laundry for Chalmers. On the occasions he
saw her, Lord Spenford was always respectful.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Constance said. And surprised.
“He was away at school, of course, but in the breaks
he and Mr. Harper spent all their time together. I used
to tag along behind them.” She pursed her lips. “Until
his lordship’s brother died.”
“Did
the
earl
have
more
responsibilities
immediately?” Constance asked. “He was only fifteen.”
“His father decided his lordship—the current earl, I
mean—was too soft. He took him in hand, so to speak.”
Her mother-in-law had said the same, but Constance
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THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
still struggled to picture Marcus as this gentle creature.
“Was he soft?” She picked up her needle again.
“He was always looking after some animal or other,”
Miriam said. “And he was the sort of young man who,
if he saw a woman struggling with her load, he would
help her.”
“Indeed,” Constance said thoughtfully.
“The old earl wasn’t keen on any of that, even for a
young ’un. He was very firm about requiring the proper
deference.”
Constance snorted.
Miriam looked scandalized. “My lady, it may be true
the young earl was better liked before his brother died,
but he had to do what his father wished.”
“I suppose.” Constance set the last stitch in a crimson
letter E, and knotted the thread. “Tell me about
Harper—did their friendship end?”
“Yes, my lady,” Miriam said simply. She handed
Constance the scissors so she could snip her thread.
“The old earl wouldn’t countenance any more than a
master-servant relationship. Neither would Tom or his
lordship have as they got older, so at worst it ended
maybe a year or so earlier than it would have. Tom
wanted to be a valet, not a gamekeeper like his father,
so his lordship arranged a footman position for him in
one of the Spenford cousins’ households. Tom worked
his way up from there.”
“How did he end up back in the earl’s service?”
“He applied for the post, my lady, regular like. But of
course he’s not friendly with the earl now. Not even,”
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ABBY GAINES
100
she reflected, “as friendly as I hear some other
gentlemen are with their valets.”
If Marcus was lonely, as his mother suggested,
wouldn’t he be friendlier with Tom Harper? Maybe the
dowager was wrong.
“Was…was his lordship happy as a boy?” Constance
asked. Seeing her maid about to object, she added, “I
know it’s not for you to say, but I wish you to say it
anyway.”
Miriam nodded. “Very happy, my lady. But his
brother dying, well, that was a tragedy. His lordship
was never the same after that.”
“Because he wasn’t allowed to be,” Constance said.
The maid looked uncomfortable, so Constance turned
to a lighter topic. “What became of your love for
Harper, Miriam? Do you still cherish a fondness for
him?”
The maid pffed. “I hope I wouldn’t be so stupid as to
like a man who thinks I’m a lesser being than he is.”
“Are you sure Harper does that?” Constance asked.
“He didn’t used to.” Miriam stared at the flames of
the dying fire, flickering in the grate. “When I was
fourteen, he—” She colored, shook herself much like a
dog emerging from a stream and gathered up her
sewing. “The thing is, my lady, when Tom came back
from his time away, he had the same stiff neck he does
now. Only he was worse once he became his lordship’s
valet—he wouldn’t give me the time of day. I could
never want a man who had no respect for me.”
For several minutes, Constance sat lost in thought.
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THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
People changed, of course they did—just look what
Miriam had said about Harper. So she shouldn’t be
surprised Marcus was no longer the man she’d believed
him to be. But there was no reason a person couldn’t
change again. A man couldn’t repress his true nature all
the time. With his mother, and even with a country girl,
as Constance had been when he met her with the puppy,
his true self came out.
She wanted that man for her husband. Not the earl
who considered love either beneath his touch or a
dalliance with insanity. Not the man who put his
consequence above all else.
Her heart broke for a boy who had been happy until
he’d been taught that kindness and goodness and, yes,
love, were a form of weakness. The very things the
Bible declared to be fruit of the Spirit!
Resentment welled within her. Resentment toward
the stiff-necked former earl who had equated tenderness
with weakness and despised his son until he molded
himself into his father’s image.
Resentment toward Marcus for not having the sense
to know better. For promising to love and to cherish
Constance when he had no intention of doing so.
Someone needed to teach him how to be a husband.
Who better than his wife?
Constance stood. “Bligh, I need to go out.”
“Out, ma’am? But you’ve just had tea.” The maid
pointed to Constance’s empty cup