Alex had no one to blame but himself. Although it would have been nice if he could blame Turpin or Parliament in general, or even Katya for pushing things along faster than they should have gone. But as handy as it would have been to foist the disastrously rough patch his new marriage had hit on someone else, it was his own failure to pay attention that had landed him in the mess.

Just as it was his failure to pay attention that had depressed Violetta’s spirits, casting her life in shadows that she never recovered from. She’d probably been happy for the first time in years when James came along. How ironic that the one thing that could have brought her joy was the thing that killed her. He was responsible for that too.

That thought wouldn’t leave him as he paced the platform at Lanhill’s train station, waiting for Phillips to arrive. There was no need whatsoever for him to be there to meet his right-hand man, but the silence at Winterberry Park for the past week was beginning to grate on his nerves. Marigold had much to learn about managing a country estate, and spent the bulk of her days with Mrs. Musgrave, getting the hang of things. Either that or she resented him so much that she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him beyond meals. They certainly weren’t intimate in bed, which he didn’t blame her for one bit.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as the incoming train’s whistle split the air. A twist of irony tugged at the corner of his mouth. He ignored his age as much as possible and still believed himself to be in the prime of his youth, but nothing made the years seem heavier than being at odds with a woman. He had to make it up to her. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself until he did. But he’d been saying that since even before he married her, and he had yet to figure out how one made so many things up to one’s wife.

The train rolled into the station, screeching to a halt, and half a dozen passengers disembarked. Lanhill was a tiny station, so it wasn’t difficult to spot Phillips’s distinctive ginger hair the moment he stepped down. Surprise relief spilled through Alex as he marched over to greet the man.

Phillips blinked at him, startled. “I didn’t think you’d actually come all the way here to meet me, sir.”

“Yes, well, I was in the area and knew you’d be arriving,” Alex lied, shaking Phillips’s hand. “I wanted to hear how everything went with the revelation.”

Phillips’s expression hardened to business as Alex walked him to the baggage car, where the porter was unloading a handful of suitcases and trunks. “I leaked the information about Miss Murdoch to The Times and The Observer. The Times wasn’t inclined to malign someone so closely associated with the political leanings of its owners, but they have the story. The Observer published a small piece three days ago,” he reported with a triumphant grin. “So the truth is out there. I expect The Times will be forced to address it this summer, if rumors develop the way they usually do.”

Alex thumped Phillips on the back. “Good man.”

He’d been uncertain about playing his trump card where Turpin was concerned so quickly, but frustration and impatience had pushed him to do something, anything, that might brighten Marigold’s mood. She genuinely cared about Ruby Murdoch’s fate, and if Turpin could be brought to justice, perhaps she would forgive him.

“How is Miss Murdoch?” he asked after Phillips collected his suitcase and the two of them headed out of the station to the street, where his buggy was waiting.

Color splashed Phillips’s face, though his frown was troubled. “She’s been through the ringer, sir. She knows she’s had a lucky break by being taken in at Croydon House, but it’ll take her time to trust again.” He paused for a moment before adding, “It might be best to bring her and Faith, that is, her baby, out here to Winterberry Park for the summer.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. Something in the too-flat expression Phillips wore hinted he was hiding something. Alex had known the man for years, and suspected that he’d developed an affection for the poor young woman. Phillips wanted Miss Murdoch near him.

“I’ll speak to Mrs. Croydon about it as soon as possible,” he said, his heart lifting. At last, he had something important of a tender nature to discuss with Marigold. A spring filled his step as he climbed into the buggy. This could have been the opening he needed to start things on a positive path.

He didn’t have a chance to raise the question with Marigold until much later that day, though. It was James’s day to spend at Winterberry Park—something he’d agonized about all week. Would it be more or less hurtful to keep James at arm’s-length for a time? Would Marigold flinch at the sight of his son, or would she think he was a blackguard for banishing his own child? He debated the issue back and forth with himself right up until the last minute, when he decided to keep to his original plan and have James for the day. Lucky for him, James was a charmer, and Marigold seemed to be the kind of woman who loved all children, no matter how disgraceful their fathers were.

