Free Maggie MacKeever by Strange Bedfellows Page A

recalled that his mama was amazingly high in the instep—no fitting member of a conspiracy to outwit the forces of law, in short. There was little hope that anything she told Fergus would not be in turn related to his mama, Mab now realized. “Where shall we live after we are married?” she asked abruptly. “I mean, what will happen to your mama?”
    “Happen to her?” Fergus felt in some way that it was a trifle indelicate to discuss living arrangements before the knot was properly tied. Charitably, he made allowance for the strain imposed upon Mab by the misfortunes of her friends. The baron was not so very high a stickler as his mama, who was of the opinion that as result of these misfortunes Mab should give unfortunate Lady March the cut direct. “Why should anything happen to her? Do you fear Mama will feel you have usurped her position? You need not! She will be happy to show you how to go on.”
    “I see.” Mab could not imagine that Lady Katherine would be pleased to show any daughter-in-law anything other than how much she was disliked. Previously, Mab had not been aware of how firmly Lord Parrington remained tied to his mama’s apron strings. Later, Mab would have to seriously ponder whether she wished to spend her married life with a gorgonish mama-in-law that would always be loading her with reproaches and pulling a long face.
    “Are we to be married? I was under the impression your papa refused to give us his consent.” Fergus moved from the oriel window to the chimney where Diana bathed. Once arrived there, he turned back to gaze suspiciously upon Mab. “The greatest wretch in nature—is that what you were talking about?”
    How calmly he spoke of her impassioned letter— clearly, Lord Parrington was inclined toward no romantical high flights. Closeted alone with the young lady whom he wished to marry, a highly unusual circumstance, he had not uttered a single improper word, nor given the tiniest indication that he harbored any ardent thought. A young lady might be gratified by such restraint, Mab supposed. After witnessing high romance as enacted by Lord and Lady March, however, she was finding Fergus distinctly flat.
    Mab tossed aside her fan and abandoned her chair.
    “Perhaps I exaggerated a trifle, Fergus, but Papa had forbidden me to see you again, and I was feeling very out-of-sorts.”
    “Forbidden—” Lord Parrington gazed down upon the young lady who had joined him on the hearth. Mab was a very pretty damsel, he decided, even with dust smudged on her fair cheek and cobwebs in her dark hair. Any offspring of their union would have been attractive. However, there were in the world a great many other young women potentially capable of producing healthy, attractive offspring, young women whose papas weren’t unalterably—and inexplicably— opposed to himself. “I am sorry to hear it. There remains nothing for us to do but say goodbye.”
    “Say goodbye? Just because Papa has taken one of his tweaks? I call that dashed poor spirited!” Lady Amabel’s voice was very near a shriek. Upon espying the baron’s horrified expression, she lowered it. “I crave forgiveness for ripping up at you, Fergus—not that it wasn’t what you deserved!”
    Though Lord Parrington was blessed not only with unusual beauty but also quickness of perception, he was at a loss to comprehend how his attitude displeased. This viewpoint he explained.
    To his explanation, Lady Amabel reacted with a wrinkling of her pretty nose. “Papa decrees that we may not marry, and you intend to abide by his dictates! Have you not a ha’porth of spirit, Fergus? I think you must not. Had I realized how it is with you, I would never have run away!”
    “You ran away,” Fergus repeated slowly, as if to impress the magnitude of such arrant misconduct on a disbelieving brain. “How could you do such a thing? I am very disappointed in you, Mab. I can’t imagine what Mama will say.”
    Lady Amabel gave not a button for Lady