Page 33 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
And just like that, his wife was in his thoughts again.
He grit his teeth as he attempted to banish her.
“Do you think it wise to request Lord Matthews meet you at the orphanage?” Murray twisted his mouth. “The viscount prefers to conduct business in his home, as I’m sure you know.”
“I do know. But if the man wants to change our agreed-upon time, he needs to meet me on my terms. I have business to attend to at Little Windmill, and I will not miss it. Even for him.”
Murray huffed a breath. “What could be so important you would risk Lord Matthews’s annoyance?”
“The children are performingAs You Like It, and I promised I’d attend.”
“That sounds…” Murray scratched his chin. “Well, that sounds charming.”
“Of course it does, and it will be charming.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest and reclined in his chair. “Matthews has had me dancing to his tune since I stood for my first borough. I refuse to give him leave to yank my strings anymore.”
His secretary was silent for a long moment and then nodded. “Bravo, my lord. The viscount is an important ally, but he should never be your dictator.”
“I’m so glad you agree, Murray,” he remarked drily.
The man had the wits to blush.
“If the note meets with your standard of approval, please ensure he receives it.” Niall snorted. “The last thing I need is for him to claim he didn’t know about the change in plans.”
“If his lordship claims ignorance of the location change, it will not be because he didn’t receive this note.” Murray straightened his cravat. “I’ll instruct a footman to deliver it straight away.”
Niall sighed as he watched him walk out the room. He had only an hour or so before he needed to leave for Westminster, and the thought brought a scowl to his face. He had slept poorly, and would much rather stay in and rest.
Great deeds are done by men who accomplish ordinary deeds every day, he repeated to himself. Squaring his shoulders, Niall scribbled notes for his upcoming meetings, doing his best to focus his thoughts. By the time Murray returned, he had read through a draft proposal and notated some items for the author, and was feeling much more like himself. He couldn’t allow his bewitching new bride to monopolize his wits any longer.
“The note has been sent,” Murray announced as he walked back into the room.
“Excellent.” Niall considered the items in front of him until a thought suddenly occurred to him. “One additional item. Do you know…if her ladyship has been invited to attend the performance at Little Windmill tomorrow?”
“I do not.” The secretary wrinkled his nose. “But I’d imagine Lady Firthwell or even Her Grace of Ashwood would invite her, don’t you think?”
Niall sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps.”
He’d wager a bottle of his best whisky that the viscountess had sent Alicia an invitation. And while Niall knew his wife would enjoy the production, he did not fancy the prospect of watching her laugh and interact with the children when his emotions concerning her were already so riotous.
Sitting up, he slapped his hands on the desktop, the loud sound jerking his resolve into place. “Be that as it may, I’m certain the stress of our wedding requires a recovery period, and I insist we give her ladyship one. Please make it clear, Murray”—Inverray speared him with a firm look—“that my greatest concern is her health, and I intend for her, as my marchioness, to protect it.”
“Protect it.Of course.” Murray did not look convinced, but he nodded just the same.
Satisfied his trip to the Little Windmill would not be sabotaged with the sudden appearance of his fetching bride, Niall released a long breath. Alicia would be fond of the children at the foundling home, buthealso needed time to adjust to his marriage. Mayhap another week of forced distance from his new wife would cure him of his pining thoughts.
Possibly.
Niall groaned as he rubbed his brow. He was in trouble.
Chapter Twelve
The following morning, Niall found himself on a ridiculously narrow chair between a pair of sisters, Miss Eunice and Miss Edith. The girls had grabbed his hands as soon as he’d stepped into the parlor at Little Windmill House, bright smiles on their pixie faces, and demanded he sit with them.
Niall could never say no. They had been residents of the home since Edith had been an infant, so they had grown up within the walls of Little Windmill. He was as fond of them as they were of him, clinging to his side whenever he came to visit.
Niall suspected it was because they knew he had the final say on the hard decisions at the foundling home, so they stuck close to him as a form of protection. It was a move he could understand. Life was hard, but it was especially hard for children orphaned at a tender age. If squeezing himself between two wiggly, but appreciative young girls made them feel safe, Niall would grin and bear it happily. No matter how uncomfortable the child-sized chair.
“I should have played Rosalind,” Miss Eunice whispered to him, her mouth twisted in indignation. “I already know half the lines.”
