Pushing aside her heavy heart, she twisted to admire the long champagne-pink charmeuse evening dress from the back. Drapes with grace, Rose said of this fabric. Her sister was right. Maggie twirled around, and the chiffon overlay splayed with the action as if a light breeze had lifted it. Rose had chosen the design and fabric well when she’d created the bridesmaids’ dresses for Lily and Connor’s wedding nearly four years ago. Timeless fabric. Ageless design. Thankfully she had this dress. Maggie had always loved it, but never had an occasion to wear it again. Until tonight.
She ran her fingers over the diamante-studded bodice and up the inch-wide shoulder strap. The stones gave the bodice a silvery-gray appearance, something akin to Aphrodite. They flowed into the champagne color of the fabric beneath, more sparsely positioned around the upper waist.
The V-neckline plunged a tad deeper than Maggie felt comfortable with, but her sisters merely teased that it was her modest ways coming out as usual, and that everything was more than acceptably covered up.
After running a brush through her curls once more, and adding a final coat of lipstick, Maggie was ready to face the crowds, the music, and Davis and his lady.
She wafted out of her room, surrounded by wisps of floral perfume. Her heart thudded so she feared those diamante would pop right off that beautiful bodice. Would Davis be there, waiting downstairs, available to keep her company at least a portion of the night? Did she even want him to? Of course she did. Who was she fooling to think otherwise? But what if she got downstairs, only to find him engrossed with his lady-love, oblivious to the guests, or her? If Davis didn’t introduce her to other guests, and why on earth should he, what networking did she possibly think she could achieve? She’d remain an insignificant wallflower the entire evening.
She shouldn’t have come.
And then she saw him. Waiting at the bottom of the curved staircase. Just standing there, looking like 007 in his crisp black tuxedo and smoldering smile. Alone. A black bowtie edged his white pleated wing-collar shirt, while the five o’clock shadow still framed his lips and jaw.
At the sight of him, all ideas of networking faded, all thoughts of escape vanished. Was he waiting for her?
Maggie’s legs weakened. Could she make it down the staircase?
*
“Can’t say I blame you. That has to be the most beautiful woman in this room tonight,” Father whispered as he passed behind Davis. He chuckled. “Besides your mother, of course.”
His gaze fixed on Maggie, Davis didn’t flinch.
“I wouldn’t leave her standing there alone. She won’t remain without a man at her side for very long. I’d get up there and stake my claim if I were you, son.”
Davis glanced around the room. Already Maggie had caught the attention of several testosterone-laden guests.
Move.
He bounded up the staircase. He had thought Maggie couldn’t be more beautiful. Was he wrong.
Meeting her near the top of the stairs, he extended a hand, took hers and kissed it. “Miss Blume. Words escape me. You look magnificent.”
She tipped her head with a soft laugh. “The great poet, at a loss for words?”
Davis cocked an eyebrow. “I never said I was a good poet, just that I wrote poetry.” Coming to stand beside her, he linked his arm in hers. “Shall we grace the masses with our presence?”
Taking a deep breath, which she seemed to hold far longer than necessary, Maggie nodded. “Yes, let’s.”
The band already played, and the ballroom buzzed with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Davis wasn’t letting Maggie out of his sight. Not tonight. Not ever. He led her onto the dance floor, guiding her steps in a slow waltz. If she didn’t know how to dance, she was a fast learner.
He pulled her closer, his hand tight in the small of her back, his fingers smoothing the soft fabric of her gown. Even his injured thumb. He could do this—he could teach her his world.
*
“Lord and Lady Winterton, good evening. How nice to have you with us tonight.” Davis turned to Maggie. “Allow me to introduce you to Magnolia Blume.”
Maggie pasted on a smile. Again. Why did he do that? This was the umpteenth time Davis had introduced her to influential guests in the same manner. Not once had he made mention of the fact that she was a skilled jeweler, his jeweler, and that they really should use her services. In fact, each time their raised brows and seemingly knowing smiles followed their “Ah…” response, Davis would answer in the same manner.
