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She clasped her hands at her waist and raised her eyebrows. Yes, this /was/ an impertinence. "Mrs. Pe
Instead, I married my dear Mr. Pe
You are very well respected as the eldest sister of the Earl of Merton and the Duchess of Moreland and Baroness Montford. I daresay it is irksome to you still to be unmarried when your younger sisters have made such brilliant matches, but believe me, Miss Huxtable, the answer does not lie in marrying Lord Sheringford. My brother was the happiest of men before Laura was seduced away by that /monster/. He would have taken her back and forgiven her at any time after she left. He would not divorce her, as everyone who knew him advised. He never lost hope that she would return home and beg his forgiveness – which he would freely have given. He was devastated by the news of her death. /That man/, Miss Huxtable, has ruined my brother's life for all time, and he would have ruined mine too if my dear Mr. Pe
You will excuse me now?" "Of course," Mrs. Pe
She was still all astonishment. What had /that/ been all about? It was perfectly understandable, of course, that the lady would hate the Earl of Sheringford, both on her own account and on that of her brother. But why would she feel it necessary to call upon the woman who was supposedly betrothed to the earl? It could not possibly be /jealousy/, could it? Did she secretly still /love/ Lord Sheringford?
That was surely impossible. /This/, Margaret thought, was all very bewildering indeed. For the sake of a moment's triumphant satisfaction in telling Crispin that she was betrothed to someone else, she had set in motion all these ridiculous consequences.
Perhaps instead of going to call upon Vanessa, she should remain here and give orders for her bags to be packed. She suddenly longed for the peace and sanity of Warren Hall.
That was what she would do, in fact.
But before she could leave the doorway of the visitors' parlor, there was yet another knock at the outer door, and a footman opened it to admit Vanessa and Katherine, come together to call upon her. "Oh, well," Margaret said without even trying to disguise the irritability from her voice, "you had better come in here, the both of you, and join your voices to the choir." "The choir?" Vanessa said after they had stepped into the parlor and the footman had closed the door from the outside. "Of those urging me to put an end to a nonexistent betrothal," Margaret said. "First Crispin, then Mrs. Pe
Whoever will be next, I wonder?" It was a rhetorical question. But it was answered almost immediately.
There was a tap at the parlor door even before they had all sat down, and it opened to admit Constantine. "Ah," Margaret said, throwing both hands in the air. "I will not ask if that gesture demonstrates delight at seeing me or displeasure," he said cheerfully as he crossed the room toward her and took one of her hands in both his own before releasing it again. "But I hope it is the former. I have just come from a vigorous sparring bout at Jackson's and am hoping you will offer me tea or coffee." Stephen and Elliott arrived together before the tea tray was brought in.
Jasper followed them in before Margaret had finished pouring the tea.
Margaret wondered if she had ever felt more foolish in her life and decided that it was not possible.
And talk about storms in teacups!
She was also angry but had not decided with whom she was most a
Herself, perhaps?
Crispin had told her she was stubborn and always had been. The accusation had irritated her. But he must have been right, she concluded after a few minutes.
The choir sang in perfect unison. There was not one dissenting voice.
Vanessa and Katherine were incredulous and aghast that she would even /think/ of marrying a man she had met for the first time last evening – without even a formal introduction. Normally their reason would have been that she could not possibly know a thing about him on such short acquaintance. But on this occasion just the opposite was the case.
She knew /everything/ about him – he had even admitted it all himself – and none of it was good. And /that/ was a massive understatement.
Stephen, with Elliott's concurrence, had agreed to allow the Earl of Sheringford to pay a formal call at the house during the afternoon. He could hardly have refused when Margaret had introduced him to Crispin Dew last evening as her betrothed. Both men agreed, though, that he should be allowed to proceed no farther into the house than the library and to see no one there but Stephen. Meg must give him leave to inform the earl that she would not receive him, today or any other day. "After all," Stephen said, "you are not embroiled in any real /scandal/, Meg, only a great deal of silly gossip. If you are never seen with the man again, and if nothing more is said about any betrothal between you, it will be concluded soon enough that there never was any truth in the story – as is the case with most rumors." "Very true, Stephen," Katherine said. "And very sensible," Vanessa agreed. "And everyone knows you as the soul of propriety, Margaret," Elliott added.
Which was perhaps a bit of a mistake on his part. Being the soul of propriety sounded to Margaret like a very dull thing to be. Did she want /that/ written on her epitaph? "Sherry was a friend of mine at one time," Constantine said. "He still is, I suppose. We sparred with each other at Jackson's this morning and then walked to White's together. But it would be extremely unwise to ally yourself to him, Margaret. He has an undeniably wicked past, and you would not want a deservedly spotless reputation sullied by association with him." /A deservedly spotless reputation/. That would look good too on her headstone. Future generations would yawn as they read. "Rakes would be doomed to eternal infamy if some decent lady did not fall in love with them and take a chance on them," Jasper said, gri