Page 40 of Indecent Desires of a Proper Lady
Juliet’s face reddened with pleasure, and she clapped her hands. “What wonderful news!” She lowered her voice after she realized how loud she was being. “And what a lovely ring, My Dear,” she whispered.
Leonard shook Philip’s hand. “Congratulations to you, Old friend.” He looked at Margaret, his eyes kind. “And to you, dear Sister. I believe you have made a very good decision.”
“I know it.”
“Oh, I wish we could tell everyone the news!” Juliet cried.
“Sister,” Margaret said softly. “We feel it is best to tell only those we are closest to about our news.”
Philip nodded. “I wish to continue all the formalities once I am returned from my training. I leave next week, you see.”
“We shall be the souls of discretion, of course.” Juliet placed a finger over her lips.
Leonard pointed to the side. “My Dear, we have other guests to attend to. Again, my heartiest congratulations,” he said with a wink.
Margaret turned to Philip and sighed. He said, “Well, shall we dance again, Lady Whitfield?”
“So we shall, Mr. Winston.” Smiling, she took his proffered hand and they led their way to the dance floor.
* * *
Philip didn’t want to waste a moment of his precious time before leaving for the Navy. He had practically installed himself at Bartley Manor, finally able to fully express the love he had for Margaret and to spend as much time with her as possible.
Birds were chirping lightly as he and Margaret stood in her back garden before a pair of easels. “How do you feel about my use of lighting?”
Margaret, dressed in a white apron, walked around to his side to see and attempted to stifle a chuckle. Philip shook his head in faux indignation. “A woman agrees to marry a man and yet she treats him with such disdain. Margaret Whitfield, I thought better of you.” He clucked his tongue with disapproval.
Margaret chuckled. “It is not that it is bad, per se, but that the lighting is not quite the main problem. The figure in the center, who I presume is me, appears a little more akin to a wild beast than a woman.”
Philip laughed, his head back. “I did not promise skilled painting, but perhaps that is how I see you, Margaret. Wild and untamable.” He stared down at her, feeling the wave of desire that seemed to come over him ever stronger, the more he spent time with her.
While he knew he had loved her greatly, spending as much time as they had together in the past days had increased his love and magnified his good fortune. He wanted her to be his wife as quickly as possible, but they would have to be patient.
“A wild beast you say? Well, that is preferable to being thought of as a useless, empty-headed woman.” She walked back to her own canvas, her laughing eyes on him. Her glance sent a tingle through his whole body.
“That I could never accuse you of, Margaret. But I suppose I should make some attempt to adjust my painting skills here. They are rather wanting, I will admit.”
Margaret giggled again as Philip returned to his work. In a quarter of an hour, they were seated in garden chairs with lemonade, looking off into the expansive garden.
“Have you thought any more about swimming, Margaret? I should be much obliged to assist you in learning.”
Margaret reddened. “Philip Winston, you know that would be most improper until we are securely married,” she winked. “After that, I would be very happy to learn.”
Philip laughed. “I do forget to be proper, Margaret, when you are about.” He leaned in a little closer, his voice low and husky. “I can think of hardly anything else when you are around. You consume me entirely.”
“Philip,” Margaret breathed, and Philip was pleased to see his words had affected her. “I understand this pain. I know it well, but I have enjoyed this time together. We are so open, and there is much laughter. It is a wonderful thing.”
“You are right, My Dear. Quite right.” He spied her notebook which laid open beside them on the table. “Now tell me what kind of progress you are making in your novel. How is the Navy man?” he winked.
Margaret laughed and flipped through her pages. “All is going well, I believe. I have sorted the issue of the main male character.”
“And what of the female? Will they find each other by the end of the book?” His fingers snaked their way across the table over her notebook, brushing his fingertips over hers.
Smiling, Margaret moved the notebook out from under his hand. “Mr. Winston, you will just have to wait and see what miracles I can create. It could be nothing, you know.”
“But I am assured it will most certainly be something. I have taken the liberty of writing to a publisher friend of mine. As luck would have it, he is interested in fresh material from new people. He would like to hear more about your work.”
Amused at Margaret’s speechless expression, Philip turned away to look into the garden. “So, if you would prefer that I not explain to him about what the work entails and how fascinating it is, well then, I could—”
