And she had known. Of course, she had known that he did not see her that way or that he had any desire whatsoever to attach himself to any one woman permanently. She was a dalliance, nothing more. And they were friends.
Friends!
“Your ring, you were able to remove it!” Esther exclaimed. Margaret glanced down at her finger and pictured it with a ribbon spiraling the length of it, masculine hands carefully unwinding the silk in a way that removed the ring painlessly.
At least her finger was free now, even if she herself, had not broken the engagement off.
And then she blinked rapidly. What had she done with it? The ring!
She’d retrieved her bonnet from the ground—after—but nothing more. Had Sebastian put it into his pocket after he’d removed it from her hand? He must have.
“Forest or the violet, My Lady?”
“Excuse me?”
“Which gown would you prefer?” Esther held one in each hand. It didn’t matter. The color of her gown, dear God! Where was the ring?
“The violet,” she mumbled. She needed to speak with Sebastian. She needed to get the ring back. If he had it, that was. How could she break her engagement if she couldn’t give back the ring? It was a family heirloom. Black crept around the edges of her vision.
She needed to find Sebastian and speak with him!
“And gloves.” She would wear her gloves all evening long. Dear lord, he had to have it. Surely, they hadn’t left it sitting in the grass?
Margaret resisted Esther’s fussing, insisting on a simple chignon and then put on her slippers and left her chamber hastily. No way could she sit having her hair pinned and curled all the while not knowing if the ring was safe or not!
Sebastian was not in the withdrawing room having drinks and socializing nor did he appear for dinner either. Margaret wanted to strangle him but also would have likely kissed him if he would only appear and hand over the ring.
Where was he tonight? Of all nights?
She could hardly concentrate on the conversation around her.
And naturally, George had turned out to be particularly attentive this evening. He’d sat beside her throughout the meal, asking her about her likes and discussing a particular opera performance he thought she might enjoy and had not left her side once the men rejoined the women after taking their port.
“I’m eagerly anticipating escorting a wife about town next spring. I shall be the envy of London, the luckiest of men.” And he did not keep the respectable distance between them that he had before. In fact, he sat on the settee directly beside her, his thigh touching hers.
Margaret could hardly think straight. The diamond had been larger than any stone she’d ever owned, not to mention the rubies that surrounded it. She would not be able to relax until she knew Sebastian had it in his possession.
She managed a smile. “Indeed.” He was watching her curiously, anxiously almost. This afternoon, he had asked her to return to London with him rather than remain at Land’s End for the holidays. Would he be so inclined even if she did not break off their betrothal, if she were to tell him that she’d lost his ancestor’s ring?
It was no wonder she’d forgotten all about it. After Sebastian had lain beside her, his hand… Dear Lord. She could hardly keep herself from dashing from the room to go in search of it.
She forced herself to steady her breathing and focus on George. “Your nephew, it seems, has disappointed all the young misses with his absence this evening. I do hope he has not taken ill?” Margaret sipped from the glass of madeira George had brought to her and did her best to sound as though she cared not at all what his roguish nephew was up to.
“He went into the village, I believe. I think all of this is rather dull for a boy such as my nephew.” George laughed and then reached into his jacket and pulled out a small leather packet along with his handkerchief. He quickly stuffed it back into the coat and frowned. “I must have left my snuff in my chamber.”
The village? Why did young men visit unsophisticated villages if not to find entertainment at the local tavern? Of course, he’d only satisfiedherthat afternoon. Margaret was not so naïve as to have not realized that he might have been left wanting.
His heart sank. She was not this person, was she?
She’d heard of some ladies of thetonwho had entered into relationships with younger men. After providing their husbands with heirs, they were quite free to pursue their own entertainment, so long as they acted discreetly.
Was that what Sebastian thought she was doing? But he’d told her she ought not to marry George.
Which she didn’t intend to do… if she could only get her hands on that dratted ring!
“Would you mind, my dear, if I joined a few of the other gentlemen outside to take a puff or two?” He held a cigar between his fingertips.
Margaret shook her head vaguely. Why did George suddenly have the urge that they should live in one another’s pockets? Did he think that it was what she expected?
