If You Wished For Me (The Farthingale Series Book 7)

by Meara Platt

  “Because I wouldn’t be nearly as annoying to you if I sat over there.”

  She plunked on a discordant chord and chuckled. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m determined to sit here and mope.”

  “Very well, but I’m still staying close to you. Use my shoulder to lean on if you feel the need.” He tried to study her expression, but there simply wasn’t enough light to see more than her lovely outline cast in shadow. She wasn’t sniffling, however. Likely she was angry rather than sad. “How badly were they hounding you?”

  She shrugged. “No worse than usual. But it wears me down sometimes. I’m being assaulted on all sides. Your cousins, it turns out, believe we are a match and have been pushing you toward me all along.”

  “I know. It took me a little while to figure it out, but I’m on to their game now.”

  “I’m so sorry you’ve been dragged into this. I feel like a wooden marionette on their strings. Then there’s my grandfather who has sworn never to allow another Cameron to marry a Farthingale. So while your family is shoving us together, he’s determined to pull us apart.”

  “Makes for a fun Christmas,” he said, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm. “And amid all this jostling, no one’s bothered to ask you what you think or want.”

  She gave a soft, mirthless laugh. “Why should they bother? It isn’t as though I’m important in all this.” Her fingers ran idly over the piano keys with a surprisingly light and accomplished touch.

  “I didn’t know you played.”

  “Just a little. Not nearly as well as Dillie.”

  He shifted slightly closer, his senses heightened. He quietly breathed her in, quite liking the hint of cinnamon and roses scent on her skin. “Do you sing?”

  She nodded. “Not nearly as well as Dillie for that either. However, I would rate myself above Lily and her harp playing.” She shook her head and laughed softly. “Her singing, too.”

  He gave a mock shudder. “Even I rate above that and I don’t sing or play an instrument. I sound like a rusty gate when I bellow out a song, which I rarely do. My family is eternally grateful for that.”

  She tapped lightly on the keys again. “So, did they send you in here to check up on me? I’m fine, truly. I just needed a moment alone. Everyone saw us take those second cards and simply had to comment on it. We shouldn’t have taken them. Our secret wishes can be written down on any piece of paper.”

  “I beg to differ. Only Aunt Sophie’s special Christmas cards will do.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She eyed him with suspicion. “You are making up the rules as you go along.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and arched an eyebrow. “I am your Christmas angel. Are you questioning my miracle?”

  “Wouldn’t you if you were in my position? Very well, I’ll play along for now. I have it right here. I was thinking of giving it to Jasper.”

  “And then telling me that your brother’s dog ate it?” He gave a hearty laugh. “Aunt Sophie has a dozen more cards. It will do you no good to destroy the one you have. You are getting your miracle, Megs. You are getting it whether I have to drag you kicking and screaming to it.”

  He turned her to face him, desperate to kiss her puckered lips.

  It did not matter that they were pursed in displeasure.

  They were full and pink and pouty.

  They were calling to him.

  Everything about her called to something deep within his heart. “Your miracle is going to happen, Megs. I promise you.” Although Meggie remained silent, he could feel every bit of her ache. “And angels always keep their promises.”

  Chapter Seven

  The next few days passed uneventfully for Meggie. The weather had turned dismal, the clouds thick and gray, and there was a constant rain that alternated between a light mist and a deluge. It left her spirits feeling as dank and soggy as the ground outside. It was still early in the day and she was dressed in her morning gown, a dove-gray wool that was suitable for dawdling about the house. She had tossed on a matching green and gray patterned shawl to ward off the chill that seeped through her bones.

  “Ugh, what a morning.” In truth, she had no desire to step out of the house.

  After sharing a light repast with her grandfather and watching him disappear into his study to tackle Royal Society affairs, she returned upstairs to stretch out on her bed and attempt to read one of those deliciously scandalous books that no parent would allow their unmarried daughters to read for fear of corrupting their morals.

  Of course, the book was all the rage because it was forbidden.

  Forbidden.

  Is that why William had sought her out? Because he’d thought she was forbidden to him? But now that he knew his cousins were hoping to make a match between them and had actually been pushing him toward her all the while, there was no mystery or intrigue left.

  She hadn’t seen him in days and could only conclude that he’d obviously lost interest.

  Too bad she couldn’t shut off her feelings so easily.

  “Lady Meggie,” Maude said, knocking softly at her door.

  Glad for the reprieve, Meggie closed the book and tossed it to the foot of her bed. “Come in.”

  Maude had a grin on her face. “This note came for you. The gentleman is waiting downstairs and he won’t take no for an answer.”

  “A gentleman?” She hoped it was William coming to pay her a call, but immediately dismissed the possibility. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the Farthingale party when they’d tossed their Christmas wishes into John’s pouch. She had drawn Eloise’s card. Eloise had asked for a pair of gloves, something easily acquired and not requiring very much thought on her part. She intended to visit the shops one day this week, but not until this dismal rain had stopped. “What gentleman?”

  Dear heavens. She hoped it wasn’t Lord Wilton coming around again. She thought she had dissuaded that horrid man.

