Maggie frowned at him. “You needn’t have given her money. I would have bought her whatever she needed.”
“I didn’t give Miss Glory money,” he said innocently.
“He didn’t, Mama,” Glory said, also innocently.
Settling beside Maggie, Hypatia clarified, “He gave it to the cheesemonger.”
With a flash of intuition, Maggie realized that what had seduced her years ago wasn’t just Rhys’s dashing good looks or rakish charm: it was his unexpected kindness. His attentiveness to her. His ability to make her feel special…seen.
Yet the past had demonstrated that, purposefully or not, he could hurt her. Hurt her badly. With just a kiss, he could lay waste to her hard-won respectability and unleash the wanton in her blood.
Could she trust him to help her now when her family’s future was at stake?
Could she trust…herself?
9
“If you bought me a dog,Mama, I would take care of it. You wouldn’t have to do a thing,” Glory said in a wheedling tone. “I’ll feed it and train it and let it sleep with me.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, Maggie swept a reddish-brown lock off her daughter’s face, letting her palm linger on the girl’s freckled cheek. It hadn’t taken long for Glory to resume her campaign for a pet.
“You know the answer, dear,” Maggie said. “Now no more arguing. Time for bed.”
Glory wrinkled her freckled nose. “I’m not sleepy.”
“You will be as soon as you close your eyes.”
If Glory didn’t get a full eight hours of rest, she’d be grumpy and restless come morning. The last thing Maggie wanted was another visit from the schoolmaster.
If only I could afford to have Patty stay home and instruct her instead of Snelling. If only I could give Glory the dog she wants, be a better mama. If only…if only.
“But I’m eight and a quarter. Jenny Pinkleton is only eight, and her mama allows her to stay up as late as she wants.”
No stranger to her daughter’s negotiations, Maggie said firmly, “Mrs. Pinkleton can do as she pleases in her house. But this is mine, and you’ll do as I tell you.”
“Father let me stay up as late as I wanted. I wish he were here,” Glory said with a pout.
Pain stabbed Maggie’s heart. Glory hadn’t spoken much of Paul since his death. In their own way, the two had been close. Given his age and infirmities, Paul hadn’t been able to keep up with Glory physically, and when closeted in his study with his bones, he’d tended to forget all else. Yet whenever he’d spent time with Glory, he’d been a doting father.
Maggie had been grateful for Paul’s kindness to Glory. Although sometimes, she’d thought with secret guilt, he’d given the headstrong girl too much freedom. For Maggie, it hadn’t been easy being the parent who set and enforced the rules. She thanked God every day for sending along her sister-in-law, who’d acted as Maggie’s second through countless duels with her obstinate daughter.
Her mind veered to Rhys and the way he’d handled Glory yesterday at the fair. His natural ease with the girl and the positive way she’d responded to his authority had filled Maggie with equal parts wonder and unease…and a sprinkling of guilt.
For the first time, she was forced to wonder if she was making the right choice in keeping Glory’s true parentage a secret. But what choice did she have? She didn’t want Glory labelled a bastard.
And if Rhys can’t tolerate the loss of freedom inflicted by a pet, she thought wryly,what on earth would he do with a child?
Reassured, she set the thoughts aside and studied her daughter. She wanted Glory to be able to speak freely of her grief over Paul’s death, lest it fester inside.
“Do you miss your papa, my dear?” she said.
“Yes.” Glory’s bottom lip pushed out. “He allowed me to do what I wanted.Heloved me.”
The blade twisted in Maggie’s chest. She said quietly, “Right now, your father is watching from Heaven. He would want you to be a good girl: to obey your mama and try to sleep.”
Glory huffed and turned on her side.
Maggie tried again. “You need to be refreshed and attentive for school on the morrow.”
