Chapter 6
“More tea with your scone, Marguerite?”
She started, once again finding herself staring absently out the window at the lovely spring morning. “No…no, thank you, Lindsay.”
Well, not so absently, Marguerite amended as Lindsay smiled at her and then went back to feeding Justin. As blond and blue-eyed as his parents, the chubby cherub of a little boy opened his mouth eagerly for another spoonful of porridge while Marguerite glanced out the window again.
It was ridiculous how she could not get Walker Burke out of her mind! The bright sunny day couldn’t be more beautiful, the trees budding, the fragrant scent of lilacs wafting into the first floor of the town house…and all she could think of was him bending down to kiss Lady Belinda’s gloved hand. Well, she hoped he’d tripped while the two of them were dancing and stomped on that impossibly lovely woman’s satin-slippered feet!
“Hmm, what shall we do today to amuse ourselves now that it’s just the two of us?” Lindsay began, her fair brow furrowing. “Corie wouldn’t want us to sit here wondering about what’s happening in Porthleven. I know they’ll send a message as soon as they have news to share.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will,” Marguerite offered, though in truth she’d thought of no more amusement than fetching her sketchbook and going outside into the rose garden behind the house.
She loved to draw, and it was the only pastime that helped take her mind off whatever might be troubling her. Why, she’d filled up a half dozen sketchbooks since her last foray into London and now with what had happened last night, her fingers were itching to set pencil to paper!
“No ideas?” Lindsay pressed gently, bending down to kiss her son’s golden curls. Justin giggled and reached up to pat his mother’s face, which made her laugh, too. “How about we take the carriage out for a ride in the park? We could stop for a late luncheon somewhere and perhaps visit a dressmaker. One can never have too many gowns during the Season—”
“The park, perhaps, but I won’t need any more gowns because I’m not going to any more balls or assemblies—no, not a one!”
Marguerite had blurted her pronouncement so forcefully that Justin looked startled and Lindsay appeared surprised, too. In the next instant the youngster scrunched up his face and let out a wail, which made Lindsay jump up from her chair while the plump nanny, Mrs. Bell, hurried into the dining room.
“Now, now, what’s amiss with my sweet little laddie?” the older Scotswoman said, clucking her tongue.
“Oh dear, Lindsay, I’m so sorry,” Marguerite murmured, though Justin’s cries were quickly shushed as Lindsay picked him up and hugged him, and then handed him to Mrs. Bell. Only when the child had been carried from the room did Lindsay turn and retake her seat in a swish of sprigged muslin and lace.
Yet she said nothing for a long moment, studying Marguerite, until a radiant smile lit her face. “I knew it, I just knew it! You do like him, don’t you?”
Marguerite gaped at her, something telling her she knew exactly who Lindsay was referring to even as she lifted her chin. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Of course you do, Marguerite Easton! I can read you almost as well as Corie—and I believe our Walker Burke has turned your head!”
“Our? Not mine, certainly,” Marguerite huffed, though Lindsay couldn’t have appeared more delighted. She rose from the chair and began to pace alongside the dining table, talking more to herself than Marguerite.
“I wouldn’t force you to attend another ball, of course not, so there must be other ways for the two of you to see each other—”
“Seehim? I never want to see that…that rogue again!”
Now Lindsay stopped dead in her tracks and clapped her hands with delight. “Oh my, you are taken with him, aren’t you?” She came around the table suddenly to take the chair next to Marguerite’s and leaned forward to say earnestly, “He’s no rogue, Marguerite, truly…but what else was he to do than to dance with Lady Belinda? He would have insulted her in front of everyone, including Prince George—but I believe Walker only had eyes for you last night—”
“Hardly! As soon as she arrived, he couldn’t take his eyes from her. And here for three years I’d thought him the man of my dreams…or that he might be—” Marguerite abruptly fell silent, horrified that she’d revealed the precious secret she’d held so closely in her heart, while Lindsay sat back in her chair to stare at her.
Her eyes wide, her mouth dropped open…until Lindsay’s lips curved into a delighted smile and she gave a triumphant laugh.
“Oh, Marguerite, I knew my instincts were right! Of course he’s the man of your dreams! How could he not be? So strikingly handsome, and so brave, too! He came to your rescue that night in Roscoff, didn’t he? Walker and Jared and their crew from theVengeance.” Lindsay shook her head as if still stunned by Marguerite’s revelation, and then rushed on. “Of course I didn’t know Jared then, but I’ve heard the tale from Corie. So exciting, too—well, and terribly upsetting, I’m sure. But you and your sisters were rescued and by who, of all people? My future husband and the man you’ve dreamed about since that night. Walker Burke!”
Her head spinning from Lindsay’s breathless recounting, Marguerite hadn’t noticed a footman now stood at the doorway until the young man cleared his throat.
“Lady Dovercourt, you have a visitor. He’s waiting in the drawing room. Lord Summerlin—”
