Lady and the Rake (Lord Love a Lady Book 6)

by Annabelle Anders

  Margaret could only nod. It was true.

  “But also know that you are so much more than an old widow. You are a beautiful and intelligent woman who has the ability to forge a unique path in this world. You mustn’t lose sight of that. And you are not too old for such a man as Rockingham. Do not expect that you only have one or two options. Be open to other life experiences.”

  Margaret stared down at the woman’s hands, covering hers just as the door knocked and was pushed open before Lady Sheffield could bid the visitor to enter.

  “Miss Drake did not intend to trap Mr. Kirkley,” Penelope announced before dropping into the nearest chair.

  Lady Sheffield laughed. “I would think not.”

  “She thought it was Rockingham’s chamber.” Penelope laughed. “Could anything be more ironic than this, Margaret?” And then, of course, Penelope explained to Lady Sheffield exactly what had happened on the night of Lord Rockingham’s arrival. Thank heavens Margaret hadn’t told her sister-in-law the entire story.

  One only had to glance at Lady Sheffield, however, to see that she read more into the encounter than Penelope had.

  “But now, it seems, Miss Drake is going to have to marry Mr. Kirkley. Margaret, the man couldn’t stop smiling to save his life. I expect Miss Drake’s father will wipe the smile off eventually. But her dowry is enormous. I’m so sorry. But I’m not really. Are you disappointed? I did not think that you would be,” Penelope continued on without awaiting a response from Margaret. “And Hugh says to not worry if you cannot locate the ring. Mr. Kirkley left him with signed contracts earlier this week. By having sexual relations with another woman, he is obviously in breach and we shall hold that over his head if he gets too adamant about having the ring returned. It’s not as if you lost it on purpose, after all.” Penelope turned a little green. “Drat this. I haven’t had my toast yet. But I had to come tell you.” And she departed as quickly as she had arrived.

  “It seems, Margaret, dear,” Lady Sheffield commented while staring at the closed door. “That you are quite free to pursue those other… opportunities.”

  Lady Sheffield's words sent Margaret’s mind in numerous directions. Because “exploring other opportunities” could alter Margaret’s future forever.

  19

  Changing Course

  Penelope proceeded with the house party as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that morning but nothing could halt gossip when it was this meaty.

  Without fail, when Margaret entered a room, conversation seemed to stutter haltingly and then start up again at a near frenzy. Nobody gave her the cut direct nor did anyone say anything untoward but an entirely different mood had taken hold of the party.

  Was it possible Lady Sheffield had been correct? Did they assume she had done something wrong, which had sent George Kirkley so happily into the arms of a younger woman?

  It had been a mistake, but only those who had been inside of George’s room that morning were aware of it. Mrs. Drake and Mrs. Redcliffe were both itinerate gossips, but they themselves would become mired in scandal if their original scheme was made public.

  By the time she came down to the drawing room for tea, Margaret had overheard more than she cared to. Mr. George Kirkley was now engaged to the beautiful young American heiress and would be leaving the house party the next morning in order to meet with the girl’s father. Mr. Kirkley, many declared, was a lucky man, indeed. He’d have benefited from the sale of Lady Asherton’s townhouse, but with Miss Drake’s dowry, his pockets would be far richer now!

  Margaret had known her assets would belong to George after their wedding, logically. It was the way of the world. But she had been so concerned with confirming his ability to sire a child that she’d never questioned his other assets. The two of them had not once discussed the possibility of selling her townhouse. Lawrence had had it renovated especially for her. She loved it. She would have been heartbroken to have it sold out from under her.

  Had she married him, she would have had no say in the matter.

  She ought to feel relieved, elated, grateful beyond belief, and yet she felt numb. She’d nearly made a very costly mistake.

  Margaret had not made any attempt to locate Sebastian that morning. She presumed he’d gone up to the meadow to search for his uncle’s ring, but she could not possibly disappear with him again in light of her current… situation.

