Page 130 of The Wallflower Takes All

“I know. That is why I agreed to see you.”

She glanced toward her aunt, who did not look up from her embroidery.

“Caldermere is not a bad man,” Lady Cecily continued. “He is never violent, never intemperate. He does not shout, nor does he wound people merely for the pleasure of hearing himself do it. In many respects, he is admirable.”

None of this eased Gabriel’s concern. “Yet you ended the engagement.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

A faint, rueful smile touched her mouth. “Because I discovered he did not want a wife so much as a life arranged precisely to his liking, with a wife placed neatly inside it. You see, Lord Caldermere is in love with his longtime mistress.”

Gabriel went still.

It was not shocking, precisely. Noblemen with mistresses were hardly curiosities in London. Yet the image of Poppy being placed neatly inside Caldermere’s established life—ordered, contained, allowed only the space he deemed suitable—made Gabriel’s hand tighten upon his hat.

Lady Cecily’s gaze moved to it, then back to his face.

“At first, I thought his honesty admirable,” she said. “He told me plainly that he did not seek affection in marriage. He required a wife suitable to his position, discreet in her duties, sensible regarding the succession, and unlikely to make inconvenient claims upon him.”

“He told you that before the wedding?”

“Before the wedding. Not before the betrothal.” Her smile did not reach her eyes. “That was a meaningful distinction.”

“Yes.”

“He offered his name, his protection, his houses, every material comfort. He could not understand why those things were insufficient.”

Gabriel leaned forward slightly. “You wanted more?”

“Yes,” she said frankly. “I know not every lady would. But I seek to be valued as a companion rather than accommodated as an ornament.” She considered him, then added, “I was not a girl demanding poetry and moonlight. I did not expect grand passion from Caldermere. I did, however, think marriage ought to contain some measure of regard.”

“And he offered none.”

“He offered civility. He offered respect. In his mind, that was more than many wives receive.” She looked toward the windows, where pale morning light fell across her aunt’s embroidery frame. “Perhaps he was right.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened.

Lady Cecily looked back at him. “But I could not marry a man who had already given every private part of himself elsewhere and expected me to be grateful for whatever remained in public.”

The room was quiet for several breaths.

Then she said, “If your client is considering him, advise her to ask questions.”

“Such as?”

“Whether he still means to keep his mistress after marriage. Whether he expects separate lives after an heir is secured. Whether his wife may ask for more than comfort and consequence.” Lady Cecily’s expression softened, though her voice remained steady. “Caldermere will provide everything money may purchase. A wife should not expect him to offer anything money cannot.”

At last, the bargain stood plainly before him: safety in exchange for silence of the heart.

Gabriel rose. “You have my thanks.”

Lady Cecily stood as well. “I hope I have not harmed him.”

“You have not.”

“Nor her?”