The Ideal Wife

by Mary Balogh

  “It is,” he said. “You are married to a man whom everyone knows to be as rich as Croesus. What do you want me to do for your brother and your sisters, Abby?”

  “Oh,” she said, looking up at him in an agony, “I want them to live with me, Miles. The girls, that is. I want them back with me. Is there a large house at Severn Park? I will wager there is. You need never see them. I will keep them out of your way. And they will not be overly expensive, I promise you. They are not accustomed to wealth and will not be demanding. And I will not expect any expensive schooling for them. Indeed, I would not want them away from home to go to school. I would teach them myself.”

  “Abby.” His hand was over hers again, his fingers curled under her palm. “Stop arguing with yourself. Of course we must have your sisters back with you. Will their great-aunt be willing?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed,” she said. “She has made it very clear that they live with her only on sufferance. May they come, Miles? You will not mind terribly?”

  He smiled at her and squeezed her hand.

  “Oh!” she said, staring at him but not really seeing him. “Yes, of course. Oh, of course. I marvel that I did not think of it before. It could not be more perfect. If the idea had a fist, it would have punched me on the nose long since.”

  He was looking amused again.

  “That eel,” she said. “That toad. That snake. It was she he was molesting, not me, you know. He knew better than to try molesting me. I told him the very first time he tried smiling at me that if he did it just one more time he would be wearing his teeth in his throat.”

  The earl threw back his head and shouted with laughter. “Abby,” he said, “you did not. You are quite incapable of saying anything so ungenteel. But what on earth and whom on earth are you talking about?”

  “Mr. Gill,” she said. “It was Laura he was molesting because she is so very pretty and too afraid of losing her post to stand up against him.”

  “And yet you lost your position?” he said.

  “I told him that if . . .” She paused and flushed. “I told him to leave her alone,” she said, “and the next thing I knew, I was accused of ogling their son and was dismissed. If you had ever seen Humphrey Gill, Miles, you would know how indignant I was to be accused of such a thing. The very idea! It should be funny, but it is not.”

  “And what was perfect?” he asked. “What should have formed a fist and punched you on the nose?”

  “Laura is a governess,” she said. “She can teach the children and get away from that dreadful house and that lecherous man. Don’t you think it is a wonderful idea, Miles? May I ask her?”

  She thought he was going to refuse. He looked at her consideringly for some time. And the silence was loud. Oh, dear, she thought, she had decided that she would remain quiet for at least a few days. But she had been prattling, hadn’t she?

  Miles looked, she thought, as he had looked that first afternoon—was it only three days before?—and as he had looked the day he took her shopping. He looked handsome and immaculate and remote. It was hard to believe that he was the same man who had done those shockingly intimate things to her the night before. She could feel the color creep up her throat.

  “Would it be wise?” he said. “If she is being abused, we must certainly take her away from there, Abby, or at the very least I must have a serious talk with Mr. Gill. But will she appreciate being your employee when she has been your friend, on a footing of equality with you?”

  “She will be my friend,” she said, “helping me by teaching the girls what I know nothing about.”

  “And living on your charity?” he said. “Will she like that, Abby?”

  “Charity!” she said. “She will think no such thing. Am I living on your charity because you took me from that house and have given me a home here?” She felt the color mount all the way into her cheeks. “Am I?”

  “You are my wife,” he said, “and belong with me. You have a right to my care. Don’t speak with Miss Seymour just yet. Let us take time to consider.” He smiled. “Are you always so impulsive?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Always. I’m sorry, Miles. I am afraid you are going to find that I am not the wife you said you wanted and thought me to be.”

  “So far,” he said, laughing, “you are just the wife I want. Now, I need your help.”

  She stared at him.

  “My mother is on the way to London,” he said, “with my two sisters. My mother and Constance, my younger sister, are coming from a lengthy stay with Lord Galloway and his family, friends of my mother’s. Prudence is traveling with them, though she is married. Her husband will be joining her here later.”

  “And you are wondering how you are going to explain me to them?” Abigail asked. “They will die of shock, won’t they?”

  “I hope nothing so drastic,” he said, grinning at her. “But yes, the moment may be an awkward one. I am afraid they all dote on me because I am the only male in the family. And while that situation has its definite advantages, it also has one distinct drawback. They all think they own me and know far better than I how my life should be lived.”

  Abigail nodded. He had said something similar before. She understood that he had married her so that she would be some sort of buffer between him and his female relatives. Quiet, sensible, and good-natured. Oh, dear. Poor Miles!

  “When?” she said. “When are they coming?”

  “Perhaps today,” he said. “Certainly within the next few days. Will it put a great strain on you to meet them so soon?”

  “There will probably not be nearly so great a strain on me as on them when they have met me,” she said. “I, after all, have some prior warning.”

  “You are very brave,” he said. “You make a great effort to overcome your shyness, don’t you, Abby? I noticed that yesterday. I just hope that meeting my mother under such circumstances will not prove too much for you. I have been very selfish, haven’t I? But don’t answer that, please. I know I have been selfish.

