The Ideal Wife(62)

“I hope so,” Abigail said.

“I am afraid you will find me a dreadful bore this spring,” her friend said contritely. “I can think of nothing but babies, Lady Severn. Roger laughs at the fact that in private I talk of nothing else, whereas in public I become very flustered if it is so much as mentioned.”

“I believe I would feel compelled to stand up and make the announcement myself at the very next social function I attended after finding out,” Abigail said, “whether it was a ball or the theater.”

Lady Beauchamp looked startled, and laughed. “You sound just like Georgie,” she said. “I do hope I have a son this first time, though Roger laughs at me when I say that, and becomes quite outrageous.” She laughed again. “He says he will tolerate daughters for the first six times, provided I get serious the seventh time and present him with his heir. I used to dislike Roger quite intensely, you know, when we were first acquainted, because he used to delight in outraging me. He still does.”

Abigail was feeling quite cheerful by the time she arrived home. The day had been pleasant, and there was another ball to attend that evening—her second.

But there was a note awaiting her. Her heart sank as she took it from the butler’s hand and made her way straight toward her sitting room. Everything had been settled the day before. What else could Rachel possibly want?

It seemed that there was a further problem. Abigail was to call at Rachel’s house the following day.

But she did not wish to go. Even though the house was in a respectable neighborhood, there was something about it that made her uneasy. And she had not gone unseen the day before. Although Rachel had taken her directly to an office, they had passed the open door of a salon, and there had been a group of gentlemen and one lady inside. One of them had called to Rachel as she passed.

There could be only one reason for Rachel’s wishing to see her again. She wanted more money. Abigail had feared it, but hoped that her stepmother was still basically decent. It seemed that perhaps she was not.

But she had very little more money to give.

And even if she had plenty, she would not give it, she decided. She would not give in to perpetual blackmail. If Rachel was not content with the five thousand pounds, well, then, they would have to see. Abigail did not believe that her stepmother had any real intention of taking her daughters into her own home.

She folded the letter hastily and slid it beneath a cushion as there was a tap on the door and her husband came inside.

“Am I in time for tea?” he asked. “Hello, Abby.”

She smiled at him and her stomach lurched in the way that was becoming quite customary with her. His dark hair was tousled from the outdoors and his hat.

“I was about to ring,” she said.

“Gerald will come to your picnic,” he said. “I’m afraid he was like a lion in a cage this afternoon. He has a bad cold.”

“I should call on him and take him some powders,” she said, “and make sure that he stays in bed and drinks plenty of hot lemon. And I should get him to set his head beneath a towel and over a bowl of steaming water. That would do wonders for him.”

He laughed. “You would too, wouldn’t you?” he said. “You would march into a bachelor’s rooms close to St. James’s, rout the manservant, and proceed to take charge.”#p#分页标题#e#

She looked at him warily. “I had the charge of my father and brother and two sisters for several years,” she said. “I am afraid I had to become a managing female, Miles, or we might not have survived. As it was, Papa did not. I suppose Sir Gerald is sitting in a stuffy room sniffing and running a fever and drinking liquor.”

“I told him about the bowl and towel,” he said. “I tell you what, Abby. If I have caught the chill from him, you may coddle me to your heart’s content and I shall not utter a word of complaint.”

“You are laughing at me,” she said. “I know you did not want a managing wife, Miles. I should have confessed during the first day and told you what I was really like.”

She had sat on the settee. He came to sit beside her, and took her hand in his.

“Tell me about your life at home,” he said. “You really did play mother, didn’t you? For how long? When did your stepmother die?”

It struck her suddenly that she could tell him the truth. Nothing could be simpler. She could tell him everything, even about the five thousand pounds, and they could go together to Rachel’s the next day. He would help her. He would frighten Rachel off if she were planning further blackmail.