16. Chapter Sixteen #2
“Dear goodness, Lord Burton,” the older Mrs. Nicholson exclaimed, standing up from the chair. She walked towards him, and he kissed her hand. “Forgive me, but I had forgotten to inform my family you were joining us for dinner.”
Each member of the family wore a look of shock—including Margaret, whose fair face transformed into a deep shade of red. Her plump lips separated as her jaw dropped.
“Dear family, you must excuse my error,” Mr. Nicholson’s mother pleaded. “I sent word and asked Lord Burton to join us for dinner earlier this morning. It must have slipped my mind.”
Roger carefully observed Mr. Nicholson as he slowly rose from his chair, noting a noticeable stiffness in his posture. Roger’s keen eye for detail led him to believe that Mr. Nicholson was not particularly enthused, and interestingly enough, Roger found himself sharing in that sentiment.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Burton. Please pardon any shock on our part.”
“There is no trouble at all. I beg you not to apologize, sir.”
The sound of British nobility echoed through the stuffy room. Such eloquence, along with being in a home of great wealth, made Roger still feel out of sorts.
“You must meet our other guest,” Mr. Nicholson said, pointing to Roger.
Roger accepted his cue and rose from his uncomfortable seat. He reached out to shake the noble gentleman’s hand. “Roger McKinley.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Lord Burton said with a smile, shaking his hand.
Lord Burton’s handshake was firm but also gentle. Roger pulled away, almost tempted to wipe his hand on his pants.
“Mr. McKinley works for me as my executive accountant,” Mr. Nicholson explained.
Roger’s heart thumped in excitement. Executive?
Surely Mr. Nicholson was mistaken. Did Roger hear his boss promote him?
Mr. Nicholson shot him a wink. Roger had worked three years for the Nicholsons, never receiving a promotion.
It made sense since he was the only worker who stayed, but he couldn’t shake off the joy he felt.
He tried his best not to smile, but his lips kept curling.
He placed his teeth over his bottom lip, hoping it would stop.
But his mind immediately went to Margaret and her nervous habit. Indeed, watch your company.
“What an honorable vocation,” Lord Burton said. “You must be very lucky to work for the Nicholsons.”
“It is an honor. The Nicholsons have treated me well.”
“Oh, Lord Burton!” the older Mrs. Nicholson called. “Won’t you sit with us?”
Lord Burton did as he was told, and Roger kept a strong eye on him.
Something wasn’t sitting right. Roger returned to his chair and stole a glance at Margaret across from him.
She looked in Lord Burton’s direction with a smile on her face.
Roger’s heart sank. No doubt he was charming her by the moment.
“Lord Burton is a marquess,” the older Mrs. Nicholson said proudly, turning to Roger. “He owns a large estate with tenants and agriculture in Yorkshire.”
“Congratulations,” was all Roger could think to say, his gaze fixed on the marquess, who sat tall and straight, shoulders back and chest out. “I’m certain Yorkshire is lucky to have you.”
Now he was starting to sound proper like the man. Roger longed to shake off his impersonation and be himself but being himself would cost him the evening. He had already become the subject of a joke after hesitating to address Mr. Nicholson’s mother as Mrs. Nicholson.
“Margaret has always wanted to see England, haven’t you dear?” the older Mrs. Nicholson pressed.
Margaret’s eyes widened, clearly caught off guard. “I have longed to travel, but circumstances have kept me in Charlottesville.”
The older Mrs. Nicholson leaned in closer to Roger. “She’s a homebody. The only way she is going to travel is through her books.”
Roger pressed his lips together, not bothering to reply.
The woman leaned closer to Roger as conversation began to build between Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson and Lord Burton. “I just don’t see how Margaret is going to do it.”
Roger cocked his head swiftly in the older Mrs. Nicholson’s direction. “What is Margaret going to do?” His heart thundered in his chest, and he swallowed hard. Did he just address this woman’s granddaughter as Margaret? Sweat rolled down his neck. Watch yourself, Roger, you fool.
The older Mrs. Nicholson’s lips curved into a smile, seeming not to care. “He’s a charming young man isn’t he?” she whispered, looking over at Lord Burton. He was still carrying on a conversation with Margaret’s parents. “We should expect a proposal any day now.”
Roger tried to remain unfazed by the older Mrs. Nicholson’s comment, but a surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Proposal? Did Margaret want to marry this ostentatious man? He didn’t seem like someone she’d pursue. But what did she truly seek in a partner? Wealth? Handsome looks?
