Chapter 28
THERE WERE ONLY TWO PEOPLE in the dining room when Margaret arrived, grandmother and grandson. And she caught them laughing. Not for the first time, she thought how incredibly different Sebastian was when he was around Abbie. Like night and day. It made her yearn to know the old Sebastian ...
Sebastian rose from his seat when he saw her, and Abigail said, “There you are, m’dear,” and patted the seat on the other side of her.
Margaret hesitated to take that particular seat, which would put her directly across from Sebastian.
But since they were the only three there and quite possibly would remain just three for dinner, she couldn’t very well refuse.
And besides, Sebastian was courteously holding the chair out for her with an amused expression on his face.
It reminded her of how this family used to fight for her attention.
Douglas had wanted her to sit near him, Juliette had wanted her to sit near her, and Abigail had wanted the same.
And of course those three camps had never sat near each other, so it used to be a matter of who spoke up first when she arrived at the dinner table.
No sooner had she sat down when Sebastian asked Abigail, “You don’t hear that?”
“Course I do, but it’s just a normal sound in this house, sort of like the pots banging in the kitchen.”
“Someone should mention to the two people making this ‘normal sound’ that they should be more considerate while Douglas is convalescing,” Sebastian said.
Abigail chuckled. Margaret couldn’t help smiling herself, he’d said that so dryly.
The noise, of course, was the muffled shouts of Denton and Juliette fighting upstairs.
And Abigail hadn’t exaggerated. It really was a normal sound in this house, so normal that half the time the inhabitants didn’t notice it.
But Sebastian had a point. Douglas needed to rest, and his son and daughter-in-law’s shouting at each other down the corridor was definitely going to disturb him.
“I’ll speak to them,” Margaret offered as she chose one of the two wines the footman came forward to present to her. “I’m sure they can be persuaded to take their battles outside for a few days.”
“Not refrain from having them?” Sebastian queried.
Abigail snorted. “That would be asking a bit much. We’ve all tried—uselessly.”
The shouting got louder, indicating that they were coming downstairs. In fact, they could all hear Denton clearly now saying, “I don’t give a bloody damn whether you want to face him or not. He’s here. Deal with it.”
“You will regret this—!”
“I’m sick to death of hearing that as well. Say it again and I may be the one you need to fear.”
“You don’t care if he knows?” Juliette’s voice sounded amazed.
“By God, I may tell him myself.”
A laugh, full of scorn. “You won’t.”
Was Denton actually dragging her downstairs?
Yes, he was, which was apparent when he shoved her into the room ahead of him.
Juliette jerked her arm out of his grasp, stiffly straightened her clothes, and then, without a glance at the others in the room, took the seat as far away from Abigail’s end of the table as she could get, without actually sitting in Douglas’s chair.
Surprisingly, though, Denton followed her and yanked her to her feet. “Forget it. For once we’re going to behave like a normal family and actually eat together.”
More than one brow rose when he dragged his wife again and shoved her into the chair next to Margaret, then went around the table to sit across from her.
Considering Juliette’s volatile nature, Margaret was surprised she stayed there.
Actually, she did seem a bit intimidated by this new, forceful side of Denton.
Usually she walked all over him, held the upper hand, as it were.
Perhaps Sebastian’s return was giving Denton some long overdue courage.
Abigail, with her usual calm, brought some normalcy to the table, or tried to, by asking Juliette about her trip to London. Juliette didn’t take the hint, though, that it was time to behave.
“That city is filthy,” she replied scornfully. “I do not know why I continue to subject myself. I would go to Paris to shop instead, but I have been denied that pleasure.”
“Your Paris that you so frequently glorify is no better,” Denton countered. “Traipse through the gutters and you’ll get doused with piss no matter which big city you’re in.”
His wife gasped at his slur on her beloved city. “You were not in Paris long enough to appreciate—!”
“I was there long enough to be glad I’m never going back— and neither are you. You spend enough money on this side of the channel. We’re not going to add a shopping spree in France to the extravagance you practice.”
“Perhaps if you were not so stubborn in your denials, then I would not be so extravagant,” Juliette purred.
The remark caused Denton to flush brightly, indicating more than one double entendre.
What exactly had he denied her to earn the punishment of her extravagance?
Certainly not a mere trip to France. So perhaps the “denials” referred to his refutation of something Juliette considered the truth?
Then again, she may not even have meant denials per se.
While her English was remarkably good, she still occasionally used a wrong word merely because she was off a little on the definition of it.
Abigail tried once more to introduce a topic everyone could partake of.
The dowager duchess’s upcoming party for the newly-weds worked nicely.
Margaret had mentioned it to her after the ladies had left today.
And Denton must have already warned his wife about the marriage, since she showed no surprise upon hearing about it now.
Sebastian merely raised a brow at Margaret.
While the dinner conversation consisted of speculating about the guest list and a little gossip about a few of the names mentioned, Margaret couldn’t help but notice that Sebastian participated in none of it.
He hadn’t said a word since Juliette’s arrival.
But he watched Margaret like a hawk. And, while she was seated opposite him, she took pains not to glance directly at him even once.
When the footman brought dessert, the table fell silent, but it was not an uncomfortable silence.
One of the cook’s favored specialties, dessert was a rich creamy chocolate topped with mounds of fluffy cream that everyone dug into with gusto.
It was very similar to the concoction Margaret had nearly tossed at Sebastian’s head the first night they’d dined together at her home.
The memory caused her to look up at him, spoon in mouth, to find his eyes hot on her.
Had she said the silence wasn’t uncomfortable? It just got extremely so for her.
Edna was in Margaret’s room to help her undress, but Margaret dismissed her maid the moment her hard-to-reach fastenings were seen to.
She was afraid Edna would notice her nervousness and figure out the cause.
Edna had already huffed and mumbled that afternoon about the inappropriateness of Sebastian’s sleeping in there, even though she’d brought in the extra bedding and dumped it in the bathroom.
She and Oliver were the only two who knew the “marriage” was a farce.
The hour was still early. Margaret was dressed for bed in her most becoming nightgown, a lacy blue sheath she had bought in Paris on her tour.
She was surprised Edna had included it in the few things she’d brought over from White Oaks, but she’d noticed it last night.
She was also surprised that after Edna’s grousing earlier that day, she hadn’t removed it from Margaret’s choices.
It was the first time she’d ever worn it because after she’d bought it, it had seemed too expensive to sleep in. It was certainly too thin to wear at that time of year, even if a fire was burning in the hearth. It was sheer, with just touches of lace, revealing much more than it should have.
After glancing in the mirror, she found herself blushing and feeling more nervous than she’d been before she’d put on the gown.
So she quickly changed into a serviceable white cotton gown that buttoned to her neck and wasn’t the least bit enticing.
She was not going to be obvious in her anticipation of Sebastian’s lovemaking.
Having come to that decision, she also turned off all the lamps, spread the fire so it lost its glow, and buried herself deep under her covers. She was going to be asleep when Sebastian chose to retire. Well, she could hope...