“We will talk later,” Penelope promised.
“A toast to the future bridegroom.” Riverton lifted his glass toward George. Sebastian did so half-heartedly. She’d not known the announcement was coming. He’d seen it immediately and was surprised that her reticence seemed to have gone unnoticed by every other person who had been present. Even her brother looked pleased with the match.
And yet, going off of what she’d told him earlier that day, she intended to marry him despite… Oh, hell.
Despite that kiss.
She did not need to marry. Not if she owned a townhouse and had a wealthy brother who was a viscount. So why?
Because she wanted intimacy? Because she was fearful of being alone? And yet she was a woman who stood with her toes curling over the edge of a cliff and admitted to wanting to fly.
He hadn’t intended on spending the day with her. In fact, he’d quite decided to keep his distance and only flirt with her when the opportunity arose. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her.
When he’d seen her hat floating in the cove, he’d not even considered allowing it to drift out to sea. He’d been standing on a crag of rock that perched over the water and from his observations had been ninety percent certain it was deep enough.
He’d removed his jacket and boots and then dived off the cliff. It had been exhilarating, the sensation of falling, and then the smooth entrance into the swirling waters.
Climbing out—soaking wet and carrying the drenched hat no less—had been far more arduous. But he’d enjoyed the challenge, nonetheless.
And when he’d returned to the house, he’d merely intended to request that the hat be delivered to her chamber. Because she’d told him it was her favorite.
She’d stolen his breath when he entered the house, standing there in her pink gown, cheeks flushed, and her eyes filled with anticipation.
He had spent the day alone with her. Of course, George would know, they had not done anything wrong, nor had they made an attempt to keep it secret from the household or other guests.
This evening, her cheeks were as pink as her gown had been. She’d taken too much sun while standing on the edge of a cliff pouring her emotions onto that canvas.
It had been one of the most pleasant days Sebastian had experienced in as long as he could remember.
He should not have kissed her. He’d wanted to kiss her several times before; when they’d first stood at the cliff’s edge together when she’d been drinking wine and listening to him go on and on about his plans to sail to America.
But she had reached for him and he’d been unexpectedly delighted.
He could imagine her on The Diana, standing at the helm, her hair flying in the wind behind her.
Sebastian stared across the table at his uncle.
She was not going to be happy married to George. She might be relatively content. She might have the security of being a married lady. But she would not be happy.
And she might end up lonelier than she was now.
Because she was lonely. He was certain of that. She was lonely even though she was surrounded by other people.
Many of the ladies seemed to have one or two bosom companions, confidantes with whom they shared secrets and laughter. Margaret conversed with nearly everyone for short periods of time but rarely with any one person for long.
He’d watched her with Monfort’s duchess. Although the other woman openly touched Margaret’s arm or leg, Margaret held herself stiffly. She did the same with George, and he’d seen her close herself off from the viscountess. He didn’t think she did so on purpose, but Margaret Coates naturally shied away from intimacy.
Except for with him.
An unexpected sense of loss swept through Sebastian as a few of the gentlemen jokingly teased his uncle about the betrothal.
Marriage was what she wanted. She’d lost a child once and seemed intent upon having a family. George would provide that for her. Perhaps Sebastian was imagining her loneliness. Sebastian downed his port in one swallow, allowing himself to be distracted by the burning in his chest and then gut. She’d allowed George to slide the damn ring on her finger. She’d not stopped him, nor told him no.
Good for her then. Sebastian nodded as the footman stepped up from behind him to refill his snifter. Good for her.
11
Close Quarters
“I don’t play children’s games, Margaret.” Sitting beside her, George shook his head, refusing to take part in the evening’s entertainment. “Definitely not games that require a person hiding in corners and closets.”
“It is Margaret’s birthday, Mr. Kirkley,” Penelope reminded from her position at the other end of the room. “I believe that as her intended, you are required to do as she bids this evening.” She gave George a teasing smile but Margaret couldn’t help but wonder if her sister-in-law wasn’t pushing him intentionally.
Margaret set her hand on George’s arm, doing what she could so that he could emerge from her request without seeming dour. She was angry with him but uncertain again as to her future. If they did marry, she did not want any ill feelings between him and her family. “Do play. If only for a short while. It’ll be fun.”
He sighed heavily but nodded in concession.
“As the guest of honor this evening, Lady Asherton must be the first to hide. For those who don’t know the rules, it is easy enough. She will hide while the rest of us remain here and count to one hundred. When the counting is finished, all of us shall go in search of her. When you find her, you must hide with her until there is either no more space for the players to hide or only one person left searching. Does anyone have any questions?”
“But she will not hide in bedchambers?” Miss Drake asked.
“Bedchambers, the nursery, and servants’ quarters are all off-limits,” Hugh answered.
With only a few murmurs for a response, Margaret rose and smoothed her skirts. Having grown up in the house, she could find a place where no one but her brother could find her. She would not make it so very difficult for everyone though.
She leaned down and whispered where she was going near George’s ear and then quickly rose again. It might be her perfect opportunity. It might be her only opportunity.
“Go now, Lady Asherton!” Miss Crouch demanded. “One, two, three…”
Margaret dashed into the corridor and then up the stairs. Although it was, in fact, just a simple children’s game, for some reason, her heart raced. She would hide, and of course, she would be found. She smiled as she opened the secret door and stepped into the linen closet. Normally, she knew that the first person to discover her would be her brother. Or Penelope.
She quieted her breaths, even though the counting would barely be concluding, and waited.
Since the moment George had made his announcement, Margaret had put on a brave face. Alone at last, she squeezed her eyes together and allowed the significance of what had happened to wash over her. A few tears escaped onto her lashes, and she dabbed them away by pressing her fingers against them.
She was engaged. She forced herself to breathe. She had not wanted to become engaged but unless she made an utter spectacle of herself then there was no turning back.
She needed George to come to her now. She needed him to give her some form of reassurance.