Page 52 of Indecent Desires of a Proper Lady
“Please,” she said, placing a hand on her stomach. She felt faint. The moment was too much.
Charles placed a soft hand on her arm and looked at her face with concern. “I am sorry. Are you all right?”
Margaret swallowed, and then cleared her throat. “Yes, thank you. I am very well.”
He nodded. “I see. I have embarrassed you a little. Do forgive me. I would not wish to do so, or to make you think that I wished you any harm at all. We can continue to discuss other subjects if you please. Tell me of what you have been working on. Your brother tells me you have a plan to write and to paint?”
Margaret still felt a little dizzy from the excess of his kind words. Could it be real? Did Charles truly think those things? And if so, why did he never reciprocate her very marked affection?
She glanced at his smiling, handsome face. He was certainly not as handsome as Philip, but there was the memory there of someone she had so dearly loved, and it confused her greatly that he should act now just as she had always hoped he would act.
Eventually, she realized she had not spoken in a few moments, and would embarrass herself even further if she did not speak then. “Yes, you are right. I have been painting and writing a great deal. Just as you arrived, I was painting.”
“Oh, may I see?” He pointed to the farther end of the garden. “I can see your canvas there. Is it too much of an imposition to ask to see it?”
“Of course not,” she said, but she feared that there might be revelations upon the canvas of her affection for Philip. For some reason, she did not wish to reveal it to him yet. She feared that he would react unkindly or sarcastically, and she wasn’t sure that she could bear it. Her whole body felt trembling and weak around this new Charles.
They finally found their way to the canvas, and while it was unfinished, Margaret was proud of the work she had made on the lake.
“Ah, how lovely, Margaret!” Again, his smile was wide and proud, and when he turned to her, he said. “You are eminently talented, as I have already expressed. But I believe this is the first painting of yours that I have seen.”
Margaret laughed. “You may believe so, but a few of them hang around the house already, and so you will have seen them without even knowing it.”
Charles stepped a hair closer, and Margaret could feel heat spreading through her chest and stomach. “Then I know just how talented you are. For if you hung with the greatest masters in the world, and I did not notice a difference from them, you are a very skilled painter indeed.”
Juliet called from the other side of the garden, but before Margaret could answer, Charles clasped her hand. Margaret gasped at the intimacy.
He whispered, “I know that I have been overly complimentary and will have scared you slightly but do say you will give me an audience again soon.”
Margaret felt dizzy again. There were the dark eyes she had so often seen in her dreams and the scent of him that had driven her wild for many years. They were still there, and while their effect had been lessened, their old power still lingered slightly. All she could do was nod. As quick as a flash, Charles grinned and pulled his hand away, so that the two of them could answer Juliet’s call.
* * *
Philip had had too much to drink. He knew it, and the feeling of heady oblivion was most welcome. It was the end of the men’s training, and they were soon to be let out into the world for a little while before sent off to their various assignments. He had purchased a commission for lieutenant, but he hoped one day to be moved in rank to captain, once he could get his feel of the boat, the crew, and the sea.
Collingsworth, as the oldest of the group, seemed to have taken it upon himself to be the leader in the last few weeks. He stood, raising his glass in the air. The whole group of them had left the barracks for the evening and were in an ill-lit pub, savoring the fine establishment’s wares as a sort of celebration for Philip on his incumbent marriage.
“To Winston, on finding a woman who could bear to see his face for the next fifty years.”
Brent stood up as well, his glass high. “Let us hope and pray that her face also retains beauty after all those years, if it even does now.”
The men guffawed into laughter, and Philip found himself smiling, even though he knew they were being rude. Margaret Whitfield, even without his bias was the most handsome woman of his acquaintance. It was a strange thing, marriage, to be so aligned with someone for so long.
For a moment, as his glass wavered in the air, he thought of his parents. They had been married for nearly forty years, and yet there were still smiles upon their faces, and there was still a kindness and affection there. All would be well.
“I thank you, gentleman, for your kind words.”
They all drank deeply from their cups and set about to discussing other matters. As he sat watching the group, thinking that he had never been so happy, Captain Darling leaned in to him. Philip could smell the whiskey on the man’s breath, even though he had plenty of it on his own.
“So, will you not tell us who your betrothed is? Not even on your last evening with us? You know that we are all burning with curiosity to know the woman who has so stolen your heart.”
Philip smiled and brought the glass to his lips. “You will see soon enough! The banns will be posted in the papers. All will be revealed in due course.”
Collingsworth overheard their conversation and leaned over the table, yelling belligerently, “Come, man! Tell us! What will you bring the lady upon your return?”
Philip frowned. “As in a gift?”
“Yes. Other than your handsome presence of course,” Brent chuckled.
