Page 47 of Debtor’s Daughter

“I assure you that having Lady Montagu as her sponsor will make even the most hardened libertine think twice. Montagu would tear them apart,” he said with a smile.

“I had not considered that,” Maggie said, admitting herself relieved. “Very well. When would you wish to begin? And where? For she cannot be seen to be visiting a bachelor household, even with a chaperone. I won’t have anything tarnish her reputation.”

“Quite so, which is why I have arranged to use the same room in Montagu House that I used to paint Miss Barrington. Lady Montagu was delighted at the prospect of seeing you all again. So you and your aunt could take turns to sit with Miss Caroline or visit with Lady Montagu. I hope this is satisfactory.”

It wasn’t in the least satisfactory if it meant Maggie had to spend extended periods of time in company with Mr Weston, but she could hardly say so. She reminded herself he was a professional artist and took his work seriously. He would be too caught up in capturing Caro’s beauty to pay her any mind. If she took a book, she might return the compliment too, she thought with a stab of amusement. Unless he began flirting with Caro. That was such an appalling prospect she felt herself blanch, but she was being ridiculous. Mr Weston was far too much of a gentleman to flirt with her sister in front of her.

“Mrs Finchley?”

Mr Weston’s enquiry pulled her from her anxious musings and Maggie scolded herself for sitting in silence for so long. Lord, but he must be getting the idea she was not only no better than she ought to be, but a halfwit too.

“I beg your pardon. I was only considering the ramifications of such a sitting, but I believe that is satisfactory,” she replied, appalled by how stiff and unfriendly she sounded. Once again, she reminded herself the situation was only awkward because she had made it so and tried to look less ill at ease. “I appreciate what you are doing for my sister,” she added, managing to sound a degree less frigid with disapproval.

At that moment, the door burst open, and Gideon ran into the room.

“Westie!” he exclaimed, and threw himself at Larkin with such force he toppled him back against the sofa.

Maggie stood, horrified, and about to haul her son off the poor man, but Mr Weston only laughed, his big hands grasping the little boy by the waist and holding him up in the air, staring up at him as Gideon squealed with delight. “Why, you little rogue! How big you are. I’ll bet you’ve grown a full inch since I saw you last.”

“Big, big!” Gideon chortled happily as Mr Weston straightened and set the boy on the floor, giving Maggie a sheepish smile.

“I beg your pardon. It’s just it’s been rather quiet without Gideon appearing out of the blue at odd moments.”

Maggie wrung her hands together, feeling instantly at fault. If she had not behaved badly, Mr Weston would not be forced to stay away in fear of her throwing herself at him again. Indeed, when she came to think of it, it was a wonder he dared to call on her at all.

Perhaps something of her chagrin showed on her face for Mr Weston, looked at once concerned. “I hope you have not felt the need to keep him away. Whilst I must work for much of the day, I can always spare a little time for this young scamp, if you do not mind it?”

Maggie swallowed hard, refusing to allow herself to become maudlin for the loss of something she’d never had. She must do what was best for Gideon and the fact remained, he needed a masculine figure in his life. If Mr Weston was kind enough to give up his time for her son, she could not be so cruel as to refuse for the sake of her own wounded pride.

“You are very good, as always, Mr Weston,” she replied, fighting a catch in her voice, but apparently not well enough as his gaze softened, and he took a step towards her.

“Mr Weston! Why, I did not hear you come in. Maggie, why have you not ordered tea for our guest?” Aunt Connie said as she burst into the room, beaming at Mr Weston as if he were a long-lost relative.

“Indeed, Mrs Finchley very kindly offered me refreshments, but I am not staying, Miss Merrivale. If you will excuse me?”

“Oh, so soon?” Aunt Connie lamented, but waved him goodbye as Maggie dutifully followed him to the door.

“I can see Westie again soon?” Gideon demanded plaintively, tugging at her hand.

“Yes, darling. I’m sure you will,” she said soothingly.

“Why don’t you come to tea tomorrow, Gideon, if your mama says you may?” Mr Weston offered, though he looked cautiously at Maggie as if expecting a refusal.

“Mama!” Gideon exclaimed, bouncing on the spot.

Despite the turmoil of her own feelings, Maggie could not help but smile. “Gideon would be delighted to attend, Mr Weston. If you are certain it is not too much of an imposition.”

“Not in the least. I should be happy to see him. At four o’clock, then?”

“Yes, thank you. I shall ask Wallace to escort him. To the back door, if you don’t mind it?”

“Of course not. We can’t set all the curtains twitching, can we?” he replied with a boyishly crooked grin that seemed to strike a painful dart to her chest. “Well then, Master Gideon, I’ll see you tomorrow, and before you ask, yes, I’ll make sure there are lots of cakes.”

“Cake! Cake!” Gideon chanted and ran back into the house. “Caro! Caro! I having cake with Westie!”

“Thank you,” Maggie said as Mr Weston nodded at her, then turned and walked away.