Did he recognize her in the same way that she had recognized him? Margaret ran her tongue along her teeth and self-consciously touched the hair behind her ear.
Perhaps she ought to have made some excuse to leave the party today—to leave Land’s End and return to London. Penelope would have helped her make a quick departure. But would not that have been rather drastic?
“I am fine to hike down on my own, Mr. Kirkley, Lord Rockingham.” Margaret smiled at the table graciously, hoping to put an end to this conversation.
“I am happy to see that my lady is safe from my nephew’s legendary charm,” George teased his nephew and then squeezed Margaret’s hand. “It is settled then.”
But was it? Should she simply make an escape in hopes Lord Rockingham forgot the incident altogether? Out of sight, out of mind.
If she were to return early to London, how would that affect her plans to marry? To begin a family? It was possible that George would either wish to make their engagement public sooner or call it off completely.
“Ah, Uncle, but am I safe from hers?” Lord Rockingham countered, drawing a fit of giggles from Miss Drake and a hearty chuckle from George.
Two servants arrived at that moment and placed pots of tea about the table. Penelope poured for the ladies beside her as well as herself and Hugh, and Margaret rose and gripped the second pot.
She struggled to keep her hands from shaking as she poured the steaming brown liquid into a cup for Lord Rockingham, who remained seated backward on the chair beside hers and was immensely grateful that she hadn’t spilled any by the time she’d managed a cup for Lady Sheffield, George, and herself.
“Sugar, My Lord?” She lifted the small bowl in the marquess’ direction. She already knew that neither George nor Lady Sheffield added anything to their tea.
He took the bowl from her, brushing his hand across her fingers as he did so. “I have no discipline when it comes to sweets.” And then he winked.
What had he said when she’d first climbed into his bed?“I haven’t the discipline to turn down one as sweet as you.”
He knows!
At the startling revelation, Margaret went numb. He had not secured the bowl yet, however, and when she jerked her hand away, the two of them managed to send the sugar flying into the air, sprinkling the sparkling confection all over both of them followed by the gentle bump as the dish landed on the grass.
Lord Rockingham, of course, burst into laughter.
George jolted away from her, brushing at his coat and trousers.
“I’m so sorry! Do forgive me, Mr. Kirkley, Lord Rockingham.” Margaret burst out of her chair and proceeded to wipe the grains off her gown. Both her fiancé and the marquess rose beside her. As did her brother and Montford.
She couldn’t bear any of this a moment longer. She needed to be away from him. She needed to compose herself somehow.
“Please excuse me.” Margaret sent a pleading look in Penelope’s direction.
“But of course, Margaret, you must change out of that immediately or you’ll have ants crawling up your legs.”
Not exactly what Margaret had in mind, and she couldn’t help but catch the provocative glance Lord Rockingham slid her direction. He licked his lips, bringing to mind the memory of his mouth on her legs, on her…
She backed up before a manservant could assist her with her chair and would have knocked it over if Lord Rockingham hadn’t reached out to catch it.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered again, this time sending an apologetic glance in George’s direction.
“But of course. Allow me to escort you back to the house.”
“No!” She needed to be alone. “No,” she said less emphatically. “I don’t wish to ruin your tea. Please, stay and enjoy the party. I will…” Margaret glanced down at her gown. “I will change out of this and rejoin you shortly.”
And before she could bring about any additional calamities, she moved away from the table and weaved through the other guests’ chairs until she could step out from beneath the large tent.
The sun felt hot, and her breaths were coming in short little bursts.
When she felt relatively certain that no one was watching, she paused and raised a hand to her chest. She was going to have to speak to him, explain somehow, and beg him not to tell his uncle.
Of course, he knew.
Of course.
