by Cheryl Bolen
Meg laughed softly and thought of Otis. “Someone I can admire.”
“Someone handsome and important?”
“Kind at heart, and a gentleman who could make my toes curl in my slippers when we are together.”
Lady Vyne laughed. “Ah, to be young and able to discover love anew. I envy you, and Otis too, in some respects. It is such a time of confusion and wonder. I do wish you all the best in your search for your husband, Meg. All your mother wanted for you was to be happy, and I aim to make that come true.”
“I’ll do my best to choose wisely,” Meg promised, picturing Otis at her side as they spoke their vows.
Lady Vyne frowned suddenly as she looked about them. “I should have asked Miss Milne to join us, but I truly wish it could be us alone for a while. One grows so tired of being questioned constantly.”
Meg’s curiosity stirred. “Questioned? What about?”
“My absent son. Would that Otis had already chosen his bride.”
She considered the countess, and what she might say if she learned Otis had stolen three kisses. Would she be happy? “What sort of woman do you wish your son to marry?”
“Someone that I like as much as I like you, but I will not hold my breath,” the countess mused. “I just hope she is someone who understands the importance of family. You’ve seen how Otis is with his siblings. He treats them as if they were his own children rather than brother and sisters.”
“I did notice he had some,” Meg grinned impishly, “managing tendencies when they were around.”
“He’s very protective of all of us,” Lady Vyne protested. “And that is exactly what you must have in your husband. You need someone you can depend upon.”
Yes, a protective husband would be an advantage, but only if they valued her opinion, too. “I begin to wonder if my brother will ever marry.”
“He will one day. As for my son, it is highly likely he’ll marry Miss Milne before the season even begins.”
Meg gasped, unable to hide her shock at that announcement. Otis couldn’t marry that vain creature! And he had kissed Meg…but was that all it could be? “I had no idea he was courting her.”
Lady Vyne raised a brow. “This is my husband’s doing. Since his health has declined, he’s become obsessed with Otis’ situation. He invited the Milnes to ensure the match.”
Meg wet her lips, her stomach clenching with disappointment. “So your husband wants Otis to wed.”
“My husband expects a proposal to be made before Christmas Day arrives.”
“I see.” She looked around quickly, making sure they were still alone. “What does Otis—I mean, Lord Clement want?”
“He told me he intends to marry soon, and I believe him sincere.”
“I understand.” Meg nodded.
She could make Otis happy, if given the chance. She might even have become accustomed to being half frozen all the time just to please him, too. “He should marry someone who makes him happy,” Meg murmured.
“I hope so, because when you marry without love it is an unending torment.”
Meg looked at the countess quickly. She was slowly coming to understand that all was not as it seemed in this family. The earl and countess did not act as if they loved each other. Meg had assumed the pair were like her parents. Forever holding hands, making decisions together. Lord Vyne seemed disinterested in spending any time with his wife or his children. “Not everyone finds love,” she suggested.
The countess’ skin grew pink. “No, sometimes they throw their chance away to win a ridiculous wager,” she bit out savagely.
Meg did not like how that sounded or the countess’ apparent outrage, and didn’t dare ask what she meant.
But Lady Vyne noticed her anxiety. “Can you believe my foolish son made a wager with his father to marry before the season even begins? I predict he will be made unhappy by any alliance made under those circumstances.”
Lady Vyne caught her by the shoulder when she stepped back in shock. “I cannot believe he would do such a thing.”
“Oh, don’t worry, my dear girl. It will all be over soon enough, I expect. But never think I won’t love you best. We will still write to each other, and one day when things have settled, I shall have you visit The Vynes again.”
Any hopes Meg might have harbored in her heart of a mistake withered and died. No alliance made in haste, because of a bargain or an indiscretion, ever turns out well in the long run.
She stared at the nearby landscape and her heart tore in her chest. She could never return to The Vynes when Lord Clement was married. That would be too painful. She had foolishly fallen for him.
Lord Clement was not the man she’d imagined him to be, and she should have been more cautious about exposing her heart to a near stranger. However, in a way, she should be grateful to him. He had reminded her what it felt like to feel desirable and part of a larger group. He’d also taught her a valuable lesson—a rogue was a rogue, no matter how distinguished in name. Since her brother planned to launch her into society soon, she was sure she needed that clarity in the coming months as she assessed the gentlemen she was introduced to.
“Lady Vyne,” Miss Milne called out suddenly. “Lady Vyne, are you there?”
The countess groaned softly and turned, smiling as her other guest appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Miss Milne.”
“Oh, Lady Margaret. I did not see you,” Miss Milne exclaimed with a silly giggle that made Meg cringe.
Miss Milne was wearing an exquisite gown of silk and lace that looked much too light for the drafts and chills of the manor. Meg glanced down at herself, realizing that there was no competing with such a well-turned-out creature. She didn’t even want to try.
Miss Milne clapped her hands together. “I was thinking we might all take a walk out of doors together. I haven’t yet seen the stables, and I would like to ride in the spring.”
“Unfortunately, I must meet with my housekeeper,” Lady Vyne said, her voice tinged with regret. “Perhaps it could wait until tomorrow.”
