Page 20 of Marriage Most Scandalous
“Both,” Margaret replied. “I’m going to have guests for a while.”
Florence nodded, then leaned closer to whisper, “Is that who I think it is?”
She was looking at Sebastian, of course. Still mounted on his stallion, he’d merely sat there observing the homecoming, his look as inscrutable as ever. Yet there was still that sinister air about him that prohibited discourse and would probably have most people running in the opposite direction if given a choice.
She wasn’t even sure what it was about him that made him so—unapproachable. She wasn’t shy by any means, but even she felt nervous when she was around him, so she could just imagine how others reacted to him. And no matter how many times she’d spoken to him now, it got no easier.
Margaret pulled Florence aside to answer her. “Yes, it’s him. But we need to keep that to ourselves for the time being. He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s back yet, so we’ll oblige him in that regard.”
“Not even his family?”
“Especially not his family.”
“Why’s he back, then?” Florence asked.
Margaret didn’t answer, just stared at her housekeeper until Florence finally got the point and humphed, “Fine. Keep it a secret. What do I care? I’ll make sure the others keep quiet about him, if it looks like anyone else realizes who he is. They probably won’t. I barely recognized him m’self. Goodness, he’s—changed.”
That was an understatement, but Margaret merely nodded. She felt bad about keeping secrets from Florence. She hadn’t even told her friend the real reason she’d gone to Europe because she knew Florence would try to talk her out of it. She’d never been secretive before, never had a reason to be, for that matter. Clandestine just wasn’t her cup of tea, just the opposite. She was forthright by nature, sometimes to the point of brazenness.
It had even seemed as if she had sneaked home, and in fact she had. In the last century, Edgeford had grown from a sleepy village to a thriving little town that now supplied most of the needs of the gentry in the surrounding area. It was on the way from Dover to White Oaks, yet they’d avoided it completely, as well as any other homes on the way. She’d suggested that Sebastian ride in the coach as they neared home, in case they passed anyone who might recognize him, but he’d declined and merely told Oliver to follow him. They hadn’t stayed on the road for the last half mile.
“Timothy, lad, it’s time for you to earn your keep,” Margaret heard Sebastian say as she approached him. “John and I will be recognized, but no one knows you, so go around and find out what you can about my family.”
Margaret bristled for a moment. She liked the boy, had learned from John how Timothy came to be with them. She didn’t like how he was being used, though, and would have taken Sebastian to task if she didn’t notice how delighted the lad was to be given such responsibility.
So she said instead, “Come inside first. My housekeeper will show you to your rooms. It’s also approaching time for dinner, so you might want to wait until the morning before you begin any investigating.”
Timothy had to glance at Sebastian first for his approval before he ran into the house. Margaret turned, caught Sebastian with his brow raised at her.
“You don’t think he can handle the task?” he asked.
“He’s a bit young to be doing your job, isn’t he?” she countered.
“Not a’tall. And part of my job is assigning tasks to whoever is most likely to succeed at them. In this case, he’s the only one among us who isn’t known here. He’s also young enough to pry innocently and have it appear as no more than a child’s curiosity. Be assured, Maggie, I’ll even put you to work if I deem it necessary.”
That sounded rather unsavory, or maybe it was just his tone that made it seem so. Still, she hurried into the house and out of his presence. Being around that man was exhausting, indeed it was. It wasn’t just the attraction, which she fought hard to ignore, but the way he made her so nervous, queasy, all aflutter, which in turn roused her defenses and made her argumentative. Good grief, she was the sweetest person! She’d been told so by countless people. But not around him.
Chapter 11
MARGARET FELT LIKE HERSELF AGAINwhen she came down to dinner that night. While her traveling clothes had been highly fashionable, they’d also been made of thick, sturdy materials that wouldn’t need much care, so they hadn’t been very comfortable. Back in soft peach velvet that was sinfully comfortable, well rested after a brief nap, she felt quite capable of dealing with her guests.
She expected all three of them to be waiting for her in the dining room, but only Sebastian was there, seated at the head of her table. The nerve! And he hadn’t dressed for dinner. He was wearing a white shirt without a cravat, open at the neck, loose flowing sleeves cuffed at the wrist. He might as well have had an earring and an eye patch on, because that’s probably how her servants perceived him.
David, who regularly tended the table and stood waiting by the door, was no doubt shaking in his boots, he looked so nervous. Of course, the wickedly long dagger that Sebastian was using to spear chunks of meat out of the appetizer that had been brought to him was more likely the cause. Her servants knew better than to begin the meal before her arrival. Sebastian must have frightened David into breaking that rule.
Sebastian rose as she entered and pulled out the chair on his right. She would not have chosen a seat so close to him, but it looked like it would be only the two of them dining, and it would seem haughty of her to sit at the other end of the table, forcing them to raise their voices to have any sort of conversation. It was a long table, after all. But she would have to make a point of arriving at the dining room before him while he was in residence.
David hurried forward to fill Margaret’s wineglass, then left to fetch her appetizer. She took the moment of privacy to remark to Sebastian, “My housekeeper, Florence, recognized you today. It’s likely some of the older servants will as well. We should probably make an announcement about why you wish to remain incognito—”
“That won’t be necessary,” he cut in. “I’ve spoken to each of your servants. They’ll say nothing.”
“You say that with such assurance. Threatened to murder them all in their sleep, did you?”
“Ah, you’ve set the tone,” he replied dryly. “Shall I sharpen my fork?”
She blushed. She had no excuse for being so rude other than her nervousness. She certainly hadn’t expected to be alone with him at dinner.
“I apologize. My humor went awry.”
