The Seduction, page 26
"I'm sorry we won't have time for a honeymoon, but there are things I must attend to at home."
"I understand," she answered. "We'll do it some other time."
"As for today, perhaps we can find an hour or so to fence before dinner." He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "Fencing with you is proving to be a most interesting exercise," he added in a whisper. "One I would like to repeat as often as possible."
"I, too," she whispered back, blushing at the reminder of the previous night.
Although he had not heard what they said, Henry could not help but perceive the blush in her cheeks, and he could make a pretty good guess as to the reason for it. He smiled at her as Trevor left the room, delighted by how well everything had turned out. "Tell me, how does married life suit you so far, Maggie, my girl?"
She walked to his chair and settled herself comfortably on one corner of his desk. "Very well, Papa," she admitted happily. "And I can see from the smug smile on your face that you are about to say I told you so."
He reached up to chuck her under the chin. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said mildly, but he was thinking it. The satisfaction he felt did not stem from being right about marriage, but from being right about Trevor. Margaret was truly in love with the man, it was as plain as day. And that notion made Henry Van Alden a very happy man.
***
Henry was not the only one who was happy. Margaret was quite content herself, a fact Cornelia commented on as they strolled through the textiles department at Harrod's.
"Maggie, you're positively glowing. This is quite a change from yesterday."
She laughed and shot her cousin a mischievous glance over the colorful bolts of chintz between them. "You're a married woman, Cornelia. Surely you know the cause."
But her cousin did not respond to the teasing with a smile. She looked back at Margaret with a serious face. "I'm glad you're happy, darling."
"I am happy, and you don't look glad about much of anything these days. You've been such a sober sides since Naples."
"I'm just tired. The trip home and all the rushing of the past few days have quite exhausted me."
Vague uneasiness stirred inside Margaret, but before she could pursue the subject further, her cousin gestured toward the fabrics all around them and gave an unexpected laugh. "My dear, unless you're planning to sew Lord Ashton a shirt—and knowing you, I doubt it—I don't think you'll find a wedding gift for him here."
"You're quite right," Margaret answered and pointed at the sporting equipment across the room. "I was headed in that direction."
She left the textiles department, and Cornelia followed her. She passed the golf clubs and cricket bats and made straight for the fishing gear, halting before a display of rods and tackle baskets. One rod took pride of place, and Margaret pointed to it with a cry of delight. "It's perfect! I knew it the moment I saw the advertisement in the Times this morning."
"A fishing rod?"
"Yes, indeed. Trevor is quite an experienced angler. He's going to love it!"
"It's a rather unusual wedding gift, isn't it?"
"Perhaps," she admitted. "What would you suggest?"
"I gave Edward a pair of gold cufflinks with his initials. He was quite pleased."
That idea left Margaret completely cold. She envisioned Trevor putting a present like that in a drawer and forgetting all about it. "No," she said. "Thank you for the suggestion, but for Trevor, this is exactly right."
A young man in gray flannel approached them. "Ladies, may I be of assistance?"
Margaret pointed to her intended gift. "That is the latest thing in fishing rods?"
"Oh, yes, quite."
"Do you think a man would appreciate it as a wedding present?"
The clerk recovered from his initial surprise and beamed at her. "Madam, any gentleman would be profoundly pleased. I must confess, I wish my wife had thought to give me such a gift."
"What did your wife give you, if I may ask?"
"Cufflinks," he said with a sigh.
Margaret choked back a laugh and wisely did not look at Cornelia. "I'll take it. Could you also outfit a tackle basket to go with it, please?"
"Certainly. Have you an account with us?"
"Yes, indeed. It's under my maiden name, Margaret Van Alden."
The clerk obviously read the papers. "Lady Ashton," he said in a new tone of hushed respect that contained none of the casual friendliness of a few moments before. He gave her a formal bow. "My apologies. I did not know...I'm new here...that is, I did not realize..." His stuttering words faded into a mortified silence.
