Beastly Lords Collection

by Baily, Sydney Jane

  Cam considered. Wouldn’t it take longer? He wanted to be free of opium and its effects as soon as he could, especially if he was going to try to get Margaret back.

  “You cannot leave laudanum in a place where I can get it, nor where any of my servants have access. I will order them to get it for me. What’s more, I’ll threaten to remove them from their positions if they don’t. Most likely, I will threaten you, too, but you are the only one who can stand up to me. Certainly, poor Peter cannot.”

  His expression serious, Gray agreed.

  Cam didn’t like to think of the days and nights ahead of him.

  “I will do nothing about Margaret until I’m myself again.”

  “Perhaps a letter telling her your course of action?”

  Cam shook his head. “She won’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me. Besides, I want to walk up to the lady I love with a gorgeous ring in my hand and ask her to marry me again. Properly this time.”

  “Understandable.”

  Cam smiled. “I like how you are often a man of few words. I’m going outside to enjoy the weather. Unseasonably sunny and warm, don’t you think?”

  “It is.”

  “And tonight,” Cam continued, as he started to roll himself out of the room, “I plan to drink heavily, so make sure we have my favorite brandy at hand.”

  “We do.”

  “As well as madeira,” he added, picking up speed as he traversed the long hall to the back of the house.

  “Yes.”

  “And sherry.”

  “Of course.”

  “Port, too.”

  “I’ll make certain of it,” Gray told him.

  Cam wheeled out onto the veranda.

  “And whiskey. Better make sure we have plenty of whiskey.”

  Finally, Gray laughed. “I don’t think you’re going to miss the opium at all.”

  *

  Nearly two months later, Maggie stepped out of her brother-in-law’s carriage followed by her mother and younger sister. From the carriage ahead of them, Simon was assisting Jenny, who carried baby Lionel. The entire family—the Deveres and the Blackwoods—were taking up residence in Lord Lindsey’s townhouse as Parliament came into an early session.

  As they approached the front door, Maggie couldn’t help but think of John on these very steps finding out she’d left London, and then moments later, being in the accident that changed his life. And hers.

  “You’re blocking the entrance,” Eleanor said churlishly, before stepping around her. They were all a little out of sorts after a particularly long trip, made longer by Simon and Jenny’s carriage breaking a wheel the day before.

  “It is lovely to be back on solid ground,” her mother said, also going around her.

  Maggie followed them inside before she obstructed anyone else.

  Everything looked the same, of course. But nothing felt the same.

  Making her way up the stairs to the room she knew would be hers, her feet felt as if they were trudging through mud. The last time she’d been in London, it held the promise of the Season and the excitement of gentlemen callers. There was the extraordinary experience of John’s first kiss and then the silly misunderstanding resulting in what she had thought was heartache at the pavilion.

  Until she’d experienced the real thing.

  Until she’d left behind the man she loved, not knowing if he would survive or perish.

  Simon had written to his good friend as soon as Maggie and Eleanor had returned to Belton Manor. Distraught, Maggie had expressed her worry over John’s laudanum intake and told Simon of his thin, hollow-eyed appearance when she’d first arrived at Turvey, and of his conduct before she’d left.

  Of course, she kept all mention of their evening trysts to herself, though the exciting memories haunted her when she was alone.

  At first, Simon received no reply to his missive, and then, a few weeks afterward, a letter arrived addressed only to him. Maggie had paced outside the library while he read it. Then, he’d invited her in, her heart pounding.

  With an odd look upon his face, Simon offered her a seat.

  “Cam says he is grateful you summoned the doctor.”

  Her mouth had dropped open, as she’d forgotten entirely about having asked Dr. Brewster to meet with her. What’s more, it was hardly what she expected to hear from her former beloved.

  “Is that all?” Naturally, given how she loved John even then, Maggie assumed he would have something more personal to tell her. Did he not feel longing or regret?