  Instead, she’d gone ahead with her usual routine. She’d taken her breakfast in the morning room and then sat in the drawing room with the other ladies knitting and writing letters, all the while, holding her head high. She had done this partly due to what Lady Sheffield had said and partly because…

  She did not want anyone to pity her.

  When she had entered that room, George and Miss Drake were not simply in the bed together. Both were in a complete state of undress. They had made love. Possibly more than once.

  Margaret hadn’t wanted to recognize it, but the scents of the room had been heavy with those produced from sexual relations. The counterpane had been pushed to the bottom of the bed and both had barely covered themselves but for the use of a sheet.

  Miss Drake was far slimmer and taller than Margaret, her hair shorter, and her voice higher pitched. And having witnessed the reaction of both parties once the drapes had been drawn and light allowed to slant illuminate the room, Margaret had seen the expressions on both of their faces.

  George had known who he’d made love to. Miss Drake had not.

  George Kirkley had been quite happy to trade up for a far more lucrative marriage.

  Margaret added sugar to her tea and then a healthy pour of milk and sipped at it thoughtfully. She was angry with herself for nearly tying herself to such a mercenary and dishonorable man. Of course, George had only been marrying her for her money!

  Had he not asked her on a few occasions how many rooms her Mayfair townhouse contained? His eyes had gleamed on the occasions he’d visited in the afternoon.

  He’d only shown her affection when he’d sensed that she might wish to withdraw her consent. His kisses had been chaste, and his declarations of happiness forced.

  She’d been a fool not to notice it before.

  The room buzzed around her now. No one had come to sit beside her. Hugh had remained in his study, Lady Sheffield took tea in her chamber, and Penelope was being kept far too busy with her duties as hostess. No one wanted to be associated with the woman who had been rejected.

  Oh, but Margaret did not blame them. She reserved her rage for herself.

  Movement at the door drew Margaret’s gaze. It was the Duchess of Monfort, who had been notably absent all day. With determination in her normally calm gaze, the duchess strode across the room and quite purposely lowered herself onto the settee beside Margaret.

  “The baby has been teething, and I only just now heard all that has happened.” She dropped a hand onto Margaret’s arm. “You are better off for it.” Her eyes were sympathetic, but more than that, they showed support.

  The cold smile that had stretched Margaret’s lips all day remained. “Indeed.” She nodded, speaking low enough that no one but the duchess could hear. “I was an idiot to give him my consent.”

  “If you wish to leave Land’s End now, Monfort and I are more than happy to make an early departure. Come with us and stay at Brooke’s Abbey for as long as you wish.” And then the duchess turned her attention to the table and placed a decadent pastry and sandwich square onto one of the small plates. “But you must eat. Don’t waste away because of that greedy scoundrel.”

  Margaret accepted the plate and stared down at it. She didn’t want to spend the next week making nice and pretending that her life was not at an unwanted crossroads. Ducking out was an appealing idea but she had intended to remain at Land’s End through the holidays.

  Nothing was clear in this moment though.

  “That is kind of you.”

  “We are willing to do anything we can to ease your situation. Believe me, I
quite understand the discomfort brought on by being the object of gossip.”

  Margaret nodded. “I thank you. But I don’t know…”

  Abigail squeezed Margaret’s hand reassuringly. “Take your time. Know, dear Margaret, that if you decide you wish to leave, all you must do is inform either myself or Monfort and we will take to the road.”

  The duke made his way across the room just then. The look in his eyes as they settled on his wife reminded Margaret that Abigail was expecting, and her heart did not break at the thought. She was becoming stronger. It was an encouraging revelation in light of the decisions she must make.

  “Won’t you join us, Your Grace?” Margaret smiled up at the duke. He nodded and lowered himself onto the nearest chair and then turned to his wife. “Are we to depart tomorrow morning, dear?”

  “I’m not certain yet,” Abigail responded.

