A Masked Deception

"Meg, wake up," she had said, plumping herself down on the edge of the bed. "Tell me everything that happened."

"There is nothing much to tell, Lottie," Margaret had lied. "But we shall not be meeting that way again."

"Why ever not?"

"We both agreed that there was no point, Lottie. We were in a dead-end situation."

"Well, but what did he say, Meg? Was it his decision not to meet again?"

"No, but he agreed with me. He did say one thing, though," Margaret had said shyly. "He said he loved me."

"Yes, I know that, Meg. He has said so before. What we need is a plan-"

"No, Lottie," Margaret had interrupted, "I mean that he said he loves me, Margaret."

Charlotte had stared, openmouthed. "Meg!" she had exclaimed. "I knew it would all turn out well. But why, featherbrain, did you not take that as your cue? You should have swept off your wig and your mask and said something like 'Here I am, my love,' and then you would have fallen into each other's arms and lived happily ever after."

Margaret had laughed. "You read too many romances, Lottie," she said. "Now, will you leave me while I ring for Kitty and get up?"

That was all they had said on the subject. Brampton had been very quiet for two days-very remote, almost morose. Margaret, who had been filled with such wild hopes by his words at Vauxhall, had fallen back on doubt. He was, as ever, unfailingly courteous to her, but he rarely looked at her or talked to her as he had been accustomed to do. And he had not been to her bed for more than a week.

It was in this rather tense state of affairs that the removal to Brampton Court was made. Margaret and Charlotte rode in the earl's traveling carriage and picked up the dowager before leaving the city. The luggage was piled into two coaches that followed. Kitty and Stevens also rode in one of the baggage coaches. Brampton rode his favorite bay stallion, sometimes riding alongside the carriage so that he could check on the welfare of the ladies. Margaret wished with all her heart that she could ride alongside him. It was so hot and stuffy inside the carriage.

There was to be a two-day interval between the arrival of the earl and his family group and the coming of the house guests. Margaret found, to her relief, that the staff at Brampton Court, under the able leadership of Mrs. Foster, had all the arrangements so well pla

It was in the rose garden, on the morning of the guests' arrival, that Margaret allowed her thoughts to dwell on what had happened between her and her husband a few nights before. She sat on a wrought-iron seat, breathing in the fragrance of hundreds of roses growing around her in bushes, creeping over the low wall that separated the flower garden from the southern lawn, and trailing over an archway that led to a stone fountain.

She had found that evening most painful, just as if she really were taking a final farewell of Richard. She realized now that she had made a terrible mistake in following Charlotte's plan. She had led Richard into a passionate and seemingly illicit relationship with a woman he thought to be a stranger. She had not made him happy. He had seemed devastated at their parting. And she had not made herself happy. She had tasted all the delights of the love she wished to share with her husband, but had cut herself off from a continuance of that love.

She could not possibly tell him the truth now, tell him the identity of his unknown lover. And it was too late for her to try to show him that she, Margaret, would welcome a warmer, more physical relationship with her husband. They had grown into too firm a pattern in the months since their marriage.

Besides, she would be even more terrified than she already was that he would discover the truth.

Margaret thought of the previous two nights when Richard had resumed his visits to her bedchamber. Nothing had changed. Not a word, a look, or a gesture suggested that he had meant what he had said when he told her that he loved his wife. And those brief minutes of physical union had been almost unbearable when she had longed to wrap her arms around him, twine her legs about his, and seek the warmth of his mouth with her own.

And yet it had been sweet to know that he had come back to her! Margaret was still nursing the secret and growing hope that she was carrying her husband's child.

But Richard was unhappy! His face had had a closed and shuttered look in the last four days. She had not seen him smile in that time. Margaret remembered how reluctant he had been to let her go that night. They had gone to the same place as before. Richard had drawn the heavy curtains across the window and doused the candles without a word before unclothing her and himself and making love to her with a silent kind of desperation. There had been no tenderness involved and no real joy, only a driving need.

He had held her afterward and soothed her and whispered words of love. They had not slept. Soon he had lifted her on top of him and brought her new and unexpected delights as he taught her to straddle his broad, strong body, her knees drawn up under his arms, while he took her again. Afterward, he had eased her legs down to lie either side of his, and he cradled her against his chest. They had slept that way, still joined together.

Margaret had, in fact, come dangerously close to being caught in the light of dawn. When they had woken up, she had tried to climb off both him and the bed, but he had turned, with her still in his arms, until she was trapped beneath him. And soon she had been a willing prisoner, giving and giving what she wished so desperately to spend her whole life giving him.

Even when she was finally dressed and groping for the door, Richard had scrambled, naked, off the bed and reached it ahead of her. He had held her in a bruising hug for several minutes, not saying a word, not attempting to kiss her. Finally, he had let her go.

Margaret felt that she would never quite forgive herself for causing him that pain. She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

"Here you are, my dear," Brampton's voice said from the opening in the wall behind her. "I have to visit some of the cottages down by the river to approve some repairs. I thought you might like to ride there with me. We should be back in plenty of time to greet our guests."

Margaret turned and Brampton again had that unsettling sensation of drowning fathoms deep in her eyes, which were wide with an expression he had not seen in them before.

"I should like it of all things," she said calmly, rising to her feet and accepting her husband's arm.