She considered him young and inexperienced, as did most who knew him.
She pushed herself up higher on her elbows. “I did not believe that I was. It is not common knowledge, then?”
“It isn’t something my family discusses much.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not asking for sympathy, and no, I do not wish to talk about it. But I have my reasons for not marrying and they aren’t simply because I wish to swive my way around the globe first.” It had bothered him from the onset that she’d considered him too young. Too young for what, exactly?
“How old were you?”
“Eight and ten.”
“And your bride?”
“Bethany was six and ten.”
“What was she like?”
“She was sweet. Not beautiful but pretty and kind. I’d been in love with her since the moment we met, when my father presented me to her when I was twelve. And she felt the same. Both of us were ecstatic to finally marry.” He hadn’t allowed himself these memories for some time now.
His love for Bethany had been innocent—naïve. But she had also been his wife. Staring at Margaret now, he resisted the urge to think of her in terms of love or marriage. To fall for her could ruin everything.
As it was, it was going to be damned impossible to forget her. He swallowed hard, and his hands slowed as they massaged her foot.
“Ah,” she broke into his thoughts. “you did the proper thing. Not only did you marry the lady your father chose for you, but you loved her. I will not ask what happened. You are no longer married, and I can only assume that some horrid tragedy occurred.” She stared into her own glass. “Tragedy. Tra. Je. Deeeee. Such a pretty little word to gloss over the stuff of nightmares.”
“Indeed.”
“It is because you have loved and lost that you will never marry? Interesting. I too, have loved and lost, and yet I wanted just the opposite. I wanted to reach for all of it a second time. I suppose it was greedy of me, a woman who has now entered her fourth decade.” She tilted her head back. “I am ancient.”
“A fossil, most undeniably.” Sebastian realized his hand had drifted up from her delicate feet to caress and explore her slim ankles and calves.
She closed her eyes and slid her body so that he could access her legs more easily. “That feels wonderful. Nobody touches you when you’re a widow. Did you know that? I imagine it’s somewhat different as a man. A man can go about doing all sorts of touching, but a woman must wait until a man feels so inclined. Last Christmas, I thought for a while that a very fine gentleman wanted to marry me. I did not love him, but I could have.”
There were likely more men than she realized who desired her and not because of her financial assets. “Who?”
“Roman Spencer, Lord Darlington, the heir to the Earl of Ravensdale.”
Sebastian searched his memory. “Rome Spencer. Didn’t he marry a maid?”
Margaret gathered herself enough to frown at him from beneath her lashes. “Rose was not a maid. She was acting as my companion at the time.”
He couldn’t help smiling at her defense of the young woman. Such a stunt was so very like her. The proper and dignified lady secretly smuggling a servant into a ball. Or, not a servant, as she insisted. Her skin was warm beneath his hands. He loved touching her intimately and then later watching her walk around a room with her back stiff, nodding and greeting everyone in that prim manner of hers.
“Is this that scandal you were mired in last spring?” His mother had mentioned something to the effect. He’d nearly forgotten. “Did you break his heart?”
“Hardly. Before I could make a cake of myself, I realized he was in love with Rose—Miss Waring at the time. I decided to be their matchmaker. I brought her along with me to the Willoughby Ball, presented her as my friend, and just when everything was going so well, Lady Riverton ruined everything.”
“But you did not love Darlington?” The thought that she did was a disquieting one.
“No. I did not love him. But it would have been nice…” She frowned but then a smile lit her eyes again. “All ended well enough; Rose and Darlington are happily married now.” She hiccupped. “What was I saying? Where was I going with all of this? Oh, doing the proper thing.”
Before he could get a word in, she continued, “So, then I met your uncle, Mr. George Albert Ludwig Kirkley. Handsome, cultured, charming. No title, which was perfectly fine with me, and seemingly in search of a wife. What could go wrong? I would have my family, and he would have an heir. Silly me, and, of course, his pockets would be slightly less empty.”
Sebastian swallowed hard. So, she had known George’s motivation all along. She had not believed his uncle’s assertion that he wished only for warm companionship.
“It was foolish of me. To think that I would be happy with such a man. Proper or not, I would have grown to hate him. I would have grown to hate myself. But I’m going to do things differently now. Do you want to know what I’ve decided, Sebastian?” She lifted her glass as though making a toast.