“What of you, Lady Margaret. Will you walk outdoors with me?”
Lady Vyne laughed softly. “Coaxing our Meg out of doors when it is snowing would be quite an achievement.”
Meg shrugged. “I don’t care for snow.”
“Then I think you must have visited at the worst time of year,” Miss Milne exclaimed. “You simply must come back to visit in the summer, when it’s warmer. The grounds are lovely then.”
“I wasn’t aware you had visited the estate before?”
“Oh, no. But I was talking with Lord Clement the other day, right in this very spot, and he described everything so well I have become enraptured. When he speaks, I can imagine the sights and scents of this beautiful place as if it were my home, too.”
Meg shivered. “He has a pleasant speaking voice.”
Meg had come to feel at home at The Vynes, too, because of Lord Clement’s warm welcome, but she’d been utterly mistaken that he might have had any honorable intentions toward her. She rubbed her brow. “Would you excuse me, my lady? I think I have taken a chill.”
Lady Vyne rushed toward her but Meg backed away. “I’m sure its nothing that a night in a warm bed cannot rectify. I am sure I will be fine in a few days.”
Lady Vyne’s face fell. “I’ll send up your maid.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“How silly to refuse your maid,” Miss Milne said. “Who else will plump your pillows?”
Meg had managed quite well without a personal maid before, and there was no reason she could not do so again. “I’m just going to lie down and hope for sleep.”
“I’ll send up a tray with some tea and broth later,” Lady Vyne decided. “Our housekeeper herself will attend you. I absolutely insist.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Meg murmured. “If my brother should return tonight, would you let him know that I need to speak to him about London tomorrow? Tell him…I’ve had a change of heart.”
>
Lady Vyne’s eyes narrowed on her. “I’ll do that as soon as I see him,” she promised.
“I do hope you feel better soon, Lady Margaret,” Miss Milne called. “I would hate you to miss the joy of the holiday. You never know what might come yet!”
A wedding—but not one she could look forward to.
“I’ll ring when I wake, when I’m hungry, and if I am not better by morning, I’ll summon your housekeeper.” Meg backed away.
As soon as she was clear of the room, Meg rushed upstairs to hide in her bedchamber for the night.
Chapter 12
Otis crooked his finger at the maid to draw her toward his bedchamber door. “Well?”
“She says she’s ill, my lord,” the maid confessed.
“Is she?”
The maid glanced away. “I couldn’t say, my lord.”
Otis slumped back against the wall, wondering why Meg Stockwick would ever feel the need to pretend ill health. Mother said it came upon her suddenly, and he was concerned enough to send spies into her room to check on her welfare.
When the hour to meet with Meg to read together had come and gone with no sight of her, Otis had gone in search of Hector, thinking they might be together. But Hector was huddled in bed, claiming he was about to die, which was far from true.
Otis had sent his valet to care for Hector and then approached Mother, who passed along the message that Meg was so ill, she would not be joining them for dinner that night. He had endured dinner with his parents and the Milnes’ company in a distracted state and fled as soon as he could.
He glanced at the maid again. “Did Lady Margaret ask for a tray to be sent to her room?”
“Yes, my lord, but she barely ate any of it.”
Concerned, Otis looked down the hallway toward her distant bedchamber. He wanted to speak to Meg, to find out for himself how she fared, very much. “Does she know her brother has returned?”
“Not that I know of. She never asked about him.”
Otis nodded. It was likely Hector would be recovering for a few days like the last time he’d overindulged. It was a blessing that Meg would never know just how bad he got at times. “Thank you, you may go.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, my lord.”
When the maid was gone down the servants’ staircase, he stepped back into the hall and closed the door on his room. He was probably expected to return downstairs soon to join the Milnes and his parents, but he could not. His heart was not willing to wait another minute to see Meg.
He put her book under arm and, aiming for nonchalance, sauntered down the hall. When he was level with Meg’s door, he stopped, knocked and ducked inside quickly.
Meg was curled up under a blanket by the fire, sniffling into a gentleman’s handkerchief.
Her eyes widened at seeing him in her room again. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Despite the impropriety, he hurried across the room and fell to his knees. “I was worried about you.”
“There’s no need to concern yourself with me,” she said, drawing back from him
He smiled quickly and pressed his hand to her cheek and then her brow. “There is when you feel unwell. At least you don’t appear fevered.”
She moved her face out of reach. “Shouldn’t you be with your family and guests?”
“The Milnes can wait,” he said as he sat back on his heels. Meg’s eyes were a bit red, and so was her nose, but otherwise, aside from a little sniff now and then, she seemed well enough to his eye. “It was a quiet dinner without you tonight.”
“Was Miss Milne not entertainment enough?”
“She might have been if I could pay attention.”
Meg’s expression hardened. “Is that how you will be with her?”
“Probably. If she expected more, she should have married Lord Bellows last year when he was courting her.”
“Obviously she found him lacking,” Meg insisted. “Is he another rogue?”
