Lady Margaret's Mystery Gentleman

by Christine Merrill

  The sharp sound of a cleared throat came from the doorway. When David looked towards it, he saw Lady Margaret, arms folded and looking stern. ‘Did you lose your way, Mr Castellano?’

  David shrugged and gave her a broad grin. ‘The young lady said she would help me to the door when she had time.’

  ‘She need not trouble herself,’ the girl said with a glint in her eye that looked almost like jealousy. ‘I will show you to the music room myself.’ This last was delivered more as a command than an offer of assistance.

  ‘Of course,’ David said, then added, ‘Grazie’, and another ingratiating smile in the direction of the maid.

  When they were clear of the study door, Lady Margaret looked back at him, frowning. ‘Do not claim that you were lost to me, Mr Castell. It is not that hard to find the music room.’

  He shrugged and gave her an embarrassed smile. ‘Perhaps I turned wrong on purpose.’

  ‘Because you are curious about my brother,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I met him in that room on the last visit,’ he admitted. ‘I thought perhaps he would expect me to report on our progress.’

  ‘Then I cannot imagine why you were there, since we have made none,’ she reminded him. ‘You were not going to report on Olivia, were you?’

  ‘I promised I would not,’ he said, putting his hand on his heart to show the depths of his loyalty. They had reached the music room and she ushered him in and shut the door behind them, leaving them alone. ‘I assume your sister has already left us?’ he said, glancing towards the window.

  ‘She had an appointment and could not wait for you to appear,’ Lady Margaret said, chiding him for his late arrival. ‘Perhaps, if you had not spent so much time flirting with the maid...’

  ‘That was not what I was doing,’ he replied, before realising that it would have been a much better explanation than the truth.

  ‘It does not signify,’ she said, obviously still annoyed, but holding up her hands to stop further justifications. ‘But I am sure, if my brother is paying you for these lessons, he would prefer you to spend some of your time with me.’

  ‘Of course, Lady Margaret,’ he replied, trying not to grin. She was actually jealous of the time he had spent talking to a servant. The reporter in him should be pleased that she had been distracted from asking questions about their conversation. But the man in him was too busy being flattered that she would even care.

  Now she was staring at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to say something more. Perhaps it was her beauty that was confounding him, but he had no idea how to proceed.

  ‘I thought, perhaps, this time we might try some dancing,’ she said, a smile flickering on her lips as if pleased with his befuddlement.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. Dancing. It was what he had come here to teach, after all. It suddenly occurred to him that his experience was likely more limited than hers. When he did have the opportunity to stand up with a lady, he never paid attention to what they did on their side of the line. Was it different, or merely the reverse of their partner’s moves?

  ‘You have more experience than I with how these lessons are to go,’ she said, with the intense gaze of a rapt pupil. ‘Will you be providing the music?’

  ‘Music?’ he said, annoyed at the stupidity of the repetition.

  ‘To dance to,’ she reminded him. ‘The pianoforte is in good tune.’

  ‘I do not play,’ he said, embarrassed. Then added, ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘But I cannot play and dance at the same time.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said, shaking his head. Why had he not considered the details of this disguise before entering into it? ‘Counting,’ he blurted, relieved. ‘The music is not needed if we can count to eight. I will do the counting and you will do the steps.’

  She smiled and nodded in agreement. ‘Of course. I should have thought of that.’ She took a step away from him and turned back with a graceful sweep of her skirts and a curtsy as if readying herself to join a set. ‘And what dance will you be teaching me today?’

  What dances did he know? ‘Sir Roger de Coverly,’ he muttered, trying to remember the order of the steps.

  Her face fell. ‘As a review, perhaps. But I know it quite well and do not really need instruction.’

  ‘Hole in the Wall,’ he corrected.

  ‘That is also familiar to me,’ she said. ‘I can show you, if you want.’

  It would buy him some time, as he thought of a different dance. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Demonstrate. And one, and two, and three...’

