Page 62 of Indecent
People like him whose fathers had gambled away their entire fortune, leaving their family to behave as beggars. Perhaps he exaggerated, but not by much.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Mrs. Merryfield said with the barest hint of a smile. “There is much we can offer each other. A union between us would be mutually beneficial. I know you need money, and I’ve plenty of it. If I wasn’t clear the other night, I would very much like to be a viscountess.”
“I did gather that.” Bennet was careful to keep the irony from his tone.
“Furthermore, I’ve demonstrated my ability to bear strong, healthy children. It should be no trouble to provide you with an heir in due haste.”
Bennet nearly tripped. How to tell her he didn’t want that? He supposed he could just say so. She was being wonderfully frank.
“There is something I wish to discuss, and I hope you will be amenable. I understand you must spend time at your estate in Somerset; however, I expect to reside primarily in London, save a few weeks a year to visit—Aberforth Place, is it?” She looked at him expectantly.
“Yes.” Was she saying what he thought she was saying? She didn’t want to spend much time at Aberforth Place? She really was close to perfect. He could avoid telling her anything about his family because she’d rarely see them. Surely he could hide their affliction. Until such time as it overtook him as it had his father—ifit did so.
“I’m afraid I’m needed in London,” she went on. “Because of the bank.”
“Of course. I completely understand.” He smiled widely, pleased with how bloody wonderfully this was turning out. If only he actuallywantedto marry her. “May I assume your children will stay in London with you?”
“Certainly,” she answered quickly, with almost a slight affront. “My son is at school anyway.”
“Just so.” Bennet appreciated the fact that he could be a stepfather from afar.
“Now, might I ask about your pugilism habit?” She wrinkled her nose, and Bennet could guess her thoughts on the matter.
“I enjoy the sport very much.” He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t in order to win a wife. Nor was he going to offer to stop.
“It’s rather savage. I can’t say I’d support it.”
“That’s unfortunate as I’ve no intention of giving it up.” On the contrary, he felt as though he needed it more than ever.
Glancing toward her, he saw that her lips were pursed. He felt a surge of relief that she was perhaps reconsidering their suitability, which was incredibly foolish. Mrs. Merryfield could be the solution he was looking for.
Turning the conversation to the weather and the spring flowers, he escorted her along the path until she abruptly announced her departure. “Perhaps I will see you at the Phoenix Club assembly on Friday,” she said. “Unless you call on me first.” She smiled, but he didn’t sense any genuine warmth. The entire promenade had felt like a business transaction—and one that hadn’t gone satisfactorily.
Bennet committed to nothing as he bowed and wished her a pleasant afternoon. Her maid joined her, and they walked toward the exit. Apparently, she’d accomplished what she’d come to the park to do. He, however, had not.
There were far more people about now, so it was even more difficult to find Prudence. He walked back the way he’d come, nodding and smiling at those who didn’t avoid him. No one gave him the cut direct, but some were bloody close.
At last, he spotted Lady Wexford. She stood just off the path with her friend, Lady Overton. Bennet made his way toward them, drawing their attention as he approached.
“Lord Glastonbury, how fine to see you here,” Lady Wexford greeted him. “Fiona, you know Lord Glastonbury?”
He bowed to both ladies.
“I do. It’s a pleasure to see you,” Lady Overton said. With shocking red hair and a charming, inquisitive demeanor, she’d arrived from the country and commanded quite a bit of attention. That had been before she’d eloped with her guardian, the Earl of Overton, of which Prudence had reminded Bennet. Their elopement had earned even more attention. Bennet knew him vaguely, but they weren’t friends.
Bennet looked to Lady Wexford and tried to sound nonchalant. “Where is your lovely sister-in-law and her companion?”
“Kat—that is, Miss Shaughnessy—rarely comes to the park during the fashionable hour,” Lady Wexford said. “She finds all this to be nonsense. I would have asked Prudence to join us, but she wasn’t at home.”
Bennet tamped down his disappointment. Where was she if not at home? Particularly when he’d asked her to meet him? He wondered if she was doing something with the ring since he’d shared Lucien’s impatience. Had she gone to him? Had she gone to Lady Peterborough? Unease swirled through him. How he wished he could be at her side to offer support. This had to be a difficult time.
Hell, he wanted to be at her side even if it wasn’t difficult. He missed her.
He was suddenly eager to be on his way so he could be alone with his thoughts. “I just thought I’d stop and say good afternoon.” He touched his hat and continued toward the gate.
Why couldn’t Prudence have been the heiress he needed? How simple everything would be.
What a lie that was. The truth was that he didn’t want to marry. He couldn’t. His family’s illness wasn’t something he would subject a bride to, especially one he cared about as much as Prudence. If he did wed Mrs. Merryfield, he’d do everything possible to ensure she didn’t learn about his family’s illness. Thankfully, her revelation that she preferred to spend most of her time in London would make that far easier than he’d anticipated. It was a considerable point in her favor.
