Lady and the Rake

by Anders, Annabelle

  “I personally was not impressed with either. Too much sermonizing, if you ask me.” Lady Sheffield would not hold back her opinion.

  “I prefer a good romance over adventure,” Mrs. Spencer piped up from beside Lady Sheffield.

  It was a lively discussion overall, but Margaret’s mind wandered in a ridiculous direction. She could almost picture herself married to Sebastian. Him making all the innovations he craved for his father’s estate, while she met with household staff, coming to know about them and their families. She could learn new ways as well.

  And a few children at their side.

  Their children.

  But she mustn’t. They’d already decided their affair would end when the house party was over. It must.

  With his hand giving her leg an occasional squeeze, and his eyes frequently landing on her with more than a little warmth, it was difficult to dismiss such dreams completely. She’d drank more than one glass of wine, which was putting this hope in her mind. And she mustn’t allow herself to think that way. She mustn’t allow herself to hope.

  Hope was a dangerous thing and often left one sitting in ashes.

  By the time Penelope finally rose and suggested that the ladies remove to the drawing room, Margaret burst to her feet and was one of the first to exit.

  Because sitting beside him at a meal… Listening to him make conversation with those around them… She could almost imagine him as a husband. She could imagine herself a wife who formally addressed him as “My Lord” all the while remembering the intimacies they had shared.

  He was younger than her, but by only six years, and he was not immature. He’d endured loss, pain, and would meet his responsibilities even though his methods might not be very popular.

  She could almost imagine that when he glanced at her, she saw love in his eyes.

  She recognized those same types of glances between her brother and Penelope, she’d seen them occur between Abigail and Monfort, and last summer, between Rose and Lord Darlington.

  And all of those couples loved one another. But they’d had similar dreams for the future. They all wanted the same thing.

  Once in the drawing room, she could not sit still. Although autumn was finally making its presence known with cooler temperatures and a biting wind, she slipped outside onto the terrace and made her way toward the garden.

  Most of the flowers had died and leaves rustled along the pathways, but the moon was full and as she walked, she finally acknowledged the fact she’d danced around all evening.

  She’d fallen in love with him.

  * * *

  “Would you mind stepping into my study before we join the ladies?” Viscount Danbury spoke behind Sebastian as they exited the long dining Hall. “I’d have a private word with you.”

  Ah. It seemed that Lady Danbury had not been able to keep Margaret’s secret.

  “Of course.”

  When Sebastian entered the study, he wondered exactly how much the man knew? Did he know that Margaret had spent the night in his bed? He glanced toward the sitting area. Danbury could not possibly know that he’d made love to her against this very leather settee.

  “Scotch?” Danbury lifted a decanter questioningly.

  “Thank you. No.” He’d already had a few glasses of port. Best to keep his wits about him for this conversation.

  Nonetheless, the other man poured a healthy splash for himself and downed half of it in one swallow. “My viscountess informed me that you are helping my sister search for your uncle’s ring.”

  Sebastian nodded. “It’s on that damn hill. Just a matter of locating it.” Perhaps this conversation wouldn’t be contentious after all. He’d rather not duel with his host… not while the party was still going on anyhow.

  “You have shown great (ahem) dedication in your pursuit of it.” Danbury propped himself against the large desk set near the windows. “I was surprised that you did not depart with your uncle.”

  It might have been better for Sebastian to have accepted a drink after all. “It is a priceless ring.”

  Danbury cocked one doubtful eyebrow.

  “I have come to consider your sister a good friend,” Sebastian added.

  “Is that what they are calling it now, Rockingham? Friendship?”

  Oh, hell. Sebastian hadn’t felt so much like squirming since he’d crashed his father’s shiny new curricle the day after his twenty-first birthday. “Lady Asherton is a grown woman.” Which sounded like a load of crock even to his own ears.

  “She is also a woman who has suffered a great deal of loss over her lifetime. And one who has recently experienced a most unfortunate rejection.”

  How in the hell was Sebastian supposed to explain that he was fucking the man’s sister at her request—and in every imaginable manner? The thought managed to stir him despite such inappropriate circumstances. Damn, but Maggie stirred him. In more ways than he’d bargained for.

  “What type of an understanding exists between the two of you? Is my sister harboring unrealistic expectations regarding your… friendship?”

  Sebastian immediately shook his head. It had been she who had set the parameters of their affair. It would end when the house party was over, although he wasn’t nearly as comfortable with such parameters as he had been when he’d agreed to them. “She is… appreciative of my company. I am able to offer her… comfort and encouragement on the heels of my uncle’s unfortunate behavior.”

  Sebastian cleared his throat and hoped this answer was an acceptable one. Margaret deserved the benefit of his discretion on such matters. He would respect her privacy and Danbury could hang if he couldn’t accept that.

  Danbury set his empty glass onto the sideboard. “But does she love you?”

  “She does not,” Sebastian answered quickly and then examined the question a moment after. She saw him as immature, did she not? He was something of a balm for her wounded pride.

