Page 57 of Indecent Desires of a Proper Lady
Margaret nodded.
“Then what do you have to fear for what Charles might say? He has no power over you anymore.” Margaret nodded again, so desperate to believe it, but in her heart of hearts, she knew that the past was hard to let go. She felt it yesterday when he’d spoken those affectionate words to her.
Juliet continued, her calm voice soothing some of Margaret’s frayed nerves. “Let Charles do as he wishes. The matters of his heart have nothing to do with you anymore. You should concern yourself with the matters of the man you have chosen to marry. And, as for Charles attempting to spoil your image of Philip, I do believe that Leonard will agree with me that Charles looked a bit jealous.”
“Jealous?” Margaret sighed, wondering if that was all it was. That would be better than whatever evil truth Charles was trying to reveal.
“Yes. A simple emotion. But a nasty one. Do not let it worry you.”
The nanny entered the drawing room, George in her arms.
“Hello, George!” Juliet said, her face lighting up. She grabbed him into her own arms and placed him on her hip. “Welcome, little man.”
Margaret smiled at her nephew, but she couldn’t switch her mind from the matters at hand.
George said, “Mother, can we go visit Papa? I have a question for him.”
“Well, George, they might be a bit busy for us at the moment.”
“It is important, Mama. Papa promised.”
Juliet sighed and looked at Margaret as a long-suffering mother. “Fine, then George, but then soon after, we must come right back and sit with Aunt Margaret while she writes her book.”
George clapped his hands with delight. Juliet said, “We shall be back directly. Think on my words, Margaret. Do not overexcite yourself.”
Margaret nodded, and she took a deep breath, not too hopeful that she would manage to keep herself calm, but she looked out the window to the garden. She hoped that the sunny early afternoon would give her a little bit of peace. She closed her eyes, picturing the image of the lake once more in her mind. She remembered her painting and smiled, ready to return to it that afternoon.
But as she was deciding to start painting, someone cleared his throat behind her, and Margaret’s eyes blinked open before she turned around, to see a grinning Charles standing there in front of her, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
Time seemed to stop. It was just as she remembered feeling when she had bumped into Philip in the hallway and Charles had greeted her. Words were jumbled in her brain. Breath was no longer moving through her lungs. The world felt like it was underwater.
She watched him curiously for a moment, wondering what on earth he was doing there. Why he had left Leonard’s office, why he was clutching flowers, and why he was grinning at her as if he was about to reveal some wonderful surprise?
“Charles,” she said softly. “Juliet has just gone out. I have no chaperone.” She hoped that would be enough to send him running from the drawing room and out of her life.
He kept smiling. “I know that, but I shall keep the door open.” He took a step toward her, still clutching his flowers.
“Where did you get those?” She looked down at the bouquet, afraid to look at his eyes, which seemed to be looking even darker, filled with a sort of desire, she thought.
“After breakfast, I walked in the garden for a while, and I gathered them for you. However, I wanted to wait until I was alone with you to give them to you.” He handed them to her, and reluctantly, but also wanting to not appear impolite, she took them in her hand.
She took a breath, and Charles stepped even closer, whispering her name softly, “Margaret.”
Margaret held up a hand and stepped back, finally looking up at his eyes. “There is another reason you should not be in here, Charles.” Now was the time. She had to tell him or else it would all be for naught. What was the point of accepting Philip’s offer of marriage if she was never going to reveal it to anyone, especially to the man who she knew deep down was just about to offer himself?
“What is it?” he teased, his smile spreading across her face, the kind of smile that used to make her heart melt and her legs weak. Now, it only made her feel the slightest bit ill.
“It is that I am betrothed.” Charles lifted an eyebrow again. She nodded her head. “Yes. I am betrothed. It is not yet official, but you need to know. I cannot be alone with another man.”
Charles hesitated for a moment, but then he stepped closer. “To whom?”
Margaret’s voice was weak as she said, “To Philip.” It was all happening as she’d feared. Why did Juliet not yet return?
He sighed, but his face did not show any sort of remorse or anger over the fact. He simply lifted a hand and as if it was just a soft breeze, he caressed her check, staring down at her with those eyes of his. Margaret felt speechless at his touch. She flinched a little. What was going on?
“I see. I wonder how your affections could have changed so quickly, Margaret. You needed only to wait for me. I am here now, ready to share my affection with you.”
Margaret’s heart sped up, and she was trapped between confusion and awkwardness. Charles was revealing his affection for her, and she found she was frozen to the spot, unsure what to do or say.
