But Margaret was saved from answering when Mrs. Spencer approached holding the hand of a little girl, only slightly older than the twins.
“Who is this?” Margaret dropped to her knees, still holding Creighton.
“This is Miss Josephine Eleanor Spencer,” Mrs. Spencer answered proudly. “Josephine, this is Lady Asherton. Can you make your curtsey to her, darling?”
Margaret could not have been any more charmed when the brown-haired child tilted her foot behind her and dropped and bent forward precariously.
“You are quite good at that, Miss Josephine. I believe that you are going to grow up to be a very smart little girl. Are you enjoying the house party?” Margaret took several minutes to enjoy the children sitting in the grass, asking silly questions and playing even sillier games.
“Miss Drake is quite certain she is going to land Lord Rockingham as a husband this week, My Lady.” Mrs. Spencer had been sharing all the gossip she’d been privy to, and Margaret had been ignoring her for the most part, but at the mention of Sebastian, her ears perked up considerably.
“She is bound for disappointment, I think,” Penelope answered. Margaret’s sister-in-law was not one to gossip much herself, but she did like to be… informed.
“I asked her how she could be so certain, and she would not give me any details. In fact, she was very smug. What with all of her father’s wealth, she and her mother expect her to settle for nothing lower than an earl. Rockingham would be quite the catch for an American. Perhaps they already have an agreement but have chosen to keep it private until he can speak with her father.”
Penelope snorted. “Perhaps she is full of malarkey.”
Miss Drake must be dissembling. Sebastian was not prepared to marry anyone right now. If he’d even considered it, he would have told her. Wouldn’t he?
“There you are, my dear!” Margaret turned her attention away from the children at the sound of George’s voice. Knowing he expected her answer regarding leaving with him for London at the end of the party, a cold sweat broke out behind her neck and on her brow.
“I came across these this morning while out riding and was inspired to gather a bouquet worthy of my intended.” They were marigolds and chrysanthemums along with a few shoots of tall grass. He grimaced. “They are not, I’m afraid, but I will make a gift of them anyway. If you will have them.” And then he turned to her companions and bowed. “Lady Danbury, Mrs. Spencer.”
“What a romantic gift, Mr. Kirkley,” Mrs. Spencer complimented him.
“It was very thoughtful, was it not, Margaret?” Penelope did not appear overly impressed.
“It was. Thank you, George.” Margaret reached up to take them from him. “They are very pretty.”
He did not ask to sit down, although he stood smiling down at her. “Will you walk with me this morning?”
Panic shot through her. “I, er, have promised Penelope that I would spend the morning with the children. You are more than welcome to join us.” He would not wish to join them. He would return inside for a game of cards or billiards.
“I would be delighted,” he agreed most amicably before lowering himself to sit. “Who is this little darling?” Eyes the same color as Sebastian’s creased at the edges as he smiled at little Miss Josephine.
The darling girl did not require prompting but dropped into another perfect curtsey before George. “I am Miss Josephine.”
George’s eyes twinkled as he took her hand and kissed the back of her tiny wrist. “I am honored to meet you, Miss Josephine.” George turned a laughing smile toward Margaret and then dropped his gaze to the flowers, and then to her hands and frowned. Margaret knew her mistake immediately. She’d not worn gloves this morning.
“You are not wearing your ring?” His question not only caught the attention of Mrs. Spencer but also a few of the other mother’s who’d been mingling nearby.
Penelope stared at her over George’s head and winced.
This was most definitely not the time to speak with him.
“It is too tight. I thought it would loosen, but it has not.”
George exhaled a sigh of what could only be considered relief. “We will have it resized. I’ll take it to a jeweler as soon as we get back to London. It would be best for you to return it to me today. My family would be devastated if anything were to happen to it. It belonged to my ancestors, you know. Priceless. Irreplaceable.”
Margaret swallowed around the gigantic lump that seemed to have grown in her throat. “Of course.”
“How are you enjoying your visit, Mr. Kirkley?” Penelope changed the subject, and Margaret could have almost kissed her.
