Could such emotion be sustained, or would it quickly burn itself out and leave nothing but ashes in the end? It was a frightening prospect. Also, a moot one.
“I do not wish to be alone for the rest of my life. Neither do I wish to depend upon my brother and his family for companionship.” And all of this was still true.
“Noble endeavors indeed. Provided you choose wisely. But of course, there is that other matter—a necessity that cannot be provided by one’s family or friends.” And now, it seemed he was taunting her again. “Thus, the need to know…”
Ah, yes, indeed he was taunting her. When she turned to give him a bit of a set down, she was unnerved by how close his eyes were. With the moonlight slanting across him, the gray almost flashed silver.
She hated how muddled her thoughts had become. She’d chosen her path rationally. When she went to deny what he suggested, the words stuck in her throat.
Because he was not wrong. She closed her mouth and swallowed hard.
“What will you do when you long for adventure—for yourself—after this wise and noble wedding takes place?” He was not taunting her now. Nor was he smiling.
“Why do I need adventure?” But his question disquieted her—even more so than she had been when she’d first wandered outside. Last year, she had moved away from Land’s End and taken up residence in London as a widowed woman. She had…
“Why indeed? You are quite prepared, then, to settle down comfortably in the country for what remains of your life.”
Again, the thought made her… itchy.
“It isn’t the same for women, My Lord. We aren’t afforded the years that a gentleman is—to chase other dreams—not if we wish to have children and a family.” She grimaced. It was the way of the world. “What of you? Why have you not sailed off to unexplored lands? You are young. You have the means.” Oh, but he was the heir to a dukedom. Of course, he would not be allowed to go far.
“I intend to.”
“But you are your father’s heir.”
“I have a younger brother.” He shrugged.
“You would leave your responsibilities to another?” Oh, he was not only young but irresponsible as well.
He stepped away from the wall, putting more space between them. “At the risk of being rude, you don’t know me, Lady Asherton.”
She tilted her head. “And yet you have presumed to know me.”
“Touché.” He stood with his feet shoulders’ distance apart, his arms crossed in front of his chest, intensity blazing in his gaze. “But do not forget that it was you who admitted that you require intimacy in your marriage and that you are uncertain if my uncle will provide it. It was you who climbed into my bed unclothed. It was you who whimpered as I touched you, and it was you who begged me to satisfy your needs.” He smiled wryly. “So, do not be mistaken, My Lady. I know far more about you than you know about me.”
His words hurt. She could hardly stand to look at him but was trapped by his gaze.
He stepped to the wall again, directly in front of her this time. Who was he? He was not a boy. He was every inch a man—a man who intrigued her.
And God help her, again, he was right.
About all of it.
His eyes flicked to her lips, and she wondered if he was going to try to kiss her. Did she want him to kiss her? She didn’t move.
Her body wanted it. Her head did not.
“Duly noted, My Lord.” It was she who stepped away this time. Her disquiet had tripled by now. Not bothering to wish him a good night, she spun around toward the terrace door.
“You are not married yet, Lady Asherton. And I am quite willing to finish what we started.” His words met her ears just before she swung the door wide and reentered the drawing room.
No one seemed to notice her as she stepped back inside until Penelope glanced over and then crossed the room in her normally swift manner. “Mr. Kirkley was looking for you.”
“I needed some air.” Margaret had been a private person for most of her life. Although she had grown somewhat closer to Penelope recently, she wasn’t used to sharing all of her confidences with anyone. Even with Rose, she’d kept her most intimate thoughts to herself.
Penelope watched her with her normally sharp gaze. It was unsettling. “You are having second thoughts.”
Gah! Margaret exhaled. “Perhaps. It’s more likely that I’m feeling melancholy.” All of this must be nothing more than a combination of timing and female aggravations.
“Tell him you’ve changed your mind. Nothing has been made public yet. Nothing is official.”
Penelope had a point. And yet, none of her reasons for wanting to marry had changed. His suit had made so much sense to her just a few weeks ago. She had encouraged Mr. Kirkley and he had traveled all this way.
Margaret twisted her hands together. She simply needed to spend time alone with him. She searched the room for the familiar black and silver head of hair that had become familiar to her. Perhaps her doubts could be settled if they were to take a walk outside. Such a romantic setting as the moonlit garden was all they needed. She would experience the warmth of his caring and that which had drawn her to him initially could be reignited “Where is he?”
“He retired for the evening. You could always go to his room tonight—“
“No,” Margaret said more harshly than she had intended. “I suppose I will retire myself. It’s been a long day.” She had loved the time spent in the sea. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. I had fun today.
It had been long and wonderful and tiring and... far too confusing.
That moment this afternoon when her hat was caught by the wind slipped into her mind. For an instant, she’d felt bare and off-balance but as she’d watched it swoop into the sky, swirling and floating, she’d felt oddly exhilarated.
It had indeed made a most magnificent exit. Margaret sighed at such an absurd thought. It had been her favorite hat and now it was gone forever. She ought not to have worn it. Silly of her.
Penelope narrowed her eyes. “You seem different.”
Margaret refused to meet her sister-in-law’s stare. “I just need to talk to him.” If only he would cooperate! And yet she found herself thinking not of her intended, but…
“Perhaps you can do so on your picnic.” Margaret had almost forgotten that George had reserved the day with her once he’d learned it was her birthday. It had sounded like a lovely idea at the time. Yes. She would speak with him then. There would be no one to interrupt them or distract him.
“Cook is aware?” She would need to have a basket prepared.
“It’s all been taken care of and will be waiting for you at the overlook. ” Penelope waved a hand through the air but then bit her lip. “And there are other plans. You’ll be wanting to look your best for the evening…”
Ah, but of course. The party that was to be a surprise.
Margaret nodded. She would not go walking alone as Abigail had suggested. Rather than have a long conversation with her dead husband, she would hopefully have a fruitful one with her future one.
8
Ladies of a Particular Age