“Penelope!” Margaret stopped her.
“Oh, no. that’s quite all right, My Lady. Feel free to speak openly. I have no misconceptions regarding my uncle’s priorities,” Sebastian encouraged Penelope in a most unhelpful manner.
“Can we please—”
The door opened again. “Here you are.” It was Hugh this time. As the door closed behind him, Margaret found herself flush up against Sebastian. He was even forced to drop an arm around her in order to allow them additional space.
“Margaret, watch your hand, will you?” Penelope instructed.
“My hands are at my sides.” But her heart was racing. Sebastian was so very near, and he smelled of soap and something musky and masculine. It took her right back to earlier that day when she’d had her face pressed against his chest.
“Oh.” And then a giggle escaped from Penelope. “Not here, Hugh! Lord Rockingham is present as well.”
“My apologies. Rockingham.” Hugh’s voice cut through the darkness. “Just keeping my wife in line.”
“As if,” Penelope responded.
“No trouble at all.” Not only did Margaret hear his voice float over her head, but she felt it rumble in his chest beneath her hands. “We are discussing Lady Asherton’s engagement.”
“Ah,” Hugh stated noncommittally.
“Did you know, Hugh, that he intended to announce it?” Margaret couldn’t keep herself from asking.
“I was shocked,” Penelope responded.
“It was most unexpected,” Sebastian said at the same time.
And then the person she’d been asking finally answered. “I was under the impression he would wait. I assumed you had given him permission to make it official earlier,” Hugh informed her. When she didn’t comment, she sensed a shift in her brother’s mood. “You did give him permission, didn’t you?”
Margaret licked her lips at the same time Sebastian’s hand moved from her waist to her hip. “I—” she began, finding it most difficult to think straight with him touching her.
The door opened again. “Is there room in here for me?” Abigail asked. “Hello, Danbury, Penelope? Lord Rockingham. Margaret, What a marvelous hiding place.”
The door had not closed completely when it was opened once more. Margaret could just barely make out the tall figure of the Duke of Monfort. “I thought I saw you slip in here, dear. Clever design.”
“Good eye, Your Grace,” Penelope replied. “Scoot back a bit, will you, Margaret?”
Sebastian backed against one of the shelves, taking her with him. They might as well have been locked in a passionate embrace. It was most inappropriate, but in the circumstances allowed for slightly more room in the packed linen closet.
Margaret was acutely aware of his scent, of the hardness of his chest and thighs. Her cheek pressed against the wool of his jacket.
He ought to be George.
She ought to be feeling the length of her intended up against her. She closed her eyes against the confusing emotions spiraling inside.
“Margaret and I used to hide in here as children,” Hugh said to nobody in particular. “It’s most useful for private discussions with one’s wife, as well.”
Penelope snorted.
“We need something like this at Brooke’s Abbey, Monfort,” Abigail suggested.
“Whatever you would like. I’m sure it can be arranged.”
“How have you been feeling, Abigail? Are you over the early sickness?” Abigail was Penelope’s cousin and so, of course, Penelope felt perfectly comfortable asking such a personal question.
Sebastian placed a finger beneath Margaret’s chin and tipped her head back. She nearly gasped when he pressed firm lips to hers.
This kiss was different from those they’d exchanged in his chamber. And from the one on the cliff today. It was almost as though he was apologizing for her disappointment that George had not come. And then he moved his mouth to her jaw. His fingertip brushed across her cheek, oh, so gently. “I should have reminded you to get a hat. Does it hurt?” He whispered the words directly into her ear so that no one but her could hear.
