Margaret had never even considered doing something as scandalous as what she intended to do tonight. She was not the sort of person who turned to subterfuge to accomplish her goals.
Until now, she supposed. She clutched her hands nervously as she imagined sneaking into Mr. Kirkley’s darkened chamber and climbing into bed beside him.
“I cannot do it.” What if he rejected her?What if he does not?
Her mother was likely turning in her grave to know that her daughter would even consider such an undertaking.
Penelope gripped Margaret by the shoulders and turned her around so that she faced her and not the mirror. “Are you willing to marry a man who cannot make you a mother? Even worse, one who cannot satisfy your baser needs?”
Margaret didn’t have to think hard to know the answer.
She wasnotwilling to marry a man who could not plant his seed inside of her. She wanted a baby. So much sometimes that her heart hurt in a physical way. She would clarify one point, however. “This is not about my baser needs.”
Penelope spouted the most improper ideas sometimes.
“It ought to be.” Penelope regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Margaret Frances Coats, are you willing to marry a man who cannot make you a mother?”
No one had called her by her full name since her mother had died.
I am not. I am not!Margaret hugged herself again.
But to sneak into his bed, to seduce a man who was not yet her husband…
“Even if he can—even if we do—there are no guarantees.” She didn’t want to get her hopes up. She and Lawrence had been married for seven years before she had finally conceived. And even then…
“But you want a chance,” Penelope persisted.
She did. And this could very well be her last opportunity to become a mother—to have a family.
To have a purpose.
She had no need to marry for security and although she felt a warm affection for Mr. Kirkley, she did not love him. Furthermore, she was under no misapprehensions that he loved her. He wanted a wife, a companion. Perhaps in time, they would come to love one another.
But she could only become a mother if her husband was able to… “perform.”
And the house party presented her with the perfect opportunity to confirm his abilities. Having grown up in this manor, and with Penelope as the hostess, Margaret knew exactly which chamber her unofficial fiancé occupied. She was perfectly comfortable walking through the corridors at night and as he was in one of the smaller rooms, his valet slept elsewhere.
“I must have a chance.” And then she covered her face. “You are quite certain I should not simply try talking to him?”
“You have already made several attempts, and has he not already expressed his desire to make an announcement?” Penelope pressed her.
“And you are certain I ought to disrobe before climbing into his bed?”
She would take Penelope’s advice on this issue. Margaret was comfortable in nearly every normal social circumstance, but this was… certainly not normal.
And if she was going to go ahead with such an underhanded scheme, she needed to do all that she could to ensure its success.
“Definitely. Mr. Kirkley seems to be deeply concerned with proprieties and if allowed the opportunity to consider… Well, his strict adherence to decency might have him escorting you back to your chamber with a stern scolding. Enter the room, remove your night rail, and slip into the bed beside him. The most—”
“Climb into the bed…? Naked? Is this really necessary?”
Penelope scowled. “You aren’t climbing into his bed so that the two of you can cuddle, Margaret.” She scrunched her nose. “The maid who is servicing his room informed me that he sleeps in a nightshirt, so you’ll already have to maneuver around that. Take his member into your hands if he isn’t… enthusiastic immediately. Be gentle but firm. Stroke him up and down.”
“I’m a widow, not a virgin, Pen.” And yet Margaret wondered if she might succumb to a fit of vapors before she even made it out of her own bedchamber. Although she had resorted to such tactics on a few occasions with Lawrence on those last few occasions… she could not imagine herself doing any such thing to Mr. Kirkley’s… She winced.
She’d rarely… handled… Lawrence’s appendage throughout most of their marriage. He’d considered it unseemly for a lady of refinement. Even when she’d done so out of necessity, he’d been mortified.
But they had both been hopeful. He’d wanted an heir—he’dneededan heir—and she’d simply wanted a child to love.