“Bellows? Hardly. And denying that you love someone just because they are not smart enough to please your family is a mark against her in my book.” He frowned. “Why are we talking about Miss Milne when it’s you I want to hear about?”
“We are talking about Miss Milne because you are going to marry her.”
“No, I’m not!”
Meg frowned. “Your mother told me you were.”
“Then she is very wrong.”
Meg’s eyes narrowed on him. “Was she wrong about the wager too?”
“Ah, no.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I was going to mention that.”
“How could you have made a wager to marry Miss Milne and then kiss me? Your family and hers expect a proposal!”
“I made a wager with my father to be married within three months. I never specified who I would propose to because I did not know at that time. My plan all along was to find someone who I can talk to, worry about, and have them feel the same about me. I think I’ve found her at last.”
“I see,” she said, looking ill at ease.
“Rediscovered her.” He grinned. Did she really not know she’d captured all of his attention? His heart too. Perhaps he’d have to be more obvious about his interest in her. “As to the timing of any marriage to meet the terms of the wager, I thought three months would be long enough for you to decide to accept me or not.”
Her brow furrowed. “Accept you?”
He swallowed down his anxiety. Since he was already kneeling, he freed Meg’s hand from the smothering warmth of her many blankets and held it. “My dear Margaret.”
“Meg,” she murmured.
“My dearest Meg then.” He took a steadying breath. “We barely know each other but the moment I saw you, I think I knew my heart would be yours.”
Meg gaped. “You want to marry me?”
He nodded. “Very much.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Meg said as her eyes widened even more. “Why me?”
“Why not you? I ordinarily don’t go around kissing intelligent, funny and stunningly beautiful women all the time or stealing away to read her favorite book together.” He produced her copy and laid it on her lap. “There are a few more chapters in this one still, but The Vynes library is vast and largely unread. Or we could purchase our own books together after.”
“After you win the wager?”
“Yes. I don’t want to leave my mother and siblings behind.”
“You expect me to live here?”
“Not necessarily. If we did marry, I hoped we could spend the summer by the sea and have my mother and siblings join us there, too. The warmer air would be better for you and my little brother.” Since an agreement seemed a long way off, he shrugged. “I only ask that you consider me. Take as much time as you need to decide one way or the other. In the meantime, I have brought your brother back to the estate since you’ve missed him so much.”
“You left the estate to get him for me?”
“A short jaunt to the village tavern. While I was with your brother, I did ask his permission to court you. He refused.”
“On what grounds?”
“Pigheadedness, most likely.” Otis winced. “And he was a cup shot at the time. I did not perhaps choose the best moment to broach the subject. I am hoping he will reconsider. I am prepared to wait and ask your brother again and again, until he changes his mind.”
Meg bit her lip. “No, don’t do that.”
“Meg, I must have his permission…or is no your answer?”
Meg suddenly smiled. “It is my birthday next month.”
“I did know it fell not long into the New Year. But you won’t be here then. You’ll be in London getting ready to be courted by dozens of bachelors with very good taste in women. You’ll be lured to dark corners and kissed by other men.”
“I find that highly unlikely. I never wanted to go to London. I’ll be one and twenty on this birthday, and you know what that means.”
“You’ll not need his permission to marry a
nyone soon!” Otis sat forward and gripped her hand tightly. “Hector led me to believe you were a year younger!”
“Hector never remembers my age. He always forgets my birthday, too, and that has been a blessing when it came to discussions about the future. If he had realized my real age, he might have been even more desperate to marry me off.”
“I’m glad he has not.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Will you think about it and let me know.”
“Yes,” she promised.
Otis nodded. “Thank you. I hope you feel better soon.”
“Good news has a way of healing the worst hurts. Otis, that was the yes!” Meg leaned forward, and suddenly her lips were pressed against his.
Otis groaned and pulled her closer. That wasn’t easy because she was bundled up all warm and snug. He couldn’t get close enough for his liking, so he moved some of the blankets aside and slid under them to sit at her side.
Meg laughed softly and wrapped her arms about his neck and held him tightly. “I was so upset to imagine I might never kiss you again.”
“Did you pretend to be ill because you thought I would marry Miss Milne?”
Meg’s face turned pink and she looked away. “Miss Milne is everything I’m not.”
Otis cupped her cheek, his heart bursting with joy. Meg really did care about him. “She’s in love with a friend of mine, not that she will admit it.”
Meg silenced him with her lips. Otis didn’t want to hear another word about Miss Milne, either. She was happy, and Otis was happy, too. She drew back slowly, drinking in the stirring look in his eye. “I like this,” she said softly. “Being with you. Kissing you.”
“I can tell,” he teased, and then brought his lips to her cheek. “There’s nothing better for me, either.”
He moved along her jaw, peppering her skin with tiny kisses. Meg tilted her head and invited him to continue. Otis did, and she shivered.
He chuckled softly. “Do you want me to stop so you can huddle back under your blankets? I should probably go. We can discuss what we do next tomorrow.”
“Don’t go yet,” she whispered. “I want you to myself for as long as possible. When everyone learns we intend to marry, we might never be alone until our wedding day. I need a few more kisses from you.”