“She is very vain, just like my mother. Only thing is, Libby is younger than my mother by two years. Yes, my mother is going to be delighted.”
Lord Kipper came to dinner, as he did nearly every evening since he and Libby had become involved in an affaire. At the end of the meal that still wasn’t very good, even though Cook swore she’d followed Mary Rose’s recipe for the stewed mutton down to the dash of thyme, Thomas rose and tapped his fork on his wineglass to gain everyone’s attention. “William,” he said to his younger brother, “you look less dead this evening than you did this morning.”
William raised hopeful eyes at the sound of his half-brother’s jovial voice. “Yes, I am fine now, Thomas.”
“You will be more than fine very shortly. Actually, very shortly you will be a married man. You will wed Jenny MacGraff right here next Sunday. You and Jenny will live here, of course. I will provide Jenny a dowry.”
With surprising agility, Libby jumped to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over she came up so quickly. “You cannot mean this, Thomas. It is absurd. The idiot girl’s pregnant, who cares? It happens all the time. Give Teddy MacGraff a couple of pounds, he’ll go away happy.”
Madeleine said, “Thomas, Libby’s right. This can’t be the best way to solve this problem. The MacGraffs are nothings—nobodies! Goodness, Teddy MacGraff is a merchant! Oh, wait a moment—goodness me, can you believe it? Libby, you will be a grandmother! Ah, what a terrible thing, just terrible.”
“No, I will not be a bloody grandmother! I do not recognize this child as William’s. Indeed, I imagine he isn’t the father at all. She drew him in, seduced him. He is a boy, incapable of producing a child.”
Thomas laughed, he just couldn’t help himself. He looked over at William, who was pale as the tablecloth, his fingers clutched around his wineglass, his eyes glazed.
Thomas said, “Yes, you will indeed be a grandmother, Aunt Libby. And yes, William is the father. The wedding will take place next Sunday right here at Pendragon or—please listen to me, William. Are you?”
William jerked his eyes up from the wine that was such a lovely red. “I am listening, Thomas.”
“You will marry Jenny MacGraff. You will be a good husband to her and a good father—at least better than our own father, which isn’t saying much at all—or you will never again be welcome here at Pendragon. I will also cut you off without a sou. That is your choice. William, it is your decision. What say you?”
William looked from his mother back down to his wineglass. He picked up his
fork and played with it, then slumped down in his chair. He raised pitiful eyes to Thomas. “Perhaps it isn’t my child, Thomas. Perhaps Jenny has bedded many men and—”
“Don’t be a fool, William. She was a virgin. Or will you try to tell me that she wasn’t?”
“Perhaps a girl can have many virginities, perhaps she can develop a new one to lure in young men—”
“Which will it be, William?” Thomas asked with great patience, his voice implacable. Thomas had said earlier to Meggie that he couldn’t imagine why any girl would want William, but the girl did. As for her father, Teddy had rubbed his hands together and smiled. It hadn’t been a nice smile. “I’ll see to it the lad behaves himself,” Teddy had said, and Thomas believed him. He then gave Thomas a ferocious smile and shook his hand to seal the bargain.
“Marriage,” William said into his lower lip. “I choose marriage.”
“And you swear you will do your best to be a good husband and a good father?”
“I swear.”
“Good. Niles, will you attend William’s wedding?”
Lord Kipper raised a sleek brow, smiled, and raised his wineglass. “It will be a very nice wedding,” he said. “To William and—what’s-her-name?”
“Jenny MacGraff.”
“To William and Jenny.”
Everyone drank except Libby and William, who both moaned into their glasses.
“It’s done,” Thomas said when he and Meggie were finally alone some two hours later in the White Room, the door closed and locked. “It’s been a very long day. Now, at last, I can concentrate on you. I’ve been thinking about this since this morning.”
“Yes, it’s done. Let me tell you, Thomas, Mrs. Black is thrilled about it. Your mother is chortling because Libby will have a low-born daughter-in-law and be a grandmother before she will. Really? Since this morning?”
“Remember when you were dancing down the corridor and I ran into you? Yes, since that moment when I saw exactly what you were thinking. Your eyes tell me everything, Meggie. Everything. Come here.”
Meggie went, nearly skipping to him since she was so very eager. It was much a repeat of the previous night, but better, Meggie thought, grinning down at her husband, who looked nearly dead. She felt so good she wanted to sing, perhaps write a ditty for Mrs. Mullins about Mary Rose’s stewed fish stew.
She whispered against her husband’s ear, “Perhaps we could hold a cat race to celebrate the wedding.”
Life, Thomas thought, would never be boring with Meggie in it. He kissed her temple and wondered what the future would bring. More lovemaking, that was what he wanted, much more.