Chapter 11
MARGARET FELT LIKE HERSELF AGAIN when she came down to dinner that night.
While her traveling clothes had been highly fashionable, they’d also been made of thick, sturdy materials that wouldn’t need much care, so they hadn’t been very comfortable.
Back in soft peach velvet that was sinfully comfortable, well rested after a brief nap, she felt quite capable of dealing with her guests.
She expected all three of them to be waiting for her in the dining room, but only Sebastian was there, seated at the head of her table.
The nerve! And he hadn’t dressed for dinner.
He was wearing a white shirt without a cravat, open at the neck, loose flowing sleeves cuffed at the wrist. He might as well have had an earring and an eye patch on, because that’s probably how her servants perceived him.
David, who regularly tended the table and stood waiting by the door, was no doubt shaking in his boots, he looked so nervous.
Of course, the wickedly long dagger that Sebastian was using to spear chunks of meat out of the appetizer that had been brought to him was more likely the cause.
Her servants knew better than to begin the meal before her arrival.
Sebastian must have frightened David into breaking that rule.
Sebastian rose as she entered and pulled out the chair on his right.
She would not have chosen a seat so close to him, but it looked like it would be only the two of them dining, and it would seem haughty of her to sit at the other end of the table, forcing them to raise their voices to have any sort of conversation.
It was a long table, after all. But she would have to make a point of arriving at the dining room before him while he was in residence.
David hurried forward to fill Margaret’s wineglass, then left to fetch her appetizer.
She took the moment of privacy to remark to Sebastian, “My housekeeper, Florence, recognized you today. It’s likely some of the older servants will as well.
We should probably make an announcement about why you wish to remain incognito—”
“That won’t be necessary,” he cut in. “I’ve spoken to each of your servants. They’ll say nothing.”
“You say that with such assurance. Threatened to murder them all in their sleep, did you?”
“Ah, you’ve set the tone,” he replied dryly. “Shall I sharpen my fork?”
She blushed. She had no excuse for being so rude other than her nervousness. She certainly hadn’t expected to be alone with him at dinner.
“I apologize. My humor went awry.”
“You were trying to make me laugh? I should warn you, then. I don’t.”
“Rubbish. Everyone laughs. It’s human nature. Can’t be helped.”
“So now I’m not human?”
Margaret gritted her teeth. Odious man. And her appetizer hadn’t even arrived yet. This was going to be the longest dinner of her life, she was sure.
In an effort to put the conversation on a proper track, she remarked, “I expected John and Timothy to join us. They weren’t hungry?”
“On the contrary,” he replied. “But being back in England has had a profound effect on John. Etiquette demands he take his meals with the rest of the servants now. He is my valet, after all.”
“I gathered he was more than that.”
“Indeed, he and I have been through a lot together. But there’s no point in arguing with him. It’s not just England, it’s this house. Reminds him of tradition and all that rot. Back in the fold, as it were.”
“You don’t sound happy that he has reverted to form,” she commented.
“I’m not, but you couldn’t drag him in here with a horse. And the boy takes his cue from John.”
Margaret wasn’t happy with John’s desertion either.
It meant she’d be sharing a lot of meals with Sebastian—alone.
She couldn’t even invite other guests, not while he remained incognito.
She could hope that he wouldn’t have to stay hidden for very long.
Or she could make an effort to get along with him, despite her dislike.
Familiarity breeds indifference, as it were. Not bloody likely, with him.
“By the by, why didn’t you want a come-out?” he asked.
Margaret stared at him, wondering how long he’d been mulling that over, to finally ask. There were a lot of circumstances responsible for her current single state, some of them common knowledge that he wouldn’t know about due to his long absence. She saw no reason not to tell him.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want one,” she said.
“But when the time was ripe for one, I was still in mourning. I’d just lost my father.
I was living in a new home with your father.
By the time my mourning period had ended, I had decided I could do without a husband.
After all, I’d witnessed the heartache of love gone awry in my sister’s case.
And having watched your brother and sister-in-law go at it tooth and nail, as it were—well, not a very good recommendation for marriage, that. ”
“Admit it. You declined a come-out because you think no one will have you.”
