Page 144 of Oddity of the Ton
Monty had never seen such an expression on the prickly Lady Marlow. But perhaps that was a reflection of her opinion of him compared to her obvious love for the woman who’d drawn her likeness. Eleanor’s love for Lady Marlow shone through every line, every pencil mark.
The door opened, and Marlow entered.
“Whitcombe! I didn’t expect to see you. I thought you were overwintering in the country.”
“And I you.”
“I brought Lavinia to London for her confinement,” Marlow said. “She insisted on being close to Dr. McIver.”
“Couldn’t you send for him from the country?” Monty asked.
“Lavinia insisted, on account of McIver’s other patients. She said she’d never forgive herself if another of his patients fell ill while he was wasting time riding back and forth to Marlow Park. Always thinks of others, does my Lavinia.”
He gave a sigh, a look of contentment in his eyes, which, though Monty might have ridiculed a few months ago, he now found himself envying.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Monty said. “You have a son?”
“A daughter. Lillian Mary Eleanor.”
“You’re not disappointed?”
Anger sparked in Marlow’s eyes. “Unlike you, Whitcombe, I don’t see a wife as merely a vehicle for procuring an heir.”
Ouch. But when had Monty ever expressed a different view on the role of a wife?
“Is Lady Marlow at home?” he asked. “I’d like to congratulate her in person.”
“I doubt she’ll want to seeyou.”
“I understand she may be delicate after her confinement, but—”
Marlow snorted. “My Lavinia wouldn’t let something like a confinement slow her down. I meant she’d be unwilling to see you given that you’re the cause of her losing her dearest friend. She’s devastated that Miss Howard has gone.”
“And you think I’m not?”
“Youended your engagement.”
“Yes, but…”
Marlow let out a laugh. “Don’t say the infamous rake has lost his heart?”
“It’s no laughing matter!” Monty snapped.
“That it’s not,” a female voice said.
Lady Marlow stood in the doorway.
“Lavinia, my love,” Marlow said. “What did I tell you about the need to rest? I—”
“Spare me, Peregrine,” she said, turning her unsmiling gaze on Monty. “I thought I heardyourvoice.”
“Lady Marlow, you don’t know how delighted I am to see you,” Monty said.
“And I you,” she replied.
Marlow raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes, Peregrine. I’ve been wanting to give himthis.”