“It almost seems a shame to send him back to Clara and Rev. Fallon,” Marigold commented as she waved goodbye from Winterberry Park’s front steps as the sun began to set.

Alex’s heart shot to his throat. She was speaking to him. He had a chance to fix things after all. “Arthur and Clara have managed well so far,” he said carefully.

Still watching the maid who walked James down Winterberry’s long drive and not looking at Alex, Marigold said, “They have their hands full, though, Clara and Rev. Fallon. Two sets of twins within a year of each other would be a daunting task for the most experienced mother.” Her hand drifted absently to her stomach.

Alex’s brow twitched into a frown. Did she still want a child with him, in spite of his utter failures as a husband? Heaven knew that making her pregnant was the one thing he could competently manage. She’d been perfectly satisfied with his performance before he’d ruined things. But if he was going to save their marriage, he would have to do better than giving her what any lover could.

He must have stayed silent, studying her too long. She sent him a sideways glance, then blushed and lowered her eyes. “I wouldn’t object if you chose to bring James to Winterberry Park for a while,” she said in a quiet voice. “With the right nursemaid and this lovely estate to wander, he may be quite happy.”

Alex drew in a breath, the thrill of victory coursing through him. With it came a flash of inspiration. “Funny you should mention that.”

Marigold turned fully to him. “Mention what?”

“A nursemaid.”

She stared at him as if she had no idea what he was on about.

He shook his head slightly and changed his stance. “When Phillips arrived this morning, I asked him how Miss Murdoch was faring.” Just as he’d predicted, Marigold’s expression filled with interest. “Phillips seems to think Miss Murdoch would be happier here, at Winterberry Park, especially since the scandal is about to break.”

“The scandal is about to…what?” Her eyes flared with alarm.

Alex winced. It seemed he had yet another thing on his hands that he hadn’t quite thought through. It was damn difficult to remember to consult someone else in his decision after nearly fifty years of being his own entity.

“I’ve made sure that two key newspapers are aware of Miss Murdoch’s story and Turpin’s involvement in it,” he told her. “One of them, The Observer, published a piece about it on Sunday. So the ball has been set into motion.”

“And how does Ruby feel about all this?” Marigold crossed her arms.

Alex cleared his throat. Blast him, but he hadn’t thought to ask. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it strikes me that we could kill two birds with one stone by bringing Miss Murdoch here so that she could serve as James’s nursemaid for a while.”

Marigold’s eyebrows shot up. “You would trust a woman with Miss Murdoch’s past, a woman who has a child of her own, with the care of your son?”

It was next to impossible for Alex to tell whether the flash in Marigold’s eyes was offense at the suggestion or approval of his outlandish idea. The rest of society would think he had lost his mind to violate the rules of acceptability so grievously. He hesitated for a little too long before answering, “Yes?”

For a few, terrifying heartbeats, Marigold simply stared at him. Then she relaxed into a pleased smile. Alex was so relieved that he could have fallen to his knees and wept.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “Especially if Turpin’s crimes become public knowledge. I’m sure Ruby would feel much safer in the countryside than in the thick of things in town.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Alex stepped toward her, resting a hand on her arm.

Marigold’s smile faltered, and she stared at his hand. He pulled away, regretting that he’d crossed the invisible boundary between them. But at least she hadn’t wrenched free of him and marched back into the house. It was a step in the right direction, even if it was a tiny one.

“We should sit down and discuss the parameters of James’s extended visit,” he said, praying that she would take the bait and spend more time with him.

She hummed and nodded. “I think we’ll need to be careful how we approach Clara and Rev. Fallon with the idea. We don’t want them to think you’ve lost faith in their ability to care for James.”

“Precisely.” Alex took a deep breath, bristling with nerves as he took a chance and asked, “Would you like to stroll through the garden and discuss it? August sunsets are lovely at Winterberry Park.” Although if he were honest, he would be much happier watching the sun rise, through the window from his bed, with her tucked happily in his arms.

All the same, he hesitantly offered her his arm. After a long, heart-stopping breath, she reached out and tentatively rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. Alex was so relieved that he nearly tripped down the stairs on the way to the garden path. Perhaps his failures weren’t so unforgivable after all. Perhaps he could start over and spend the kind of time with his wife that he should have before proposing to her. For once in his life, he had a chance to make things right. An old dog could learn new tricks.