  Maude giggled. “The handsome one your grandfather doesn’t like. Mr. William Farthingale.”

  Meggie’s heart fluttered and heat shot into her cheeks. It was William, after all! “Oh? Well, I suppose I’ll have to see him. It would be rude not to. Ask Wickersham to show him into the parlor.” She quickly read his note. Put on your boots and bundle up. I’m taking you out.

  Not quite the romantic love note, but she hadn’t really expected one from William. After taking a quick moment to inspect herself in the mirror and make certain she was presentable, she hurried downstairs. Her cheeks were still hot, so she knew they would be pink and glowing when she entered the parlor. Hopefully, William would think her glow was because she had rushed downstairs and not because she was so desperately happy to see him.

  She paused at the parlor door, took a deep breath to calm herself, and then glided in with a casual, unaffected air. “Good morning, William. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  There was nothing casual about the way William looked or in the way he was looking at her. He seemed to be devouring her with his gaze. “I was away. Didn’t you notice? I missed you, Megs.” He cast her a rakish, but utterly endearing grin.

  The man was perfection.

  So unfair.

  What girl stood a chance of maintaining her composure when in his presence? He wore fashionable clothes, dark breeches, dark jacket, and polished black boots. And yet, to her, he looked like a medieval warrior. Big. Rugged and rough-hewn, as though his body had been carved out of the hardest oak. The only hint of color on him was the white of his Savile Row shirt and the blue swirls of his patterned silk cravat that brought out the intense beauty of his eyes.

  “Um, you missed me?” She suddenly wished she’d thought to change out of her morning gown and into something finer, although the modiste had assured her that the shade of gray flattered her complexion.

  “I did.” He nodded and took a step toward her so that she could feel the delicious heat of his body close to hers. He was clean shaven, and she caught the subtle scent of musk on his
skin, that woodsy, pleasantly earthy scent that made her want to crawl up against him and dizzily breathe him in. “Did you miss me, Megs?”

  She had, with a desperate and yearning ache. By his arrogant grin, he knew it.

  She patted her hair casually. “Not a whit. I hardly noticed your absence. So, you were away?”

  His eyes sparkled with amusement and he nodded. “In Coventry with Uncle Rupert. Merchants are clamoring for the new fabrics I brought back from China, so we went there to secure their contracts while interest is high.”

  Her heart beat a little faster in relief. William had been out of town on business and not escorting the beautiful Lady Dorothea Bellows around London. More important, he hadn’t been avoiding her after his brandy-induced, I’m-your-Christmas-angel promise that her miracle card was going to work. “I’m so glad your week was successful. Is that what you came here to share with me?”

  “One of the things.”

  “Thank you, I’m honored that you thought about me. But your note mentioned taking me out. Where are we going on this cold and miserable day? We could stay here and chat. I’ll ring for tea and cakes.”

  “And have your grandfather join us so he can snap and growl at me as I eat? I don’t think so.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “I don’t suppose that’s very tempting.”

  “I can’t tell you where I’m taking you, but we’re going to pick up Lady Eloise on the way. She’ll be with us in the carriage to lend propriety to our excursion.” He studied her again, his gaze slowly traveling up and down her body, and taking no pains to mask what he was doing or that he seemed to approve of what he saw. “Change into some warmer clothes. I’ll wait. We’ll be standing outdoors for a little while and I don’t want you to catch another chill.”

  “Ah, I see. Miracles won’t work on girls with runny noses.”

  She had tossed the remark in jest, but he suddenly looked stricken. “Megs, my heart is still in my throat over your narrow escape from your last fever. I haven’t come to terms yet with my not being here for you.”

  She put a comforting hand on his arm. “Oh, William. You could not have done anything. It was my battle to fight.”

  “You’re wrong. I would have fought beside you. I would have held onto you and never let you go.” He took a step back and ran a hand through his thick head of hair. “I should have been here. China and its riches, be damned.”

  In that moment, Meggie wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him fiercely. This is why she had fallen in love with him. He made her feel cherished. He made her feel that she mattered more to him than anything in the world.

  But she dared not allow him any closer to her heart.

  “William,” she said in a trembling whisper, but she did not know what else to say. That she loved him eternally? That she wanted to be his forever? None of it was possible. She wanted him to have a full, rich life, not an empty one filled with regrets. “Perhaps I had better not go with you.”

  She turned to run upstairs and hide.

  He caught her hand before she’d taken her first step. “You have to come with me, Megs. Please. This is important to me and I wish to share it with you. No one else will do. Only you.”

  How could she refuse him now? She gave a slight nod and hurried to her bedchamber to change out of her morning gown.

  *

  William was not certain why he felt compelled to bring Meggie to the cemetery where his mother was buried and show her the grave. Meggie had just experienced her own escape from death and perhaps it was cruel to bring her there. Yet, she did not appear to mind. Although he hadn’t explained much, she did not push him to provide answers, but she had to be curious as to his purpose.

  He wanted to receive his mother’s blessing. He wasn’t certain what he needed it for. Meggie did not want to marry him.