“Magnolia is a dear friend.”
Then he’d whisk her across the dance floor again, muttering something about their pompous, jumping-to-conclusion attitudes. Not that she minded being whisked away by him and spending the night in his arms as they danced. But the more the evening progressed, the more she wanted to escape. Soon she’d be here, the fiancée, and then Maggie would be abandoned.
She should leave before that happened.
She couldn’t blame Davis though for his lack of punting her services. She’d never told him that was the reason she’d agreed to come, at least initially, so how could he know to advertise her talent to his prominent acquaintances and friends? Besides, the engagement was probably top secret. Seemed even Davis’s mother was oblivious to the happening. Perhaps he would let the guests know where they could get the same amazing jewelry after the ring was revealed.
Speaking of top secret, where was the elusive lady of the moment? Would she ever arrive? How could she be this late for her own party? Maggie had already seen one or two guests leaving.
“Penny for your thoughts.” His warm breath on her ear tickled her skin as it brushed past.
She pulled back to look at Davis. “Only a penny? They’re worth much, much more.”
“All right. How about my heart?”
What?
“I beg your pardon?”
Davis grabbed Maggie’s hand and dragged her across the dance floor as fast as her high-heeled feet could carry her. Dancers moved out the way, opening a path for them, like the parting of the Red Sea.
He jumped up onto the low platform where the band played. Stopping them, he took the microphone.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Are you all having a good time?” His charismatic smile sent a cheer through the crowded room. “Good, because it’s about to get better. You’re about to witness something that’s never happened at a Levens Hall Spring Day Ball before.” More cheers erupted, followed by the drummer’s drumroll.
Davis held out his hand to Maggie. What was he up to? She was still trying to wrap her head around his ‘heart’ comment. Surely he toyed with her?
“Where is your fiancée?” She breathed the question as he helped her up the step.
He smiled. “She’ll be along soon. I promise.”
With Maggie beside him, Davis turned to the guests, whose attention he’d captured. “Did you all meet my friend, Magnolia Blume?”
Maggie glanced over the crowd and the appreciative stares of the men, and swallowed hard. Perhaps she was the attention grabber?
Whistles and cheers followed his question, some yesses, and some disappointed nos. Cellphone cameras flashed. Rather a rowdy group for a bunch of stuffy penguin suits. Then again, by now the wine probably did most of their talking and cheering.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” More revelry ensued as he pulled Maggie close. “I think so, too. That’s why I’m not letting her get away.” Handing the microphone to the saxophonist, Davis went down on one knee and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out the familiar white box with its silver monogramed initials and opened it. The ‘Garden of Love’ sparkled under the spotlight that had been trained on Davis. Gasps filled the ballroom, plus a number of oohs. Removing the ring, Davis took Maggie’s left hand and slid the ‘Garden of Love’ onto her finger.
“Magnolia Blume, will you marry me?”
*
Eyes wide, Maggie stared at her hand.
Come on, Maggie. Say something. Say yes. Say you�
�ll be mine.
Rising, Davis’s arm circled her waist as he swept her off the platform and onto the dance floor again. That’ll give her time to wrap her head around what had just happened. It would give him time to get his head around it all, too. Had he really just proposed? So much for waiting, courting. But he’d gladly have a Groundhog Day to relive the moment, over and over.
Maggie held on tight, still speechless.
“What are you thinking?” Davis whispered, allowing his lips to brush her ear. His mouth formed a kiss which he planted on her delicate lobe with its tiny diamond stud. He’d wanted to do that all night.
“I—” Maggie eased from his hold and wove her way through the dancers toward the door.
Davis followed, grasping her hand.
At least she didn’t swat it away. Then they got to the privacy beyond Levens Hall’s doors, and Maggie pulled away.
She glared at him. “Is this a joke? A dare by your bored friends? A–a weird arrangement your parents thought might be a good idea, or your peers? The baron and the commoner? Was your coming to my shop all planned?”
