Page 46 of The Theory of Earls
“I think it matters quite a bit. I thinkshematters.”
“Shut up, Leo.” Tony didn’t want Maggie to matter. That was the problem. “She’s just a young lady whom I was trying to entice into bed. I’ve decided she’s not worth the effort. I’m sure she’ll make someone an adequate wife.” He lied smoothly, hating the way his heart rebelled at his own words.
“Just not yours.”
“God, no.” He snorted. “The line of the Duke of Averell ends with me. My final revenge on our father. Besides, I’m morally bankrupt, as all of London knows. What would I do with a wife?”
Smoke hovered in the air from the cheroot before Leo said in a quiet voice, “He’ll be dead soon, Tony. When he is, will it matter that you denied yourself something you clearly desire?”
“Who said I wanted her? I’ve just told you—” Tony sat back. Sometimes Leo just needed to shut up. “I might say the same to you.”
Leo said nothing for a few moments. “My situation is much more fraught with difficulty. Who is she?”
Tony turned, trying to make out his brother’s features, so like his own in the dark stillness of the garden. For the first time, Tony had something he didn’t want to share with Leo. He was confused. Wounded and raw as if he were bleeding. More unsure of everything with each passing day.
“A dalliance only,” Tony heard himself say, nearly choking on the word. “I doubt I’ll remember her name in another week.”
“Who are you attempting to convince? Yourself or me?” Leo flicked his cheroot to the ground and tamped it with the heel of his boot. He stared at Tony for a moment, as if considering his words, before he said, “Nothing you do to the Duke of Averell will bring Katherine back.”
Tony stiffened at the mention of his mother. “This discussion is over,” he hissed. How could Leo bring her up?
Leo stood and made his way back inside Elysium, pausing beside the door to look back at Tony. “In all the years we’ve owned this establishment you’ve neveronceentertained a woman in your private rooms.Neverplayed the piano for any female you were trying to seduce. I think that makes hersomeoneto you, whether you realize it or not.”
21
Margaret shifted on her feet before the mirror as Eliza moved around her, putting the finishing touches on her coiffure. The pale gold silk had rows of tiered fabric, lined with brilliants, glittering in the light as the full skirts belled around Margaret’s ankles. She even had matching slippers.
Eliza gave a final pat. “There, that should do it.” The maid had arranged Margaret’s hair in heavy coils, pinned up in the back and threaded with silk cord. “The dress brings out the gold in your hair. You look lovely, miss.”
Margaret had to agree, for once not feeling the least plain or beneath notice. Tonight, she spun before the mirror like a fairytale princess. Or, more appropriately, a woman courting ruination.
I’ve already been ruined. Compromised. In the most beautiful way possible.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, whispering to her heart to be still. Her energies and focus needed to remain on the upcoming evening and maneuvering Carstairs into a compromising position, not on Welles.
She caught another glance of herself clothed in gold. The gown had arrived, swathed in mountains of tissue, from one of the most exclusive modistes in London. The note accompanying the box only stated the gown and matching slippers were a gift from the duchess, a gift she hoped Margaret would wear to her upcoming ball.
Margaret knew the moment she held the luxurious gown up to her shoulders that it would fit her perfectly. Romy already had her measurements and had probably shared them with her mother. The unexpected kindness of the gift touched Margaret deeply. She hoped after creating a small scandal with Carstairs tonight, the duchess and her daughters would still wish for her company.
Aunt Agnes was less than pleased that the duchess held Margaret in such affection that she’d sent her a gown but could hardly send it back without offending her. Instead, she satisfied herself with making disparaging remarks that Margaret’s skin would appear sallow against the gold of the gown.
Margaret kept her features composed and docile while her aunt threw a host of barbs in her direction, enjoying her aunt’s displeasure. Aunt Agnes would be even less happy after Margaret compromised Carstairs.
“Thank you, Eliza. That will be all. Please tell my aunt I will be down in a moment.”
As the door clicked shut, Margaret took a deep breath, or as deep as she could. Eliza had laced her stays incredibly tight. She wished she could play the piano, if only for a short time. Music would calm her frayed nerves. Thankfully, Winthrop hadn’t called today, although neither had Carstairs. Margaret’s fingers clutched the silk of her skirts, wrinkling the fragile fabric as a bolt of longing for Welles struck her.
Calm yourself.
Carstairshadsent a note, apologizing for being detained; he had left town on unexpected business. He begged her forgiveness for not sending word sooner and looked forward to seeing her this evening at the duchess’s ball. Margaret had read his message twice just to reassure herself of his attendance. Now she only had to figure out how to get Carstairs alone, somewhere private, and then make sure they were discovered. She hated to repay the duchess’s kindness to her with a scandal, but there was little help for it.
After returning to her aunt’s house without incident after the night at Elysium, Margaret had avoided visiting the duchess and her daughters. It was cowardly of her, to be sure, but she thought it in the best interests of her own self-preservation to avoid Welles. Tonight would be difficult enough.
Last night, she’d dreamt of playing the piano again for Welles, this time in a field of wildflowers. She’d been completely naked. He’d been smiling down at her, the blue of his eyes so startling, her fingers had frozen on the keys. Welles had tickled her beneath the chin with a daisy before his mouth fell on hers.
The woman reflected in the mirror before her was blushing furiously.
She clasped her hands and took a deep breath, determined to regain her composure. It was either Carstairs or accept a marriage to Winthrop. Shakespeare himself couldn’t have written a better tragedy. She would compromise herself with the friend of the man she was in love with, in order to avoid marriage to a gentleman Margaret abhorred. Aunt Agnes would be playing the part of the villain.