  As for him, he’d returned to London without a thought of marriage. But seeing Meggie again and knowing he’d almost lost her to a devastating fever had rattled him badly. Bollocks. He did not know what he felt or if it even mattered. Meggie was on her Joan-of-Arc-martyrdom campaign and would not allow him to sacrifice himself for the sake of making a life with her.

  She wanted him to have children and that was something she could never give him.

  His heart ached for her.

  She was his to protect and he felt as though he’d somehow failed her.

  But he wasn’t going to mention it to her again. She did not want his pity or protection. If he proposed to her, she’d believe it was out of a misguided sense of friendship.

  She would frown at him and refuse to consider his offer of marriage. She’d say no as many times as he insisted that she say yes.

  So, why couldn’t he simply shake hands with her and be friends? To fight for her would require having to overcome not only Meggie’s objections, but those of her crusty grandfather as well. The old duke would likely shoot him between the eyes if he dared propose to his granddaughter. But he could manage the duke if he had to. Hadn’t his father done so when gaining the old man’s consent to marry Evie?

  The problem was how to convince Meggie.

  He shook his head and sighed, quietly berating himself. No, the bigger problem was with himself. He had to be all in with her, no halfway measures or he would surely break her heart.

  His carriage clattered to a stop just inside the cemetery walls. The place stood on the outskirts of London, a two-hour ride from Mayfair. Two hours here and maybe ten minutes to spend at his mother’s grave. Then they’d all hop back in the carriage for the ride back in the hope of making it to London before darkness fell.

  Why was he doing this?

  The rain had stopped shortly after they’d started their journey. The sun was now breaking through the thinning storm clouds and the sky had filled with patches of blue. He hopped down as soon as the carriage rolled to a stop beside the small chapel on the grounds and turned to assist Eloise down. “No, my boy. I’m too old and my legs are no longer trustworthy. I’ll wait here while you show Meggie whatever it is you wish her to see.”

  He suspected that Eloise was as spry as a grasshopper, but wasn’t going to insist on her accompanying them. He appreciated having the time alone with Meggie outside of everyone’s notice. There was no one here to gossip or condemn them, no one here to scheme or meddle, no matter how well intentioned those schemes were.

  There were only angels watching down on them from heaven, and he knew that no angel would ever condemn Meggie.

  While he had done a thing or two that was questionable, Meggie was truly an innocent. That was one of the many things he liked about her. She was gullible and innocent and easy to tease. But she wasn’t high-handed or priggish, and always took his teasing jests with good nature.

  He had lost his innocence years ago. Of course, he hadn’t done much out of the ordinary realm of a stupid, young male who’d needed to prove he was a man and merely succeeded in proving he was an idiot. Seeking pleasure with nameless women, drinking too much, and spending the night retching into his chamber pot were not joys he wished to pursue any longer.

  He’d learned his lesson.

  He was done sowing his wild oats.

  No regrets.

  Ready to move on, ready to walk down a different path. Was he meant to walk that path with Meggie?

  The sun shone a little brighter as Meggie stepped out of the carriage and cast him one of her generous smiles. Everything about this girl glowed, from the glorious red of her hair to her radiant smile and the beautiful depths of her green eyes.

  He put his hands about her waist and easily lifted her down.

  She remained clinging to his shoulders despite having regained her balance. Similarly, his hands remained on her waist although there was no need to hold her any longer. But she felt so good to the touch, so soft, warm, and inviting. He couldn’t seem to pry his hands away. “Meggie, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought you here.”

  “I’m glad you thought enough
of me to allow me to share this private moment with you. My parents are buried side-by-side in the Highlands. I visit them whenever I am there. Usually, Ewan and I go together.” She cast him another, more delicate smile. “Jasper is my companion whenever I go alone. He and Ewan are quite protective of me.”

  Eloise cleared her throat from inside the carriage to signal for them to move along before night fell.

  William released Meggie and they began to stroll away. “Does this make sense to you, Megs? I have no memory of my mother. She died of an illness shortly after I was born. Probably brought on from the struggle of giving birth to me.”

  She put her hand on his arm, obviously feeling compassionate and wishing to comfort him. “Sadly, these things happen and it is no one’s fault.”

  He shrugged. “I feel close to her whenever I come here. I only know her through the portrait done of her shortly after she married my father. He tells me about her whenever I ask, but I think he embellishes her virtues to make me feel better.”

  Meggie pursed her lips and gave a hesitant nod. “He obviously loved her, and for that reason, might not have noticed her faults. They may seem like embellishments to you, but that’s the way your father saw her and chose to remember her. It took him twenty years to fall in love again. I’m glad he and Evie found each other. They’re so happy now. It’s as though their hearts fill with starlight whenever they’re together.” Suddenly, she gave a little gasp. “Are you hurt by it, William?”

  They’d reached his mother’s grave, and Meggie stared down at the stone engraved with her name, Jane Farthingale. Beloved wife and mother. “Do you think she’s sad that he’s found Evie?”

  “No. When you love someone, you want them to be happy. I used to wish that for my father. He spent so many years helping others, but I sensed there was something important missing in his life. He loved me, to be sure. But he needed something more. Then Evie came along and it was obvious.”