“Maggie, no. How can you even think that? I love you.”
“Love me? You don’t even know me.”
“Then let me get to know you.” He reached for her again.
Maggie hitched her dress and fled down the stairs into the driveway, leaving one dainty high-heel behind on the last step as she did. She abandoned the other paces away and headed toward where Reginald had indicated her car was parked and charging.
Davis took off after her. Floodlights shining into the gardens lit the way. Maggie wasn’t far ahead, but if he didn’t increase his pace, he wouldn’t catch her before she could lock herself in her car. By golly, the girl could run. All he could do while trying his best not to let her get away was pray that Jeeves hadn’t left the key in the ignition.
No cars were parked where the BMW stood, and the ground was empty of the cord that had earlier fed electricity from the house to the car. Jeeves must’ve packed that all away once the car had charged. So much for hoping she’d be parked in.
Maggie flung open the door and fell inside, slamming the door behind her. She locked it as Davis reached for the handle.
“Maggie, please open the door. Let’s talk.”
She shook her head, and the engine roared to life. He let go of the door. Maggie meant business. No way he’d risk being dragged down the driveway. Stones sprayed into the air as the car wheels spun against the gravel. Best to let her go. He’d catch up, but not tonight. Yes, he could run and jump into his Ferrari. He’d have his car smelling the i3’s exhaust fumes in no time, but at what risk. She’d only speed, and he could be the cause of a terrible accident. He had to leave her in the hands of the One who could take care of her.
Take her home safe, Lord.
The thought of walking back into the ball alone, the embarrassment of facing their guests, trying to explain, churned Davis’s gut as he dragged his feet toward the manor house. Perhaps he should slip in through the back entrance, leave the guests thinking he and Maggie had left together to celebrate, alone. And with his reputation, he knew exactly what everyone inside would think. He might keep his reputation intact, but it would ruin Maggie’s, for certain. On the other hand, if he did go back inside, everyone would think she’d rejected him.
Had she?
Davis paused in front of the stairs, his feet wavering in their direction. Whose face should he save—his or hers?
Blowing out a huff, he raked his fingers through his hair then took the first step up to the front door.
*
Maggie pulled the quilt up beneath her chin. Not planning to be home tonight, she hadn’t put the heating on. She could’ve had a warm bed if she’d stopped at Poppy’s, or even at Mom and Dad’s, but then she’d have a myriad of questions to answer from either household. And all she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts.
The day had exhausted her—emotionally and physically. She needed sleep.
Rolling onto her side, she switched off the bedside light. As she lay in the darkness, Maggie ran her fingertip over the ring, still safe on her left hand where Davis had placed it not even two hours before. She should’ve thrown it back at him, but she didn’t want to be responsible for the ring’s loss. It was far too valuable, in so many ways. Besides, he was sure to be over at her shop during the week to fetch the ring—probably first thing Monday morning. Hopefully he’d think to return her clothing and handbag at the same time. Good thing she never put her house keys in her bag, always stashed them in the cubbyhole, otherwise she’d be driving back to Poppy’s at this moment.
What a strange day. He said he loved her. Could it be true? He’d certainly been attentive to her all afternoon and evening. That he was attracted to her was very clear, but love? And what about his fiancée? What fiancée? He’d never once said he was getting engaged, or that he had a girlfriend. She had just assumed. But then who had he made the ring for? Couldn’t have been for her initially—she’d never laid eyes on the man before the day he walked into her jewelry shop and dropped the rough, uncut diamond on her counter, commissioning her to create a masterpiece. Could it be possible he’d actually been talking about her, Magnolia Blume, when he said his fiancée was worth more than rubies and that she’d be along later that evening? Was it her all this time who’d won the elusive playboy’s heart?
Surely not.
He said he loves me, wants to get to know me.
Maggie’s thoughts turned to those penetrating blue eyes. She brushed a finger over her ear remembering the feel of his lips on her skin, the sound of his whisper as he offered her his heart.