Margaret looked back at him, surprised by his obvious and painful embarrassment. "That's quite all right," she said, hastening to soothe him. Leaning closer, she confessed in a whisper, "I've only been a countess since yesterday, and I'm not quite used to it myself yet."
The clerk, red-faced, gave her another bow and turned away to write up the order.
"Poor man," she murmured to Cornelia as they followed him to the counter. "He's quite upset. What difference does it make anyway?"
"A great deal of difference," her cousin answered. "A peeress should never be spoken to in such a familiar fashion."
"Well, I don't see how he was supposed to know."
"It is his job to know such things. And you probably should have reprimanded him."
"What? Heavens, the man feels badly enough as it is. Why should I do such a thing?"
"A countess would be expected to do exactly that. Put him in his place. Maggie, you are a countess, now. You must begin learning to behave like one."
"I certainly shall not," she answered with spirit. "Not if it means being rude to poor sales clerks and looking down my nose at people who are only being friendly. No, thank you."
Cornelia sighed. "When you begin managing Ashton Park, you will find a stern and aristocratic demeanor goes much further with English servants and shopkeepers than friendliness, particularly since you are an American. Believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way."
Margaret did not think she wanted to learn that lesson at all.
"But then," Cornelia added, "I didn't have a mother-in-law to help me. You'll be able to rely on Caroline to help you."
The idea of turning to Trevor's formidable mother did not appeal to Margaret. "Must I?"
"I know she seems a cold woman, Maggie, but you can learn a great deal from her. And you must. English country houses are not easy to run, and you've no experience at the task."
"I've run Papa's households for a long time, Cornelia. I think I can manage."
"It's not the same. You're accustomed to all the modern conveniences, to servants who are friendly, and to leaving many of the details to housekeepers. Ashton Park will be different."
"Lady Ashton?" The clerk placed a charge slip before her and handed her a pen.
"Cornelia," she whispered, pen poised hesitantly above the paper. "How do I sign this? Margaret St. James? Lady Ashton?"
Her cousin gave a despairing sigh. "Margaret Ashton," she answered. "You never paid any attention to all the lessons I gave you on titles, and I knew you'd come to regret it one day."
Margaret shrugged and signed her new name with a flourish. "Well, now that I have use for such lessons, I'll pay attention. I promise."
"Would you like these delivered, my lady?" the clerk asked.
"No, thank you. Just have them wrapped, if you please, and I'll take them with me."
"To Lady Longford's?" Cornelia asked as the clerk departed to carry out her instructions.
"No. I'm going home. You can drop me at the house on your way. Make my apologies to Lady Longford, will you, darling? I'm so excited about this. I must give Trevor his present right away. He should be back from his appointment by now." She beamed at her cousin. "Oh, Cornelia, I know he's going to love it."
***
By the time Margaret returned to the house, she was tingling with anticipation. There was nothing more fun, she decided, than finding the perfect gift for someone you loved.
Her arms full with her packages, she fumbled awkwardly for the door pull, but before she could reach it, the front door opened. Sims had already heard the carriage approach and, like any proper butler, was there to open the door for her.
"Shall I take those for you, Lady Ashton?"
"Only for a moment, Sims. Thank you." Relieved of her packages, Margaret pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto the card tray. Her bonnet followed. "Where is everyone?" she asked, removing her cloak.
"Lord Ashton and Lord Kettering are in your father's library, my lady. They have just sat down to tea. Your father has gone out. Shall I take these to your room?"
"No. Give them to me." She draped her cloak on the coat tree and took back her packages, then started toward the long hallway that led to the library at the back of the house.
Trevor and Edward were indeed in the library. She could hear their voices as she approached that room along the carpeted hall.
"I must admit, it's been a rather stressful week," Edward was saying. "While you were in Kent, I thought sure Margaret was developing cold feet. But she seems to be very happy now. I think everything has turned out quite well."
