.
Mena stopped at the door to the breakfast room and stared at Morgan, who looked up from his paper at the sight of her. She wasn’t surprised to find him there, yet something shook her from the inside out at the sight of him there.
This would be their future. The house would be different, of course, but she would likely awake to find this man at her table to share a meal… if he wasn’t working. That was another issue she wanted to speak to him about. She had no clue what being a spy for England entailed, but seeing as he’d taken the time to remain with her through the night, she decided the conversation could come later.
But recalling why he’d stayed was a blow to her stomach. A man had died. George. She’d had him for years, even before Mrs. Gale came on staff. George had been her driver in Hanover as well as here. She’d taken for granted that he’d been with her so long. An older gentleman with a sharp eye, he’d probably saved her life last night when he’d spotted the faulty wheel. He’d probably saved her life when he’d moved to stand between her and the man with the dagger.
“How are you, dear?” Mrs. Gale asked. She’d kept to her rooms upon her arrival at the house last evening, just as distraught over George’s death as Mena was. She’d been crying before she made it to her room and Mena knew the woman would not show herself with reddened eyes or a sorrow swollen face.
Mena walked to the head of the table and sat between Morgan and Mrs. Gale. A servant poured her tea, and she took a calming sip before she spoke. “I simply wish this violence would cease.” Her eyes moved to Morgan and found him watching her.
“Ralph has joined your staff. You’re not to leave the house without him. “
Mena nodded. She didn’t know Ralph well, but what she did know, she liked. She remembered how he’d chased down and caught Silas, knocking he man out without killing him. That alone made her feel better. She hoped he would continue to use that method or restraint while she was around. She’d rather not see anyone die; however. she was resolved to protect herself and those around her.
She slipped her hand under the table and touched the dagger pressed to her thigh. She planned to practice withdrawing the dagger later on that day.
“What are your plans for the day?” Morgan had finished his breakfast and was now watching her.
“I thought I might stay home.” She was not anxious to go outside again. Everyone had heard about the stabbings, but they’d not occurred in Mayfair until last evening.
He nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.” He stood. “I must go. I’ll see you later this evening.”
She looked up at him, her heart racing. She didn’t want him to go, but she knew he had to. She turned away and nodded.
He touched the hand she had rested on the table, covering it with his own before pulling away. The touch was comforting, though she still didn’t want him to leave.
“Wait, my lord,” Mrs. Gale said before he could lean away from the table. While watching them, the other woman’s eyes had been almost warm, but now her face was set with seriousness. “We have the matter of you bedding here for the night to discuss. If you walk out that door and a single person sees you, my charge’s reputation is ruined.”
Mena’s stomach fell, and she turned to Mrs. Gale. “Surely, the world can make an exception under the circumstances.”
Mrs. Gale shook her head. “Some might believe that Lord Durham took advantage of your weakened state.”
Mena gasped, but it was Morgan who made her cringe. There was living heat in his eyes. His hands were fisted at his sides. He looked ready to do harm.
His voice was cool when it came, which was all the more startling. “I would never take advantage of her.”
Mrs. Gale didn’t seem to notice the danger at the table. Either that, or she didn’t care. She lifted her chin and said, “That may be true, my lord, but it will not matter to the public. I’m sure you’d rather no harm, physical or otherwise, come to Lady Philomena.”
Morgan frowned as he considered her words. Then he sighed. “You’re right. I’ll leave through the back.”
“I would suggest, if I may,” Mrs. Gale went on, “that the wedding be moved to a more convenient date. Considering what happened last night, I think no one would take issue if Lady Philomena wanted to have a husband under her roof.”
Mena stared at Mrs. Gale in surprise and then turned to find Morgan’s gazed fixed on herself.
The anger had fled and in its stead was something she couldn’t read, though part of her thought it was nervousness.
He cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his back before he spoke. “I would not be disinclined to move the wedding forward.”
Of course, he wouldn’t. He’d suggested it just the other day.
But so much had happened since the party that it seemed like weeks had passed instead of hours. But she’d hoped to have her dinner with Creed before they wed. She wanted everyone together before she gave herself to Morgan, but unless she could find a way to secure dinner arrangements for that very evening, it seemed as though the dinner would have to wait.
“Yes, let’s move the wedding.”
Morgan’s lips curved up slowly, and Mena felt it like a touch.
Mrs. Gale said, “Could a special license be secured?”
Morgan slowly pulled his eyes away from Mena and looked at her chaperone. “I will arrange to have all the necessary documentation.”
“Good.” Mrs. Gale rose. “I’m going to read in my room. You know where I am if you need me.” Then she left.
Or rather, she left them alone. Purposefully so.
Mena smiled at the woman’s back and let Morgan help her to her feet. His hands wrapped around the back of her head and she had a second to pull in a breath before his mouth was on hers. The kiss was sweet, and deep, and made Mena ache for more.
He broke it and his eyes were soft when he spoke. “My title had become an empty shell when my father inherited, which meant he’d had to marry an heiress in order to survive. He married my mother, and though she was cold, she was willing in order to become a marchioness.” He still held her head in his hands and Mena didn’t understand why he was telling her this, but she was willing to hear anything he wished to share with her and was thankful for it.
She set her hands on his chest as he went on.
“As part of their arrangement, my mother had my father swear to certain allowances. She would control their fortune, she would name any child she bore, and she would be allowed to choose the next marchioness.”
It all made sense now. She understood why his mother had been given permission to choose his wife, but what she didn’t understand was why Morgan had allowed it. “Why did you let her choose? You didn’t swear any oath to her.”
He smiled. “I didn’t, but on my father’s deathbed, I swore it to him. My eldest brother had already run away, and my father didn’t want to die knowing he’d broken his oath. He asked me to not let him die a liar, and I swore that I would not let it happen.”
“So, you let her choose,” she whispered.
He nodded, and his hands tightened, his eyes serious. “That woman has never given me a good thing in my entire life. Not a kind word, or a kind gesture. If she smiled, it was never for me, and I most certainly never had her love.”
She slid her hands up and cupped his jaw. Her sorrow for him shook her heart. “I’m so sorry, Morgan.”
He smiled, his gaze still sharp. “It’s all right, because though she didn't give me anything good for years, she finally gave me you. You are the good in my life, Philomena, and I swear to you today that I will do what I can so that you always know that.”
His words flooded through her veins like shimmering light and then all at once everything inside her went silent. A pleasant peace like none she’d felt before rested over her. She was still as she stared into his eyes then felt her own fill with tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but only his name was on her lips. “Morgan,” she whispered.
He bent forward and kissed her again, then wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.
She didn’t know how long they stood there, kissing as her heart melted, but she knew that when he left, he took all her reservations with him.
The thought of marrying him now not only felt good, but right in every way.
Especially when she considered the fact that she loved him.