Page 5 of Debtor’s Daughter

Maggie covered her face with her hand, her cheeks scalding with mortification. Any moment now, Mr Weston would excuse himself and leave and never be seen again. He’d probably move to Timbuktu if he had any sense. She wondered wistfully if he’d take her with him.

Mr Weston’s eyebrows went up. “How, er—if it isn’t an indelicate question—did he come to live in a cuckoo clock?”

Maggie groaned inwardly. At least she thought it had been inward, but Caro sent her a fierce glare and Mr Weston glanced in her direction, so perhaps not.

“Auntie Connie is very spiritual,” Caro said, her soft voice dreamy and soothing. Lord, things must be bad for Caro to realise she must try to help. “She feels things deeply.”

“How fascinating,” Mr Weston said, and rather to Maggie’s surprise, he did look interested, and not in the horrified ‘wait until I tell all my friends about this’ way she had expected. “But how—?”

“Giddy!” Maggie practically shrieked as the door opened and her son came in. “Look, my darling. Mr Weston from next door has come to see you and he’s brought you a lovely gift.”

“Present?” Giddy said, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes, Master Gideon,” Mr Weston said, smiling at the lad and reaching for the parcel beside him on the sofa. He held it out to Gideon, who glanced at his mother for approval. Maggie nodded, and the lad darted forward and took the parcel from Mr Weston.

“What do you say, Giddy?” Maggie prompted gently.

“Fank you,” Giddy said, and then plopped his bottom down on the rug and began ripping the paper off. “A ball!” he exclaimed, beaming as he held the leather ball up to show his mama.

“Oh, and such a handsome ball it is, too. What colour is it, Giddy?” she asked him.

“Red and white,” the boy said, touching a chubby finger to the red sections and then the white that had been sewn together to make the ball. “Play with it now, Mama?”

“You may,” Maggie said, smiling at his eager expression. “But only in the garden, never in the house. Promise?”

“Not in the house,” Gideon replied solemnly, and then ran from the room shouting. “Moody, Moody! Look what I’s got!”

“I think he liked it,” Caro said with a giggle and Maggie noted the look of admiration Mr Weston sent her and his accompanying smile.

“Perhaps it will keep him from plaguing you so with those dreadful saucepans,” Maggie said, praying it would be so.

“Oh, Maggie, that boy and his saucepans. He made such a racket earlier,” Auntie said, wagging a finger at Maggie. “You really ought to have told him off, the naughty boy.”

Maggie swallowed the words brewing on her tongue and instead turned to Mr Weston. His eyes glinted, a look in them that suggested he knew just what she was thinking. Maggie felt colour rise to her cheeks and looked hurriedly away.

“Thank you, ladies, for a delightful visit,” he said, bestowing a charming smile upon them all. “But if you will excuse me, I must return to my work.”

Everyone stood, but Caro finally roused herself to ask a question of their guest.

“What kind of paintings do you do, Mr Weston?” Caro asked him before he could take his leave of them.

“Portraits, mostly,” he replied, and then paused.

Maggie understood why, for the sun, which had been hidden behind thick cloud for most of the day, suddenly appeared and a shaft of golden light filtered through the lace curtains, illuminating Caro’s lovely face. Mr Weston looked mesmerised, held by some unseen force as he gazed upon her.

“Has anyone ever painted you, Miss Caroline?”

“Me?” Caro said, eyes growing wide. “Good heavens, no. Why would they?”

Maggie almost laughed at Mr Weston’s evident consternation, but Caro wasn’t fishing for compliments. She knew she was considered lovely, but they had come from a rural place with few people and everyone, having known her from birth, had become familiar with her astonishing looks. In the city, things were different, and finding men stopping in the street to stare at her had been a shock to Caro, and one to which she was still not accustomed. That men wished to gaze at her was an idea she was struggling to appreciate. Maggie didn’t blame her. It was most disconcerting.

“Because you are beautiful, Miss Caroline,” Mr Weston replied candidly. “I should like very much to paint you. If you would allow it.”

Caro blushed and looked to Maggie uncertainly.

“We are all proud of Caro,” Maggie said with a smile, taking her sister’s arm. “But this coming season is to be her first and we have no friends here, Mr Weston. I hope you understand that we must tread carefully.” For more reasons than she could enumerate.

“Of course,” he said at once. “I would certainly be very happy for you or your aunt to chaperone her at all times, but do you not have a sponsor, Miss Caroline?”

Caro shook her head. “Sadly not. Papa always intended for Mrs—”

“Things did not work out as we’d hoped they might,” Maggie said hurriedly, sending Caro a glare of warning. They must avoid offering extra information about themselves. “So we are all at sea, I’m afraid.”

Mr Weston looked thoughtful. “I wonder,” he murmured. “I cannot make any promises, but I might help you there.”

Maggie stared at him, heart thumping. “How so?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm when every instinct wanted to grab hold of his arm and plead with him, yes, yes, please, anything!

“If you would be so good as to leave the matter with me, I shall give it some thought. I’m certain my mother would be pleased to help, but sadly, she rarely comes to town. However, she does have a good many friends. It’s possible I might at least ask one of them to make some introductions.”

“Oh, Mr Weston,” Maggie said, so overcome with relief at this lifeline her words trembled a little. The worry that they would be all alone and become objects of pity or derision among the ton had kept her awake at night. “I-I cannot tell you how grateful we would be.”

Mr Weston held up a hand, shaking his head. “I have done nothing yet, and I cannot promise I will, but I shall try. Upon that, you have my word.”

With that, he made his goodbyes, and his escape. Maggie only prayed he did not look back upon the visit and conclude that, temporarily dazzled by Caro’s beauty, he’d gone and lost his mind.