She stared out the terrace door and watched as George, Lord Riverton, and a few other gentlemen stood outside in the dark, breathing in the foul tobacco smoke.
What had happened to make George change his behavior so suddenly? Margaret raised a shaking hand to her forehead. All of these unanswered questions had set her head pounding. Likely she was being paranoid, but his inconsistencies, if nothing else, ought to have given her pause.
Penelope chose that moment to drop onto the settee beside her. “You seem preoccupied this evening,” she said and then leaned in closer to whisper, “Is it because you are going to break things off with Mr. Kirkley?”
Margaret frowned at her sister-in-law.
“Hugh told me that you might.” Penelope flicked her emerald gaze toward the terrace, quite unapologetic.
It was no use trying to keep secrets from either Hugh or Penelope. They might as well be sharing the same brain.
“I need to—” Margaret bit her lip. “I admit to having a few… qualms.”
“Did those qualms arrive before or after you began disappearing alone with his yummy nephew?”
Margaret stiffened. “Lord Rockingham has become a friend to me.” She couldn’t allow Penelope to know anything of how she’d been carrying on with Sebastian. Good God, because then, of course, Hugh would know as well. She frowned. “George is amenable to everything I want. He assured me this afternoon.”
“So, children, then?”
“Yes.” Margaret was grateful no one was sitting within earshot of their conversation.
“And he is able…?”
Margaret inhaled. And then it hit her. She did nottrust him. There was no specific reason in particular, but something was causing her to feel on edge and she’d learned long ago to listen to her instincts. “I am going to cry off. I am terribly sorry, Penelope, if my doing so brings scandal to your house party, but I cannot go ahead with it.” A gigantic weight seemed to lift off her chest as she spoke the words.
Perhaps she was not destined for motherhood. She forced the thought away, knowing she’d have plenty of time to mourn this later.
Penelope nodded. “Hugh will be relieved.” And then she waved a hand through the air. “And, good Lord. Do you really think I am concerned with something like that? After everything I have done?”
Margaret shook her head with a grim smile. Her sister-in-law had most definitely nearly created one of the greatest scandals of their generation. If the truth had ever gotten out…
“You will tell him tonight?”
At this question, the debacle with the ring, which she’d been able to forget about for three seconds, came rushing back to heighten her anxieties again. “I’ve lost it.”
Penelope’s green eyes widened. “You’ve lost what?”
“The ring. That dratted priceless ring he jammed onto my finger.”
“Where?”
“If I knew the answer to that then I wouldn’t have lost it, now would I?” But perhaps that wasn’t what Penelope had asked her. “If Lord Rockingham is not in possession of it, then it is somewhere between here and the lake.”
“Why would Lord Rockingham have it?” Penelope’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“He got it off—It was stuck—the ring.” Margaret removed her glove and held out her hand where her finger still showed signs of redness and swelling from wearing the ring for the past two days. “After I returned to my chamber this evening, I realized that I had… left it on the ground. I am hoping he has it, but he has disappeared for the evening, and I cannot break off my engagement without returning that ring, now can I?” Her voice raised and she realized she was beginning to sound hysterical.
She’d experienced all sorts of emotional upheaval over the course of one day and it was beginning to show in her lack of patience. At least Penelope was not easily offended.
“Well, you cannot. You’ll need to find it,” Penelope agreed. “I’ve never seen a stone quite so large as the one on that ring. This is bad.”
Margaret shuddered and then drew on her last reserves of calm in order to keep herself from bursting into tears. “Don’t you think I know that? I will ask Lord Rockingham. He has to have it. If he does not… well, then. I will search for it until I find it.”
“Do you have any idea of where it might be? I mean a more precise idea than a path that is at least three miles long and several hundred yards wide in places?”
Margaret drew in a steadying breath. Because, yes, she did. It was likely she would not ever forget the idyllic spot anytime in the near future. “I will check with Rockingham first. And if he does not have it, I will spend all my waking hours there until it’s found.”
* * *
