Page 40 of Debtor’s Daughter

Mrs Finchley looked around and discovered, as he’d already realised, that they were alone up here. She reached up on tiptoes and made a grab for the toy, but Larkin stepped back, holding it out of reach.

“Say you will not tell Gideon I did something so foolish,” he demanded, his voice grave.

“I will tell him,” she retorted, laughter and defiance shining in her eyes. She reached up again, lunging for the toy and overbalancing. She gasped, the toe of her shoe catching on an uneven floorboard and fell against him.

“Ooof!”

Larkin pulled her close, his intention only to stop her falling, but then she was in his arms, her warm, soft body pressed close to his, and his mind turned to treacle.

One hand still held the train, but the other was upon her waist, her deliciously shapely waist, while her breasts pressed against his chest. He gazed down at her, seeing her eyes widen as she realised how close they were. Larkin waited for her to push him away and scold him for taking advantage of her mishap, as she should, as she must do. Only she didn’t. She simply stared up at him, and then closed her eyes, lifting her face to his.

Larkin swallowed hard, the little voice in his head suddenly shrieking at him that this was not what he wanted. Mrs Finchley was respectable, she’d have expectations, she’d need marrying. He’d have to be a father to Gideon!

“We ought to find Miss Caroline. There were two gentlemen ogling her rather too keenly for my liking. We don’t want her to get herself into a difficult situation,” he said briskly, all the time extricating himself from their embrace.

Mrs Finchley stiffened, moving away, her frame suddenly rigid where a moment ago it had been pliant and giving. “Of course,” she said curtly, hurrying past him, but not before he noticed the burn of embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

Damn him to hell! Now he’d humiliated her, and no doubt hurt her feelings, too. Well done, Larkin. Excellent work, you utter prat.

Smothering a groan of frustration, he hurried after her.

Oh Maggie, you fool! You utter fool! How could you do such a pathetic, such a reckless thing?

All the way down the stairs, Maggie berated herself, shame and humiliation burning inside her so fiercely she felt too hot and longed to go back outside. She pressed her gloved hands to her cheeks, trying to cool them before anyone noticed. Before he noticed.

Oh, Lord, if she had spoiled Caro’s chances and spoiled their friendship with a man of whom they had all become so very fond, she would never forgive herself. How could she be so selfish as to let her own desires wreck all their futures? Yet she had been growing ever closer to such foolishness all afternoon, but had she imagined the way he had spoken to her, the lingering glances and touches? Well, she must have, or perhaps he was just reacting to the encouragement she must have so blatantly given him. For a gentleman such as Mr Weston would never lead a lady on. It was her own foolish heart seeing things that were not there and her own selfish wickedness that had tempted her to practically throw herself at him. Since he had entered their lives, she had come to realise she was not so sanguine about living the rest of her days as a widow as she’d believed. She was lonely, and not only for friendship, but for the closeness one only found with a husband. Whilst her marriage had been fleeting thing, she knew that physical love, not to mention the comfort and companionship of such a union were not easily replaced with friends. Mr Weston was handsome and charming and so very kind and attentive to them; it was only natural that her feelings should warm to him after so long in mourning and after so much unhappiness. But to embarrass the man and betray her own sister by acting on those feelings was beyond the pale.

Ought she to apologise, she wondered? No. That would only highlight her dreadful behaviour and would be too humiliating to endure. Maggie felt certain Mr Weston’s innate good manners would ensure he put her dreadfully bold behaviour aside. She only hoped it did not spoil everything for Auntie and Caro. For her own part, she would do her best to keep her distance from Mr Weston and take some time to remind herself that such an eligible fellow would hardly be interested in a penniless widow with a lively son to raise. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, in fact. She must check her feelings before they could grow out of proportion, and she fancied herself in love with the poor man.

So Maggie did her utmost to calm herself, outwardly at least, focusing on the bazaar and doing her best to look pleased with it. In any other circumstances, she would have been delighted, for it was a fascinating place. The ground floor held dozens of glass-topped counters, each displaying something interesting. Trinkets and jewellery, millinery and lace all jostled for attention besides gloves and hosiery and so much else it was quite overwhelming. Maggie caught up with her aunt and Caro, who exclaimed excitedly over all they had seen and, to Maggie’s dismay, seemed to have made far too many purchases. In normal circumstances she would have remonstrated with them for their reckless spending, but as she had behaved far worse than they she did not feel she had the right to do so.

More counters stuffed with cutlery, sheets of music, pocketbooks and porcelain objects had to be inspected and remarked upon. They all sighed over darling little children’s dresses, and in the next stall Maggie had to drag her aunt bodily away before she bought a cut glass ornament in the shape of a bird. Caro complained bitterly over the loss of their piano when she saw the variety of sheet music on offer, all of which was utterly useless to them now. There were children’s books, however, and Maggie could not resist buying a copy of Tom Thumb’s Picture Alphabet, a purchase she comforted herself was educational for her son and so not in the least frivolous. Then she remembered the train and did not know whether to be comforted or dismayed when she discovered Mr Weston had rejoined them and that he had purchased the train himself.

Mr Weston noticed her standing alone at the bookstall and walked towards her, looking as though he wished to speak, but Maggie turned away, hurrying to stand close to her sister and aunt once more. She had humiliated herself beyond bearing as it was, and if he was kind to her on top of that she would die. Instead, Maggie determined to repay him for the train and prayed that everyone else was feeling as weary as she was, if not so out of sorts, for she longed to go back to the house. She could not think of it as home, but at least Wallace and Mrs Moody and Gideon would be there, and Mr Weston would not be, and she might contrive to feel comfortable again.

It was another half an hour before Caro could be persuaded to leave, however, and only then when she was the proud owner of a splendid ostrich feather dyed a jaunty shade of green. Indeed, the display held so many feathers, all in extraordinary colours, that Auntie Connie was moved to wonder aloud if there was a bird left anywhere that wasn’t entirely bald.

The journey back home was no quieter than the one going, despite everyone being fatigued by such diverting entertainments. Only Maggie was silent, though she tried her best to do her bit to attend to the conversation and appear at ease, whilst studiously avoiding Mr Weston’s gaze. Once or twice, she thought he tried to catch her eye, but she refused to meet it, certain it would do her no good and only make an awkward situation worse.

If only he did not speak of it, perhaps in time they could forget it ever happened and be easy together again. For she realised she valued his friendship too highly to ever risk it again for feelings which she now knew were entirely one-sided. It had only been a silly daydream, after all, to think that such a man might take an interest in her, and she was sensible enough to put such romantic nonsense to one side. She might feel sorry for herself for a day or two, but that would pass as all things passed if one kept busy and did not dwell on what could not be changed.

When they finally arrived back at Berwick Street, Maggie congratulated herself on behaving very prettily, thanking Mr Weston most warmly for a wonderful outing and leaving him with perfect politeness, all without ever meeting his eye.