“You saw Hart today?” Meg smoothed a hand over her skirts, feigning nonchalance.
Sarah winced. “He came over to speak to Christian this morning. On his way out Hart asked where I’d be going tonight and when I told him the Hartleys’, he said he planned to go, too.”
Meg’s brow remained furrowed. “Why would he go there? He prefers his club and his gaming hells.”
“It is curious,” Sarah agreed. “You didn’t tell him you’d be there, did you?”
Meg shook her head. “I didn’t even know I would be there until after he left.”
The rest of the way to the party, Meg stared out the coach window into the darkness. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Why would he want to attend the Hartleys’ party? Would he be angry with her? Would he ignore her? Would he even notice her? God, she’d rather he was angry with her than distant.
The coach pulled to a stop in front of the Hartleys’ town house. Sarah and Meg alighted and Lord Berkeley escorted them inside. Meg stayed by Sarah’s side and did her best to make a show of talking and laughing with Sarah and Christian’s friends. Anyone watching her would have thought she was having a lovely time.
But her eyes darted around the ballroom, looking for her husband. She’d been there the better part of an hour with no sign of him. Perhaps Sarah had been mistaken. Perhaps Hart had changed his mind. Perhaps he’d come and gone already.
Yet another hour passed before Lady Cranberrystopped Meg near the refreshment table. “Ah, Lady Highgate. I saw your husband out on the veranda. I congratulated him but I’ve yet to offer you my best wishes on your marriage.”
“Th… thank… you,” Meg managed. She wasn’t used to people calling her Lady Highgate, let alone speaking to her.
Lady Cranberry moved off into the crowd and Meg took a deep breath. The veranda? That’s where he’d been all this time. Why did she have a sinking, awful feeling he wasn’t alone?
Meg took her time sauntering toward the veranda. She didn’t want Lady Cranberry, one of theton’s biggest gossips, to see her fly off in search of her husband like a jealous fishwife. Instead, Meg meandered in that general direction, greeting people and stopping for strategic conversations with friends of Lucy’s or Sarah’s, all the while trying to tamp down her panic as she speculated about who Hart was with on the veranda.
When she finally reached the French doors that led outside, Meg took a deep breath and peeked out. The veranda appeared to be empty, but she couldn’t see the entire space. She pushed open the double doors and walked out into the soft night air. Taking another deep breath, she turned the corner to see the rest of the space and sucked in her breath. Hart was there, tall and handsome, dressed in fine black trousers with a black coat and expertly tied white cravat. As Meg suspected, he wasn’t alone. He towered over a gorgeous brunette who wore a sparkling silver gown. The lady laughed at something Hart said. She turned her head and Meg caught a glimpse of her.
Lady Maria Tempest.
As Meg watched wide-eyed, Lady Maria lifted her hand and brushed the hair away from Hart’s forehead. It was a tender gesture… an intimate one.
Meg hadn’t even realized she gasped until Hart and Lady Maria turned to look at her.
“Meg,” Hart said. He didn’t even have the grace to look guilty. He looked more bothered at the interruption than guilty. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for myhusband,” Meg ground out. She crossed her arms over her chest, her gloved fingers digging into the opposite elbows.
“Is this your wife, darling?” Lady Maria said in a sultry voice. “She’s absolutely adorable.”
Meg had had enough. She’d tried to tell him the truth. Given him her body. Nearly admitted she loved him. He was a fool. Worse than a fool. He was an arse, a scoundrel, arogue. He could have his lover. Meg was through with him.
She eyed them both up and down. “My apologies for interrupting.” She picked up her skirts, turned on her heel, and stalked away.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The next day Lord Berkeley’s coach set out from London, jostling its way north toward Christian’s estate in Northumbria. Sarah and Meg were ensconced inside.
“You think I shouldn’t leave, don’t you?” Meg asked. “You think I’m being a coward.”
Sarah tugged at her glove and pressed her lips together. “On the contrary, I only wonder why it took you so long. My brother is being a world-class ass and doesn’t deserve you. I hate to say it, but this is what I was afraid of, Meggie.”
Meg pressed her gloved hand to her forehead and leaned against the velvet-tufted seat. “I have only myself to blame. It is what I wanted. Or at least what I thought I wanted. Now I must live with it.”
Sarah leaned over and patted Meg’s knee. “We shall stay at Berkeley Hall as long as we choose. Don’t worry about a thing. Mrs. Hamilton will take excellent care of us,” Sarah finished with a nod.
“Do you think he spent the night with her last night?” Meg asked with a groan. “No. I don’t want to know.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Who? Lady Maria?”
“Yes,” Meg murmured. “I hate myself for caring.”
