Before his completely unprovoked kiss, he could have gone weeks and months without giving Lady Margaret Stockwick a second or even first thought. Before he’d kissed Margaret, he’d never imagined his best friend’s sister might be worth risking a friendship over just so he could have the pleasure of kissing her again.

  But as the breakfast progressed, and her eyes sought his time and again, he considered renewing his acquaintance with her a most intriguing opportunity. It had certainly been a while since he’d done anything without thinking the matter through properly. Considering the consequences and the needs of the family first had become second nature up until yesterday.

  “I think I’ve had enough, thank you,” Otis decided and allowed a servant to remove his breakfast plate. He sat back, noting Margaret requested more tea but ate little.

  She looked so pretty that morning, dressed all in green velvet. She looked as if she had rested well last night, too, and she was smiling whenever Hector spoke to her.

  Otis wished he could say he’d passed as good a night. He had been keenly aware that her bedchamber was not so very far away from his, and that he found her terribly attractive. He buried his nose in his teacup again, and scolded himself roundly. He would not kiss Margaret again—not without her permission or invitation.

  Hector gobbled up one last slice of ham and glanced his way. “A word, Clement.”

  Otis nodded, wondering if Hector had already seen that he was paying attention to Margaret and meant to warn him off.

  He drained the dregs of his tea, casting a casual eye over the waiting table as he rose. Mother seemed happy, but she always was when Father absented himself from dining with them. His siblings were content for the moment and not squabbling. His eyes were drawn back to Margaret but her expression filled him with unease. Would she have told Hector what he’d done with her lips yesterday?

  Hector threw aside his napkin and strode out.

  Fearing the worst, Otis joined him in the hall. “Where were you last night?”

  “Renewing my acquaintance with George Moore,” Hector said with a sly smile.

  “And his sister too, I suppose,” Otis murmured quietly. “She’s trouble.”

  “After the year I’ve had, I enjoy that sort of trouble.” Hector scowled. “For heaven’s sake, don’t go all Meg on me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “One mustn’t have any fun. One must mourn forever,” Hector said with an exaggerated feminine tone that might have been a poor attempt to imitate his sister.

  Otis checked that the hall was still empty. He had no experience with losing a member of his family but he hoped he displayed more compassion to his loved ones than Hector seemed to. “Just a friendly warning.”

  “Anyone would think our father was a saint,” Hector grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He had a woman the year Mother fell ill.”

  Otis was surprised to hear it. Lady Stockwick had been very ill for a long time but he had thought the couple had been closer than ever. Margaret seemed to idolize her late father. She would be shattered to know he had not been faithful. “I assume your sister has no idea?”

  “None. She’d never believe me.”

  Thank heavens for small mercies. “Telling her now would be cruel. Women tend to become emotional upon hearing about betrayals of that nature.”

  “And knowing my luck, it would turn her forever away from the idea of marriage. I’ll never be rid of her if she found out.” Hector smiled suddenly. “I was wondering if I might borrow a few pounds from you.”

  “What do you need money for?”

  “George Moore.”

  “Why couldn’t you leave it alone?” Otis murmured quietly. Hector gambled too often and recklessly for his taste. It was one of the reasons he was happy not to be in London with him very often.

  “I have to try to win my money back.” Hector nodded. “The bastard cheated me out of my money.”

  “If you didn’t gamble while drinking it wouldn’t be so easy.” George Moore had a temper when there were winnings owed to him. Otis dug in his pocket to see what change he carried, hoping it would be enough. A few notes and a handful of coins was all he had right now. He held them out and Hector took all of it with a grin.

  “I’ll pay you back of course but I really must be on my way.”

  “So soon?”

  “Meg seems to be settled in now with your mother and really doesn’t need me,” Hector announced.

  “Of course Margaret needs you,” Otis insisted, remembering yesterday’s conversation. “You are her brother. The most important man in her life right now.”

  “She needs the company of other women. She also needs to prepare for her season and marriage. I cannot help with that. Lady Vyne has consented to take Mother’s role in educating her on such matters. So I am going to absent myself until Christmas Day. After Twelfth Night, we’ll head for London and I’ll start introducing her around Town. With the dowry I’m prepared to bestow, I’m sure she will attract sufficient interest to find herself a husband.”

  Otis recoiled from Hector a little. There were days Otis did not understand Hector at all. He would never treat one of his sisters with so little consideration.

  But Hector was right about the interest Margaret could stir up in London. She was pretty and bright and dowered, but she was not looking forward to the season the way many women did. He wished Mother could be in London with her then. She would keep any scoundrels away from her and steer her toward a good man.

  If Otis found himself in London at that time, he could introduce her to any good men he knew.

  After the emotional few years she’d experienced, she might need good friends as she made the most important decision of her life. Otis studied Hector warily. She clearly couldn’t count on her brother to be patient. Otis was almost afraid Hector might just approve the first man who asked for her hand to be rid of her.

  If Hector learned they had kissed, he might insist Otis marry Margaret, whether she wished to or not.

  Although…if Otis did offer for Margaret, and was accepted, he would win the bet with his father with time to spare.

  Otis turned at the sound of raised voices. His mother and sisters were finally leaving the morning room, while the boy was being dragged back upstairs by his nurse. Margaret was bringing up the rear.