  “He apologizes for his behavior while you were residing at Turvey House, and he says his mother misses you greatly.”

  Frowning, staring down at her hands, she shook them briefly to stop from clasping her fingers tightly. His mother missed her!

  What could she say? It was humiliating.

  “He wrote very briefly, as you can see.” Simon held up a single sheet. Indeed, there were only a few lines on it.

  “I’m sorry,” he added. “He does say he hopes he will see you when next we are all in London.”

  At her questioning look, he explained, “I told him we would all be going to Town when the summer heat has dissipated.”

  “I understand.” John knew they were going to London, and he planned to go as well, most likely as soon as his cast was off. He hoped to run into her. It sounded vague, not like a man who was desperate to win back his beloved.

  “Thank you.” Turning, she knew she had better flee before either her sadness or her ire got the better of her, the latter being used to shore herself up against the former.

  “Maggie,” Simon began, but she held her hand up. If her brother-in-law offered her pity and became too gentle with her, then she would definitely shatter.

  In a moment, she’d slipped out of the library.

  Now, she was back in London with the threat of running into a man who’d told her he didn’t really want to marry her after all. He considered her a nag, a scold. Like the proverbial fishwife or Shakespeare’s shrew, Katherina.

  Maybe John had turned her into one. Wasn’t she too young to have such weighty concerns of a grown man’s vices draped around her shoulders?

  Considering her situation, Maggie took a deep breath and released it, then began to change out of her traveling garb. She was once more in Town, an unattached woman with her whole future ahead of her. As long as she didn’t remain unattached too long. In which case, she might live with her mother and then eventually with her sister.

  Shaking her head at the notion of not having her own husband, home, or children, she decided to jump back into the social events, whatever they were at this time of year.

  The first thing to do was write a brief note to her good friend Ada asking if she could visit her in the morning. When she did, she would discover if Ada had any upcoming society plans in which Maggie could join.

  She might still be in love and nursing a broken heart, but she’d be damned if she’d put herself off the marriage market and miss out on a lifetime of experiences.

  Rushing downstairs, she gave her note to Simon’s faithful butler, Mr. Binkley, who had come a few days earlier to make everything ready for their arrival.

  Within days, Maggie was dressing for a Thursday evening soiree at the Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce to be held in their Elizabeth Rooms. Ada’s father was a member and friend of the esteemed inventor, Henry Cole. Why, the man had even invented greeting cards. Such a clever idea and so much fun!

  Rather thrilled to begin her new London life at such an event, Maggie dressed with care and didn’t neglect to have a pleasant smile upon her face when Ada and her parents picked her up.

  There was a line of polished carriages pulled by well-groomed horses waiting outside the event. From inside the vehicles came elegantly dressed members of the RSA and their guests, all clamoring to enter the Adam brothers-designed building. Eventually, Maggie and her companions handed their tickets to a smartly dressed employee of the s
ociety. Entering, she surveyed the scene of twinkling lights, fruity punch in fluted glasses on trays, and an absolute crush of people.

  Why did she instantly feel alone?

  “If you don’t wipe the sour expression from your lovely face, then we shall be avoided like plague carriers.”

  Nodding at Ada who was probably correct in her assessment, Maggie fixed her smile, batted her eyelashes for good measure, and took her friend by the arm.

  “Let us go forth and conquer.”

  And conquer they did. They danced every dance they wanted to, sat out those they didn’t, had no unacceptable partners, and proclaimed the food to be delicious. It seemed the musicians never hit a wrong note. What’s more, Ada’s family didn’t drop her home until two in the morning.

  Still, Maggie found it difficult to be enthusiastic as she reported the evening’s highlights to Jenny the following day when she finally arose from her comfy bed by mid-morning.

  “What was the best part of the whole night?” Jenny asked, trying to coax some tidbits from her sister.

  Maggie wanted to say taking off her dancing slippers and going to sleep. Instead, she said, “I suppose it was the dancing.”

