Page 120 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
“I had no intention of letting you go.”
“You didn’t?”
He laughed. “No, you silly duckling.”
She threw away his hand. “You rake! How could you stand there and allow me to make a fool of myself?”
He laughed even more. “You were doing a very good job of it, M’Lady. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Oh!” she said in a tizzy. “I cannot for the life of me believe this day!”
“Madeline,” he said softly, his mirth gone, “what you said is true for me too. I love your passion. Dare I say, your fire.”
Fire.That word was so meaningless when she used it with Oliver. Here, now, at this moment, it was the only word that was accurate to describe her. She was glad for it. She embraced it. It was her.
“You are,” Peter continued, “the light of all in my life. You have lit the correct path for me.”
“Ask me, then.”
“Lady Madeline, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed.
“Oh!” cried Lisbelle, applauding. “Well done, M’Lord! Well done!”
Madeline took his hand in hers. “And you don’t mind that I am to be penniless? There is no suitable dowry for you.”
“Ah, but you see,” he said, “that is what I came out here to ponder before you so gallantly charged out here like a complete cavalry in battle.”
“What then, you have a plan?”
“Well, I might. Let us go and see your father. It will take much convincing. And I believe it requires the sweet, gentle guidance of his daughter’s wisdom to do it.”
Chapter 83
He sat in his library, alone, brandy in hand, staring at the fireplace.
This was his sanctuary. It was a place he came to when all was dark. Being surrounded by his books, with all their accumulated knowledge, was a balm to him, for he knew that the answers to all of life’s problems lay within their pages. They lay not in any one volume, but in the entirety of man’s intellectual output. It was this notion, the notion that man was put on this earth to struggle towards the truth, that kept him going in dark times.
Now, however, he somehow could not see this fact. It was as if a black curtain had been draped over every shelf. All he could do was despair.
He was angry with Abigail. She was his light in these dark times. But today she had taken that light and shone it on his failings. He wanted to wait.
But she was right. Confound it, she was right. It was unfair to Peter and Oliver to allow the weddings to proceed without anyone’s knowledge of his financial situation. Abigail had agreed to go along with the withholding of this information for a time, or perhaps when it seemed as though there was yet a solution. But she was right. There was no way out. And the men had a right to know.
He was ashamed of himself for bullying her into acquiescence with his little charade. He added her to the long list of apologies he felt he was going to have to make in the coming months. There was the public apology to Lady Elizabeth in the form of the money that evil woman so desperately wanted out of him. Then there were the apologies to his daughters and those wonderful men for his deception.
He raised his brandy glass and drained it in one gulp.
He suddenly got the feeling he was being watched. He turned and saw Madeline standing there with Lord Peter at her side.
“Hello, Papa,” said Madeline.
“Lord Stamford,” said Peter.
“We have some things we’d like to discuss with you if we may.”
Ambrose offered the couch to his right. Madeline sat first, and Peter followed.
