Authors: Marriage Most Scandalous
“Not a’tall. I’ve been courted to distraction.”
“And none would do?”
“A few might have, but I suppose I’ve set my standards a bit high. The choice is mine, you see.
Were my father still here, he probably would have made some recommendations and I probably would have agreed with him. By having the choice to m’self, I find no need to hurry.”
“Then you’ve chosen to be an old maid?”
She gritted her teeth. The insults were piling up. “Really, Sebastian,” she said dryly, “you shouldn’t strive to be so charming.”
“Yes, I know. Bad habit.”
She almost laughed. But that would encourage him to make more outlandish remarks, so she restrained herself.
“As it happens, I’m still being courted,” she told him primly.
“Anyone I would know?”
“Possibly. Thomas Peermont, Viscount Ridgmore’s son, you might remember.”
“Little Tommy? He was still wearing knickers when I left. He can’t be old enough for you.” Her back got a little stiffer. “Not that age matters at this point, but he’s only a year younger than I am. And then there’s The Honorable Daniel Courtly, whom you probably don’t know.”
“Courted by a Courtly, how quaint.”
She glared at him, but continued, “He and his mother moved here only two years ago. They bought the old Merryweather cottage on the cliffs after Angus Merryweather moved to London to be closer to his grandchildren.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Just the two?”
“Two is quite enough, when I’m not really interested in either of them.”
“So you are determined to be an old maid. Might as well own up to it, Maggie.”
“If you must know, I do plan on going to London to broaden my choices. I just don’t intend to compete with a gaggle of giggling debutantes.”
“How do you intend to avoid that?”
“By attending a few choice parties and proposing to a man who suits me. In another year or two I will feel comfortable doing so.”
He raised a brow. “You aren’t joking, are you?”
“Not a’tall.”
“I think you’ve been on your own too long, Maggie. It’s quite addled your wits.” She smiled tightly. “My wits are just fine, thank you.”
“Then you haven’t realized that if it gets out, you’ll become a laughingstock?”
“And why would it get out?” she countered. “I assure you, I can be quite circumspect. Nor do I intend to propose to every man I meet.”
“Just one or two, hell, just one is all it will take. Consider. An earl’s daughter proposing marriage.
That’s too juicy not to spread around.”
“Unless the fellow takes me up on the offer, then it would be in his best interest to keep his mouth shut, wouldn’t it? You, sir, are much too negative.”
“No. I’ve just learned to view all aspects of a situation. Besides, you’re already going to have one mark against you as a divorced woman,” he pointed out. “Only second sons might overlook that stigma.” She sighed. “Even if it is, you overlook a prime motive.”
“Your lush body?”
She turned crimson, stood up, and threw her napkin down on top of her desert, which had just arrived. Her footman was blushing, too, and hurrying back out the door. Good God, she couldn’t believe Sebastian had said that, and with a servant in the room to hear it!
“You are, without a doubt, the most despicable man I have ever met. I was referring to the title that will pass to my husband’s son, much more incentive than a—a—”
“Lush body,” he reminded her.
Even more color shot to her cheeks. Without a thought, she picked up her napkin, smeared now with cream and whipped chocolate, and tossed it at his head. Bloody hell, she missed. But at least the chocolate and cream splattered across his forehead, she noticed, on her way out the door.
“Don’t run away mad, Maggie,” he called after her.
“Go to the devil, you odious man!”
Was that laughter she heard? No, just her imagination. She remembered that Sebastian Townshend had forgotten how to laugh.
A
BRISK AUTUMN WIND tugged at the skirt of Margaret’s riding habit as she walked to the stable. An avid horsewoman, she owned quite a few riding habits, one for each day of the week, and had had to restrain herself from buying even more. Edna had laid out the emerald green one for her today and attached white and green lace streamers to the top hat she wore with it.
She was quite fashionably clad, but there was no one around to appreciate it. She sighed. She’d overslept this morning. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night because she’d been so angry with Sebastian and appalled at her own behavior. She still couldn’t believe she’d tossed her good breeding out the door and thrown her dinner napkin at him. The man addled her, plain and simple.