Oh bother, would she get any sleep now?
I love you.
He couldn’t. It was too soon. But the arrhythmic beat of her heart told Maggie otherwise. If she could feel this way, why couldn’t he?
Chapter Six
The unrelenting ring of her cellphone woke Maggie. Opening one eye, she glanced at the retro vintage alarm clock on the table beside her bed, its twin bells resembling the ear muffs she wore in winter, and groaned.
Seven-thirty? Who could be calling at this hour? On a Sunday? She still had forty-five minutes before she needed to get up for church.
Whoever it was, they were persistent. The cellphone barely took a breather before it started ringing again. She reached for the phone. What if it’s Davis? But he had never called her cellphone, only the store. Did he even have her cell number?
Maggie lifted the phone and scrunched her eyes.
Dad?
Why was he calling so desperately? Had something happened to Mom? Or one of her sisters? Or little Connor?
Her finger trembled as she slid it across the screen. “Dad. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“I should be asking you that question, Magnolia Blume.”
Uh-oh. Full name and surname. Not good.
“Have you seen the morning paper, young lady?”
Maggie shook her head. “No, Dad. I’m still in bed.”
“You’re engaged? Without asking us? Introducing us? We didn’t even know you were seeing someone.
Propping herself up against the headboard, she groaned. “Dad, I can explain. It’s all a huge misunderstanding. I’m not engaged, and I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Tell that to Lord Rathbone!”
Ugh. How did this leak to the media? Surely the Rathbones wouldn’t have allowed the paparazzi into their home? She hadn’t seen anyone at the ball resembling or acting like a reporter. Only the myriad of cellphone flashes that went off like fireworks on Guy Fawkes Day the moment Davis went down on bended knee.
Clearly, there were guests who knew that was a story the papers would love.
“Dad, I promise, by next week this will all be sorted out.”
“Maggie, I don’t have a problem with you being engaged, heaven knows you’re old enough not to need our permission, but your mother and I would have liked to meet him first.”
I’d love you to meet him, as well. You’d really like him. And you would love his gardens.
“Your sisters are upset, too, that you kept them in the dark.”
Of course the entire household knew. How long before her phone started to ring off the hook, or before the first of her sisters’ cars drove up her driveway?
“Dad, I’ll talk to you later. If I don’t get up now, I’ll be late for church.”
“Why don’t you come down for lunch, Maggie? We can discuss this apparent misunderstanding over a meal.”
“I–I’m not sure of my schedule today, Dad. I’ll let you know.” Maggie said a hurried goodbye and cut the call.
She flung her phone across the turquoise and taupe checkered quilt. It landed near her feet, disappearing into a fold before it started to ring again. With a groan, Maggie sank back down into her feather pillow, lifting the sides to her ears to shut out the ringing. It didn’t muffle the sound nearly enough. Bolting upright, she grabbed the phone. Who was it this time?
Heather. Here came a lecture. Well, she’d done nothing wrong. This wasn’t her doing. Hopefully Davis would fix all this tomorrow.
Putting the phone onto silent, Maggie left it to ring. No reason she had to listen to ‘A Rustling in the Trees’ until all the leaves had fallen. She watched the screen. Finally, Heather hung up. Next came the message. Call me!
Propped on one arm, Maggie stared at her phone as the calls came and went, and their subsequent messages filled her phone. Lily. Mom. Poppy. Holly. Clover. Rose. Goodness, the news had travelled all the way to London? Hopefully Rose and Clover had heard from her sisters and not the papers. Would the media there care about the shenanigans of a Cumbrian baron? Poppy’s words from yesterday drifted into her mind. Britain’s most eligible, and elusive, bachelor for the past few years, a man like that’s imminent betrothal would’ve created huge media buzz and social chatter.
A sick feeling churned in Maggie’s stomach. Of course they would. Not only did the media love the aristocrats, they had a particular interest in this one.
Even Grandma Daisy had tried to call. Her voice message was only to congratulate her and tell her it was about time.
Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances Page 51