. Wherever Mrs MacLeod had gone, she was unlikely to disturb them again until the morning. If he wanted to tell her of his past then she would listen, although she already sensed it would not be a cheery story.

“My father was a gambler,” he began reluctantly.

He looked up at her again, as if to note her response, but she simply nodded and waited.

“Gambling is in the Frampton blood, along with all the other things that made my family rich and powerful, but my father had the trait to a marked degree.

“He was a good father to his children, better than most, but the gambling was an illness he couldn’t control. In the end it was his downfall, and through him, it was mine.

“He lost everything to a man who didn’t want our estate or our money. He wanted protection for his daughter. She had been born into a world where she could have had anything she wanted, but the tragedy was she would never be able to take advantage of it. Her father loved her and wanted to give her security. He knew when he died his wishes would be ignored by his other relatives. He had already heard rumours that she would be locked up in a Bedlam and left there to die.

“That was why, when he had my father at his mercy, he demanded only one thing from him. That I, his son, marry his daughter.”

Margaret stared down at his bent head. They were still holding hands and she had felt his grip on her tighten as his tale unfolded. As if he didn’t want to lose her. As if she might find his story unpalatable and leave him sitting here alone.

“So you married her,” she said for him.

“I did. For the sake of my father’s gambling debts—which were colossal by the way—I married that poor creature. Even though I knew I could never be a proper husband to her or she a proper wife. She was a poor creature, more of a child than a woman, and yet over the years we almost became friends. She could not leave her room, so I became her eyes in the world. She had her nurse write to me, long letters full of strange fantasies and longings. She set me tasks …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say, I pitied her and tried to ease her days. In recent years she has grown worse, and now she has servants for her every daily need. She cannot leave her bed or even speak, and although death would be a blessing for her, she lives on. And I am still married to her.”

Margaret considered his words. They were dramatic and emotional, but she had learned that Dominic could be both beneath his grave expression and his teasing smile.

“How old were you when you married her?” she asked instead.