‘But he’s the heir. Surely, he must marry?” Miss Crouch asked in surprise.
“And I imagine he will. In a decade or two. Presently, he’s far more interested in sailing to foreign lands.”
Sebastian had already explained as much to her but to hear it confirmed by his uncle was deflating. Not because she had designs on him herself, of course. But because he would be leaving England and she would not see her friend for years at a time.
Because he had become her friend. A little more, on occasion. But in the end, they could only be friends.
“Why would he want to leave England? Perhaps Miss Drake will change his mind. She seems quite taken with him. There’s also the possibility of him compromising some innocent and then he wouldn’t be going anywhere.” She grinned mysteriously. “You know what they say. Reformed rakes make for the best of husbands.”
“I doubt he would be so careless.” Margaret couldn’t help but defend him, but he must be cautious. There were always those young ladies who would do what they could to trap such a man. Sebastian was an heir to a duke, after all. A little subterfuge was nothing if it meant the girl might become a duchess one day.
Margaret clenched her teeth upon considering the possibility.
It would be a shame of the utmost proportions for Sebastian to be forced to give up his dreams. He would be most unhappy to abandon them and ultimately, so would his bride.
George turned to stare at her curiously. “I cannot help but agree with you. You are already becoming well acquainted with your future family. I am so pleased that he was willing to accompany you on your picnic in my absence yesterday.”
Ah, but would he be if he knew that she’d kissed him?
And again, he referred to the missed outing as her picnic. He’d apologized the evening before for having missed their appointment but then insisted that they’d never made firm plans. She must be more clear with him in the future.
Margaret rubbed the skin around the cool metal that squeezed her finger. “His determination to travel is noble. I’d be shocked if he did anything to jeopardize his ventures.”
No one was given an opportunity to respond just then as the horses were drawn to a halt and a servant presented himself to assist the ladies down to the ground. Margaret was not all that interested in their surroundings. She’d been to the lake more times than she could count and was more concerned with the conversation she must have with George.
Why had he announced the engagement without her consent? And she must wrestle from him the answer to an even more important question. He did want children, didn’t he?
As George halted to greet Lord Riverton, Margaret wandered to the shore and stared across the calm water. A boat skimmed along the surface and she swallowed hard. Sebastian had already been imposed upon to row one of the ladies. Miss Drake, if her eyes did not deceive her.
“Remember when I pushed you out of the boat? And then you tipped it over, nearly drowning both of us in the process?” Hugh had crept up behind her. So much had changed since then.
“And Father took the strap to you,” she reminded him.
That had been a very long time ago. The last time she’d come, however, their mother had yet been alive. Not for the first time, Margaret wondered how her mother would advise her in her present circumstances.
“You miss her.” Her brother, at times, was annoyingly adept at reading her mind.
“Of course.” But then she turned to him. “You do not think I am making a mistake, do you? Marrying Mr. Kirkley?”
“I did not think you would want my opinion. I believe that on more than one occasion you have instructed me most adamantly to mind my own business where your affairs are concerned.”
She exhaled loudly. “More than a decade ago.”
Hugh looked away from her to stare at the couple floating romantically across the lake. “You do not love him.”
For one shocked moment, she thought he meant Lord Rockingham. But of course not. Hugh flicked a glance toward George.
“No. But he is a kind man. And we enjoy similar pursuits when we are in London.”
“Do you intend to spend most of your time in London, then?”
She didn’t really know. Although, George had admitted to her that he anticipated her managing his house in the country. “Perhaps.”
“Do you think you can come to love him? After the two of you are married?” His question caused Margaret to squirm. Leave it to Hugh to get right to the point.
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps!” he scoffed. “If that is the case, then, as a matter of fact, I do.”
She turned to him in surprise. “You do?”
“Marriage is not to be entered lightly. You know that as well as I. If you are not fairly certain that you are going to love him, then I suggest you rescind your consent.”
Margaret’s gaze followed Sebastian’s silhouette as he easily rowed the small craft through the water. Twirling a parasol that rested on her shoulder, Miss Drake could not have appeared more picturesque.
Was she ready to relinquish her dreams though? By all rights, she might have other opportunities, with some other gentleman, but the odds were not in her favor.
“He made an announcement.”
“I’d rather we weather a scandal, Margaret, than stand by while you endure an unhappy marriage. I suggest you end it with him quickly, though.”
She nodded. “I will think about it. I appreciate your honesty.”
Hugh grasped her elbow and squeezed it. “Don’t wait too long,”
“Lady Danbury hosts a most entertaining house party!” George commented from beside Margaret where they sat on the grass along with Abigail and the Duke of Monfort. Lady Sheffield, who had been provided with a chair, had joined their smaller party as well. All of them seemed to be content and relaxed after partaking of the picnic Danbury’s kitchen had provided.
“Penelope has always had a tremendous amount of energy and stamina,” Abigail agreed.
“As have you.” Monfort took his wife’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “Would you care to stroll around the lake with me or would you prefer to recline here in the sunshine?”
“Oh, let’s go exploring.” Abigail smiled over at her husband. “I didn’t even know this lake existed.”
Monfort rose and then assisted his wife to her feet. A gentle breeze chose that moment to catch the duchess’ gown and conform it to her shape. Ah, yes, indeed. Abigail was expecting. She was perhaps farther along than anyone would have guessed.
Margaret absentmindedly touched her own abdomen. She had been at a similar stage four years ago. She’d endured the first painful anniversary and, in a few days, she would endure the other one.
Mr. and Mrs. Spencer chose that moment to arrive and convinced Lady Sheffield to walk along the shore with them, leaving Margaret alone with her intended most unexpectedly.
“You are quiet today,” George said after they’d watched Lady Sheffield stroll away with the young couple.
This was her moment, and yet, as angry as she had been the night before, and as concerned as she was about the betrothal, Margaret had never been one to enter into a confrontation easily.
“I was not pleased that you announced the betrothal prematurely, without even speaking to me.”