  She closed her eyes as if imagining a room full of people and moved flawlessly through the steps of the dance, humming the tune softly to herself to keep the beat. And, as he had on their last meeting, he felt his distraction growing and his true goals fading further away. His hand raised, palm out to touch hers as it passed, leading her in a circle before returning to home and bowing to her as she finished.

  Her eyes popped open, surprised at his touch, smiling eagerly as she looked for his approval.

  As he nodded, he could not help grinning back at her. ‘Lovely. Your dancing, that is,’ he added, struggling for a coherent thought.

  ‘Thank you.’ She bobbed another curtsy, and blushed back at him, pleased with his compliment.

  ‘Show me more,’ he said. The sly part of him cheered at the time-wasting distraction, but another growing part of his heart just wanted to see her dance again.

  She danced through the changes of a cotillion, then switched gracefully to the steps of a Scottish reel. And as she moved before him, he forgot that his reason in coming was to question her about the murders. The very idea of that seemed so sordid that it embarrassed him to consider it. For now, he wanted to let his mind float free as he admired a pretty girl.

  * * *

  By the time she was finished with her demonstration, most of the hour had passed. She ended with a final twirl to stand directly in front of him, eyes still closed, as if she did not want to leave the imagined ball that she was attending.

  He could see himself there, with her, dancing until they were exhausted, then searching out a quiet corner to sit together for a moment of stolen intimacy, shaded from the rest of the party by a potted palm. The dream was so sweet that he forgot she was not sharing it and leaned forward, kissing her on the tip of the nose.

  Her eyes flew open and she started back, surprised. ‘I did not give you permission to do that.’

  ‘I do not know what came over me,’ he said honestly. But though she might be about to ban him from the house, he could not seem to regret what he had done. Then, he added, ‘Did you mind it so very much?’

  ‘I do not know,’ she said, colouring so sweetly that he wanted to kiss her again. ‘I have never been kissed by a man before and I do not know how I am supposed to react.’

  ‘There is no one correct way to respond,’ he said. ‘If I upset you, do not be afraid to tell me. But if you were hoping for a more profound experience, that was hardly a kiss at all. I do not think you need count it as your first.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, her voice a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Then she tipped her head to the side, considering. ‘And just what do you think an appropriate first kiss should be like?’

  It was a dangerous question, but it was an invitation that he could not resist taking. He thought for a moment, then looked into her eyes and tried to imagine what it might be like to kiss her again. ‘I do not know if I have ever given one before. But I would think a great deal of care must be taken, to make it worthy of the lady’s expectations. It needs to be memorable.’

  She let out a little sigh, as she savoured the fantasy of the kiss he described. ‘Do go on.’

  ‘It must be both gentle, in respect of her inexperience, but passionate enough to give her a hint of what is to come, should she want a second k
iss.’

  ‘It sounds as though you have an excellent grasp of the particulars,’ she said, swallowing nervously, but making no effort to move away from him.

  ‘Would you like a practical demonstration?’ he asked, praying for the answer he wanted to hear.

  ‘Well, it is not as if you are teaching me to dance,’ she said, her eyes sparkling. ‘I must learn something so that you are worthy of what my brother pays you.’

  ‘True,’ he said, throwing caution aside and placing his hands on her shoulders and drawing her closer to him.

  Suddenly, there was a whistle from the window, announcing the return of Lady Olivia.

  David snatched his hands away and took a quick step back, turning away to compose himself before the other girl appeared.

  Margaret did something similar, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks, then running them quickly down her skirts to smooth away evidence of a passionate interlude that had only occurred in their imaginations. Then she went to the window and hauled her sister back into the house.

  Olivia looked much as she had after the last lesson, as if she had spent an hour in the arms of her lover. And as she had then, she looked back and forth between the two of them, as if it were possible for her to discern what had occurred with a single glance. But this time, she raised an eyebrow, as if she had found something that interested her.