For as long as she could remember, Marigold had listened to the tales of her friends with houses in the country and longed to have that kind of escape herself. Now that she was firmly settled in Wiltshire with a vast estate of her own—or rather, Alex’s—to manage, she longed for the faster pace and familiarity of London. Winterberry Park was perfectly lovely, and she and Alex were in high demand at parties and gatherings all across the county. But since her arrival two weeks before, she hadn’t felt grounded or focused.

She settled onto the stool in front of the vanity in the dressing room Alex had encouraged her to set up across the hall from their bedroom. The fashionable gown she’d donned for the soiree at Alex’s brother Edward’s house that night swirled around her in a cloud of peach chiffon, but she could have been wearing sackcloth for all the joy it gave her. What use were beautiful gowns when nothing felt right?

“Would you like to wear the diamond earrings or the sapphire, ma’am?” Ada, the housemaid who had been elevated to her lady’s maid asked, holding up both pairs.

Marigold dragged herself out of her thoughts, glancing between the two stunning sets Alex had given her in the weeks after their wedding. Each was gorgeous in its own way, but they held little interest to her. She could see now that Alex had bought them out of a sense of guilt, or worse, obligation.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a sigh. “Whichever you think would look best.”

Poor Ada’s shoulders slumped, and her brow creased with worry. “The sapphire would be more dramatic, I think, ma’am,” she said, returning to the bureau, where all the rest of Alex’s guilt offerings were stored, to put the diamonds away.

Marigold’s gaze shifted to the view out the open window. Wiltshire really was lovely. Alex had been spot on the other day when he told her that August sunsets were beautiful. Their walk through Winterberry Park’s gardens had been enjoyable, even if it hadn’t been particularly comfortable. She sensed that Alex didn’t really know what to say to her, and if she were honest, she hadn’t been much better. The worst of it was that she couldn’t, in all honesty, say that the awkwardness between them was new or unexpected. It was merely what was left over when the excitement of making a rash decision wore off.

“There we go, ma’am.” Ada brought the sapphire earrings to Marigold with a smile.

“Thank you, Ada.” Marigold returned the maid’s smile, then faced the mirror to put the earrings on. “How is James settling in?” she asked Ada’s reflection.

The young woman’s smile brightened. “He’s making himself quite at home, ma’am. Though it’ll be a blessing when the nursemaid you’ve sent for arrives. The maids have their hands full minding a little tike with Master James’s energy. He does so like to wander off.”

Marigold managed a tired smile. “Little boys are always a handful, I suppose.” She stopped short of saying she looked forward to having one of her own. It was too soon for her to have the slightest hint about whether the babe she was carrying was a boy or a girl.

The baby. She took a shaky breath as she finished fastening her earrings. She still hadn’t told Alex. She should have said something that evening when they strolled through the garden, discussing James’s visit. Not coming out with the truth made her as guilty as Alex was for failing to mention James. Well, not quite as guilty. But really, how did one find a smooth and natural way to inform one’s husband that they were about to become a father? Legitimately.

Marigold stood, blowing out a breath and smoothing her skirts. “Thank you for your help, Ada. I expect we’ll be back from this party rather late tonight.”

“I’ll wait up for you, ma’am.” Ada curtsied.

Marigold fetched her beaded reticule from the vanity and headed for the door. If she were counting her blessings, she would have to count Ada among them. She was a cheerful young woman with a smile that put her at ease. And heaven only knew how much she needed that.

As she reached the top of the stairs and started down to the front hall, where Mr. Noakes was waiting to see her and Alex off, James burst out from one of the drawing rooms, laughing and shrieking. A moment later, Alex stomped into the hall behind him, arms outstretched, a comical snarl on his face.

“Beware, Sir James! The vicious dragon is going to snatch you up,” Alex called.

James rolled with laughter. “Macky! Macky, no!” He spotted Marigold and charged up a few stairs to hide in her skirts.

Marigold’s heart leapt, then flopped into her stomach as James grabbed her leg through the layers of her skirt. She couldn’t have stopped herself from laughing if she’d tried, and rested a hand on his head. “Don’t worry, Sir James. I’ll protect you.”