  “Did you have any partners whom you particularly liked?”

  Shrugging, she considered. “I didn’t know anyone and didn’t dance with the same man twice. It wasn’t the same group as I knew during last Season.”

  Maggie had hoped to see a familiar face, Lord Westing or Lord Burnley, perchance. However, the RSA was an exclusive group, certainly not the usual crowd of debutantes and wife-seeking bachelors she was used to. What’s more, she’d found pretending to be interested in each new man a dreary effort.

  Starting over it seemed was going to be tedious.

  “What are your plans for this evening?” Jenny asked.

  “A ball somewhere. I’ve forgotten where,” Ada said.

  “Not a public one?” Her sister sat back, looking alarmed.

  “No, of course not. Mummy would have a fit if I went from being an earl’s betrothed to attending a public dance.”

  “It’s a good thing only our family knew of the engagement.”

  “Why?” Maggie asked, spearing a thick piece of bacon and considering whether it looked too fatty to bother eating.

  “If Cam had posted the banns early and then you suddenly showed up in London sans fiancé, there would have been no end of speculation. The whispers would be heard from Tower Bridge to Regent’s Park. I remember how dreadful it was as a married woman coming to Town without my husband.” Jenny shuddered slightly.

  “I suppose people would want to know who called it off and why.”

  “Precisely. It is no one’s business but yours and John’s.”

  Jenny had a sad sigh to her voice.

  “Stop it, please,” Maggie ordered. “There’s no reason to lament. We rushed into an engagement without knowing each other’s foibles sufficiently. I based our relationship on the silly romantic reason of how I felt when he kissed me.”

  Jenny shook her head. “Mags, don’t you dare sound so practical. If you ever base a relationship on anything other than that feeling, then you’re a fool.”

  Maggie couldn’t help but smile wryly. “Then I suppose I had best get to kissing a few more bachelors until I discover the feeling again.”

  Her older sister chuckled, though Maggie knew Jenny and Simon were remaining firmly behind the hope she and John would still make a good match.

  That night, she wore one of her favorite gowns in a becoming shade of lilac, trimmed with cream ribbon and lace. Looking like a true debutante, she was confident no one could guess she’d spent more than one night feeling a man’s intimate touch while lying naked in his bed.

  Thank God she hadn’t lost her virginity. Truthfully, she ought to thank John for not taking it, since she would have given it to him willingly. Then she would be utterly ruined for good society and unable to hold her head up when introduced to a prospective suitor. No man should be deceived into thinking he was getting an innocent bride if he wasn’t. At least, Maggie would be able to offer her innocence to whomever became her husband.

  A tap on her arm and she turned to see Lord Westing.

  “There you are, Miss Blackwood, every inch of you the belle of the ball.”

  Foolishly, she wanted to hug him for looking the same and behaving the same as if the past few months had never happened.

  “Thank you. It is good to see you, too.”

  “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Dear God!

  “You hear?” she repeated, feeling the blood rush from her head.

  “Margaret? Are you all right? You look pale. I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.”

  She had to know the extent of the damage.

  “What have you heard?”

  “That you and the Earl of Cambrey are blissfully engaged. However, by the look on your face, I would say I’m off the mark.”

  “Not so much off the mark as late to the start. We were engaged. Briefly. It is over now.”

  He winced. “I thought … that is, I am sorry.” And the marquess did look sorry for ever having mentioned it.

  “From whom did you hear of it?” She glanced around as if expecting to see all of the ton staring back at her. “Does everyone know?”

  “I don’t believe many people know. Yet. And I thought I was being clever, perhaps even the first to congratulate you. I heard it from my mother, who is friends with Lady Chatley. They returned only recently.”

  The Chatleys were back in London! Jane’s mother was in all likelihood decrying the loss of the eligible earl, snatched out from under her daughter’s nose by a veritable nobody. What’s more, now Maggie was a nobody who had broken it off. Except no one knew that.

