Page 51 of Debtor’s Daughter

Maggie nodded, smiling at him, for what else could she do? He was so very kind to them, and he seemed to be so very good as to not hold her shocking behaviour against her. If only they could go back to how things were, she promised herself she would be content to be his friend. “It’s beyond any expectation, and you’ve made Caro and my aunt so very happy. I cannot thank you enough.”

“What about you?” he asked, holding her gaze, his expression intent. “Have I made you happy?”

Maggie’s heart leapt, a flush creeping up her throat to her cheeks. Stop it, she told herself, determined not to read too much into the comment. She had made a fool of herself once before. She would not do so a second time.

“What is there to be unhappy about in such a wonderful theatre, with an evening’s entertainment before me?” she replied carefully. “It is all perfect.”

Mr Weston regarded her for a moment longer, but seemed satisfied, and turned away as the curtain rose and the play began.

2nd November 1850, Princess’s Theatre, Oxford Street, London.

They remained in the box during the interval, at Maggie’s insistence. Whilst she would not for the world spoil Caro and her aunt’s pleasure, Caro’s reputation had to be protected, and she had not yet been presented, and ought still to be in mourning. Far better to keep a low profile until the season began. However, that did not stop people coming to visit them, curious to discover who Larkin’s guests were.

Larkin was handing around drinks to his companions, who had risen to avail themselves of the petit fours when the first visitors arrived.

“Evening, Lars,” drawled a refined, lazy voice and Larkin looked up, amused to see Lord Harry Bedwin, with his close friend and companion, Mr Charles Abner. Both young men, around eighteen years of age, wore the studied swagger he recognised too well from his own youth. Affecting the appearance of world-weary cynicism, they appeared far too nonchalant when their eagerness to meet Larkin’s beautiful young guest was obvious.

“Harry, Charles, how do,” Larkin replied, grinning at Harry, who he’d known since his birth. “You are both looking fine as fivepence,” he observed, quirking an eyebrow at Harry’s bright red tartan waistcoat.

“Thank you,” Harry replied calmly, ignoring the hint of sarcasm that Larkin knew had not escaped him, and taking the comment at face value. Harry was nothing if not good-natured and knew how to take a bit of ribbing. “I saw Mr Anson on my way here and he admired it, too.”

“I never doubted it,” Larkin replied with a laugh, and then decided he had best put the two young men out of their misery and do Miss Caroline a kindness, for both were exceptionally eligible, Harry especially, being the younger son of a duke.

“Lord Harry, Mr Abner, might I make known to you, my guests? Mrs Finchley, Miss Merrivale, Miss Caroline Merrivale. Ladies, I present Lord Harry Bedwin, and Mr Charles Abner.”

The ladies all curtsied very prettily but, despite the boy’s impeccable manners, it was clear the young men had eyes for no one but Miss Caroline. The girl, suddenly shy in the company of two such magnificent, handsome, and obviously eligible young men, blushed and stammered out a few rather awkward replies. Her inarticulate responses seemed not to faze her admirers, however, who hung upon her every word.

Feeling eyes upon him, he looked up to see Mrs Finchley watching him intently and smiled. She started and looked hurriedly away, which made him curious to know what she had been thinking. Leaving Miss Caroline to her aunt’s chaperonage, he moved to where the lady stood, looking down upon the comings and goings of the audience below.

“Do not fear. Lord Harry and Mr Abner are most respectful young men, despite their rather raffish airs. You have nothing to fear. Indeed, they are exactly the kind of young men who can do your sister’s consequence nothing but good.”

Mrs Finchley looked at him and nodded thoughtfully before returning her gaze to the crowd milling beneath.

“Perhaps we might arrange to meet them for a walk in Hyde Park if the weather remains fine?” he suggested. “Miss Caroline might feel a little more at ease in a less formal setting. It would be good for her to have some familiar faces when she makes her come out.”

“That is an excellent notion and, as ever, most thoughtful, Mr Weston,” she replied with a polite smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Larkin studied her, feeling increasingly ill at ease himself. He had hoped this evening would be a way to smooth the tension between them, but it was plain she was still very much on her dignity. He cursed himself again for his clumsy handling of a woman who was so painfully vulnerable it made his heart hurt. He had spoiled a friendship he had valued more than he’d realised in his hurry not to give the wrong impression. Except he was coming to realise it had not been the wrong impression. Not entirely, at least.

Though the idea of it made him horribly uncomfortable, he owed her honesty if nothing else. If he showed her his own vulnerability, she might realise he had not been rejecting her out of hand, but was only afraid he could not trust his feelings. The walk in Hyde Park might be an opportunity for him too, to speak privately with her, without fear of being overheard.

In the meantime, he could only do his utmost to assure her of his continued regard. His gaze returned to her profile and his fingers itched to capture her pose. How beautiful she was. A critic might suggest her nose was a touch too long for perfection, but Larkin thought it added refinement to her bearing, a slight aloofness to her demeanour that was highlighted at present by her coolness towards him. Her mouth, conversely, was wide and lush, made for laughing and passionate kisses, and it stirred his blood to consider he might know how she tasted if he’d not been such a lamentable prat.

Suddenly aware of his scrutiny, she looked sharply around and coloured as she found him watching her.

“I believe the curtain will rise shortly,” she said, and turned away, returning to her seat.

Discovering himself dismissed, though he thought there was time yet before the performance began, Larkin took the hint and returned to her aunt and Miss Caroline. He suggested the meeting in Hyde Park the next day, to which her two admirers readily agreed, and he had barely got rid of them before Ashton Anson arrived with his wife, Lady Narcissa.

Once more, introductions were made, with Ashton and Lady Narcissa greeting the ladies warmly. Ashton immediately took to Aunt Connie, who was likewise impressed and began flirting with his friend outrageously.

“But don’t we make a handsome pair,” Ashton remarked, for his waistcoat was the same deep purple as Miss Merrivale’s gown and lavishly embroidered in black silk.

“Quite stunning,” Aunt Connie agreed with obvious sincerity. “I have rarely seen a man who could stand beside me and not fade into the background, but you, Mr Anson, are far too beautiful to ever be outshone.”

“Auntie!” Miss Caroline squeaked, blushing with mortification, but Ashton only grinned appreciatively.

“Finally, a woman who values all my best qualities,” he said, taking Miss Merrivale’s hand and bowing low. “I am your servant, madam.”