Johanna Lindsey (28 page)

“My father is going to be coming down those stairs any moment now. Whatever convalescing he still has to do, he refuses to do in his room. And I am not going to be here when he finds out the man you married is me.”

“I see,” she said tightly as she walked out of the dining room. And she did see. The man wasn’t going to take any more chances on being forced to marry her for real.

Y
OU’RE LOOKING RATHER PERKY,” Margaret remarked when Florence joined her on the sofa in the parlor at White Oaks that afternoon for a cup of tea. “I would have thought you’d be harried with our abrupt return, at least for a day or two.”

It wasn’t unusual for the housekeeper and the lady of the house to be sharing tea in White Oaks.

Margaret refused to abide by the strict class structure in her own home. Her servants were like family and that’s how she treated them. And Florence always had been her closest confidante.

“And you’re looking a bit dour,” Florence rejoined. “Care to share why?”

“I asked first.”

Florence chuckled. That particular answer was one they’d both used all through their childhood together.

“Very well,” Florence said in a lowered tone, even glanced toward the door to make sure they were still alone. “I confess I missed John when he left.”

“John Richards?”

“Yes. We’d just been getting better acquainted when he packed up and moved to Edgewood.”

“You like him, I take it?”

Florence grinned. “You know I had begun to despair that I’d ever meet a fellow up to my standards.”

“You’re just too picky,” Margaret teased.

“No, the men around here are either too old or too young for me.”

“Rubbish. You’re too picky.”

Florence laughed. “Very well, I do have certain standards, and John meets them all. I haven’t spoken to him yet since you returned, but now that he’s back, I expect we’ll be getting even better acquainted.”

Margaret was torn. She wanted to take Florence into her confidence but realized if she did, her friend would end up being as miserable as she was. Then again, if she knew in advance, that would give her time to convince John to stay if she cared to try. Sebastian was determined to leave. That didn’t mean his valet had to go with him. John just might prefer to settle down and start a family.

“There’s something you should know, Florence. I would have told you eventually, but it might be to your benefit to hear it now instead.”

“Goodness, to go by your expression, I don’t think I want to know.”

“Very well—”

“Don’t you dare not tell me now.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “You know why I went to Europe. I’m sure you didn’t expect me to come home married to my quarry.”

“No, that definitely bowled me over. I should tell you, there’s been quite a bit of speculation on whether you would move back to Edgewood permanently now.”

Margaret began to blush before she could get the first word out. “I didn’t actually marry Sebastian.”

“Eh?”

“Edna and Oliver know, and you’ll have to keep it a secret as well. I had to hire him to get him to return to England. Even after I explained the situation, he still refused to come willingly.”

“That doesn’t sound like Sebastian Townshend.”

“Probably because the man he used to be was buried along with Giles. His bitterness is, well, let’s just say it’s extreme, and now I understand why he feels that. Not many people know that he went to that duel expecting to die, and Giles, by all accounts, was certainly angry enough to kill him.”

“Then how did the opposite occur?”

“It was an accident, a shot meant to be fired into the air that got redirected when Giles’s shot nicked Sebastian’s arm. Then on top of that anguish, his father disowned him. So you can see why he didn’t want to come back here. He was convinced he’d be denied access to Edgewood, which would make it next to impossible for him to discover any plots that might be afoot.”

“So he suggested you pretend to be wed just to gain access?” Florence asked incredulously.

“No, I did,” Margaret said, her blush deepening. “And yes, I know that was an outlandish solution. I confess I didn’t give it much thought at the time. And he did try to talk me out of it, but given his attitude, I merely wanted to counter any stumbling blocks he came up with. It wouldn’t even have come to that, if we hadn’t found out that Douglas is still so unforgiving that he considers Sebastian dead.

Douglas’s estrangement from Lord Wemyss is probably why he can’t forgive Sebastian. The irony is, our pretend marriage wasn’t necessary.”

“Because of the earl’s most recent accident?”