  “And I have been delighted to find this morning,” he said, getting to his feet and coming up behind her chair to rest his hands on her shoulders, “that you are not quite silent after all, Abby. It is difficult to make conversation with someone who has nothing whatsoever to say.”

  Not quite silent. Did he realize that he had just made the understatement of the century? Abigail stared meekly at her plate.

  He bent and kissed the back of her neck.

  “Do you think we could have fallen violently and insanely in love when you called here three days ago?”he said.

  “What?” She turned in her chair to look into his face, which was still bent over her.

  “For my mother’s benefit,” he said. “It will make matters a great deal simpler than if we tell the truth.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it will. I can see that.”

  “You will do it, then?” he asked. He was grinning at her, his blue eyes dancing, his dimple pitting his cheek, his teeth very white and very even—she had not particularly noticed that perfection before.

  “Yes,” she said. “Better that than have her think us quite insane.”

  He bent his head closer and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You are a good sport, Abby,” he said. “Shall we spend the day together? There is a great deal we have to learn about each other, as I think we have both realized this morning. How does a drive out to Kew Gardens sound?”

  “Quite splendid,” she said. “I have never been there.”

  “Run upstairs and fetch your bonnet, then,” he said. “I shall have my curricle brought around.”

  Abigail ran, forgetting on her way her earlier plans for talking with Mrs. Williams and exploring the house. Her father had never taken either her mother or her stepmother anywhere except to the occasional assembly, from which he had always returned home drunk. Mr. Gill never took his wife anywhere.

  But Miles was going to take her to Kew Gardens. And he had suggested that they spend the day together. It was s
till quite early morning.

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON by the time they returned, having strolled at their leisure in Kew Gardens and admired the flowers and the trees and lawns, and having exchanged more information about their families.

  Abigail kept hearing herself doing most of the talking and clamped her teeth together every time she became aware of it. But a minute or so later her husband would ask a question that would set her going again. And he smiled at her and laughed at much of what she said, so that she began to feel that after all it was not such a terrible thing to be so talkative.

  She did not tell him a great deal about her father. And nothing at all about her mother or Rachel, her stepmother. Despite all her chatter, she was selective in what she said.

  They met two groups of people whom the earl knew, and he stopped and introduced Abigail to them as his wife. The news was greeted with surprise, smiles, laughter, much handshaking, and some chagrin by two ladies, who hid their feelings behind smiles and hugged Abigail. But she was not deceived, even if her husband was.

  “By tonight everyone will know,” he said to her when they were walking alone again. “I might have saved myself the trouble and expense of sending notices to the Post and the Gazette. Tomorrow you will be public property, Abby. We will have to drive to Hyde Park if the weather is kind. And there is Lady Trevor’s ball tomorrow night that I have promised to attend. You will come with me, of course. Will you mind very much? If I hold your arm very firmly through mine and do not let you go, will you be able to face the ordeal?”He was smiling at her, that gentle look on his face that always made her feel that she was being mistaken for a child.

  “I have not danced for years,” she said, “and then only at country assemblies. I have never waltzed. Mrs. Gill always called it a ‘shockingly vulgar display of wantonness, Gardiner.’ ” She puffed out her chest and imitated the breathless nasal voice of her former employer.

  The earl laughed. “I will teach you,” he said. “Tomorrow. There will be no one to play the music. We will have to sing. Do you sing?”

  For some reason that neither could explain, considering the fact that she did not answer the question, they both spent the following minute laughing merrily.

  They had a late luncheon at a tavern that the earl was familiar with. They called at Bond Street on their way home in order to direct Madame Savard to have the Brussels-lace ball gown delivered in time for the next night’s ball, and came away with two day dresses that were finished already.

  They arrived home finally to be informed by the butler that Lady Ripley was in the drawing room with Mrs. Kelsey and Miss Ripley. Master Terrence and Miss Barbara Kelsey were upstairs in the nursery with their nanny.

  “Ah,” Lord Severn said, turning to his wife and taking one of her hands in his. “I was hoping for at least one day’s grace for your sake, my dear.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Go upstairs,” he said, “and put on one of the new dresses. Will you? Come down to the drawing room when you are ready. I will not let them devour you, I promise.” He raised her hand to his lips.

  “Give me fifteen minutes,” she said. “I will not be any longer, Miles.”

  But heavens, she thought as he led her up to the first floor and she ran up the stairs to the second while he took a deep breath and opened the doors into the drawing room, there was a strong temptation to start knotting bedsheets in her room in order to take flight out through the window.

  This was not an encounter to be looked forward to with relish. She immediately discarded the delicate pink muslin in favor of the bolder yellow.

  6

  MILES. THERE YOU ARE.” LADY RIPLEY rose from her chair and came hurrying across the drawing room, both hands outstretched to her son. Her dark hair was now turned almost completely silver, but she had kept her slim figure, and her face was still handsome. “And looking very well, dear.”

  The Earl of Severn ignored her hands and took her straight into his arms. He hugged her.

  “Mama,” he said. “I would have come home earlier if I had known for certain that you would arrive today. Connie?” He turned to hug his younger sister. “You did not suffer your usual sickness during the journey? Your color is good. Pru.” He paused and looked down before hugging his elder sister. “Is it to be triplets this time?”

