Monday's Child (Heroines born on each day of the week. Book 2) by Rosemary Morris

Author:Rosemary Morris [Morris, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Books We Love Ltd.
Published: 2016-10-13T18:30:00+00:00

* * * *

Maria spilled some coffee onto the table before her hands stilled enough for her to fill a cup for her father, who glowered as he watched Langley march out of sight.

Father was much angrier with her than he had ever been before. If only she dared to confide in him. Tears welled up in her eyes. Nauseous at the prospect of his outraged reaction if she mentioned those foolish letters, she quailed. His suspicious mind would refuse to accept she was only guilty of folly. He would suspect she allowed Midhurst to take liberties with her person. To father, black was black, and white was white. To him, grey did not exist. Without doubt, he would not believe she was not guilty of impropriety. He would never pardon her. His interpretation of Christianity was an unforgiving one.

Her head ached. What a wretched situation. She should be able to confide in the father who loved her more than anyone or anything else in the world. Thank God for Miss Whitley and Lord Langley’s tolerance. They neither ranted nor raved, as Father would if he knew about the sorry business with Mister Midhurst. The sun emerged from behind the bank of clouds and cast a ray of brilliant light over the wooden table. No matter how shocking, she could only do one thing regardless of the consequences.

Father looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “Maria, I don’t have the words to explain how disappointed I am.”

“I know, but you don’t need to repeat yourself.” Sorry for him because she could neither fulfil his ambition nor accept his rigid beliefs, she reached out to clasp his hand.

He scowled and tugged his hand away. “I know what’s fitting for you, my girl. It is improper for you to be in any gentleman’s arms in public, or private, before you’re married. Until I wed your mother, I respected her too much to take advantage of her innocence by so much as a kiss. It’s wrong of the viscount to take advantage of you.”

“There is nothing I can say,” Maria thought, “for he will deliberately misunderstand me unless I tell him the odious Mister Midhurst is blackmailing me. If only Father had remarried, he would not be a lonely, well-meaning man, who showers me with love, and places the burden of his expectations upon me.” Maria shut her eyes. She would welcome a kind step-mother; one she could turn to for advice.

“Look at me, Maria.”

Apprehensive, she glanced across the small table for a few moments.

“If you ever shame me again with wanton conduct, I’ll disinherit you and disown you.”

Now, she knew she could never tell him about Mister Midhurst. Maria sighed.

“I mean it.” He shook his clenched fist at her. “I would cast you out of my house with only the clothes on your back.”

Maria gasped. Would he really do so? Could he be so hard-hearted? She covered her face with her hands. Suppose he meant it. How would he react if those letters were published? With extreme care, she put down her cup.

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