Page 77 of Lady for a Season
He rose at once and came to her, standing so close that he could smell the warm scent of her, not the delicate rose perfume she wore but her own scent, a smell which made desire rush up in him. “Would you, Maggie?” he asked, and his hands clasped her waist and drew her closer to him. He almost kissed her there and then, found himself gazing at the rosy temptation of her mouth, his lips parting to match hers, before he met her gaze and saw her eyes were full of tears. “Maggie…”
“We cannot,” she murmured, voice so low he could barely hear her. “We never can, Edward.”
He let go of her waist as though his fingers had been burned, so fast that she rocked backwards as he let go of her. “Never?” He wanted her to fight for them, to say that what they felt was greater than the threat it posed, that she did not care about anything except him. But instead, she shook her head in silence, a tear falling down onto her cheek, followed by another.
He stared at her for a moment, then let out a curse and strode from the room, unable to bear her being so close yet untouchable, there yet not his. Outside he sprang into Merlin’s saddle and rode back to the house at a gallop, all but throwing the reins into a surprised groom’s hands, then making his way into the hallway.
The Duchess emerged immediately from the drawing room. No doubt she had been watching and waiting at the window. “Where have you been?”
“The Dower House,” said Edward curtly, brushing past her and taking the stairs two at a time.
“Edward!” Her voice rang out sharply and he paused at the top of the staircase without turning.
“Yes?”
“There is to be a house party here. Next week. With a ball. At which we will announce your engagement.”
Chapter 10:
Old John
The house party’s details were settled. Guests would arrive Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday night would feature an elegant dinner. On Thursday there would be a lavish ball, and therefore everyone expected Wednesday to be the day when Edward would ask Miss Belmont to marry him, thus making the ball a celebration of their engagement. Under the weight of this expectation, Atherton Park was being transformed. Where the servants usually went about their business discreetly, silently, rising before dawn to make fires and cook breakfasts, staying up late to clean dining tables and working in rooms the family was not using, now they were everywhere. Indeed, Maggie wondered whether they had multiplied overnight, for there appeared to be more maids and footmen than she had ever seen before. Every corridor had people rushing down it, carrying armfuls of linens or vases of flowers, cleaning implements, firewood and coal. Maggie expected the Duchess to be outraged but she was everywhere too, directing, criticising, re-arranging work already done.
“Atherton Park must be at its very best,” she said, pointing a maid in one direction while shaking her head at another, whowas about to place a vase of flowers in the wrong location. “Lord and Lady Godwin must see it at its finest to seal the deal.”
Every bedroom would be in use; even the nursery was rearranged to make sleeping space for the extra servants who would be attending with their masters and mistresses. Meanwhile the vast extension to the back of Atherton Park, which consisted of a magnificent ballroom in the centre with an orangery to one side and a dining room to the other, was brought fully to life for the first time since Maggie had arrived at Atherton Park. Dozens of gilded chairs were brought out from under holland covers, looking glasses polished, hundreds of candles were placed ready in their holders, chandeliers were lowered and dusted, gigantic flower arrangements were prepared.
“I heard a French chef is to manage the meals during the house party,” Maggie said to Celine, who had come to her bedroom to choose clothes for each day’s activities.
Celine tittered. “Monsieur Cerf arrived in his own carriage, with another trailing behind him full of assistants and half a kitchen’s worth of bowls, spoons, bain-marie sets, salmon kettles and who knows what else.”
“Does he think a duke’s kitchen won’t have what he needs? What does Mrs Barton say? Isn’t she put out to have her kitchen taken away from her and have some French chef lording it over her?”
Celine shook her head. “She knows her true worth,” she said confidently. “Monsieur Cerf is only for show. Mrs Barton is wanted all year round because she’s one of the best cooks there is. In all the time she has served here, there hasn’t been a year gone by without some lady tried to poach her from Her Grace’s service.”
“Do ladies do that? How underhand.”
“Ladies try to poach servants all the time,” said Celine. “I havelost count of the number of times a lady has pressed a guinea and a visiting card with their address on it into my hand and whispered that she would be glad to hear from me, should I be looking for a new position.”
“And you never said yes?” asked Maggie, surprised. Surely serving the Duchess was a role most servants would prefer to escape from.
Celine smiled. “I am used to her ladyship by now. And…” she shrugged. “I have known her a long time. Now, your dress for the ball.”
The thought of the ball, a celebration of Edward’s impending engagement, brought a wave of nausea. “Whatever you think best,” she said hurriedly.
“The pink silk, I had the modiste attach roses to the bodice and then petals falling down from the skirt,” began Celine with enthusiasm, making to open a large box, but Maggie only nodded.
“I will see it on the day, it can be a surprise,” she managed with false brightness.
Celine set the box aside. “Then just the green for the picnic,” she finished, and left the room.
From Monday, the guests began to arrive, carriage after carriage throughout the day, each one welcomed by Edward and his mother, with Maggie standing by their side, endless bows and curtseys and servants hurrying to unpack luggage before the carriages were driven away to the stable yard, which was bursting at the seams. Every family arrived with their servants in tow. The attics were full and the guest rooms which had lain empty were all assigned. The Peony Room, the Rose Room, the China Room, the Red Room, one after another they were filled.
They had just finished welcoming Lady Honora’s family when Maggie caught Edward’s eye. “I have a surprise for you,” shemurmured, having checked that the Duchess was busy speaking with Lord and Lady Halesworth.
“What is it?”
“Come,” she said, turning towards the first flight of stairs.