“Dinner is served!” the butler announced.
Roger was taken out of his emotions after his stomach growled. He stood as the rest of the party did, wondering how the dinner would go. If he ate slowly and avoided conversation, he was certain he’d be fine—and if Lord Burton watched himself with Margaret.
For the rest of the hour, Margaret’s grandmother had rambled on and on, taking control of every conversation, and of course . . . the seating arrangements.
As soon as they entered the lavish dining room, she made it certain that Margaret would sit with Lord Burton.
Roger may have lost his passion for writing, but he wasn’t an idiot.
The older Mrs. Nicholson didn’t only invite Lord Burton for dinner; she invited him to steal Margaret’s heart and to motivate him to propose.
Jealousy devoured Roger—more than he had the food.
He kept one eye on the two of them the entire dinner.
The marquess didn’t display anything flirty, but the way he looked at her said it all.
It wasn’t just a gentlemanly conversation.
He was after Margaret, but she was hard to read.
She wasn’t biting her lip, meaning she wasn’t uncomfortable.
Was she having a good time with him or was she being polite?
Roger was a fool to think Margaret liked him. Seeing her with Lord Burton, he now knew she was friendly and polite with all men. If Roger stood out to her, she pitied him and that was it. She had bewitched him, and now he must suffer for it.
“Lord Burton, I believe I heard that you were in the war,” Mr. Nicolson said across the table.
Lord Burton averted his attention from Margaret. “Yes, sir, I was. I served since the spring of 1915. I was promoted to captain before the war ended.”
“I joined the war in 1917. That was the year we entered. I was thankful it didn’t last too long for us,” Mr. Nicholson explained. “Mr. McKinley was in the war, too.”
War. That was something that would be spoken of for eternity. It was over now, but men like him were still fighting them, especially after what they had seen.
“I served at the same time Mr. Nicholson entered. It was an experience I’ll never forget.”
“It wasn’t worth it,” Mr. Nicholson declared. “No fighting is. I may have lost my arm, but it isn’t anything compared to the ones who were lost. If I could go back and give myself to keep everyone else alive, I would.”
Margaret’s mother placed her hand over her husband’s, and he went silent. Roger agreed with his employer. The war should have never started. It was a foolish decision to start such a thing.
“At least we put those Germans in their place,” the older Mrs. Nicholson declared, before taking a sip of wine.
Roger gripped his fork. He wanted to shout at the woman for making such a comment about something she didn’t know anything about. Yes, the Germans started the war, but they would never be stopped. And what they did to his brother would never be taken back.
“Since you were promoted to captain, Lord Burton, I assume you know how to use a rifle,” Mr. Nicholson said.
A proud grin spread across Lord Burton’s face. “I do.”
“Is that in confidence?” Roger asked, but it wasn’t planned.
Consumed by jealousy, he let his emotions dictate his speech.
Having spoken his mind, he realized there was no taking it back.
Roger had provoked a question that could put him and Lord Burton into an argument and embarrass the gracious Nicholsons.
“I believe so,” Lord Burton answered, not seeming to be bothered. He glanced at Margaret, flashing her a smile. The pompous man seemed to have whispered something funny because Margaret burst into laughter.
Roger’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened.
However, when he turned his head, he didn’t seem to be the only one upset regarding the pair.
Mr. Nicholson appeared resolute in his determination to prevent any further discussion between the two parties.
He gripped his fork and pressed his lips tightly together.
“I hear in England, shooting parties are common.”
Lord Burton averted his attention to Mr. Nicholson. “Why yes, that is indeed so. But you see, our usual pursuit leans towards hunting, particularly amidst the lush countryside of Yorkshire.”
Mr. Nicholson tapped his fork on the table. “Perhaps we can have our own shooting party instead. Right here. We can make it an all-American ordeal.”
“Oh, how lovely!” the older Mrs. Nicholson exclaimed. “And we ladies may have a picnic while you men shoot.”
Mr. Nicholson took a sip of his water and smiled. “Actually, Mother, I was hoping Margaret could join us. With me only having one arm, it would just be Roger and Lord Burton competing, and possibly Mr. Baldwin if he’d come. Margaret would be an excellent replacement.”
Roger’s brows raised. He was invited too? He was grateful for Nicholson’s hospitality, but when would this end? However, what he didn’t expect was a smile to etch across Margaret’s face.
“I would love to, Daddy.”