“Wonderful. I doubt I’ve enjoyed a house party more. In fact, I know that I have not.”
“And you are sleeping well, then, You have everything you require in your chamber?”
“I do. The mattress is a little firm for my tastes, but other than that, everything has been top-notch indeed. How could it not be when I have secured my bride? I am the luckiest of men.”
“We must see what can be done so that you are comfortable for the remainder of the party.” Penelope rose. “Since you wished for time alone with the children, Margaret. Perhaps Mr. Kirkley would escort me inside so that we might adjust his accommodations. I also need to go over tonight’s menu with Cook.”
“But of course.” George rose and brushed at his trousers.
“Da da da da da da,” Creighton chose that moment to demand her attention again. Margaret held the child close and kissed the top of his head.
“Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma!” her niece chanted. Margaret reached out a hand to keep Louella from following her mother.
“Come here, darling.” She gave a glance toward her sister-in-law. “Thank you, Penelope.”
“What are sisters for?” Penelope called back, warming Margaret’s heart. She was so glad they’d spoken the night before. She was ashamed that she’d spent so much of the last few years feeling sorry for herself. She had a beautiful niece and a charming little nephew with another on the way. In addition to that, she had a sister-in-law whom she loved almost as much as she loved Hugh.
She reached out to hug her niece and then proceeded to tickle them both until the twins were smiling and giggling.
Margaret ought to be very grateful, indeed.
* * *
Entertainment that night turned out to be a lively affair. At the request of the younger ladies, Penelope had the carpets rolled back in the largest drawing room so that those who wished to dance could do so.
Margaret wondered if Sebastian had met with any luck searching for the ring after she’d left but had not had an opportunity to speak with him. Although he’d caught her gaze once or twice, he gave her no indication that he’d found it. Perhaps he was simply distracted by Miss Drake, Miss Crouch, or one of the other single ladies seated about him near the pianoforte.
Margaret hated that she was bothered to see Miss Drake’s hand resting on the sleeve of his jacket. She was not cut out for any of this.
Sitting beside her again this evening, George had been inordinately attentive but had not mentioned the ring again. She breathed a sigh of relief when he begged her leave so that he could play a game of chess with Lord Riverton.
Which left Margaret sitting alone for the moment, watching as the young girls debated over who would play the pianoforte for the first set and who would dance with whom.
She hadn’t realized her fists were clenched until Sebastian finally excused himself from Mrs. Drake’s clutches and crossed the room.
“May I?” He indicated the seat beside her vacated by George.
“Of course.”
With him so near now, she realized he wasn’t as content as she’d assumed he was. A subtle tension simmered from him. “You are still betrothed?”
“Until I can return the ring. Yes.” She exhaled. “Did you have any luck?”
“With Miss Drake?” He slid her a teasing glance.
“With the ring!”
>
“Unfortunately, no.” Did his hand brush the skirt near her legs accidentally?
She’d Imagined the worst for the ring all evening and ought to have been more disappointed by his answer. But he seemed confident that they would find it, and for no reason she could comprehend, nothing seemed all that horrible when she was in this man’s proximity.
“I’ve arranged for some lawn tools to be left by the servants’ entrance. We’ll cover more ground that way tomorrow.” His finger began stroking her leg.
Margaret’s lungs suddenly couldn’t hold quite as much air as they had the moment before.
He leaned into her. “Have you changed your mind yet?” His breath whispered along her cheek and jaw.
Had she?
She couldn’t think straight with him so near. Had she decided to give into him? To herself?
An affair.
She had no doubt that Sebastian would take her to the heights of passion, but even more than that, she enjoyed being with him. She was coming to care for him and when it was all over, she would be left with nothing more than memories and impossible longings.
Why did she feel as though she was standing on the precipice of that cliff? It would be foolish to jump.
She met his gaze steadily. “I have not,” she finally answered.