When she’d gone downstairs this morning, the house had been quiet. Florence and Gussie had probably gone shopping in Edgeford to restock the pantry, now that she was home. A few pastries had been left in the dining room, and she’d grabbed two and wrapped them in a napkin, one for her and one for her mare Sweet Tooth.
Before she went to Europe, Daniel Courtly had been in the habit of joining her each morning on her ride. She supposed she ought to send word to him that she was home. She’d been gone so long, though, he might have started courting someone else in the neighborhood.
There were a number of ladies still available in their small social circle to whom he might have switched his attention. Actually, the circle wasn’t that small anymore. A prime location, close enough to London to make traveling there a short jaunt, but even closer to the coast and the cliffs that offered such magnificent views, the area surrounding Edgeford had received a moderate in-flux of new neighbors over the years who either built new homes or bought existing properties they could expand. And many of them followed Alberta Dorrien’s lead.
For a good fifteen years now, Alberta, with the esteemed title of dowager duchess, had been the social matriarch of the neighborhood, entertaining frequently, including not one but two grand balls each year that drew the ton from London. Margaret had missed Alberta’s summer ball this year while she was traveling in Europe. She’d met Daniel at one of Alberta’s earlier balls.
She sighed over Daniel. She had been selfish in continuing her friendship with him when she had no intention of marrying him. Although he was quite suitable for a husband, her feelings for him didn’t run in that direction. She liked him. She felt they were friends. Their humor was compatible. But he didn’t excite her. And so she didn’t encourage him, flirt, or otherwise lead him to believe she’d like their relationship to progress to the next stage, which was probably why he’d never made any serious overtures toward her.
Perhaps they were just friends and she had only imagined that he’d been courting her.
Ned, the head groomsman, led Sweet Tooth out of the stable as Margaret approached. She was surprised that she didn’t need to wait.
“You didn’t keep her saddled all this time, did you?” she asked, her tone slightly scolding.
“No, m’lady,” he assured her. “Edna sent word that you were coming down.”
“Did she?”
Margaret was distracted by her mare, who’d gotten the scent of her and ripped her reins from the groom’s hand to reach Margaret sooner. She was nearly butted to the ground by the mare’s affection.
“She’s really missed you,” Ned was saying. “She pined something terrible that first month you were gone. Barely ate. Tried to bite me every time I got near her. I finally had to bribe her with sweets to behave.”
Margaret had to do the same, and quickly offered Sweet Tooth both pastries to get her to settle down. It helped only marginally. The mare was scolding her and greeting her in her own unique way.
“I’d suggest you ride her immediately,” Ned said. “She’s too excited by your return to stay still.
Ian will only be a moment. He’s saddling up now.”
Another of the White Oaks’ grooms, Ian was her regular escort, which was necessary because Daniel usually accompanied her on her rides. “I’ll just take a quick turn about the grounds to get the wind out of her, and come back for Ian.”
“A good idea,” Ned agreed and offered Margaret a heft up, which she accepted.
Goodness, she was barely in the saddle when Sweet Tooth took off at a gallop. She loved her horse, but sometimes the mare showed her Thoroughbred breeding too much. She came from a line of prominent racers, so prominent that Margaret was contacted several times a year by breeders who wanted to bring their best studs to the mare. She refused them all. She wasn’t going to let her favorite mount become too fat to ride.
She lost her hat on that brief race around the house. At least she didn’t lose her perch. It had been close. Sweet Tooth had gone too long without a good ride. Retrieving the hat, but not bothering to attempt to place it back on her head at the right angle, she swung by the front of the house to drop it off before she collected Ian. And got detained.
Daniel was there at her front door knocking when she rode up. His smile was nearly blinding when he saw her.
“Good God, Maggie, I was beginning to think you were never coming home!” She blushed as she dismounted. Daniel never called her Maggie. Only the people who’d known her for most of her life did. And she couldn’t imagine how he’d picked up on her childhood name when she couldn’t recall even a single time he’d heard her called that. Which meant he was giving her what he thought was a personal nickname, which was too personal for their relationship. Goodness, what could he have been thinking while she was gone?
