Page 32 of The Widower Without a Will
“Yet family has a duty to care for each other, even when it is difficult.You deserve to be welcomed by your family.”
Tears threatened.Martha shut her eyes and indulged herself in a deep, silent breath.
Lord Preston added, “I only want what is best for you.If it is a question of money, then I could settle something upon you—”
Martha kept her eyes closed as she cut him off: “Like a discarded mistress?”
The comment was too sharp.Martha felt consumed by the wordmistress—a brazen woman, a stupid woman, a heinous woman.She didn’t notice Lord Preston roll away until she had banished her tears and discovered their bodies no longer touched at all.
On his stomach, staring down at his pillow, he said stiffly, “I did not mean to imply such a thing.”
But he didn’t need toimply,because the truth was, the only thing distinguishing Martha from a mistress was the matter of money.“And I don’t mean to be ungrateful in the face of your generosity.I wish to cleave our actions from financial matters.You are not in my bed because I want your money.Nor am I in your bed so you may control me with the promise of it.”
“I do not want to control you.I want to do right by you.”These last words barely came out as he slammed his fists into the pillow.Martha startled backward on the mattress.“I’ll stop trying,” he growled.“All I manage to do is fail.”
“You have hardlyfailed.We are only having a conversation.”
“I have failed enough people to know when I am about to fail another.”
Which was when Martha recognized his emotions: they were the same ones that had sent him careening to the mantelpiece when Caroline had deserted their Sunday dinner.She reached out to rest her palm on his bare back.“I am not dependent upon you, Preston.I have money to take rooms at an inn until I hear from Georgina, and if I never hear from her, then I shall take in mending and make do.So you see, you cannot fail me, because I am not asking for anything from you.”
He turned his head on the pillow to look at her.“I made you feel indecent.”
“You have many powers in this land, sir, but even you cannot control how I feel.”She had managed to make herself feel indecent all on her own.
For a moment, he was silent—though he turned on his side to mirror her, and his hand found hers as her palm slid from his back to his hip.“Still, you were upset, and it is because of what I said.”
“It is because you reminded me of a reality I do not want to face.”
“That was the last thing I wanted to do.”
She did not believe him: hehadwanted her to consider the practical question of Georgina, or else he would not have introduced it.But she did believe that he had not wanted to bring tears to her eyes.“I forgive you.”
Holding hands, they inhaled and exhaled together.
Soon would come the next ritual of the evening: his departure.Martha would walk him to the door for one last kiss, and she would leave it cracked, just in case he wanted to slip back in.She would brush her hair again and braid it in two plaits.She would wash her face, her armpits, her happily exercised muff, and she would wrap herself in their blankets and sleep until sunrise.
But she didn’t have to go through that yet.He was still in bed with her, and Martha could lean forward to claim another kiss.Which she did.It tasted all the sweeter for having survived their argument.
“I’ve never known a person like you before,” he said, holding tight to her fingers.
“What, a lusty old widow?”
His smile carved a dark line in the dark room.“A person whose kindness is honesty.You make everything seem clearer and simpler.”
“Not simple, just not quite as complicated as you make it.”
Tugging her close, he said, “Whatever happens in the end, I am so grateful to have you as my friend, Mrs.Bellamy.”
She didn’t like his talk of the end.She didn’t like being called a friend, even though it was her own term to replacemistressorcourtesanor whatever else a person might rightfully call her.
But for whatever reason, she only made one objection: “Don’t you think it is about time we leave Kenneth out of it and you call me Martha instead?”
“Martha.”He drew it out so it sounded like a poem.He kissed her fingertips, making her a queen.“I am so glad to know you, Martha.”
“Yes.You should be.”And, before he left, they laughed together again.
Chapter Twelve