She turned to Alex, but he had dropped his dragon stance. Now he just looked like a slightly sheepish gentleman dressed in a fine evening suit, with grey in his hair. All the same, Marigold’s heart leapt again.

“Ah, Lady Marigold, this dragon has been slayed by one look at your radiant beauty,” he said.

It wasn’t so much his words as the hope in his eyes that sent heat and color straight to Marigold’s cheeks. She hid the reaction by finding James’s pudgy hand in her skirts and walking down the last few steps with him.

“Mari go out?” James asked as they crossed to Alex.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, crouching and cradling his face with one hand. “But Macky and I will come home later, and when you wake up tomorrow, we’ll have eggs and toast.”

“Mmm.” James rubbed his belly.

A thousand conflicting emotions welled up in Marigold’s chest. As frustrated as she was with Alex, it was impossible not to love James. He was just a child, after all. His origins weren’t his fault. She kissed his cheek and stood, feeling unaccountably misty-eyed, and handed him over to Martha, one of the housemaids.

“Your carriage awaits, my lady,” Alex said, offering his arm and continuing the charade.

She smiled at him and chuckled as she took his arm. A moment later, she sucked in a breath. It was the first time she had genuinely laughed at something Alex had said in two weeks. If the sting of his betrayal was already fading, perhaps they had a good chance of making something of their marriage after all. She touched a hand to her stomach. Of course, they’d already made something of their marriage.

“Why does James call you Macky?” she asked as Alex handed her into one of his more formal carriages. It was drawn by two powerful horses instead of one, like the buggy.

Alex let out an ironic laugh. “He calls me Macky because we were all too silly and indecisive when he was learning to speak to come up with anything better.”

Marigold stared blankly at him as the carriage lurched into motion.

“We couldn't very well have him call me Papa,” he said, a flush painting his cheeks in the evening light streaming through the carriage window.

“I suppose not.” Marigold nodded.

“Clara began teaching him to call me Mr. Croydon, and Arthur kept calling me Alex. I suppose James gathered up what syllables he could from those names and came up with Macky.”

“The logic of a child.” Marigold smiled.

“He’s a clever boy,” Alex agreed with a father’s proud grin.

“I’m sure he’ll make quite a name for himself,” she said.

He didn’t reply, and she couldn’t think of anything else to say. As clever as James was, Marigold couldn’t help but wonder what kind of place he’d have in the world, especially as younger siblings came along. Perhaps Alex was thinking the same thing, because he stayed quiet for most of the rest of the journey.

In the two weeks since they’d been in Wiltshire, Marigold and Alex had dined at Edward’s house twice. Edward was younger than Alex by almost ten years, and although he admitted freely that he wasn’t half as ambitious as Alex, or nearly as good with money, he had a wide circle of friends and entertained frequently at his cottage, as he called it. Though “cottage” wasn’t quite what Marigold would have called the stately, ten-bedroom house in the town of Frogwell, adjacent to Chippenham. Edward was a bachelor who enjoyed life, and in her two previous visits, Marigold had met everyone from the Bishop of Swindon to famous cricketer W.G. Grace.

“I’m told Lady Evangeline Gilchrist will be in attendance tonight,” Alex finally said as they neared the lights of the town. The sun had set during their half-hour journey. “I think you’d enjoy her company.”

“I look forward to meeting her, then,” Marigold answered, feeling doubly awkward, since the conversation had lagged for so long. At any point, she could have given Alex the good news, but she hadn’t.

Alex smiled at her in the dimming light and took her hand. She didn’t pull away. “Edward is particularly fond of Lady Evangeline. So fond, in fact, that I hope we’ll have a wedding to go to next spring.”

Marigold’s lips twitched. Her insides quivered. She simply couldn't resist cracking a joke at their expense. “Good for them for waiting more than three weeks to become engaged,” she blurted before she changed her mind.

Alex turned his head to stare at her, his eyebrows lifting. Slowly, a smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes so that they caught what little light there was and glittered. “Smarter than we were, eh?”

“Infinitely.”