"I think so, too," Trevor answered. "But I'm glad the whole thing is over and done."
"Courtship is a tedious business, is it not? Plays merry hell with a man's nerves. But, I must say, you've handled it all rather well."
Margaret halted outside the half-open door, curious to hear her husband's reply.
"You're wrong, Edward. There were moments when I thought I'd go out of my mind, I assure you. You just weren't there to see it. By yesterday, I was a wreck."
Margaret smiled, quite pleased to learn that her husband wasn't always as cool and collected as he appeared. She took another step forward to push open the door, but Edward's next words stopped her.
"I can't believe it actually worked. No other man of my acquaintance could pull off such an outrageous scheme. Really, you amaze me." Edward laughed. "Only you would think of arranging to have a woman kidnapped in order to woo her."
Everything in Margaret suddenly went ice cold. Trevor had arranged her kidnapping? No, she must have misunderstood. Numbly, unable to believe what she was hearing, she hovered outside the door, listening.
"Hiring your friend Emilio to snatch her away," Edward went on, still laughing, "and then coming to her rescue so that she'd think you the brave, strong hero. God, what an idea!"
Margaret suddenly felt sick. She swayed and leaned one shoulder against the door jamb to steady herself, straining to hear every word.
"I had to get her alone somehow," Trevor was saying. "Once she realized I intended to marry her, she wouldn't even speak to me. She left me little choice."
"Perhaps, but you must admit, it's a unique way of winning a wife."
"I suppose it is."
"But Trevor," Edward said in a suddenly serious voice, "if she ever finds out, she'll be devastated."
Too late, Margaret thought with bitterness.
"She won’t find out," Trevor answered harshly. "There's no need for her to know. Ever. Do you understand?"
"I certainly won't tell her. The results speak for themselves anyway." Edward coughed and added, "She loves you, you know."
"Yes," he said. He did not sound happy. "I know."
"But you don't love her, do you?"
"I'm quite fond of her," Trevor answered. "But love her? No. Edward, you know how I feel about that emotion."
Margaret closed her eyes, raw pain ripping through her. She thought of all the times she had told him she loved him, but it wasn't until this moment that she realized he had never said those words to her. Not once. He was fond of her.
How stupid she had been.
"When I agreed to help you win her," Edward said, "I'd hoped—"
"Hoped what?" Trevor countered harshly. "That love would transform me? Make a new man of me? Lead me to mend my wicked ways?"
"Something like that."
"I don't believe in fairy tales!" Trevor said so savagely that Margaret took a step back from the door. "And Margaret has to stop believing in them, too. She has my name and position," he went on. "She has security and respectability. She'll soon have children to occupy her attention. She won't have to worry that I'll gamble away the money, or drink myself into a stupor every night, or shame her with blatant affairs. I'll be faithful to her as long as she is faithful to me. I'll be a good husband to her, and I'll try to make her happy. What more can a woman expect of marriage?"
Margaret choked back the hysterical laughter that rose in her throat. So he intended to be a good husband to her, did he? How noble of him.
The whole thing had been a farce, a string of lies from start to finish—the seduction, the kidnapping, the rescue, the wedding vows. She thought of last night, of how she had told him she loved him, over and over, while he touched her, while he made love to her.
Made love to her. Another lie.
What a fool she must have looked. A starry-eyed, gullible fool. How he must have been laughing at her romantic, school-girl notions, at how easily he had manipulated her. She wanted to run, she wanted to clamp her hands over her ears so she could hear no more, she wanted to die.
"Don't worry, Edward," Trevor said. "I'll take care of Maggie. Everything has worked out quite well. Margaret is happy, Henry is happy, Ashton Park is saved, and the creditors will be off my back."
Her pain dissolved into sparks of fury at those words. Her money. It always came back to that. She took a deep breath, then leaned her shoulder against the door and pushed it wide. "Another British peer saved from bankruptcy," she said in a shaking voice. "God bless America."
