A crack of thunder accompanied their arrival. Margaret frowned and glanced at the sky as Sebastian helped her from the coach. “We should beg off, come back tomorrow. It’s really bad form to call when it’s raining.”
He raised a brow. “Getting cold feet, Maggie?”
“No,” she said with a huff. “But I don’t want to muck up their entryway, or have them feel obliged to ask us to stay over due to the weather.”
“Your shoes aren’t muddy, and you do want an invitation to stay. Kindly keep in mind why you dragged me back to England. I need more than a brief visit to observe what’s going on in there and determine if your suspicions are accurate. The weather we’ve been experiencing these last two days couldn’t have been more ideal if I’d ordered it.”
Before she could reply, the front door opened. Henry Hobbs, Edgewood’s butler, stood there.
Oh, dear, another Henry. And Mr. Hobbs wasn’t new, he’d been the Edgewood butler for more than thirty years. He was a tall man with a beaked nose and sharp gray eyes. He recognized Sebastian immediately, no doubt about it.
Which was why Margaret quickly announced, “Mr. Hobbs, I believe you know my husband, Sebastian Townshend.”
“Husband?” Mr. Hobbs said incredulously, and then he cracked a slight grin. “Very well, we’re due for a new storm.”
He opened the door wide. Margaret chose to ignore the storm remark as if she didn’t know what it implied and asked as she entered, “Is Abigail receiving today?”
“She’s in the music room. Lord love her, she thinks she still knows how to play the pianoforte, when she can’t see the keys anymore.”
The music could be heard now, and indeed it was quite a discordant racket. “And Lord Townshend?”
“Not back from his afternoon ride yet, rather late, actually. I wasn’t informed of any detours he had intended to make, but he was aware you were stopping by, so I expect him soon.”
“We’ll visit with Abbie, then, until Douglas returns.”
“Tea, Lady Margaret?”
“That would be pleasant, thank you.”
Margaret moved on toward the music room. Sebastian hadn’t said a single word yet, but he didn’t follow her immediately. Hobbs hadn’t walked away to order the tea, either.
Sebastian said quietly, “It’s good to see you again, Hobbs.”
“And it’s very good to see you as well, my lord.”
“Bring some brandy with that tea. I have a feeling I’m going to need a stiff drink this afternoon.” Chapter 16
M ARGARET WAITED UNTIL THE LAST DISCORDANT NOTE was played and Abigail put her hands in her lap. Carefully, so she didn’t startle her, she said, “Abbie, I’ve finally returned home. I hope you haven
’t missed me too much.”
It took a moment for Abigail to locate her, standing by the door. She was looking well. Her snow-white hair was worn in a high piled style from the last century, but it went very well with her old-fashioned clothes from the same century. The clothes weren’t old, just the style. Many old dames like Abigail scoffed at the new trends that were more suited for young women.
“Is that you, Margaret? What do you mean, miss you? Weren’t you here just last week?”
“Well, no, I’ve been gone four months. To Europe, remember?”
“Ah, yes. Now I recall I did miss you, you dratted gel. Come here and give us a hug. You know our garden has gone to ruin since you’ve been gone.”
Margaret winced as she complied with the request. Abigail wasn’t referring to her trip, but to her move back home. It was a standard statement every time she visited, a not so subtle chiding for abandoning Abbie, which was how the old girl saw Margaret’s return to her family home, White Oaks.
Abigail’s conservatory was doing just fine. Margaret had trained the man hired to take over the care of it herself, before she left.
“I’ll have a look before I leave,” Margaret said, as she did each time she visited.
“See that you do.”
“A look at what?” Sebastian asked as he entered the room.
“Who’s that?” Abigail demanded, squinting her amber eyes toward the door.
Margaret gave Sebastian a moment to answer but sighed when he said nothing. And obviously Abigail wasn’t going to recognize him when she could barely see him.
“I’ve married, Abbie,” Margaret said.
“Married? Without inviting me to the wedding?”
The hurt tone made Margaret wince yet again. “It happened on the Continent. It was a whirlwind romance,” she quickly explained. “There were time constraints, of course, since I was touring and not staying in any one place for very long. So decisions had to be made quickly. But really, it didn’t take more’n a few weeks for us to be sure we were well suited for each other.”
“She’s lying, Abigail,” Sebastian put in. “She forced me to follow her across half of Europe before she finally said yes.”
Margaret glared at him. For that briefest moment when he said she was lying, she’d thought he was going to make a clean breast of it. Dratted man.
Abigail was still squinting at him and frowning. She finally concluded, “He looks like a rogue. Are you sure he’s not here to rob us, Maggie?”
Margaret grinned at Sebastian, “Well…”
“Yes, she’s sure,” Sebastian said in what could almost be called a growl.
“I’ll have the silverware put away, just in case,” Abigail said.
He rolled his eyes at that point. Margaret was having a hard time not laughing. Some of the things that came out of Abigail’s mouth were quite hilarious, because she wasn’t joking. She meant them.
But since the old girl still didn’t recognize him, Margaret said with a grin, “You might want to have a closer look at this rogue, Abbie. You were the one who suggested I bring him home.”
