Chapter One #2
He’d forgotten that Henry had decided the age of thirty was time to settle down, and this Season he would begin his search for a wife. Hence the weekend party, and hence Jacob having to flee to this morning room, away from the relentless pursuit of debutantes.
‘My heart goes out to you,’ she said, her words dripping with sarcasm.
He’d never encountered such audacity in any woman he’d ever met.
Whether that was a good or bad thing he couldn’t say, but she was certainly entertaining.
‘And if you’ll excuse me for saying so, Your Grace, you can leave any time you please.
Whereas I…’ She pointed one finger towards the desperate wallflower trying to escape through an open window that was out of her reach.
While he noted her deference in asking him to excuse her, he suspected that, no matter how he had reacted, she would have spoken her mind anyway.
‘Well, under normal circumstances I might be able to escape whenever I chose, but for the time being I’m rather stuck out here in the countryside.’
Those dark, knitted eyebrows rose slightly and she nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I heard a rumour about your reason for being here. Something about a married woman and an irate husband.’
Jacob’s mouth actually fell open at the extent of the woman’s candour.
Such things were never discussed openly in polite society, especially not by women, and absolutely never by a debutante wanting to make a good impression.
Young women were expected to appear completely innocent of the ways of the world and, in particular, ignorant of anything that men might get up to.
He closed his mouth and made a quick attempt to regain his equilibrium. ‘Yes, it was something like that, and I take it that you do not approve.’
‘It is hardly my concern,’ she said in a decidedly disapproving voice.
‘Well, just so that you don’t think me completely beneath contempt, yes, that is the reason I am stuck here, but it’s all for the sake of the woman in question, so her husband has time to calm down and life can carry on its merry way.’
‘As I said, it’s no concern of mine.’
She was completely correct, it wasn’t her concern, but for some reason he wanted her to know that he did have some redeeming features.
‘It is the lady’s marriage I am trying to protect.’
She continued to stare at him as if nothing he said or did would change her opinion of him, that he was a vain, self-important peacock.
Once again, she extended her hand, and with reluctance he placed the drawing in her palm, but before she could take it, a footman entered carrying a silver tray and bowed in front of Jacob.
‘A letter for you, Your Grace.’
Jacob quickly tucked the cartoon inside his jacket pocket, thanked the footman and opened the letter as the man departed.
He could have allowed Miss Whitmore to take the drawing, and the outraged expression on her face made it abundantly clear she was not happy that it was now in his pocket, but this had been the most enjoyable conversation he’d had during this dull weekend party, and he was rather pleased to have been able to further delay her escape from him.
He quickly scanned the contents, eager to continue the teasing of Miss Whitmore, then emitted a low groan.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said, stepping towards him.
He looked up to find her staring at him with what appeared to be compassion. It was rather nice to be looked at like that, but he doubted she would have much compassion for him if he revealed the contents of the letter.
‘I’ve had some rather unfortunate news,’ he said with a woeful expression that was hopefully worthy of her pity.
‘I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’
Jacob shook his head slowly, then a decidedly wicked idea occurred to him. ‘Yes, there is something you could do.’
She tilted her head and waited.
‘You could marry me.’
Margaret huffed out her exasperation. The man was either completely deranged or playing a stupid, childish game. Either way, she had no intention of remaining in this room a moment longer than necessary, but she did need to retrieve her incriminating sketch.
‘My drawing, please,’ she said, giving his absurd statement the attention it deserved.
His lips continued to quirk with amusement as if there was nothing outrageous in his behaviour and she continued to glare back at him, letting him know she was not impressed by his attempt at humour in the slightest.
He really was a superficial, frivolous peacock, just as she had depicted him. And thank goodness that was how she had drawn him, and not as a Greek god, as she had initially intended.
She would hate him to think she saw him in that manner, but his height and masculine physique, combined with his dark blond, slightly curly hair, his blue eyes and sculpted lips did remind her of the statues of Greek gods she had seen in the British Museum.
But she had depicted his personality rather than his appearance: overly confident, self-entitled and far too glib for her liking.
Whether a peacock or a Greek god, he seemed to think every woman should fall instantly under his spell, including her, and she would not be doing or saying anything to further inflate his puffed-up opinion of himself.
‘I’ll return your drawing once you’ve heard me out,’ he said, smiling at her in a manner she assumed was meant to charm.
It was tempting to grab it off him, just as she would do with her younger brother when he played such silly games, but the thought of getting close to this man was disconcerting to say the least, and she certainly was not about to put her hand inside his jacket.
The mere thought of it did strange things to her she’d rather not think about, so she frowned at him in an even more severe manner.
