Page 3 of When We Touch

“There should be a rich marriage in the offing for your brother. In time,” Angus said. “I have been quietly making inquiries, intent upon finding the proper bride.”

Maggie could well imagine. Angus would be looking, certainly. He would be seeking an aging dowager with properties and monies in abundance. However, she would be far beyond the age when a child might be produced, and therefore, the title would fall to Angus and his heirs.

“Now, I may suggest first that you cut down on your household—starting with the chaff,” Angus said.

“Jacques Mireau.”

Angus grimaced in a fashion that made his lips very slim. “The man is a leech.”

“A friend, a poet, and one day, a famed writer, I am certain,” Maggie said.

“There are whispers about you,” Angus said.

“I’m sorry, Uncle, as I know how very much the opinions of those in your strata matter to you. What is said about me is not important.”

“For your brother’s sake, it is highly important.” Angus’s fingers were all but white as he gripped the arms of his chair. “As if you have not embarrassed the family enough already—marrying a policeman!”

“Well, then, thank God that he died so young, rather than embarrassing us further!” Maggie cried, unable at that point to restrain her fury.

She wasn’t at all sure herself why this argument seemed to be so much between her and Angus—she wasn’t the one who had gambled away the family fortune. But then she realized suddenly that she was under personal attack, and she knew that she was about to discover why.

“There is a solution,” Angus said.

“And that is?” she demanded.

“Marriage.”

“Well,” she said, glancing at Justin again. He was to be wed to an old dowager. However innocently he might have fallen into vice, he was the one who had done so.

“And, pray, what marriage might you have negotiated in my brother’s behest?”

“Your brother’s marriage, my girl, is still under negotiation.”

“I’m sure she’s rich and charming—and certainly, sir, with your wisdom, you’ve chosen someone with a definite measure of... maturity,” Maggie said politely.

Justin let out something that sounded strangely like a snort, not at all becoming a baron. Nor did he seem to care—it was a sound of self-loathing, and disturbed Maggie greatly.

“There is surely a way out of this rather than a hasty and unhappy marriage for my brother,” Maggie informed Angus sternly. “This is, after all, the nineteenth century.”

“Maggie!” Justin protested, forming words at last. “It isn’t my impending marriage that brings such a searing sense of pleasure and satisfaction to our dear uncle’s face.”

His sarcasm did not go unnoticed.

“Ungrateful whelp!” Angus said angrily, almost rising.

“Ah, but titularly, he is the head of the family,” Maggie murmured.

“Others of far greater magnitude have rotted away in Newgate,” Angus reminded her.

“The marriage he has planned—and, oh, yes, certainly to a person of wealth, charm, and maturity, is for you,” Justin said.

Stunned, Maggie gasped aloud. “Me!”

“Why so surprised, my dear niece?” Angus asked. He wore a look of feigned distress, while she knew that he secretly relished her amazement and discomfort. She shuddered within, wondering what manner of man her uncle might have found for her.

Angus stood, hands clasped behind his back as he paced around the chair. “Frankly, I’d not have thought of such a happy remedy for your plight on my own, I fear.” He stopped and stared straight at her, shaking his head with dismay. “You had such a brilliant season in your youth, my dear! You dazzled the Ton, and you had the credentials to bring about a splendid marriage. But you chose to disgrace the family and take up with a commoner!”

She thought wryly that he might have been less disproving had she opted to commit murder.