“Yes. And because Sebastian was able to talk to his father before Douglas was fully recovered.

He caught him off guard, as it were.”

Florence grinned. “He does have a certain effect on people. They want to answer his questions quickly just so he’ll go away!”

“The intimidation you are referring to wouldn’t have affected Douglas. Letting him think that Sebastian knew more than he did worked, though. He’s assured me no one is trying to kill his father, which was my concern. Though the dratted men aren’t going to share what is the problem, if there even is one aside from rotten luck. At any rate, Sebastian did what I asked of him and is now eager to return to the Continent.”

“But what about your marriage? It might not be real, but everyone certainly thinks it is. Are you just going to announce that it was merely a ruse to an end?”

“That would have been an option if Sebastian hadn’t insisted we give it a good show by sharing the same room at Edgewood.”

“Maggie, you didn’t!” Florence’s scandalized expression made Margaret burn with embarrassment. “Good Lord, not that, too!”

“It certainly wasn’t intentional, but I confess I’ve felt strangely attracted to him since I first clapped eyes on him. He’s everything I can’t abide in a man, and yet, with him it seems not to matter.” Margaret leaned closer to add in a whisper, “Lust, he calls it.”

“Nonsense, you aren’t the least bit lusty,” Florence said indignantly.

Margaret burst out laughing, which relieved some of her embarrassment. “I should hope not. But what’s done is done. I can’t even regret it since it was so—nice. There’s no question, though, about owning up to the marriage’s not being real. I simply can’t. Everyone at Edgewood, aside from Douglas, knows we shared a room there just like a normal married couple. And Douglas will eventually know, too.

I had originally intended to pretend a divorce in the same manner we pretended the marriage. I can let it be known why I married him, or not. I’ll decide that at the time. Most of the ladies in the neighborhood consider it scandalous that I married him a’tall, so it might be a relief if I explain, so they can stop thinking I’ve lost my mind.”

Florence sighed. “A divorce is so—”

“Yes, I know,” Margaret cut in. “Quite the stigma. But I am wealthy and my son stands to inherit a title. The notoriety of being a divorced woman shouldn’t affect that.” Florence humphed. “I don’t know why you refuse to acknowledge the fact that you’re a prime catch, Maggie. You don’t need to bribe yourself a husband.”

“I never refuted that. I’m just too set in my ways to put myself forward in the normal manner. Too impatient, too, to deal with a traditional courting.”

“Nonsense. You’ve got the patience of a saint, or you wouldn’t have waited this long to make a proper effort to find a husband. You should have just gone to London, enjoyed the social whirl, and let nature take its course. You would have had yourself a husband, a real one, in no time, and wouldn’t now be facing the scandal of a divorce.”

“I have the fortitude to weather that storm. But what about you? Are you going to let John leave with Sebastian without trying to convince him to stay?”

Florence paled with the realization, “He will be leaving, won’t he? What bloody rotten luck that your marriage isn’t a real one as we all thought.”

Margaret found herself actually agreeing, though she wouldn’t say so. If there weren’t so many extenuating circumstances for why marriage to Sebastian was out of the question, she might follow her own advice. But Florence wasn’t so restrained.

“You could ask him to stay,” she reiterated.

“I can’t be that bold. Our acquaintance hasn’t progressed that far, though I’ve been hopeful and encouraged that it soon would. Why don’t you ask Sebastian to stay? You know you want to.” The trouble with close friends was they could read right through you. Margaret sighed. “Because I already know his answer. The reason he wants to bolt back to Europe so quickly is that he fears Douglas will demand a real marriage if he finds out we just faked one.”

“How the devil would he find out?”

“From Sebastian. He seems to think that Douglas will open the doors fully again in approval when he hears of the marriage, and that will so stick in Sebastian’s craw that he’ll confess the truth. So he intends to avoid Douglas at all costs. The man doesn’t want to be married for real.” He was so desperate to be gone that he wasn’t even going to investigate his brother’s dilemma, whatever it was, even though if anyone could get to the bottom of that, Sebastian could. Considering that, she was surprised he’d agreed to stay for the party.

