Marcus raised his brow expectantly.
She sighed, and then in a quieter voice, explained. “There are those who accuse you of fathering not just one, but many children with… with…” She grimaced, the mere thought of the words almost too much for her to bear. But she carried on, the gray curls that escaped her lace cap quivering. “Many, mind you,manywomen. Of low character! It’s said you pay these creatures an enticement, so you might cover your dalliances and…” Sheclosed her eyes, not willing to face him as she spoke the final charge. “Alleviate your conscience.”
Exhausted, she expelled a breath and looked down, stroking Walter’s head far too vigorously. “Pray, tell me there is nothing to this baseless charge! Why, I told Mrs. Venables as much. NotmyMarcus, I said.”
“Ah. Is that all?” He leaned back in his chair.
So people had finally taken notice of his quiet acts of rebellion. Even Towle had alluded to it earlier with his mention of rumors.
“Please, tell me the truth, that I might find relief! Who would say such awful, awful things?”
“Well. Let me set your mind at ease, then. It’s true.”
His mother shrieked. Walter took the opportunity to leap from her lap to the floor, ears flapping as he shook himself off.
“At least in half.”
Marcus grinned, then laced his fingers before him on the table, quite pleased with himself. Hopefully those most upset with his actions were Tories. How he relished being a bee in their bonnets.
“Which half?” she wailed.
Marcus decided not to torment her any longer.
“I have been practicing my own form of charity, I suppose you might call it. Women find themselves in an, er, impossible situation, and their pleas for assistance fall upon deaf ears. But I am happy to provide them with whatever amount they need to start anew.”
To keep them far from the “charity” others might extend, more like. Marcus very much enjoyed subverting austere institutions and their usual methods, not to mention their patrons. He may find himself thwarted politically, but privately, there was still plenty of justice he could mete out. Sometimes he was grateful for the silly shoe polish money.
“It’s only been for the past year or so. It seems word has gotten around,” he added with a bit of smugness.
“Oh, Marcus,” his mother groaned. “For a moment I’d thought… well.” Suddenly she looked a bit crestfallen.
He had an inkling as to why.
“The fathering of the children is, of course, baseless.” He thought it was obvious, but he decided he ought to correct his mother explicitly, lest she track down one of these poor girls, desperate to see her supposed grandchild. “Why, I can scarcely remember when last I’d had time to pay a young lady a compliment, let alone call on one.” He recalled Towle’s admonishment again, and he felt a pang of loneliness.
“And you never shall, at this rate!” his mother said, cutting off his line of thought.
“Calm down, Mama—recall your nerves,” Marcus said, frowning.
She wasn’t usually so harsh in tone as this. And although he could be single-minded, and at times even a bit of a heel, Marcus didn’t relish his mother’s fury. Especially when he found himself agreeing with it.
“What young lady would entertain your suit, acting as you do without thought for your reputation, your family, even your home! Why, if Mr. Hartley were alive—” She stopped abruptly, eyes filled with unshed tears.
His impassioned mask, the one he’d honed during his years as a solicitor, fell away.
The invocation of his father cut him. And now he glared at his mother, daring her to go where they both typically feared to tread: the memory of Lewis Hartley. He could practically feel the blood pumping in his veins. For a moment Marcus wondered if he should go all in, shouting and fighting, rather than sidestep once again what neither had spoken of since his father’s death. But he had no desire to endure his mother’s sobbing. So insteadthey both sat in silence. Thinking of the happy family they’d once been.
Walter had found something interesting under the table and was digging into the thick carpet, making low whuffing noises in between stretches of frenzied scratching.
Finally, with fury in his veins and acid on his tongue, Marcus spoke.
“I promise you then, Mama, that I shall marry the next young lady I lay eyes upon.”
“Oh, Marcus,” his mother sighed, her voice full of sorrow. “Listen to you! You speak as if this matter were some mere jest! Something droll for you to place in the betting book of your club! This is your life, your well-being, and you… you fritter it away, and for naught! Don’t you realize, I only wish to see you settled and content? And I worry, I do. All this worry for you, day in and day out. It’s unseemly, forfeiting one’s life and happiness like this!”
Marcus sat in silence. Perhaps there was a measure of truth to her words.
Which was why he would not dignify them with a response. He was content to remain on this path through life. More than content, actually. But he did need to reassess his efforts, so he did not end up twiddling his thumbs with nonsense while the conservatives gained seats in Parliament. He had to do more, blast it.Bemore. Somehow.