  She clasped her hands together in a gesture of finality. ‘Well, then. Another excellent lesson, Mr Castellano.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, not bothering with an accent.

  She gave a single blink of surprise at the change in his voice, then added, ‘Can you see yourself out, or shall I have a footman show you the door?’

  ‘I will take him,’ Margaret said hurriedly. ‘He has been known to get lost in the house.’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ he assured them both, backing towards the door. ‘I can find my own way.’ To this he added a deep bow, so that only Margaret could see the grin on his face. ‘Until the next time, my lady?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said with a smile, holding the door for him and closing it after he was through.

  * * *

  Once Mr Castell was gone and they were alone together, Liv turned to Peg with a knowing grin. ‘And how was today’s dancing lesson?’

  ‘Fine,’ Peg said hurriedly, wondering how much of their activities she should admit to. ‘He is not Italian, of course.’

  ‘Very few of them are,’ Liv said with a knowing nod.

  ‘His real name is David Castell.’ Then she added, ‘Hugh bribed him to spy on you and report if you escaped from the house to see Alister.’

  This announcement wiped the smug smile from her sister’s face. ‘He told you this?’

  ‘You do not have to worry,’ Peg said, with a superior smile. ‘We discussed it. He pities us for the restrictions that have been placed on us and is more concerned for our safety than he is in obeying Hugh.’

  ‘You discussed it,’ her sister said, regaining some of her control. ‘Did you do this while you were dancing?’

  ‘Actually—’ Peg said, then stopped, searching for a way to explain.

  ‘You have been too busy talking to do much dancing,’ Liv finished for her.

  Peg could feel her cheeks going pink as she answered with an embarrassed nod.

  As if sensing the reason for her blush, Liv laughed. ‘Has something already happened that you do not want to admit to?’

  ‘He kissed me,’ she admitted, then added, ‘On the nose.’

  ‘That is hardly a kiss at all,’ Liv said, agreeing with Mr Castell. ‘Better luck next time.’

  ‘You should not say such things,’ Peg scolded back. ‘You should probably tell Hugh and have him banned from the house.’ She held her breath, praying that her sister would do no such thing.

  ‘Since he is keeping my secret, it would be very foolish of me to report such a minor lapse in judgement,’ Liv said with a shrug. ‘Besides, it is rather tiresome to be the only sister getting into mischief in this family.’

  ‘It cannot really be making trouble if you are only seeing Alister,’ Peg said.

  ‘I am sure Hugh would think otherwise,’ Liv said with a giggle. ‘I had a very nice hour with Alister. He kissed me twice.’

  For a moment, Peg remembered what Mr Castell had said about Hugh’s ignorance of Alister figuring in his continued good health. Hopefully, he and her sister would find a way to marry before they were discovered. ‘You have known him for quite some time,’ Peg said. ‘I am not surprised that he kisses you. But is he any closer to taking you away to Scotland?’

  Liv responded with a defiant look. ‘An elopement is hardly a suitable wedding for the sister of a duke. We are waiting to be married properly, in a church. I am sure Hugh will relent eventually. It is just a matter of time.’

  ‘That is a futile hope and you know it,’ Peg replied. ‘Our brother is not known for his changeable nature.’

  ‘But it is my hope, all the same,’ Liv said with a sigh. ‘You would understand if you had ever had the opportunity to meet anyone who puts your heart at risk.’

  ‘That is probably true,’ Peg replied, surprised at how quickly an image of Mr Castell appeared in her mind. But what did that have to do with wanting a church wedding, rather than an elopement? Surely, if one was truly in love, they would be too far lost in it to care where, or when, or even if they married.

  ‘Now you are truly blushing,’ her sister said with another laugh. She held up a hand to stop Peg’s objections before they could begin. ‘If you are considering a flirtation with the dancing master, I would not begrudge it to you.’