  “I won’t have you overexerting yourself. Lady Danbury will quite understand that if we need to return to Brooke’s Abbey early.” And then he turned toward Margaret. “We would like nothing more than to have you as our guest, My Lady.”

  Margaret nodded. The two of them were such an unusual couple. The duke, so seemingly cold and indifferent to everything around him, and the duchess, open and giving and warm. “My thanks.” And yet, the two of them obviously loved one another very much.

  Margaret wondered if they experienced passion with one another—if, along with their obvious affection, they desired one another to the extent that their differences were something wonderful rather than attributes that prohibited intimacy.

  Not even desire could have erased the annoyance she’d begun to feel with George. Her judgment in his character had been appalling. She’d allowed her desire to have a child, to have a family, to blind her.

  An overwhelming need to escape nearly overwhelmed her. She could hear her heart beating in her ears and her chest ached. “If you’ll excuse me, please?”

  Abigail watched her with concern. “Of course.”

  “Are you unwell? Shall I call for your maid?” The duke grasped her elbow. Had she swayed when she rose? She may or may not have. She was not ill, however. She simply needed to be alone.

  “No, thank you, Your Grace.” When he released her, she practically ran out the door and with no particular destination, hastened away from the main rooms in the house.

  She was free. She ought to be happy. It was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

  But in being free, she’d also come to see her future laid out before her. It was empty of a husband, empty of children, empty of a family, empty of a life.

  She stumbled past the music room, the billiard room, the ballroom.

  Lawrence’s father had been friends with her father. She and Lawrence had known one another most of their lives. Their marriage had been a foregone conclusion, and she had not minded at all. Because Lawrence had wanted the same things that she had.

  When the first years passed without any children, she had prayed. She had accepted her circumstances gracefully. She simply needed to be patient.

  And then after her husband’s death, she had mourned, as a good wife ought. She’d hidden herself from society.

  And after the death of her mother, she had mourned yet again before returning to London.

  She had not been looking for a grand love affair. She’d only wanted the same sort of comfort she had experienced with Lawrence. She’d not asked for passion. Guilt threatened to overcome her at the memory of all the improprieties she’d allowed this week. Not only allowed but invited!

  Up until the moment she climbed into his bed, she’d lived a proper life. She had not been unhappy, but she had always wanted more.

  Realizing she was wandering in circles, both figuratively and literally, she paused and pressed her back against the wall. If only she could stop her mind from thinking, perhaps she could make some sense of it all again. She pushed herself away and continued her march.

  Her thoughts were jumbled full of emotions and instead of seeing a clear path ahead of her, she felt lost in a maze.

  Lady Sheffield’s words taunted her. “You are a beautiful and intelligent woman who has the ability to forge a unique path in this world.”

  But was she brave enough to seek out the unknown?

  “Be open to other life experiences.”

  .Without having decided to do so, she had arrived again at the front of the house, outside the door to her brother’s study.

  “Hugh?” She pushed the door open, but his desk sat empty. He’d always had a way of making light of life in general. When he could not do that, he was a good person to point out rational choices. Her gaze traveled around the familiar furnishings, remembering when this room had belonged to their father. It represented purpose, security, the endurance of those who had come before her.

  Was she brave enough to be open to new life experiences? A tremor ran through her.

  And then the liquor cabinet caught her eye.

  “I’m proposing a toast, to Lady Danbury, for her kind concern in assuring that I had the softest mattress possible and also to my dearest nephew for charming all the ladies with his title and looks so as to be worthy of entrapment! To the lovely Lady Danbury and to my nephew, Sebastian!”

  Uncle George lifted his glass toward nowhere in particular as Riverton leaned over the pool table, cue in hand.

  “Cheers,” the baron mumbled as the velvet tip made contact with the ball.

