George’s nephew!
“When I sent the invitation, I never contemplated he’d actually attend. Every unmarried lady beneath this roof, not to mention their mothers, will be in raptures when they discover that the heir to the Duke of Standish is a guest. It’ll make for some interesting antics, for sure.”
Such antics couldn’t get much more interesting than they had been last night.
“He’s unattached, then?” Margaret cringed at what she’d done… at what she’d nearly done. George must never know!
Penelope nodded. “I caught sight of him as he left the for the stables. A handsome pup, if I say so myself. But of course, he’s a notorious rake—and young. I imagine he’s barely past his majority.”
One and twenty! Margaret’s vision swam for a moment.
She’d nearly seduced a boy! A mere child!
Although he certainly hadn’t had the body of a child—or made love like one. Margaret suppressed the urge to bury her face in the bed and give into a fit of moaning yet again.
“How did you discover that it wasn’t Mr. Kirkley in the bed? The room would have been very dark when you entered, those drapes are heavy. What a scandal that would have been! Did you wake him when you entered?”
Penelope could never know what she’d done—what she’dnearlydone. “Er… The drapes were drawn. Moonlight. Er… illuminated the bed. I knew it wasn’t him immediately. Once I returned to my room, I took it as a sign that I must go about all of this another way. I will ask Mr. Kirkley directly. I’ll speak to him privately soon.”
“Can you imagine if those drapes had been pulled shut?” Penelope grinned wickedly. “I could tell if it was Hugh easily; a woman knows such things. But you have neverbeenwith Mr. Kirkley. The two gentlemen are not very different in appearance, superficially, of course.” She scrunched her nose thoughtfully. “I suppose the marquess is slimmer. Your Mr. Kirkley cannot be expected to have the physique of such a young man.”
Margaret had realized all of this after climbing back into her own bed. His skin had been silky smooth, the hair on his body soft. Yes, a woman knew such things.
I should have known!
“You could always try again tonight. Now that I can direct you to the proper chamber—”
Margaret held up her hand. “Absolutely not. We will not speak of it again.” Penelope needed to know when to leave something be.
“But—“
“Absolutely not, Penelope.”
4
A Proper Introduction
“Good afternoon, My Lady.” Margaret’s intended removed his hat, took hold of her hand, and then bowed over it. Staring down at the top of his head, Margaret couldn’t help but be aware that his lips barely brushed the back of her gloves. Which was proper, of course. Proper behavior had never bothered her before. In fact, she’d always appreciated such an admirable trait where gentlemen were concerned.
She also noticed Mr. Kirkley’s hair. Although thick and black, it was interspersed with silver strands that appeared more wiry than soft. Oh, but she ought to have paid attention to such details before! Although by that point, she still would have found herself naked, in bed with a man who was not her betrothed.
“Mr. Kirkley.” Margaret curtseyed. He’d given her permission to call him George, when they were in private. But around others, even though most guests had shed some of the more dignified airs at the country house party, he wished for the two of them to maintain formalities.
The sun had already peaked and was sliding into the west. Even knowing she couldn’t remain hidden forever, Margaret had kept to her room as late into the day as possible.
She couldn’t help but search the faces of the guests already mingling outside
Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him?
“May I escort you to a table for refreshments?” Mr. Kirkley offered his arm with a kind smile. She accepted it with a vague nod.
Penelope’s plans for an outdoor tea included a large tent set up on the lawn along with several ornamental tables and chairs. In the absence of spring flowers, servants had arranged red, orange, and gold leaves in glass vases atop the white linen tablecloths. Delicate plates filled with tiny sandwiches and pastries had been placed at each setting.
Normally, Margaret would have taken great pleasure in such a festive occasion. Today, however, her nerves were decidedly on edge. She was fairly certain that he’d not gotten a look at her face. It had been dark. He would have possibly seen the color of her hair when she’d fled out the door. He might be able to discern her height.
But she had yet another, more worrisome concern.
Who else but George’s intended would be climbing into his uncle’s bed?