Daniel Courtly was a fine-looking man. Blond, blue eyed, with a tall, strapping body. He was quite handsome, actually, more so than she recalled. Perhaps it was the new mustache that he hadn’t sported previously. It gave him a somewhat dashing, rakish air.
She smiled. “It’s good to see you, Daniel. How did you know I was home?”
“Found out early this morning when I came by. I’ve been in the habit of stopping by a few times each week just to check if you’d returned. I never expected you to be gone so long!”
“Neither did—”
She didn’t get to finish, because she had the breath knocked out of her by his unexpected and highly improper bear hug. A rough one, too. First the horse, now this. So much mauling in one morning was a bit much!
And then she heard the door to the house open, and the most ominous voice said, “I hope you have an innocent reason to be hugging my wife.”
Daniel released her instantly. She didn’t manage to catch her breath because she lost it again when she saw Sebastian standing on the doorstep, looking as ominous as he’d sounded. She was reminded of how menacing he’d looked when she’d first met him. This was much worse. There was murder in his bright golden eyes, in fact, his very tone had implied that murder would be done if an innocent reason wasn’t forthcoming.
Daniel must have drawn the same conclusion, but he was too shocked to answer. He simply stared incredulously at Sebastian as he blushed profusely. Margaret’s cheeks were red as well, but with anger. When had they decided that they were going to go the “fake” marriage route? Had she missed something? She could have sworn he’d said he was going to do some investigating before they determined whether it would be necessary to pretend they were married. And, really, shouldn’t the final decision have been hers?
“Need help?” Sebastian said into the painful silence, as he slowly walked toward them.
“Childhood acquaintance? Old friend of the family? Relative I don’t know about?” Daniel snapped out of it and quickly replied, “Margaret and I are old friends—well, not so old, only a few years. But I was merely welcoming her home.”
“Innocent—I suppose,” Sebastian allowed as he crossed his arms over his chest, but added, “As a precautionary measure, though, you’ll keep your hands to yourself henceforth. It’s nothing personal, old chap. I’m merely appalled to discover that I make a jealous husband.” Put that way, Daniel relaxed slightly. He nodded and even courteously extended a hand for introductions. “I’m Daniel Courtly. And you are?”
Sebastian turned his back on them and walked back into the house without answering. So rude!
And he’d left Margaret there to do the lying. Good God, she hoped she wouldn’t blunder it. She wasn’t exactly adept at telling falsehoods.
“I’m sorry, Daniel. His behavior is inexcusable. I’m as appalled as he is to learn of his jealous nature. Never witnessed it before.”
“You’ve married,” was all he said, the shocked expression returning to his face. “I don’t believe it.”
The hurt in his tone made Margaret distinctly uncomfortable. “I find it hard to believe m’self,” she assured him. “I didn’t leave here with the intention of looking for a husband in Europe. It was love at first sight, yes, indeed, that’s exactly what it was. Quite unexpected.”
“But he’s not foreign. He’s English. Who is he?”
“Henry Raven.”
“Raven? I’m not familiar with that name. Where is he from? London?” She blushed. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You must be joking.”
“No. Let’s leave it at that, please. You’ll find out more about him soon enough.”
“I see—no, I bloody well don’t,” he said, angrily now. The hurt look on Daniel’s face made her feel so guilty, when she really had nothing to feel guilty about, well, other than lying about being married.
She could deal much better with his anger.
“I’m devastated if you haven’t guessed,” he fumed. “I thought—obviously I thought wrong.
Bloody hell, I don’t even like to ride! I merely took up the habit to be with you.” She was about to remind him that their relationship hadn’t progressed far enough to warrant his heated reaction, when he up and left. He even shot her a look of disgust as he mounted his horse and rode off.
Margaret sighed. That had been so unpleasant, and so unnecessary. Blast Sebastian! What could he have been thinking to announce their “marriage” in such a rude way? The news was going to spread now. The visitors would start arriving that very day to wish them well and meet her new husband. And what the devil was she supposed to tell them? Yes, I’ve married. No, you can’t meet my husband, go away. Bloody hell. She was afraid this was going to cause quite a scandal.