  Danbury stared at him hard. “My sister is not an overly effusive woman.”

  Ah, but in some matters, she was. “She has specifically requested that we curtail our… friendship at the culmination of the house party.”

  They had six more nights. Initially, he’d presumed to believe that would be more than enough time to work her out of his system. But being with her was resulting in the opposite. Suddenly, he wanted more than a week.

  Would she be willing to see him in London before The Diana sailed? Depending on her progress, he might not be leaving until late next spring. But it was also possible that she would be ready to sail upon his return, in which case they’d depart before the coldest winter months were upon them.

  “Do not hurt her,” Danbury said. “Or I shall hurt you.”

  It was Sebastian’s turn to make a point in no uncertain terms. “I’d cut off my own arm before I’d see your sister harmed in any way.” And he meant it. He’d wanted to strangle George for setting out to use her in the manner that he had—even though Maggie had been willing to go along with it.

  She deserved so much more—more than she herself would ever admit to. She was an adventurer at heart. He’d seen that in her painting, in the expression on her face when she’d admitted to wanting to fly. She deserved security but also the knowledge that she was the center of her husband’s world.

  His heart dropped. He wanted to be that person for her but he could not. He’d hated that he’d had to walk her to her own chamber very early that morning. He’d wanted to awaken with her at his side. He could make no promises to her regarding the distant future, but he could promise her weeks? A fortnight? It was a sorry bargain for her, for certain.

  He would be away from England for months, if not years, on The Diana, an untested ship with a crew of raucous sailors.

  She lived in a townhouse in London and upon his departure, she would be courted by other men. Men better than himself—better than George. The thought ought to reassure him. It did not.

  Danbury went to pour himself another dram and this time, Sebastia
n stepped forward. “I’ll take you up on your offer after all.”

  He’d make love to her tonight. He’d request that she not remain at Land’s End for the holidays. They could enjoy one another in England before he sailed—without the curious eyes of her family and all the other guests. They could have weeks together, possibly months.

  If she came, he might consider delaying his travels—perhaps allow Captain Edward to make a short commercial journey without him.

  But would she?

  And why was he feeling a sense of desperation that she should? As he stepped out of Danbury’s study, Sebastian sought her out first thing.

  Maggie was absent from the drawing room, however. Lady Danbury said she’d gone outside.

  Cold hovered in the air, indicating that winter was not far off.

  An odd sense of urgency had him searching the terrace and heading toward the gardens. Perhaps Lady Danbury was mistaken. Perhaps Margaret had retired early.

  She had promised to come to him again. And then her voice reached out to him from the darkness. “I didn’t think anyone knew I was out here.”

  24

  Is “More” Enough?

  Sebastian could barely make Margaret out as she sat in the shadows, unmoving and quiet, almost like a garden statue. A tragic princess.

  Tragic? Sebastian stepped closer. She wasn’t frowning, but she was not smiling either. He removed his jacket, placed it around her shoulders, and lowered himself beside her.

  She sent him a small smile and he took one of her hands in his, and then the other. They were ice cold, and she seemed more fragile to him than she ever had before. “You’re freezing.”

  “I have been thinking.” She sat right beside him but something in her demeanor made him feel as though she was a thousand miles away.

  Or perhaps he only imagined it. His conversation with her brother had left him paranoid.

  “Have you solved all of the Regent’s problems?” He rubbed her hands between his. They almost glowed in the moonlight. A lady’s hands.

  She didn’t answer right away, nor did she laugh.

  “I think you ought to leave tomorrow.” Her fingers wrapped around his, halting his motions.

  “But there are six days remaining.” But he knew her meaning. She’d changed her mind about him—no, about herself. “Come to London with me.” He could imagine them there, without family nearby and guests around every corner. “Let’s enjoy one another for as long as possible before I sail. I’m not ready to let you go, Maggie.”

  And somehow, the moment the words left his mouth, he realized they were the wrong thing to say. But they were the truth.

  “I’m no man’s possession to keep or let go, least of all yours.” Her voice came out clipped. “That’s something you would say to your mistress.” And then a harsh laugh. “But I suppose that’s what I am.”

  “You are more than that to me and you know it.” What had come over her this evening? She’d seemed perfectly fine throughout the meal. More than fine! She’d captivated him.

  Sebastian turned to face her and then touched her chin so that she would meet his eyes.

  It was as though she’d sat outside and allowed the cold to freeze her emotions along with the rest of her.

  “I’m sorry.” His mouth had gone dry. “I did not mean it that way. That is not all that there is between you and me. You know that.”

  She dropped her gaze to their hands and then looked back into his eyes. An odd fear squeezed his heart. I am not done loving her yet.

  “What else is there between us, Sebastian? What else can there ever be?”

  “I care about you. You are the first person I think of when I wake up and the last one I think of before I fall asleep. It’s good. This is good. You and me. All of it.” He held her tight and tucked her head beneath his chin, inhaling her scent and his own from the jacket wrapped around her. In his next breath, he also noticed the decay of autumn slowly taking over the garden.

