Free The Improper Wife by Diane Perkins

certainly not blameless in this charade, but Lord Summerton’s patent rejection of her and her son enraged her. Why should he dislike her so? He could not know her, except as his son’s wife. Was that enough to despise her?
    His lordship cleaned his plate, wiped his fingers on the tablecloth, and leaned back in his chair. He peered at Maggie through slitted eyes.
    “Were you increasing? Was that it? Was that why that scapegrace son of mine married you?”
    Maggie felt her cheeks grow hot. Educated with society’s daughters and living on its fringe as a ladies companion, she’d never heard such a question addressed during a meal. Lewd remarks were confined to hallways and gardens when one was unaccompanied and unfortunate enough to encounter a man looking for sport. Her birth was respectable, though her station in life was not, and she refused to think herself as undeserving of good manners. Indeed, no woman, no matter what her birth, should suffer such treatment.
    She lifted her chin. “You insult me, sir. And your son.”
    The earl glared at her. “You do not deny it, I see.”
    Maggie took a breath and held it. She ought to remain silent. Meekness and passivity were demanded of her as a companion. She’d thought those traits worthy of a wife as well, but where had they gotten her? Had she not waited so long for her husband to come see her, had she informed his superior officer, his duplicity might have been exposed and he’d have been forced to marry her legitimately.
    Somehow that did not seem any more desirable an outcome than this.
    “Ha, ha!” Lord Summerton added triumphantly.
    She could not leave the impression that his son had misused her. Surely Captain Grayson did not deserve that. Her knowledge of him was limited to their two strange encounters. The first time, he’d looked like a man who could do more than deflower a maiden, but that was also the day he’d safely delivered her baby. She owed the captain everything.
    “I do deny it.” Let meekness fly, she figured. “You, sir, owe me and your son an apology for your uncivil words.”
    “Hmmph!” The older man tapped his fingers on the edge of the table, a gesture oddly reminiscent of his son. “I’ll not apologize to that rascal, that disgraceful reprobate.”
    “I will thank you not to speak of him in that manner, my lord.” Maggie kept her voice even. She’d defend the captain in his absence. It was the least she could do.
    The elderly man’s eyes bulged and his lips, wrinkled and thin, twitched into something resembling a smile. “I will say whatever I wish about him. He is a dishonor to his family. The worst of men.”
    Lord Caufield said, “See here, sir—”
    The earl silenced his nephew with a flick of his hand. Maggie glanced at the others at the table. Lady Caufield was pale. Lady Palmely, abstracted as if she’d heard nothing. She could not see Sir Francis at her elbow, but felt his body stiffen.
    The earl whipped back to Maggie. “My son thinks of nothing but his own pleasure.” His lips pursed. “Why is he not here with you? Did he abandon you, too?”
    Maggie gaped at him. She would never stay in this house, with this appalling man. She had no idea what transpired between father and son for him to speak this way, but it was unthinkable to do so in front of the woman who was supposed to be his wife.
    “Sir.” Her voice remained low and barely above a whisper. “Your son left because he was ordered back to war. He put me in the care of his cousin; therefore, it cannot be said he abandoned me.”
    Gracious, she was sounding like a wife, though she’d been careful not to say anything that was not strictly true. It was what she avoided speaking of that was reprehensible. The captain, however, was blameless in all of this. He knew nothing of her shameful misuse of him.
    “Bah,” the earl went on. “The fool will probably get himself killed, but that would be no great loss to me.”
    Maggie’s jaw dropped. To lose a