“What if they’re all girls?”
“Then we’d have to have five, since I do need an heir and a spare.”
“I think I’d feel the same about girls.”
He knit his brow. “How do you mean?”
“I’d like to have at least one and since she would no doubt be lonely with only brothers for company, we probably ought to have two.”
“Then we agree on at least two boys and two girls?”
“I suppose so,” Margaret said.
“And what about raising them? I only ask because I think I’d like to take more of an interest in my children than my own parents did.” When she glanced at him, he explained, “As much as I loved my governess, I don’t think I should have felt a stronger attachment to her than I’ve ever felt toward my father or mother. Do you?”
“No. If we are putting children into the world, then they’re our responsibility, not someone else’s. So while I do think nannies and governesses might be helpful, we mustn’t allow them to replace us.”
“Then we are of like minds, for which I am much relieved.” He offered his arm to escort her back to the horses. As they went, Margaret pondered the progress they’d made with each other this morning. It was nothing short of remarkable, considering what her position had been only two days prior. Now rather than wishing her stay at Roxley Manor would soon be over so she could leave, she dreaded her coming departure and the separation it would cause.
TWO WEEKS. THAT WAS how long it had been since George had last seen Margaret. During the remainder of her stay at Roxley Manor, they’d picnicked with their parents, enjoyed several chaperoned walks, and played a few games of shuttlecock and pall mall, which had provided him with an interesting insight to her competitive streak. He smiled at the memory. They’d also managed to take an additional unchaperoned ride back to the brook. The privacy had allowed him to steal more kisses and bask in her wonderful company without the threat of reprimand or repercussion.
He missed that.
He missed her. More than he would have expected.
But he was back in London now and would see her again soon.
After taking a quick bath to clean up after his travels, he dressed and departed Roxley House. The walk to Margaret’s home wasn’t long and having spent the last four days in a saddle, he rather relished the experience. Not the air though. He sniffed and immediately scrunched his nose while turning toward Cavendish Square.
“Please wait here while I see if Miss Hollyoak is at home,” the butler informed George when he arrived.
George fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course she was at home. If she weren’t, the butler would have said so without second thought. He straightened the sleeves of his jacket and glanced around the foyer. If he wasn’t mistaken, that looked like an El Greco painting on the wall. The style was so unique even he, with his limited knowledge of art, was able to recognize it.
Approaching footsteps caused him to turn. And frown. He studied Shrewsberry as he entered the foyer. The earl’s expression showed hints of irritation, until he spotted George. “Townsbridge, what an excellent surprise.”
George wasn’t sure why it would be. The two had never been friends. In fact, George couldn’t recall the last time they’d spoken. Determined to be polite, he gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Good to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Too long, I’d say.” Shrewsberry tilted his head. “I hope you’re not here on account of Miss Hollyoak.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well...” Shrewsberry chuckled. “I’ve been courting her for a while now. It won’t be long before we reach an understanding. No sense in letting you suffer rejection. Only fair to warn you, I say.”
George stared at the earl for a lengthy moment while all sorts of contradicting thoughts tumbled through his brain. Deciding not to reveal the contents of his heart, he finally shook his head. “As much as I appreciate your consideration, I’m here for a different reason.”
The butler returned before George had finished speaking. “Your hat and gloves, Lord Shrewsbury.”
Shrewsbury thanked the butler with a tight smile, then looked at George. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, what with the Season and all.”
“Undoubtedly,” George murmured.
Shrewsbury left and the butler addressed George. “Miss Hollyoak is ready to see you, sir. This way please.”
George followed the man with every intention of figuring out what was going on. He certainly wouldn’t take Shrewsbury at his word without speaking to Margaret first.
When he entered the parlor she was standing by the window, looking out at the greenery beyond. She turned when the butler announced George, and the light filling her eyes immediately squashed all potential concern.
She was his. Not Shrewsbury’s or anyone else’s.
“Thank you, Rossling. If you could please ask one of the maids to bring a fresh pot of tea, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course, miss.”
The butler departed, a pause followed, and then Margaret rushed into George’s arms. “I’ve missed you terribly, you know.”
He kissed her while playing close attention to every sound. As soon as he heard the approaching footsteps, he stepped back. “Shall we sit?”
“Oh. Of course.” Margaret gave him a sly smile while the maid who’d just entered replaced the tray on the table in front of the settee with a new one and departed. Once seated, Margaret poured a cup for each of them.
“I met Shrewsberry when I arrived,” George said. He picked up one of the biscuits Margaret offered and took a bite. “Apparently, he believes he’s courting you.”
Margaret sighed and rolled her eyes. “He’s impossible to deal with - hasn’t left me alone since he learned I was back in Town. Papa did have a word with him last week, but Shrewsberry is relentless. He keeps on showing up. I just informed him myself that I do not want to invite his attentions.”
George chuckled. “As I recall, he was your preferred candidate for husband not too long ago.”
“But then I met you.”
“Ah, I see. My charm and good looks were such, no other man could compare.”
She gave him a pensive look. “Do you know, that’s actually fairly accurate.”
“Are you trying to make me forget that you didn’t care for me in the least to begin with?”
“I made a mistake. Can we please move past it?”
“Certainly.”
A crease appeared on her brow. “You’re not the only person I’ve misjudged lately. As it turns out, I was so delighted by Shrewsberry’s title, his impeccable manner, that blinding smile of his, and his perfect comportment, I failed to realize we don’t have anything in common. But it was jarringly obvious when I returned from my visit with you. The man has no opinion on anything. When I asked him if he liked to ride, he asked me if I did, and when I told him I did, he said if that were the case then he did as well. It was as if he was trying to win me over with endless agreeability, only it frustrated me to no end. I want a partner I can spar with, exchange different views with, not one who will always tell me I’m right.”