“I suppose,” Maggie continued, “but despite how good Ashcroft might’ve looked on paper, in reality, he was a jerk and probably a sociopath.”
There was no probably about it, Connor thought, but didn’t say it aloud.
“It turned out that he was being forced into marriage by his iron-fisted mother, who had decreed that it was time for him to find a wife. Sybil—that’s his mother’s name,” Maggie explained. “Sybil had suggested that he find someone pretty enough, who was malleable, penniless and had very few ties to Boston. It would be easier to control her that way, she said.”
“Let me get this straight. His mother was telling him this?”
Maggie nodded. “Yes. She definitely knew her boy.”
“This is creeping me out,” Connor said. “But don’t stop. I want to hear it all.”
She grinned. “I’m not sure I can stop now that I’m on a roll.” She took a quick bite of her baked potato, then continued. “A month after we were married, Sybil called me into her sitting room to let me know how well I’d met the criteria to be her daughter-in-law. Then she proceeded to tell me everything that was wrong with me.”
“She doesn’t exactly sound like Mom-of-the-Year.”
“She was peachy,” Maggie said, and shivered. “But the good news was that I had also fulfilled Ashcroft’s requirements for a suitable wife.”
“Can’t wait to hear his list.” He held up his hand. “He obviously wanted someone beautiful, right?”
“Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile. “But you really need to hear the prerequisites he gave his mother.”
“Oh, I get it,” Connor said. “She was the one who was going to find him a wife.”
“That was the plan.”
“But then he met you.”
“Yes, but I had to pass muster with his mother first.”
Connor shook his head. “What a guy.”
“You have no idea,” she murmured, her lips curving into a frown.
Connor didn’t want her going too far down memory lane over this jerk, so he shot her a quick grin. “Come on, let’s hear it. What did Weird Al want in a wife?”
She chuckled. “That’s a perfect nickname for him. Okay, he specifically wanted someone who wasn’t fat, didn’t speak with a pronounced drawl, didn’t snore and didn’t chew with her mouth open.”
Connor stared at her for a few long seconds. “Come on. You’re kidding.”
“If only,” she said, smothering a laugh. “Sybil told me that Ashcroft was very sensitive about bodily sounds and emissions.”
Connor snorted. “Yeah, most obsessive-compulsive anal-retentive types tend to be that way.”
“If only I’d known this before the wedding,” Maggie said. “But Ashcroft knew how to put on a good act. He swept me off my feet, promised me the moon and convinced me to marry him. What an idiot I was.”
Connor didn’t respond to that one, since he wholeheartedly agreed. “So, once you were married, what happened?”