  “I must stop Lady Chatley from telling anyone else. Do you think it’s possible?”

  He looked as doubtful as she felt about containing such juicy gossip.

  “I will tell my mother Lady Chatley was in error and ask her to speak with the woman.”

  Maggie bit her lower lip. How bad could it get? she wondered. Jenny seemed to think it would make for an awkward time.

  “Forget about it for now.” Christopher gave her an encouraging smile. “You are a single, beautiful lady at a ball. Is your card full?”

  She held up her empty wrist. “No cards this evening, my lord. Rather a free for all, and I, for one, welcome the change.” Or she had, until he’d put a damper on her spirits.

  Apparently, though, he was not going to let her wallow.

  “A free for all, is it? Then let us get in on the fun and dance, shall we?”

  What else could she do? She certainly couldn’t stop tongues wagging. Even then, Lady Emily Chatley might be having a glass of sherry somewhere and discussing her stay at Turvey House. Or Christopher’s mother might be entertaining a dining room full of guests and sharing the Earl of Cambrey’s new status as an engaged man.

  Gritting her teeth, Maggie decided to do what her friend said, join the fun and dance. What did it matter if she danced too many times with Christopher or with Lord Burnley or even the pointy-nosed Lord Whitely?

  However, she didn’t want to kiss any of them. In her heart, she would trade every dance for merely one of John Angsley’s heated looks or an enticing lift of his scarred eyebrow. She’d trade an entire social Season for the feel of his lips brushing hers.

  Instead of being content with how everything was the same in London, Maggie felt positively hollow. She’d thought she felt lonely at the Royal Society event because she hadn’t known anyone. But somehow, being with people she knew, and knowing John was not among them, was even worse. Another Season like this, at the same events with the same gentlemen when she’d already made her choice—what made her believe she would prickle with desire over any of them?

  Eventually, she would have to settle for the warm, friendly feeling she had with a man like Christopher. Not the worst thing in
the world. Having experienced the sizzle of desire, though, she knew she would keenly miss the exciting flutter of butterflies in her stomach every time she was kissed.

  “You are sighing,” said another partner whose name she’d forgotten. “Do you wish to stop dancing?”

  And be known as the girl who walked off the floor in the middle of a polka? An unpredictable, unreliable partner? Never! Flicking her glossy curls over her shoulder, she flashed him her best smile.

  “Positively not, my lord. I was sighing with happiness.”

  Not the first lie she had told at a ball, nor likely to be the last.

  Toward the end of the evening, sometime after midnight, Maggie saw an unfamiliar face. What’s more, the face was staring directly at her. A man about her own age, his fashion perfectly à la mode, stood a few yards away, sipping champagne.

  If she’d had any doubt he was watching her, it vanished when he nodded in acknowledgment. However, he didn’t come closer or try to engage in conversation for the rest of the night.

  In fact, Maggie would have forgotten about the incident altogether if she hadn’t seen him again a few nights later at another dance.

  As she twirled in the capable arms of Lord Burnley, who had never again mentioned their kiss or seemed interested in repeating it, she again saw the stranger, standing on the edge of the dance floor, a grim expression upon his face.

  And most assuredly, he was looking at her!

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When the dance was over, Maggie waited with Ada for refreshments. At the same time, she scanned their corner of the ballroom.

  There he was. Quite noticeably, he stood apart, neither dancing nor seeming to know anyone.

  “Who is that man?” she asked Lord Burnley when he returned with their glasses of lemonade.

  Studying the stranger a moment, Burnley shrugged.

  “No idea. I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.”

  Then he smiled at her. “Are you interested, Miss Blackwood? Even if I don’t know him, I can still make an introduction.”

  Lord Burnley was an affable fellow, who changed his mind weekly about which lady currently had captured his heart. Since he admitted openly to needing one with a vast fortune, Maggie was safe to count him among her platonic acquaintances.