Ridiculous.
Sebastian caught her eye. Almost as though he could read her mind, he leaned into her again, his scent and warmth nearly her undoing. “Knock on my chamber door when you’re ready to leave tomorrow morning. We will find that blasted ring if I have to spend the entire day raking the hill.” Hidden in her skirts, his fingertips stroked her leg again. “As for the other: you know where to find me when you change your mind.” His whispering drew a frown from the lady standing watching them, but Margaret could only nod.
Would it be enough? Could it ever be enough?
18
Musical Chambers
Margaret did not sleep well that night and so when the sky in the east began to lighten, she was already dressed and ready to walk up to the meadow again. She resisted the urge to wear one of her prettier day dresses but couldn’t help dabbing on some of the perfume Penelope had left in her chamber. Since the sun hadn’t actually risen yet, she did not don her bonnet but would bring it along for later.
At least none of the other guests would be up and about at this hour. They would sleep in for several more hours yet, possibly until noon.
She silently closed her door behind her and made her way, once again, to Sebastian’s chamber. It was not proper for a lady to go to a gentleman’s room and yet this was her third occasion to do just that.
She felt far too comfortable doing so—far too comfortable for her own good.
Just before rounding the last corner, however, a bloodcurdling scream nearly had her jumping out of her skin.
“You scoundrel! What is my daughter doing in your bed!”
Margaret peeked around in time to catch sight of Mrs. Drake entering Lord Rockingham’s chamber with another middle-aged lady—was that Mrs. Redcliffe?—behind her.
Miss Drake was in Sebastian’s bed? Margaret’s stomach lurched, and she wanted to run back to her room and cry, and yet her feet refused to obey.
Hugh, who must have overheard the scream and imagined nothing less than a murder had been committed, rushed past Margaret, looking seriously annoyed.
“Susannah! What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Drake’s voice carried loudly—too loudly. And her words sounded almost as though they’d been rehearsed.
Margaret slumped against the wall. This was why the girl had been so confident with Mrs. Spencer. She’d compromised him.
Sebastian had been trapped.
“What’s happening?” Penelope snuck up behind her. And then, upon hearing the familiar voices coming from the open chamber door, her eyes widened. “What is Mrs. Drake doing in Mr. Kirkley’s room?”
“But it isn’t Mr. Kirkley’s room,” Margaret corrected, her heart aching too much to contemplate in that moment. “It’s Lord Rockingham’s.”
Penelope was shaking her head though. “No. I switched them back again yesterday.”
“Mr. Kirkley! Susannah Drake!” A loud cry was followed by a thump. Had Mrs. Drake fainted?”
“Come with me.” Penelope grasped Margaret’s hand and dragged her to Sebastian’s chamber. What on earth was going on?
They entered the room to see Mrs. Drake laying on the floor with Mrs. Redcliffe holding smelling salts beneath her nose and Hugh staring at Penelope, seemingly at a total loss.
And in the bed, wrapped in nothing more than a sheet, Miss Drake was staring at the gentleman beside her with a shocked look in her eyes. “Mr. Kirkley?” she uttered, horrified.
“George?” Margaret blinked as her eyes darted from his naked, hair-covered chest to Miss Drake’s’ flawless young skin. And then back again.
“Penelope, assist Miss Drake to her own chamber, will you?” Hugh had finally decided upon a course of action. “And, Kirkley, I expect you to dress and meet me in my study in exactly fifteen minutes.” Hugh’s voice sounded far less polite when he spoke to the man who had promised himself to his sister. Without another word, he spun around on his heel.
Mrs. Drake was sitting up on the floor now, and he paused only long enough to address her. “I apologize that a guest in my house has harmed your daughter. Since Mr. Drake is not present to defend her honor, as your host, I will take on that responsibility myself. If you will present yourself at my study later this morning, Madam, we can discuss this matter until an acceptable resolution is reached.”
Mrs. Drake looked as though she might become ill at any moment as Mrs. Redcliffe assisted her to her feet.
Margaret rushed forward, unable to meet George’s eyes, and, locating the young woman’s dressing gown, handed it to Penelope who aided Miss Drake into it.
“But I thought…” the girl muttered. “Mama, you said…”
