When they stopped in front of the house, the groom ran to the horses’ heads; Argyle jumped down and helped her off, holding her for a few seconds longer than necessary. She said, ‘Thank you for letting me drive, Argyle. I did enjoy it.’ She stole a glance at him and saw him smile down at her—he touched her cheek quickly with cold fingers. When he smiled like that, he had a dimple in his right cheek; she had never noticed it before. She turned and went straight up to her bedchamber to change.Sitting in her armchair for a few minutes before going down, after Flossie had left, carrying her outdoor clothes, she knew she was no longer afraid.
* * *
At luncheon her aunt made an appearance, so she and Alice had to sit with her and tell her of their doings, which both embellished for her benefit, trying to avoid each other’s eye for fear of getting the giggles. Later the aunt went up to rest, and the young people played parlour games. It was a rainy afternoon.
Everyone was in high spirits, and there was much laughter and banter. Argyle remained invisible all afternoon, and no one asked about him; it seemed there was a consensus his presence would have put a dampener on the general hilarity. They played Charades, and Conundrums, and chased each other round the furniture in a wild game of Blindman’s Buff. Felix went to the kitchen for the ingredients of Snapdragon, in which raisins had to be snatched out of a shallow bowl filled with flaming brandy, resulting in a number of slightly singed fingers. Then Alice suggested playing Riddles, saying, ‘There must be a book of them somewhere. Perhaps we should ask the housekeeper.’
Another girl said, ‘I think I have seen one, in the small bookroom off the main library, where the ladies of the household keep their books. I was looking for a trashy novel to read in bed.’
Marguerite had also visited the bookroom, which was furnished with a large sofa and comfortable armchairs, and shelves of all kinds of amusing reading material—herbals and bird books and copies ofThe Botanical MagazineandLa Belle Assemblée. She offered to fetch the book, thinking she might choose a novel for herself as well.
The main library was a huge and imposing room, lined floor to ceiling with leather-bound tomes, some behind glass; high ladders facilitated access to the top shelves. It was furnished with reading stands and tables, and deep leather armchairs. Light flooded the library from a row of tall windows down one side, framed by green velvet curtains. As Marguerite walked throughto get to the bookroom, she passed by an alcove where two men were absorbed in a game of chess. One of them was Argyle.
Hearing her footsteps, he lifted his eyes, saw her and nodded, but said nothing. The second man rose and smiled at her, bowing his head.
Marguerite said, ‘I beg your pardon, I did not wish to disturb you. I was only going to fetch a book.’ She went into the bookroom, found the book she was seeking almost at once—it was prominently placed on a small table—and retraced her steps through the library, keeping well away from the players. Annoyed, she thought, was it so difficult for him to smile, to say a few words? Only hours ago, they had spent time together as friends, more than friends; they had even kissed. She would never understand him. He had seemed almost annoyed with her for disturbing his concentration.
She could not have known, however, that shortly after the door had closed behind her, Argyle’s companion had said, making a move that captured his opponent’s queen, ‘Upon my word, Argyle, I have never seen you distracted by a woman before. You are letting me win the game.’
‘Not all women are the same, my friend.’ It was said easily and there was a smile on his lips.
‘Yes, I will admit she is a tasty armful. The French touch, would you say?’
‘Perhaps.’ Argyle bent his head to the board.
‘And has she captured your interest?’
‘Perhaps,’ Argyle repeated, again smiling a little.
* * *
When he went upstairs to change, Argyle allowed himself to feel cautiously hopeful. The morning had gone well. Should he have renewed his proposal while they were alone in the curricle? He had hesitated, wanting to be surer of her acceptance before he did so. However, he thought they were getting on better, although Marguerite still mostly called him ‘Your Grace’, or ‘sir’, rarely ‘Argyle’, and never ‘Thomas’. Just thinking about this annoyed him.
Why could she never do as she was asked? She must be the most stubborn, opinionated woman he had ever met. He would get her to call him Thomas if it was the last thing he did. He resented the fact that he was so obsessed with her that her simple appearance in the library had caused him to lose his game.
He smiled grimly and sank into the bath his valet had prepared for him, silencing the man with a glare when he complained about the difficulty of obtaining enough hot water. When Curtis had left, he gave a short bark of laughter—would he have been interested in a meek, compliant girl? No. He remembered the way she had kissed him in the curricle and felt his spirits rise—he had bribed the butler to seat Marguerite next to him at dinner.
* * *
If Marguerite was a little suspicious when she saw where she was seated, she was also secretly pleased and smiled at Argyle before sitting down. She did not mention their encounter in the library and neither did he. They talked little, but his knee touched hers under the table, and she found she did not want to move her leg. She hardly tasted what she ate—when he turned to say a few words to the person on his other side, she did the same, but later could not recall her neighbour’s name, nor what they had talked about. Across from her Felix Crampton kept sending her occasional glances and smiles. She responded, since she did not want to offend him, but she did not want to encourage him, either. She tried to avoid his glance as best she could.
Their host, the old earl, sat at one end of the table, holding forth about his racehorses and a valuable painting he had bought. His wife sat at the other end, having surrounded herself with the most attractive men amongst her guests. Both were exceedingly talkative, and the dinner took forever, since they spoke so much they quite forgot to eat. But for once Marguerite was not bored—she had let herself drift into a kind of daze. When they rose from the table Alice came to fetch her to join their usual group, and she and Argyle played cards at different tables.
Alice’s group had chosen a table apart from the others, so that their chatter and laughter did not disturb the more serious players. After a while, it was inevitable that their attention would turn to Marguerite.
‘You do seem to be the duke’s favourite girl, Marguerite.’
‘Yes, we never saw him taking anyone for a drive before.’
‘Did he kiss you?’
Marguerite felt her cheeks flame, but she managed a laugh, and tried to distract them.
‘Of course not! I was too busy driving his bays.’
‘You drove his bays! How daring!’
‘Yes, I told you I would like to do it.’
