Page 16 of Marriage Most Scandalous
But they were in luck when they arrived at the docks of the old harbor on the northern coast of France. One ship was late departing because its crew had had a bit too much fun carousing the night before. They’d lost their passenger list, too, because of that delay, so they were happy to take on Margaret and her entourage. Even her coach was quickly hefted aboard. Before she knew it, they were sailing out into the channel.
Come what may, Margaret had made her bargain. She just hoped she wouldn’t live to regret bringing Sebastian Townshend home to England.
Chapter 8
SEBASTIAN CONSIDERED MOST OF THE JOBShe took rather easy, despite how difficult they might appear at first. Apply a little English logic, perhaps a military approach if needed, and voilà, he’d pick up his substantial fees. But for Sebastian there was nothing easy about crossing the channel into English waters.
Standing on the deck of the ship that was taking him back to his homeland brought it all back, the horror of killing his best friend, the surprise on Giles’s face as he dropped to the ground. It was still so vivid in his mind. He’d had so many nightmares about that day that changed his life so drastically. So many times he’d wondered if he could have done something differently to prevent it.
Fall was ending and the chill of winter was already creeping in, particularly out on the water. He could feel the damp chill even under his greatcoat, which flapped in the wind on the deck. He didn’t like traveling in winter, didn’t like his ruins at this time of the year either.
He usually took a sojourn during these months in southern France or Italy. It wasn’t necessary for him to work year-round with the fees he commanded. In another few days he would have departed northern France, and Margaret Landor probably wouldn’t have heard of The Raven. She would have continued on her way home alone—to find what, when she got there?
He frowned and glanced at her farther down the deck, where she stood gazing out to sea as well. The late afternoon sun added golden highlights to her light brown hair. He’d rather not have found out how pretty that looked.
She’d been wearing a bonnet earlier, but the wind had caught it and whipped it across the deck and over the railing on the other side. The face she’d made as she watched it fly beyond her reach had been rather amusing. And she hadn’t gone to fetch another bonnet, despite the brisk wind playing havoc with her hair.
When the last of her chignon tumbled down and her long hair was flying every which way, she’d simply grasped the lot of it in her fist and held it tightly to her chest. That wasn’t how most vain, aristocratic women behaved, which was rather odd. Most ladies were concerned with their appearance at all times, but apparently Margaret wasn’t one of them.
He’d hoped to avoid discourse with Lady Margaret for most of their short journey. She seemed to prefer it that way. But there was pertinent information he needed from her before they reached home, a few things he had to impart to her as well. He approached her now to get it over with.
“You may not have considered this,” he said, drawing her attention, “but my presence will need to remain unknown for several days while I ascertain the situation. The only way to do that is to abide in your house, with your servants sworn to secrecy, in case any of them happen to recognize me. I assume you will accommodate us?”
She was frowning by the time he finished. He guessed she hadn’t planned on putting them up, had possibly thought her involvement was done. Bring him home and leave the rest to him, as it were.
She took a moment, he supposed to grasp all the implications of having a bachelor as a guest, then surprisingly didn’t offer a single argument about it. “Certainly,” she said. “You should remember White Oaks. You were there for my sister’s engagement party.”
He wondered at her sudden blush, until he remembered the last time he’d seen her. “Yes,” he replied. “As I recall, it had a nice garden.”
Her blush deepened and was accompanied by a glare now. He nearly laughed. Apparently proper Margaret Landor would rather not remember how impulsive and improper she’d been as a child. Or maybe she still liked breaking rules but just didn’t want anyone to know about it.
He decided to let her off the hook. “We should have no trouble keeping out of each other’s way, since I also recall that White Oaks was nearly as big as Edgewood.”
“Bigger,” she rejoined with a tight little smirk, yet another indication of her competitive nature. “My father did some renovating after Eleanor ran off. And I added a conservatory off of the dining room when I decided I’d like to garden year-round rather than just in the warmer months.”
“Another gardener?” he replied with a roll of his eyes.
She raised a brow. “You enjoy flowers?”
“Not in the least, but my man John does.”
“It’s very relaxing, you know,” she imparted. “You should try it.”
“Flowers tend to die when I’m around them.”
She blinked, then made a moue. “That wasn’t very funny.”
“Was I laughing?”
She snorted. “I believe you’ve forgotten how to. Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself all these years, aside from building that remarkable reputation for accomplishing impossible tasks? Wasn’t it rather—difficult—having your base in France, with Napoleon so annoyed with us?”
He did have to work at not laughing this time. “Annoyed? That’s a rather gentle way of expressing the little tyrant’s sentiments toward Britain. He had us blockaded from every one of his conquered countries and forced his allies to do the same, whether they wanted to or not. He was planning on invading England, you know, and probably would have, if he hadn’t been distracted by the Russians.”
“Yes, I know we finally got fed up with the trade blockades and took the war to him,” she replied. “But did you get involved at all?”
He shrugged. “A little. My particular talents came in handy during the Peninsular War, especially since I’m fluent in the French language, so I offered my services.”
“You acted as a spy!” she guessed.