‘There’s nothing to listen to and I don’t appreciate being the butt of your jokes,’ she said, her tone as full of reproach as she could make it.
‘There are no butts, no jokes, just a sensible proposition. And what have you got to lose by just listening? And I promise once I’ve said my piece you will get your drawing back.’
Margaret drew in a long, slow breath and released it just as slowly, hoping she could exhale her irritation and several other emotions she chose not to name.
She couldn’t. His continued refusal to return her sketch made it obvious she had no choice but to listen, so she gave a small nod to inform him he could continue.
‘As you already know, I have got myself into a bit of bother in London. Things were getting rather messy so I thought it prudent to retreat to the countryside while tempers cooled.’ He looked down at the letter in his hand.
‘Tempers, it seems, have not cooled but have become more inflamed, and it is time to take some drastic action.’
Margaret said nothing. She had agreed to listen to what he had to say and that was all she intended to do.
‘It would be in everyone’s interest if I presented myself to the world as a reformed man, a respectable man, a man who has met the woman who changed everything—the woman he is to marry. Then the aggrieved party would be appeased and everyone will be happy.’
‘Have you finished?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ He smiled again, those blue eyes crinkling at the corners. She suspected it was a smile that had won over countless women, but she would not let it affect her, so she kept her expression impassive and ignored the fluttering in the middle of her chest.
‘Look,’ he continued, making a lie of the statement that he had finished talking. ‘I know it’s a bit unconventional, but it is obvious you hate all this marriage mart business, and you’re about to face another Season. What will it be—your second? Third?’
‘Fourth,’ Margaret said, forgetting her intention to say nothing.
‘And if you don’t find a husband at the end of your fourth, will there be a fifth? A sixth?’
Margaret’s jaw tightened. That was a prospect she was trying not to think about.
‘We wouldn’t have to actually marry, but becoming engaged would save you from having to go through another Season, which you clearly abhor.
’ He continued to smile at her in that unsettling manner.
‘So, what do you think? Our engagement could be the window you are seeking. It could provide you with a means to escape from all those weekend parties, balls, soirees and so on, which you obviously do not enjoy, and you’ll never again be paraded in front of the strutting roosters. ’
‘I can see you only have my wellbeing at heart,’ she said, packing as much derision into those words as she could, and once again holding out her hand for the drawing. ‘But I would never—’
‘My dear, this is where you are hiding!’ A shrill voice cut through the air, causing Margaret’s body to tense. ‘Look who I’ve found.’
She turned to see her mother clasping the arm of Baron Edgeware with an iron grip lest he attempt to make a run for it. And, judging by the stricken expression on the Baron’s face, she was certain the moment she released him, that was exactly what he would do.
‘I told him he simply must meet my daughter, but it has taken us an age to find where you are hiding yourself.’
Her mother looked at Baron Edgeware as if expecting him to agree, but the poor man was staring at the door, no doubt formulating his own escape plan.
‘Oh, you’re here with the Duke of Rosedale,’ her mother added unnecessarily, making a low curtsey and pulling on Baron Edgeware’s arm as she did so, causing the man to almost tumble.
‘My daughter has attracted the attention of the most eligible man available,’ she said to the Baron as he attempted to stand up straight. ‘As I said, she is a young woman whom any man would be happy to take as a wife, which I’m sure the Duke can see as well.’
Margaret’s teeth clenched so tightly she suspected she was in danger of chipping a tooth.
‘The Baron is also looking for a bride,’ her mother continued.
‘And I told him you won’t find a better wife than my daughter.
While she is not considered to be the prettiest debutante available, and she is now facing her fourth Season, these are advantages, not disadvantages, when seeking a bride.
’ She looked back at the struggling Baron.
‘It means she will be eternally grateful to any man who finally offers for her hand, and will make a good, obedient wife.’
Her mother beamed at the two men, oblivious to the fact that she was humiliating her daughter.
Neither man responded, and Margaret took a quick look in the Duke’s direction, certain that his reaction would cause her to feel an even greater level of mortification. As expected, he was staring at her mother with a mixture of shock and disbelief.
It was a look she had become accustomed to seeing on men’s faces over the last three years, and would no doubt be seeing again in the coming Season. As she watched the Duke watching her mother, a wicked thought occurred to her. She turned back to her mother and the imprisoned Baron.
‘Baron Edgeware, I wish you well in your search for the perfect bride but I’m afraid it won’t be me.’
Relief crossed the man’s face.
‘That is because, before you entered, the Duke of Rosedale asked for my hand.’
She turned to face the Duke and smiled at him, a gleeful smile full of delicious revenge, letting him know he was not the only one who could play games and in future he had best think twice before he toyed with her.
‘And I accepted.’