She supposed she should warn Sebastian that while it was very unlikely that Douglas would exert himself beyond leaving his room today, he
might
attend the dowager duchess’s party, if only to make a brief appearance. No, she didn’t think she would. It was time for fate to step in, and just maybe, it would favor her.

A
LBERTA DORRIEN’S MANSION was the showcase of the neighborhood. It had taken several years to build, and the lady hadn’t actually moved to the neighborhood until it was finished. Her first grand ball had been talked about for months, right up until she threw the second ball. Margaret had been too young to attend either but had certainly heard about them.

The dowager duchess had actually designed her property for entertaining. Not only was the ballroom immense, but also the parlor, the music room, the billiards room. There was even a large room strictly for gambling, filled with card tables. The only room that wasn’t huge was the dining room, since sit-down dinners were reserved for only her close set of friends. She fed the masses at her large parties with buffets, and since she employed not one but four cooks, each one a master, no fault could be found with that arrangement.

Her invitations were sent far and wide and were eagerly sought, and she’d even prepared in advance for that by building actual guesthouses. Not of the traditional sort, they were like miniature mansions! And all of them were usually used for a ball.

The party tonight wasn’t of the grand sort, it was merely a local gathering. Only Alberta could get away with throwing a party on such short notice and expect full attendance. But other engagements could be broken. No one declined the dowager duchess’s invitations. They were treated like a royal summons!

Margaret still hadn’t expected to see quite so many carriages lined up, waiting to unload their passengers. She had to allow, though, that the draw tonight was more likely Sebastian. The entire neighborhood would be eager to learn if he’d been reinstated or not. It would be interesting to see if anyone would dare to ask him.

She was rather pleased with him at the moment. She didn’t think it would last, but at least he’d got into the spirit of the occasion and was dressed properly in formal togs. Not too formal, but definitely evening wear.

It was only the second time she’d seen him wearing a cravat, or an underwaistcoat, for that matter. Pearl gray satin it was, very subdued with his black tailed coat and the white cravat. No bright colors for him. She had to agree that gaudy just wouldn’t suit him. No haircut for the occasion, though, but she was so used to the clubbed-back queue he wore that he’d probably look odd to her without it.

No top hat, either. John had actually found one for him, but when presented with it at the door just as they were leaving, Sebastian had given his valet such a hard stare that John had put the hat on his own head and stomped off. That had relieved the tense moment when she’d come down the stairs and was met with Sebastian’s brow raised appreciatively. It flustered her to no end when his glance turned admiring. She’d grown accustomed to dealing with his ominous looks, but when his golden eyes turned sensual, she forgot how to breathe.

Edna had done her proud, though, in her own attire and coiffure. Her evening gown was a deep burgundy wine color with white satin cord trimmings. The puffed shoulders weren’t too bouffant and had the white cording interlaced with the dark velvet. Satin slippers in the same dark burgundy peeked out from under her full skirt.

Margaret couldn’t deny that she was nervous about the party. Nor had she seen Sebastian since they returned to her house. Not once. So she’d been unable to discuss her worry with him. In fact, he made himself so scarce that she might have thought he’d changed his mind and left if she hadn’t seen John about.

She supposed it was for the best. He’d be gone for good tomorrow. She had to get used to that.

If she’d thought anything positive would have come from this last day they could have spent alone, well, she should have known better.

Knowing that tonight would be the last time she’d ever see him put quite a damper on her spirits.

And ended her nervousness. Aware of him more than she cared to be on the drive to Alberta’s, she did sense his own tension.

As their coach slowly moved forward in the line, she asked him, “You aren’t going to disappear on me, are you?”

“Play the coward? You wound me.”

She snorted. “You look wounded, ’deed you do. But this is going to be easy,” she added, hoping to convince herself of that as well. “Just treat it like any normal party. Accept the well-wishes graciously, evade the questions. See? Nothing to it.”