  Sebastian glanced down at his glass of brandy before grudgingly taking a sip. Was Margaret happy about this turn of events? She’d intended to break off her engagement, but Sebastian doubted she would have wanted her freedom in this manner. She would have wanted it to be a quiet and amicable parting of ways.

  She was an intriguing mix of the proper English lady and defiant woman and he couldn’t help but wonder which of them would emerge from all of this.

  George had sought him out immediately, gleefully, and Sebastian could not help but realize he’d made a lucky escape. What if they had not switched out chambers again?

  But Sebastian knew.

  He would not have offered for the chit no matter how large the dowry. If he were going to marry anyone it would be—but, no, it wasn’t even worth contemplating. He’d never marry again. Danbury, as Miss Drake’s host, would have sent him packing. Sebastian would have become known as a rogue of the very worst kind.

  The poor girl had thought she’d climbed into the bed of a future duke. She’d thought she was on the verge of becoming a duchess. But she’d gone too far, and the debutante from America had no choice, now, but to settle for becoming a mere Mrs.—Mrs. George Kirkley. She was going to have to marry a man who cared only for her dowry. Part of him thought that it served her right, another part felt sorry for the chit. It had likely been her mother’s idea.

  “You are a lucky, lucky boy,” Riverton commented to Sebastian.

  George laughed. “Indeed!” He lifted the decanter to fill his glass once again. “Imagine my surprise when a sweet little thing pressed herself against me in the wee hours of the morning. Cooing and My Lording me.”

  It was unsavory for his uncle to speak of his betrothed in such a manner. “She is to become your wife,” Sebastian reminded his uncle. Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder if George had spoken of Margaret similarly.

  What would he have done if Miss Drake had climbed into bed with him instead of his uncle? Sebastian had certainly not discouraged Margaret when she had done just that a few nights ago.

  But he had stopped her. It had pained him to no end, but when he’d realized the mistake she was making, he’d halted their lovemaking. Despite how much he’d been enjoying himself at the time.

  Her mother and Mrs. Redcliffe had been waiting outside George’s door.

  Sebastian shuddered and ran one hand through his hair. He had, indeed, made a lucky escape.

  “Do you know what the dowry is yet, Kirkley?” Riverton asked.

  “Not until I’ve met with her p
apa, whom I must travel to London to meet.” George winked. “Certain to be a pretty penny.” Turning to Sebastian, he added, “We’ll depart tomorrow. Sorry to cut the house party short, my dear boy, but I know you only attended because your mother insisted. Which reminds me. I need to get the ring back from Lady Asherton.”

  Sebastian couldn’t help but shake his head.

  He’d realized that Margaret had had no choice but to abandon the plans they’d made to search that day. The entire household had been in an uproar before he’d even made it out of his room. Not eager to hear the gossip and speculation, he’d slipped downstairs and out the back and searched for a few hours before giving up.

  The endeavor had not been nearly as enjoyable without her crawling around on the ground beside him. What was she doing now?

  “If you’ll excuse me, Uncle.” Sebastian placed his glass on a nearby table. “Riverton.”

  “We’ll leave early,” George reminded him.

  Sebastian only nodded. Although his uncle was eager to leave Lady Asherton behind, Sebastian wasn’t sure that he was.

  20

  Upside Down

  “Margaret? What on earth?” Sebastian had been searching for her everywhere but had eventually given up, assuming she’d retired to her chamber for the afternoon. When he’d knocked on Danbury’s study door, he’d been surprised to hear a feminine voice bid him to enter.

  And he’d been even more surprised at the sight that met him when he stepped inside.

  Barefoot, with a wrinkled gown and long mahogany strands of hair mostly escaped from what once must have been a tidy chignon at the back of her neck, his Maggie was reclining on the leather settee placed before the hearth. She met his gaze with hooded eyes while sipping from a glass similar to the one he’d recently abandoned in the billiard room.

  “Sebastian.” She raised one knee, causing her dress to ride up, “I’m not going to become your auntie, after all!” She slurred her words slightly.