The two men glanced up to find her standing there. Simultaneously, they set down their teacups and rose. Edward stared at her for a moment, red-faced, then turned his face away. Trevor did not. He simply looked at her, his handsome face hard and unreadable.
"Maggie," he said and even had the gall to look her in the eye. "I thought you'd gone to tea at Lady Longford's."
"I changed my mind." Her grip tightened around the packages in her arms. "If the two of you are finished congratulating each other on your cleverness, I would like to speak to you privately, Ashton." She looked at Edward. "Leave us, please."
Edward glanced from one to the other and hastily started for the door. "Certainly," he murmured. He walked past Margaret and departed, closing the door behind him.
For several seconds, they stared at each other without speaking. As the silence lengthened, Margaret began to shake, the anger and pain inside her building until she thought she would explode.
Trevor began walking toward her, slowly, as if he were approaching a wounded animal. How appropriate, she thought wildly. That was exactly how she felt. She wanted to slash at him with claws and teeth, make him bleed as she was bleeding.
He halted in front of her. "Maggie—"
"You bastard." Her voice shook from the effort to remain in control. She dropped the packages at his feet. With her arms free, she could no longer contain her rage. Without thinking, she slapped him across the face.
He didn't move. He didn't react. He simply looked back at her with his calm, inscrutable expression and said nothing. That only infuriated her more.
"You manipulative, lying bastard." She lifted her hand to strike again, but he caught her wrist.
A glitter of danger flickered in his blue eyes, the only indication he felt anything at all. But his voice was surprisingly gentle. "I never lied to you."
Outraged that he had the gall to say that after everything she'd overheard, Margaret jerked free of his hold and took a step back. "You deliberately developed an acquaintance with me because you wanted my money. Do you deny it?"
"No. And you knew that perfectly well. You hurled that accusation in my face more than once, so why should it be a shock to you now? And you also wanted things from me, Maggie. You wanted excitement, you wanted adventure." He reached out, running one finger down her cheek and across her lips. "You wanted kisses, did you not?"
She turned her face away from his touch. "You said you desired me, when all along it was only my money you wanted."
"If I did not desire you, I would never have seduced you or married you, your money be damned."
Another lie. She could feel all the love she had for him changing to something black and cold, something akin to hatred. "You knew I did not want to marry a man who does not love me!" she cried, lifting her chin to look at him with all the pain and loathing she felt. "You don't love me, but you made me believe that you did so I would marry you."
His eyes shifted away from her. For the first time, he looked somewhat guilty. As if he realized it, he turned and walked away. Halting beside the fireplace, he turned on her. "What are you saying?" he demanded. "Are you saying that now I am condemned because I sought a more honorable relationship with you than simple seduction? Forgive me, madam, if I fail to see the crime in wanting you for a wife instead of a mistress."
"How dare you even mention honor in connection with what you've done! You arranged for friends of yours to kidnap me!" Even though she had overheard his conversation with Edward, even as she said the words now, she could still hardly believe he had done such a thing. "I was bound, blindfolded, and gagged,
not to mention terrified! I was scared to death Emilio and his men were going to kill me or, or worse. And you put me through that just so you could rescue me and play the part of my knight in shining armor?"
"No. I did it because once you had discovered my intention to marry you, you wouldn't even speak to me, and I knew that if I didn't find ways for us to be alone and spend time together, you would never give me a chance to win you."
"And you would never get your hands on my money."
"For God's sake, Maggie, stop throwing the money in my face!" he shouted. "What do you think I wanted it for? Do you think I wanted it for silk waistcoats and gambling funds and expensive mistresses? My worthless brother put our family estate in debt to the tune of two hundred thousand pounds, a sum I could never repay. His creditors were about to foreclose on Ashton Park, my mother and grandmother would have been without a home, and I would have lost the only thing I've ever cared about in my life, the only opportunity I've ever had to build a future for myself. When you are about to see your family turned out and your home taken away, then come and give me a lecture on morality."