  “I sincerely hope not,” she said. “But I am rather large, am I not? And there are almost two months to go yet unless the doctor has miscalculated.”

  “Let me pour you some tea,” his mother said. “I ordered up the tray, as you can see. It is so good to be back in London, Miles. The country was beginning to pall on us, was it not, Constance? And Dorothy and Frances, of course, have been able to think of nothing but the coming Season for weeks past.” She handed him a cup.

  The earl had not sat down. “I have something to tell you, Mama,” he said.

  “Have you?” she said. “This is new china, Miles? Or was it in the house when you came? It is very elegant. Lord Galloway is organizing a ball for Frances, to take place less than two weeks from now. It is not to be her come-out, though. Lady Trevor—Lord Galloway’s sister, you will remember—has agreed to make her ball tomorrow night a come-out for her niece. Is that not gracious of her? It is all very rushed, of course. Dorothy and Frances are in a fever, as you can well imagine. You must spread the word among your acquaintances, my dear, that it is the event to attend. Though I daresay it will be a squeeze anyway, Lady Trevor being very fashionable.”

  “I will do so, Mama,” he said. “I—”

  “You will, of course, dance the opening set with Frances,” she said. “You will bring her into fashion by doing so.”

  “I think that hardly necessary, Mama,” Prudence said. “Frances is like to take the ton by storm. She has a great deal of beauty and presence.”

  “All the more reason for you to dance the first set with her, Miles,” Constance said with a smile. “Everyone will see that you have a prior claim to her affections.”

  “But I do not,” the earl said. “Mama—”

  “Pru and I think Lord Galloway’s ball should be a betrothal ball,” Constance said. “How splendid that would be, Miles, and you do intend to betroth yourself to her before the Season is out, do you not? But Mama thinks it would not be quite proper for Frances to make her come-out and be betrothed all in such a hurry.” She laughed. “Mama believes in doing things properly.”

  “Besides,” Prudence said with a smile, “I would rather like to be at your betrothal ball, Miles. Will you have enough patience to wait for two months or so for this little monster to put in an appearance? Theo will be in town within the month. He would not wish to miss the birth—or your betrothal celebrations, for that matter.”

  “There is no question of Lord Galloway’s ball being a betrothal ball,” the earl said firmly, “or—”

  “Of course not,” his mother said soothingly. “Drink your tea, dear, before it gets cold.”

  The earl sipped—and had that old familiar feeling of being a small boy again in a household of women, totally subject to their will. It was a feeling he had not had all day, even though Abigail had surprised him by talking almost nonstop during their outing.

  “This is a very elegant house,” Prudence said. “What I have seen of it, anyway. I was in it only once when you were here for a few days after the funeral, Miles. Of course, one would not expect a house on Grosvenor Square to be anything less than splendid.”

  “But it does need a woman’s touch,” Lady Ripley said.

  “Frances will enjoy herself here,” Constance said, “as well as at Severn Park. I know you are always reluctant to talk of such matters, Miles, but do tell. When do you plan to marry? While the Season is still in progress? During the summer? The autumn? Not the winter, I hope. It is so difficult for guests to travel during the winter.”

  “Lord Galloway will want St. George’s with all the ton present, you may be sure,” Lady Ripley said. “And so do I. I have only one son, after all
, and his wedding must be celebrated with all due pomp and circumstance. But we are making you nervous, Miles. Men are so foolish about such things. I suppose you are getting cold feet. But you and Frances dealt so famously together in the country that I almost expected you to make your offer there. I am glad you did not, since she has not yet been presented at court. But I am sure she will be expecting a declaration daily now that she has arrived in town.”

  “Then she will have to stop expecting,” the earl said, setting his cup and saucer down resolutely on a table. “Or at least change the identity of the suitor. He will not be me.”

  There was a small silence.

  “Oh, Miles,” Prudence said fondly. “You really do have cold feet, don’t you? Theo has told me since our marriage that he almost fled to France the day before the wedding, never to return. The prospect of being an exile for the rest of his life seemed infinitely more appealing than that of being a married man, he said.”The three ladies laughed heartily.

  “But look at him now,” Prudence said. “A fonder husband or a more doting father one could not hope to find. Your feelings are quite natural, Miles. But you must not give in to them.”

  “Besides, dear,” his mother added, “your declaration has all but been made. Everyone expects it. It would be too embarrassing for words if you were to renege now.”

  “A declaration cannot be almost made, Mama,” he said. “It is either made or it is not. And I made no declaration to either Frances or her papa. And never will do, either.”

  There was a chorus of protests from the ladies.

  “If you will all just be quiet for a moment and remain quiet,” he said with such firmness that they all complied and looked at him in surprise, “I have something of some importance to say.”

  Finally he had their attention. Finally, after more than thirty years. And it had been accomplished with some ease. One merely had to tell them to be quiet, using a suitably firm tone as one did so, and they were quiet.

  “There is a reason why I cannot marry Frances,” he said. “Something of great importance has happened in my life in the past two months.”