“And that took you what, nearly one hundred seconds to decide? It only took you ten earlier today. I believe I am wearing you down.” His words ought to have annoyed her, but it was difficult to be angry with him. And good Lord, his soft chuckle vibrated through her core. She clenched her thighs together and forced herself not to lean into him. She craved his touch, and she felt as though her body was warring with her mind. But what of her heart?
“Come away from there, My Lord.” Miss Drake beckoned from the cleared away floor where five other couples had lined up. “You promised me the first set.”
And now, Margaret wished to grasp his hand so that he could not leave her side.
Ridiculous.
Sebastian caught her eye. Almost as though he could read her mind, he leaned into her again, his scent and warmth nearly her undoing. “Knock on my chamber door when you’re ready to leave tomorrow morning. We will find that blasted ring if I have to spend the entire day raking the hill.” Hidden in her skirts, his fingertips stroked her leg again. “As for the other: you know where to find me when you change your mind.” His whispering drew a frown from the lady standing watching them, but Margaret could only nod.
Would it be enough? Could it ever be enough?
18
Musical Chambers
Margaret did not sleep well that night and so when the sky in the east began to lighten, she was already dressed and ready to walk up to the meadow again. She resisted the urge to wear one of her prettier day dresses but couldn’t help dabbing on some of the perfume Penelope had left in her chamber. Since the sun hadn’t actually risen yet, she did not don her bonnet but would bring it along for later.
At least none of the other guests would be up and about at this hour. They would sleep in for several more hours yet, possibly until noon.
She silently closed her door behind her and made her way, once again, to Sebastian’s chamber. It was not proper for a lady to go to a gentleman’s room and yet this was her third occasion to do just that.
She felt far too comfortable doing so—far too comfortable for her own good.
Just before rounding the last corner, however, a bloodcurdling scream nearly had her jumping out of her skin.
“You scoundrel! What is my daughter doing in your bed!”
Margaret peeked around in time to catch sight of Mrs. Drake entering Lord Rockingham’s chamber with another middle-aged lady—was that Mrs. Redcliffe?—behind her.
Miss Drake was in Sebastian’s bed? Margaret’s stomach lurched, and she wanted to run back to her room and cry, and yet her feet refused to obey.
Hugh, who must have overheard the scream and imagined nothing less than a murder had been committed, rushed past Margaret, looking seriously annoyed.
“Susannah! What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Drake’s voice carried loudly—too loudly. And her words sounded almost as though they’d been rehearsed.
Margaret slumped against the wall. This was why the girl had been so confident with Mrs. Spencer. She’d compromised him.
Sebastian had been trapped.
“What’s happening?” Penelope snuck up behind her. And then, upon hearing the familiar voices coming from the open chamber door, her eyes widened. “What is Mrs. Drake doing in Mr. Kirkley’s room?”
“But it isn’t Mr. Kirkley’s room,” Margaret corrected, her heart aching too much to contemplate in that moment. “It’s Lord Rockingham’s.”
Penelope was shaking her head though. “No. I switched them back again yesterday.”
“Mr. Kirkley! Susannah Drake!” A loud cry was followed by a thump. Had Mrs. Drake fainted?”
“Come with me.” Penelope grasped Margaret’s hand and dragged her to Sebastian’s chamber. What on earth was going on?
They entered the room to see Mrs. Drake laying on the floor with Mrs. Redcliffe holding smelling salts beneath her nose and Hugh staring at Penelope, seemingly at a total loss.
And in the bed, wrapped in nothing more than a sheet, Miss Drake was staring at the gentleman beside her with a shocked look in her eyes. “Mr. Kirkley?” she uttered, horrified.
“George?” Margaret blinked as her eyes darted from his naked, hair-covered chest to Miss Drake’s’ flawless young skin. And then back again.
“Penelope, assist Miss Drake to her own chamber, will you?” Hugh had finally decided upon a course of action. “And, Kirkley, I expect you to dress and meet me in my study in exactly fifteen minutes.” Hugh’s voice sounded far less polite when he spoke to the man who had promised himself to his sister. Without another word, he spun around on his heel.