Was he making an effort to tease her, or did he really think that? It was impossible to tell with him. But it was probably the latter. She doubted the man knew how to tease anymore.
So she snorted. “Rubbish. And I wasn’t finished.”
“You really decided not to marry?”
“For a brief time I actually did. Those were just the thoughts of a young girl, though. I simply wasn’t old enough yet to decide the matter maturely.
But by the time I came to my senses and realized I was being silly to be deterred from marriage by my sister’s broken heart and your brother and his wife’s constant bickering, I was a bit past the prime for a come-out. ”
“For God’s sake, you’re only twenty-three. You haven’t passed anything.”
“Allow me to know what I’ve passed or not,” she replied a bit stiffly.
He sat back, said casually, “I find it hard to believe that in all these years you haven’t been courted. Have all the young bucks left the neighborhood?”
“Not a’tall. I’ve been courted to distraction.”
“And none would do?”
“A few might have, but I suppose I’ve set my standards a bit high. The choice is mine, you see. Were my father still here, he probably would have made some recommendations and I probably would have agreed with him. By having the choice to m’self, I find no need to hurry.”
“Then you’ve chosen to be an old maid?”
She gritted her teeth. The insults were piling up. “Really, Sebastian,” she said dryly, “you shouldn’t strive to be so charming.”
“Yes, I know. Bad habit.”
She almost laughed. But that would encourage him to make more outlandish remarks, so she restrained herself.
“As it happens, I’m still being courted,” she told him primly.
“Anyone I would know?”
“Possibly. Thomas Peermont, Viscount Ridgmore’s son, you might remember.”
“Little Tommy? He was still wearing knickers when I left. He can’t be old enough for you.”
Her back got a little stiffer. “Not that age matters at this point, but he’s only a year younger than I am. And then there’s The Honorable Daniel Courtly, whom you probably don’t know.”
“Courted by a Courtly, how quaint.”
She glared at him, but continued, “He and his mother moved here only two years ago. They bought the old Merryweather cottage on the cliffs after Angus Merryweather moved to London to be closer to his grandchildren.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Just the two?”
“Two is quite enough, when I’m not really interested in either of them.”
“So you are determined to be an old maid. Might as well own up to it, Maggie.”
“If you must know, I do plan on going to London to broaden my choices. I just don’t intend to compete with a gaggle of giggling debutantes.”
“How do you intend to avoid that?”
“By attending a few choice parties and proposing to a man who suits me. In another year or two I will feel comfortable doing so.”
He raised a brow. “You aren’t joking, are you?”
“Not a’tall.”
“I think you’ve been on your own too long, Maggie. It’s quite addled your wits.”
She smiled tightly. “My wits are just fine, thank you.”
“Then you haven’t realized that if it gets out, you’ll become a laughingstock?”
“And why would it get out?” she countered. “I assure you, I can be quite circumspect. Nor do I intend to propose to every man I meet.”
“Just one or two, hell, just one is all it will take. Consider. An earl’s daughter proposing marriage. That’s too juicy not to spread around.”
“Unless the fellow takes me up on the offer, then it would be in his best interest to keep his mouth shut, wouldn’t it? You, sir, are much too negative.”
“No. I’ve just learned to view all aspects of a situation. Besides, you’re already going to have one mark against you as a divorced woman,” he pointed out. “Only second sons might overlook that stigma.”
She sighed. “Even if it is, you overlook a prime motive.”
“Your lush body?”
She turned crimson, stood up, and threw her napkin down on top of her desert, which had just arrived. Her footman was blushing, too, and hurrying back out the door. Good God, she couldn’t believe Sebastian had said that, and with a servant in the room to hear it!
“You are, without a doubt, the most despicable man I have ever met. I was referring to the title that will pass to my husband’s son, much more incentive than a—a—”
“Lush body,” he reminded her.
Even more color shot to her cheeks. Without a thought, she picked up her napkin, smeared now with cream and whipped chocolate, and tossed it at his head. Bloody hell, she missed. But at least the chocolate and cream splattered across his forehead, she noticed, on her way out the door.
“Don’t run away mad, Maggie,” he called after her.
“Go to the devil, you odious man!”
Was that laughter she heard? No, just her imagination. She remembered that Sebastian Townshend had forgotten how to laugh.