“I did no such thing—”
“I married Sebastian, Abbie.”
Abigail’s smile came slowly, then turned brilliant. “Is that really you, Sebby?” Sebastian instantly looked appalled. “Good God, not if you’re going to call me that.” Abigail giggled. She actually giggled! And launched herself across the room to hug her long-absent grandson. “Thank the Lord you’ve returned. I know you can put a stop to these threats to your father’s life.”
“You don’t need to worry about it any further, Grandmother. I’ll find out if there’s any real threat.”
“You see, Maggie?” Abigail crowed. “I told you Sebastian would take care of it.” Margaret wasn’t going to mention she was having to pay him to do so when Abigail was so happy that he was home.
“Shall we adjourn to the parlor for this reunion?” Margaret suggested. “Mr. Hobbs is fetching tea.”
“Where’s my cane?” Abigail demanded.
Margaret retrieved it where it was hooked on the end of the pianoforte, then helped Abigail out of the room. The old girl didn’t use the cane very often. In fact, she probably didn’t really need it but merely liked having it in hand so she could raise it to make her points, which she frequently did. They were just entering the parlor when Margaret heard…
“Good God, what are you doing here?”
It was Denton, Sebastian’s brother. His eyes looked a bit bloodshot, but that was nothing new.
He often overimbibed and wore the effects of it the next day. His valet took good care of him otherwise, though, for he was impeccably dressed as usual in a soft brown day coat, his cravat tied precisely.
Denton never relaxed his dress, even when at home.
In comparison, Sebastian wasn’t looking at all roguish today, contrary to Abigail’s remark. John had made sure he was looking up to snuff for this family reunion, though Margaret had noticed him tugging at the tightly tied white cravat a time or two and guessed he hadn’t worn one in years! Seeing the brothers together, she was reminded of the Sebastian she’d known before his exile. Thankfully, The Raven was absent.
It was Abigail who answered Denton’s question. Whi
le her hearing wasn’t much better than her eyesight these days, Denton’s voice had been loud with surprise.
“Sebastian’s home, Denton,” Abigail said in delight. “And he has some wonderful news.”
“What news?”
“He’s married our Maggie!” Abigail exclaimed.
Denton’s expression wasn’t one of shock, it could more aptly be described as crushed. Margaret groaned. She’d forgotten about Denton’s tendre for her, inappropriate as it was. He had a wife, after all, one he didn’t like much, but regardless, Margaret had taken a hard stand with Denton as soon as she’d realized that his feelings for her were leaning in the wrong direction.
The feeling certainly wasn’t mutual. Although she liked Denton well enough since he was part of her temporary family, she considered him weak. Countless times she’d watched Juliette walk all over him. He might be handsome as sin, even more so than his brother, but she felt no attraction to him whatsoever.
But even Douglas sensed Denton’s feelings for her and had remarked once in a melancholy mood that he wished Denton would correct his mistakes and get a proper wife. She’d known he meant her, though she’d remained silent at the time. It was just after she’d told him she was moving back home. She
’d been sure he just wanted an excuse to get her to stay in the family. They were very close by then. She’
d become like the daughter he’d never had.
“Shall we adjourn to the parlor for explanations?” Margaret suggested. “Tea is on the way.” She didn’t wait for the brothers’ compliance as she escorted Abigail into the parlor and got her settled in her favorite chair. Sebastian and Denton didn’t follow, however, so she left Abigail with the excuse that she’d see what was keeping the tea. She then rushed back out to the hallway and the confrontation that was occurring there.
“Does Father know yet?” Denton was asking.
“No.”
“You think this is going to make a difference, don’t you?” Denton demanded.
“Actually, I know it won’t.”
“Is there a problem, Denton?” Margaret asked pointedly as she joined them.
Denton sighed. “I’m having a bit of trouble believing you could marry him, if you must know. He killed your sister’s fiancé,” he reminded her.
“Ex-fiancé. It’s rather hard to dismiss the fact that Giles ended his engagement to my sister when he married your wife—before you did, of course.”
Denton flushed with color. So did Margaret, for that matter, for stating that so frankly.
Sebastian intervened. “I didn’t give Margaret much choice in the matter.”
“I beg your pardon?” Denton said stiffly, obviously misunderstanding his brother’s words.
“What he means,” Margaret said with a tsk, “is he quite swept me off my feet, not giving me much time to think of anything other than how charming he is.”
“Deliberately, m’dear,” Sebastian said, bestowing a devilishly suggestive smile on her.
“We met in Italy, Denton,” Margaret continued. “We were staying at the same hotel. I couldn’t very well ignore him, considering my close association with his family. I’d known him for most of my life, after all. And after we got reacquainted, well, the past seemed just that, far in the past. I got to know the man he is today—quite well.”
That brought on another blush. She couldn’t believe she’d said that and what it implied. “That is to say,” she amended, “I have no regrets that I married him.”
“Now that, m’dear, is deserving of a response.”
She wasn’t expecting Sebastian to pull her into his arms and hug her, but he did just that. A bloody bear hug. Feeling the whole length of him pressed firmly against her shot the color even higher in her cheeks. And there was that odd fluttering in her stomach again. Why did she have to like being held by him?