  ‘He is rather handsome,’ Peg agreed, at last. Although she wished he would not use quite so much hair oil. She had an illogical desire to run her hands through it and loosen the curls.

  Liv nodded in approval. ‘With his tight pants and his fake accent, I am sure he is aware of the effect he has on young girls. It is how he makes his living, after all. As long as you do not take him too seriously, you will have a lovely time letting him flirt with you.’

  Was that what she was to him? Just another in a long line of pretty faces? Then why had he seemed both surprised and delighted by the simple peck on the nose he had given her today? ‘That is very calculated of you,’ Peg replied at last.

  ‘Of course it is, little sister. But, since Hugh will not allow you a Season, it is up to me to tell you the truths you might have learned from the ton. While people claim that they want young women to seem guileless, it is never in our best interests to actually be so. There are very few liberties allowed to an unmarried girl, but if one is careful, rules can be bent quite a distance before they are broken.’

  She wanted to argue that she had no intention of being so foolish, right under her brother’s nose. But then she remembered the kiss she most certainly would have got if her sister had been just a few moments later. ‘Suppose what you say is true,’ Peg said. ‘What would be the best way to go about bending the rules?’

  ‘Make sure that your Mr Castell teaches you to waltz,’ Liv said. ‘And do not allow him to maintain a polite distance as he dances. Stumble as often as you need to so he must hold you tightly.’

  It was exactly what her sister should be warning her against, but it was exactly what she wanted to do. ‘I will keep that in mind if we dance together for my next lesson,’ she said.

  ‘If you dance?’ Liv said, surprised.

  ‘When we dance,’ Peg corrected. ‘It is not as if nothing has been accomplished, so far. Today, I demonstrated the dances that I already knew.’

  Her sister stared back at her, obviously puzzled. ‘It sounds as if you are the one teaching the lessons and not him.’

  ‘Do not tell Hugh,’ she said quickly.

  ‘I would not think of it,’ Liv promised.

  ‘He is very nic
e,’ she admitted. ‘And if Hugh finds out that he is not doing his job, I would not want anything to happen to him.’ Why had she expressed it in that way? It put her in mind of Mr Castell’s comments about their brother’s habit of threatening people with death. ‘I don’t want to see him dismissed before we’ve even had a chance to begin,’ she corrected herself.

  ‘Then you had best be sure you have learned something when Hugh comes sniffing around for a demonstration,’ Liv said.

  ‘And what of you? You have not even been here.’

  ‘I know how to dance well enough to fool him,’ her sister said with a shrug. ‘You are the novice who asked for the lessons. See to it that, when Hugh asks to see what you have learned, you do not appear to have gained knowledge in anything but the Boulanger and the quadrille. Beyond that, what the Duke does not know will not hurt any of us.’

  Chapter Five

  The next morning at breakfast, Peg sat on her end of the table enjoying her morning chocolate, while her brother kept his place at the head, deeply engrossed in a newspaper and a coffee. As usual, her sister had slept in and taken tea and toast in her room, leaving the two of them alone.

  For the most part, Peg enjoyed mornings with her brother. They rarely spoke, but neither did they argue. It was a time of peaceful communion between the two of them that reminded her of carefree days in the nursery, when they were children.

  Of course, when they were younger, Hugh had not spent so much time with his nose buried in a newspaper, nor was he as easily annoyed by what he read. Now, the paper in his hand rattled and he made a series of angry huffing noises before slapping it down on the table. ‘Damned muckrakers,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Is the news bad?’ Peg asked, trying not to smile at his overreaction.

  ‘Nothing you need to worry about,’ he said, folding the paper so that the offending article was hidden. ‘It merely annoys me to see ignorant commentary on things I have said in Parliament, from a man who clearly knows nothing at all about government.’

  ‘You should know better than to read such things during a meal,’ she said, taking a piece of toast from the rack. ‘They will only upset your digestion.’