  She didn’t fight him. Her body was not ready for him to leave, he was certain of that.

  “Maggie,” he whispered in her hair. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  She drew away from him but not out of his arms entirely. “But you must. Yes, it is good. You are good. I am good. Right now, all of it feels so very good. But it will not always be this way and I’d rather we end it before…”

  “Before what?”

  “Before we’ve run our course. Before this passion burns itself out.” And then she laughed. “I am not being honest with you.” She looked away. “I have been so very foolish. During dinner, you were talking about the book—about William—and in the middle of the meal, for a moment, I nearly convinced myself that you wanted a family and that I could be… It’s embarrassing to say it. Because by the time you finally return from all of your travels and are ready to marry and then set up a nursery, I will be ancient.”

  Her words didn’t make sense at first, but as he processed them, he felt rather as though the world tilted. “I do not want to have a family.” The conviction had become a part of him. “I enjoy the book because of the lessons. The rest…” He shrugged. “It’s only a story.”

  She laughed again. Mockingly, but he sensed more at herself than at him.

  He leaned toward her urgently. “I want you, Margaret. Come back to London with me. I beg of you.”

  “Do you love me? Do you wish to make me your wife? Because that is what I want—it’s what I need. You and I—we are good. But you and I—we are impossible. I have known this all along, and I still allowed myself to believe…” When he didn’t answer, because he could not give her the answer she desired, she continued, “Please, Sebastian. If you care for me even a little, go.”

  She wanted a family. He had known this. Why else would she have engaged herself to George so easily?

  For an instant, he wondered what it would be like to marry her. Did he love her? He’d pushed the notion away for so long that the words had no meaning. He’d loved Bethany.

  He’d loved his daughter…

  “Bethany—my wife—died swiftly, but my daughter lived for two weeks.” Two of the most bittersweet weeks of his life. If he explained, perhaps she might understand. They’d understood one another well enough in nearly every other aspect. Or so he had thought.

  He needed Margaret to understand this about him. Perhaps if she could, then she could be with him now. Perhaps they could even marry someday, but he needed to make himself perfectly clear.

  At his words, she gave him her complete attention. How many times had he gone looking for her over the past several days only to have heard that she was upstairs in the nursery or outdoors playing with the viscount’s children? Of course, she would be anxious to hear about the infant his wife had given birth to.

  “Her head was too large—almost twice the size of a normal baby. Angel’s fingers were webbed, and she had neither elbows nor knees. She had defects inside, as well, making it difficult for her to breathe. The doctor believed that she was blind, but she could hear. When I spoke to her, she held herself still.” He had sung lullabies to her.

  Margaret raised her fist to her chest, just above her heart, and rubbed at it as she listened.

  “When the doctor arrived, after Bethany had already passed, he suggested putting my daughter out of her misery. He said she had no feeling and implied that she had no soul. The man unwisely suggested throwing her out to the dogs.” The memory never failed to make his blood run cold. He’d told Sebastian that he was sorry for the loss of his wife, but at least the child had not been a boy.

  “But you did not. Of course, you did not.”

  Sebastian scrubbed a hand down his face. “Was it selfish on my part? I don’t know what I was hoping for. It was as though keeping Angel alive meant I didn’t have to let go of Bethany. I wasn’t ready to let go of our life. None of it made sense at the time and to be perfectly honest, it still doesn’t.”

  “You named her Angel?” Margaret’s hand cradled
his cheek. He did not realize until that moment that he was on the verge of tears. He never spoke of this to anyone. His parents had been unwilling to hear the details. They knew only that his daughter had not been viable.

  “Angela. I called her Angel.” His voice broke and his eyes stung. “I can’t go through it again, Maggie. Ever.” He spoke with certainty so that Margaret could not doubt his decision. “There is no guarantee that future children wouldn’t be struck with whatever afflicted her.”

  The wind whipped up and a delicate ebony curl escaped to curl around Margaret’s cheek. Many women suffered childbirth with no ill effects, but he could never know for sure.

  “We are so very different, Sebastian.” At least she no longer was speaking to him in that emotionless, withdrawn tone. This woman managed to throw him completely off balance in some moments and yet comfort him in others.

  He had loved Bethany. She had needed him, and he’d protected her until the end.

  Margaret was different. She did not need him, but she seemed to like him. She laughed with him. They’d laughed a great deal together. In the hours they’d spent together, she had sought to know his thoughts and dreams, and all of the reasons behind them.

  In turn, she’d opened herself up, physically but in other ways too. Before he’d even met her, he’d heard that she was a woman who kept to herself. But not with him, and he would be eternally grateful for that.

  But he could not give her what she wanted.

  “You will be a mother someday. I understand. But I cannot be the man to make you one.” At the look in her eyes, his heart skipped a beat. It would not be fair to ask her again to return to London with him.

  If you care for me even a little, go.

  He more than cared for her. Perhaps she was right. It was time for him to leave.

  * * *