It felt as though someone had opened a window and let the air in. Alex’s chuckle was low and subtle, but he was definitely laughing. She couldn’t keep her own laugh from escaping, though she tried to by pressing her free hand over her mouth.

By the time the carriage pulled up in front of Edward’s house, Marigold felt lighter than she had in weeks. Things were progressing. They weren’t perfect, the mistakes were all still there, but they were moving forward. It was more than she could have hoped for.

“Alex,” Edward greeted them with a loud, cheerful shout as they were shown into the large sitting room where two dozen guests at least were already gathering. “And my darling sister-in-law. What a pleasure to see you here.”

Marigold’s laughter continued to bubble right under the surface. Edward held a large glass of wine, and it was clear he’d already enjoyed at least one other. Alex shared a long-suffering look with her and rolled his eyes, which only spurred her to laugh more.

“Edward,” Alex greeted his brother with a handshake and a thump on his back. He leaned closer. “Shouldn’t you save the wine until after supper?”

“Of course not, old chap,” Edward replied, loud enough for everyone in town to hear, let alone everyone in the room. “This is a celebration.”

“What are we celebrating?” Marigold asked, pressing a hand to her stomach. It fluttered with the wild thought that somehow Edward had found out about the baby, even though she hadn’t told anyone other than Lady Stanhope.

But Edward shouted, “Turpin’s downfall!”

Several of the other guests raised their glasses and echoed, “Turpin’s downfall!”

“Why? What happened?” Alex asked, his eyes suddenly bright.

“Haven’t you heard?” A beautiful woman in what Marigold recognized as the latest Paris fashion swept forward to join her. “The Times came out with a salacious story about him and a maid he supposedly dishonored.”

“Marigold, I’d like you to meet Lady Evangeline Gilchrist,” Alex said, though his eyes were alight with more than just the introduction of a woman who could end up as Marigold’s sister-in-law. “Lady Evangeline, this is my beautiful bride, Mrs. Marigold Croydon.”

For the first time in weeks, it felt good to be introduced as Alex’s wife. “How do you do?” She nodded to Lady Evangeline.

“Splendidly,” Lady Evangeline replied, a little too enthusiastically, making Marigold wonder just how much wine had been poured all around before they arrived. “That horrible toad, Turpin, is about to get his comeuppance.”

“Today it’s The Times,” Edward said, “and tomorrow it will be every other newspaper in Europe.”

“It’s scandalous what he did to that poor woman,” Lady Evangeline followed on top of Edward’s words.

He returned the favor by rushing on with, “Of course, Turpin will claim it’s all hearsay and nonsense, but if they can find what happened to the girl and get her to tell her story in court, why, this will be the end of that blighter’s career.”

Marigold sent a sideways look to Alex, who was grinning like a cat with a canary. It was the same mysterious, wicked sort of grin that had drawn her to him in the first place, and it made her toes tingle. Better still, she could tell that he wasn’t about to burst out with the truth of how the story had made it to the papers or where Ruby Murdoch was. He would let the whole thing play out without taking credit for a bit of it. And although that was brilliant strategically, it raised him in her estimation as well.

“You’re a little late,” Edward went on. “We’re all just about to sit down to supper. Come along.”

Marigold exchanged a full glance with Alex and squeezed his arm before they followed the rest of the crowd through the parlor and into the dining room.

Supper truly was a celebration, although Marigold wasn’t convinced Edward and his friends needed something like Turpin’s scandal to burst into bacchanalia. They were in high spirits, and managed to lift hers with them. Or perhaps it was the way Alex laughed and carried on with the rest of them that warmed her heart. She hadn’t seen him so relaxed since the night before they left for Wiltshire. His smile was easy, his manner was charming, and as the meal progressed, a whisper at the back of her head reminded her that this was why she’d fallen so hard and fast for him. How could a woman not throw caution to the wind when a man was as charming as the devil himself? It made her wonder if perhaps the time had come to put everything on the table, tell him about the baby, and take their marriage back to where it had been before hitting the bump.

“Do you know,” she whispered to him as everyone rose from their places at the end of supper and prepared to adjourn to the ballroom, “I think I might be a little too tired for dancing tonight.” She glanced up at him with confidence, hoping he would understand that she was promising something more when they returned to Winterberry Park.