Mrs. Drake was sitting up on the floor now, and he paused only long enough to address her. “I apologize that a guest in my house has harmed your daughter. Since Mr. Drake is not present to defend her honor, as your host, I will take on that responsibility myself. If you will present yourself at my study later this morning, Madam, we can discuss this matter until an acceptable resolution is reached.”
Mrs. Drake looked as though she might become ill at any moment as Mrs. Redcliffe assisted her to her feet.
Margaret rushed forward, unable to meet George’s eyes, and, locating the young woman’s dressing gown, handed it to Penelope who aided Miss Drake into it.
“But I thought…” the girl muttered. “Mama, you said…”
“Hush.” Mrs. Drake silenced her daughter as they shuffled back into the corridor, which was no longer empty of curious eyes and ears.
“Mr. Kirkley and Miss Drake?” Margaret overheard more than one voice utter in astonishment. “But what of Lady Asherton?”
Pity spilled onto her from numerous sets of eyes, which then quickly averted away. Margaret shuddered and nearly stumbled. What had just happened?
“Come with me, dear.” Lady Sheffield took her by the arm and dragged her away from the hovering bystanders. Thoughts buzzed through Margaret’s head and so she didn’t resist the older woman or even acknowledge her until the two of them had stepped into the lady’s private chamber and the door was closed behind them.
“You are not heartbroken.” Lady Sheffield spoke in firm tones. “But everyone was watching you and I did not want you to give them anything more to gossip about.”
Margaret nodded. Yes, yes. Lady Sheffield was correct. “It seems that I am to be jilted.”
“You did not love him. I am not mistaken, am I?”
Margaret knew Lady Sheffield to be the soul of discretion. She and Margaret’s mother had been dear friends for all their lives. “No, I did not love him.”
“That is all well and good.” The woman lowered Margaret onto a settee beside her. “Mr. Kirkley, of course, is going to come out looking like the worst type of cad,
but there are others who are going to speculate about you.”
“What would they have to say about me?” she asked. Because, as a widow, of course, she was not untouched.
Lady Sheffield stared at her. “That you are unmarriageable in other ways—perhaps that you are in financial difficulties, that you are a harridan, that you are not inclined to please him in the ways that a much younger woman was…” And then she shrugged. “Of course, I could be mistaken, but is it not always best to err on the side of caution in these matters? Especially when you, just last spring, attempted to pawn a maid off as a gentlewoman at one of London’s most elaborate balls?”
“She was a gentlewoman,” Margaret inserted.
“One who had been working as a maid for over a decade.”
Margaret exhaled in defeat. It had been a huge mistake. She had thought she was doing the right thing for her friend at the time. But, yes. Lady Sheffield was correct. It had tarnished both of their reputations.
“All I am saying is that you must tread very carefully. Be on your best behavior.” Lady Sheffield stared at her hard. “Be far more discreet if you intend to… befriend your former fiancé’s handsome young nephew.”
Margaret sat up straight. “He is a very kind gentleman.”
Lady Sheffield raised her brows and, in that moment, reminded Margaret very much of her mother.
“How did you know?” She could not dissemble with her mother’s friend.
“I see more than most. I see glances from across the room. And,” she indicated her window, which overlooked the back lawn and the path that ascended in the direction of the lake, “I rise early.”
“He is a friend, but there can be nothing more. He is too young for me. I want a family. I wanted to become a mother. Lord Rockingham is going to explore the world.” She smiled indulgently but also with some sadness. “He has a good deal of living before he would tie himself to an old widow like me.”
Lady Sheffield did not laugh. She did not agree with her nor did she express her disagreement. “So long as you don’t do anything foolish. I only want your happiness. I’ve been concerned about you since your mother’s passing. She wrote to me of how melancholy your husband’s death left you.” Lady Sheffield took Margaret’s hands in hers. “But that you were even more despondent after you lost the babe.”
Lady and the Rake Page 17