She tried to get out of his arms, but he just tightened his grip and whispered in her ear, “You’re doing wonderfully. Don’t muck it up with maidenly airs. I’m going to kiss you now for Denton’s benefit.
Just play along.”
“Wait,” she gasped, but he didn’t.
It was no brief kiss he gave her. It was absolutely inappropriate for public view, even if their only audience was his brother. With his arms still firmly around her, his lips slanted across hers like hot velvet, so possessive that her will succumbed completely to his. Clear down to her toes she felt that kiss. And good God, the taste of him when his tongue slipped just beyond her lips and pushed against her clenched teeth.
He let her go with a chuckle. She was sure it was because she’d gritted her teeth in her effort to resist what he’d made her feel, and he knew that. It sounded natural, though, that chuckle. And then she realized he’d actually chuckled. What an actor he was! Could he fake any emotion at will like that?
She started to move away from him but suddenly realized that her knees were weak! She clenched all her muscles, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, pulling herself under control again.
When she opened her eyes, she found both men staring at her, and she felt herself blushing again. This just wouldn’t do!
“Really, Sebastian, behave yourself in public,” she scolded lightly.
“Impossible, m’dear. We’re still newlyweds,” he said with a grin.
A grin! She was beginning to see why he’d once been called a charmer. His golden eyes gazed at her knowingly, as if they shared some secret, which they did! But that wasn’t the impression he was trying to give Denton, she was sure. No, he was being “naughty” for Denton’s benefit, to fix in his mind that their marriage was thriving in every way.
Rubbing it in, because Denton’s marriage was such a disaster? No, she didn’t think he held any grudges against his brother. Then again, how would she know?
None of the Townshends other than Abigail had ever spoken to her about Sebastian. And the one time she had mentioned his name when Denton and Douglas had been present, the atmosphere in the room had turned icy. Definitely a touchy subject, which she’d never broached again. Abigail had talked about him all the time, but nothing relevant, merely reminiscing about his childhood and how much she missed him.
Denton didn’t appear to be pleased by anything he’d just heard and witnessed. In fact, he was looking quite angry and making no effort to hide it.
“You should leave, before Father returns,” he said in a frosty tone.
Sebastian raised a brow at him. “Why? I haven’t come here to be reinstated in the family.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To see Grandmother, of course,” Sebastian replied. “Ever since Maggie managed to drag me back here, I’ve been fighting the urge to come see the old girl. And since—” Sebastian didn’t finish. The front door burst open and a frantic fellow rushed in to shout at Denton,
“Another accident, m’lord! We found ’im by the side o’ the road, lying in a ditch full o’ rainwater.” Denton paled. So did Margaret, until she heard Douglas complaining outside the door in an annoyed but weak voice, “Blister it, man, I can walk.”
“We tried that, m’lord,” someone said. “You bleedin’ well toppled over again.” Douglas Townshend didn’t get his way and was carried in by two men, one at his feet, the other with a good grasp on his shoulders. He was filthy and wet. And dripping blood from somewhere…
“What happened?” Sebastian asked before Margaret could. His tone was deceptively neutral, but she could almost feel the tension pouring off of him.
Douglas replied, his voice just as weak as it had first sounded, though some annoyance was still detected, “Fell off my bloody horse—I suppose.” And then looking up directly at Sebastian, he asked,
“Who are you?”
Chapter 17
I T WAS AS IF A GRAVESTONE rose up out of the floor right there in the entryway. That was certainly the feeling that Margaret got, so she could just imagine what Sebastian must be feeling, standing there looking at his father who refused even
to recognize that he existed anymore. She would have been devastated.
He probably was, too, yet not a single inflection crossed his features to show it, his emotions were so well contained.
Sebastian didn’t answer, which was probably fortunate. Anything he might have said—“your ex-son, a ghost, your worst nightmare”—would undoubtedly have sounded sarcastic or chilling.
The tension was killing her, so she began, “Douglas,” only to be cut off.
“Is that you, Maggie?” Douglas asked.
Margaret was too incredulous to answer for a moment. He didn’t recognize her? Then he hadn’t recognized Sebastian either!
“I’m seeing two of you,” Douglas said haltingly, “and you’re a bit blurry around the edges.” Before she could reply, the fellow who’d rushed in with news of the accident whispered at her side, “’E’s burning up with fever, m’lady. Ye can feel the ’eat pouring off o’ ’im.” Margaret nodded. She was rather good in emergencies and didn’t hesitate to direct the men carrying Douglas toward the stairs. Walking next to them, she assured Douglas, “Yes, I’m Maggie.”
“Thought so,” he replied so softly she barely heard him. His voice was getting weaker. “You’ll stay? Want to hear all about your trip and the fellow who managed to win your heart.”
“Certain—”
She didn’t finish. His head fell back against the man carrying him. He’d fainted.
“He did that twice on the way here,” she heard from one of the men carrying him, detecting a slight French accent. “The monsieur, he’s not staying awake long. Likely the fever,” the fellow added when Margaret stared at the blood dripping under Douglas.
“Someone send for the doctor, please.”
Johanna Lindsey Page 10