“Are you sure?” Alex began. “Mr. Holbert over there is an excellent—” He stopped abruptly and did a double-take as soon as his eyes met hers. “I’ll have the carriage brought around,” he said in a suddenly hoarse voice.

Marigold stifled a giggle, glancing around to see if any of the other guests had noticed the exchange or interpreted what it foretold. They were all too busy laughing and chatting and pushing their way through the hallway to the ballroom. Alex dodged through a few of them to have a quick word with his brother. A very quick word. He broke away from Edward after only a few seconds.

Edward raised his hand and shouted, “Good night and Godspeed, Mrs. Croydon.”

“God speed, Mrs. Croydon!” several others echoed.

Alex’s carriage was brought around with surprising speed. The driver remained in his seat, his cap pulled low.

“I would have expected Henry to be carousing with the other servants downstairs,” Alex said as he helped Marigold to climb inside.

“Do they have their own parties here in Wiltshire the same way they do in London?” Marigold asked, excitement buzzing through her as Alex settled on the seat beside her, closing the door.

“Of course,” he smiled. “What’s the point of driving your employers to a revelry like this one if you can’t enjoy the leftovers yourself? Drive on, Henry,” he called. The carriage lurched into motion.

Marigold grinned from ear to ear, even though she wasn’t sure Alex could see it. “In that case, I hope Henry isn’t too put out to have left the party early.”

“If he is, I’ll make sure there’s something in his pay packet to compensate him.”

He leaned closer to her, sliding his arm around her waist. A thrill of temptation like she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel again zipped through her as they sped away from the lights of Frogwell and into the darkness of the countryside. They slowed for a moment, and the carriage dipped slightly, but it rushed into motion again, picking up speed, in no time.

“And now, my darling wife, was there something you wanted from me?”

Marigold’s heart beat as fast as the carriage raced through the night, and both were racing with incredible speed. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, barely able to suppress a giggle. This was why she’d waited to say something about the baby. After two weeks of misery, she finally felt as though she and Alex had reached common ground. Things were exactly the way they should be for news like hers.

But before she could say a word, Alex pulled her closer, resting his hand on the side of her face. “Are you going to tell me you forgive me?” he asked. Even in the darkness, she could see the light of hope in his eyes. “Because I know I’ve been a wretched fool. But I promise I can learn. I may be an old dog, but I want more than anything to learn new tricks. Teach me.”

Excitement blossomed in Marigold’s chest, leaving her breathless. She felt dizzy and out of control, and not just because of the way the carriage rattled and jolted as they charged over country roads. She wanted him. She wanted her husband, faults and all. The shock was over, and her heart longed to be with him.

She surged into him, which felt like being thrown against him the way the carriage jostled. He caught her tightly in his arms and kissed her. Everything else disappeared. All Marigold felt as his lips parted hers and his tongue invaded her was promise and hope. She had never been so grateful to discover that anger could be temporary and peace could be restored. His hands caressed her curves over the layers of her dress, and she unbuttoned his jacked to reach for his warmth. They could mend the wrongs between them after all.

Thoughts of the closet at Westminster came back, and heat poured through her. If they could make love in a closet, surely they could make love in a speeding carriage too. She reached for the buttons of his waistcoat—then let out a sudden yelp as he bit her tongue.

“Sorry,” Alex gasped, leaning back. “Sorry, it wasn’t me. This bloody carriage.”

He was right. The carriage was knocking around wildly. She’d been too caught up in the return of passion to notice at first.

“Henry!” Alex leaned forward, banging against the top of the carriage near where Henry sat outside. “Slow down, man. Are you trying to get us all killed?”

He was answered with a jolt of stunning force. To Marigold, it felt as though they’d run over something, but kept on going. Fear replaced desire in a split second, and she grabbed the edges of her seat as hard as she could.

“Henry!” Alex shouted, banging for all he was worth.

It did no good. The carriage tore on, hitting every rut and bump along the way. In fact, without being able to see through the night, Marigold would have guessed they’d left the road entirely and—

She didn’t finish her thought. With a loud crack, the world tipped sideways. Seconds later, she was slammed against the front of the carriage. Then pain. Then blackness.