  Otis glanced around but found only empty air where Hector had stood.

  “For heaven’s sake,” he cursed under his breath, and then smiled as the ladies joined him. He clapped his hands together once and rubbed them briskly. “So are we all ready to brave the outdoors at last?”

  He looked at each of them. His sisters and mother exclaimed that they were. Margaret was quieter in her response, but she too agreed she was ready to face the outdoors. He was glad she could be coaxed outside with them at last.

  “Well, then hurry up and get your coats,” he told them all, moving as if he was about to rush outside without them. His siblings were usually quick, so they rushed for the waiting servants and began to rug up.

  Margaret was first dressed and slid past him in the narrow hall without meeting his gaze. The sweet scent of honeysuckle left in her wake was utterly intoxicating. He’d found the scent on her skin most distracting yesterday, too.

  Otis allowed everyone to file from the house ahead of him.

  Mother was slowest, which ensured she and Otis brought up the rear together. Meg was swept away by the girls up the garden path, and that was for the best. He needed to talk to Mother without being overheard. “Stockwick intends to leave Margaret entirely to your care. He’s slipped away again and won’t be back until Christmas Day.”

  “Good.”

  He looked at his mother in surprise. “Good?”

  Mother huffed. “She spent the whole of last night and this morning waiting to talk to him. If I can convince her he’ll be gone for a few days, she might consent to having a little fun, or considering the future. Perhaps you can help with that.”

  He glanced at her with suspicion. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Be attentive. Boost her confidence. Every woman wants to be admired by a gentleman of taste.”

  “I’m sure she knows her value.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore,” Mother warned. “Did you know Meg once had a suitor?”

  “Hector never mentioned that.”

  “Local lad. Hector introduced them. The fellow had ambitions that included leaving England. Meg was devastated when it was proved he was only interested in her for her dowry and planned to leave her behind as soon as their vows were spoken.”

  Knowing Margaret had been disappointed in love before did explain why she might be reluctant to venture onto the marriage mart. He would be, too, under those circumstances. “Is that why she never married, because her heart was broken?”

  “That and losing the parents she adored to illness and grief. She hasn’t had a chance to impress anyone since. Let’s hope her next suitor has more staying power and a truer heart,” Mother whispered and then strode forward.

  Ahead, his sisters were whispering while Margaret walked alone. He had noticed the girls and Meg seemed to get along well this visit, almost as well as Margaret and Mother did. Margaret’s devotion to her family was one quality they had in common.

  He hurried to catch up to her.

  Margaret seemed surprised when he fell into step with her. “Are you enjoying the walk?” he asked as she stopped and looked around for the rest of the group.

  “Yes,” she promised with a sigh. “This is just what I need. Peace and quiet.”

  “Yes, peace and…” Otis spun around quickly. Walks with his sisters were never quiet. And he could not see either one of them. Mother had fallen behind, nudging snow off a statue with the tip of her finger. All there was to see was snow-covered shrubbery.

  His tension increased. It would be a surprise attack at any moment then.

  Otis rushed toward Margaret, arms spread. “No, not today!” he cried out.

  But it was too late. Balls of snow pelted down upon them in a thick white shower.

  Margaret screamed in fright.

  Thinking to protect her, Otis put his arms around her head and shoulders. “I’ll punish them for this,” he assured Margaret.

  Margaret fell to the ground, and Otis moved to cover her as much as possible while the snowballs started striking his back in earnest.

  Margaret broke away from him suddenly—and before he knew it, she was pelting handfuls of snow at his sisters.

  He could not have been more surprised.

  While he’d been protecting her, she had quickly lined up a series of balls unnoticed at their feet but was making very good use of them all now.

  Otis hurried to make more, tossing out a few himself but handing most to Margaret. He was used to this sort of behavior from his occasionally brattish siblings, but he’d never expected any lady to want to join in with their usual method of winter warfare.

  Margaret had a good arm, and soon it was his sisters’ turn to shriek in terror and run and hide behind Mother for protection.

  Otis looked up from his kneeling perch to see Margaret smiling as he’d never seen before. She was blinding, so happy and joyous right now.

  Otis felt his attraction to her only increase.

  Chapter 7

  Meg stepped from her steaming-hot bath, allowed her maid to wrap her in linen, and began to dry herself off before the blazing fire. Aside from the endless cold, it was easy living here, allowing servants to pamper her and fetch her anything her heart desired. Lady Vyne was emphatic that Meg make herself at home, and Meg had reluctantly agreed to because refusing seemed to make the lady unhappy.

  She ducked behind a corner dressing screen to finish her drying off in private. “The weather seems much improved today,” she called out.

  “Yes, but heavy falls are expected before nightfall,” Lady Vyne warned. “Make sure to wear your warmest gown for dinner.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Meg’s new maid handed over thick woolen stockings that had been warmed by the fire, and then a chemise. To keep the chill at bay, Meg had taken to wearing as many undergarments as possible. It felt a bit constricting at times, but at least she was always warm.

  She stepped out from behind the screen to allow the maid to help her into a day gown of burgundy wool and then sat before her mirror. The maid quickly brushed out her long hair and began styling. While she did, Meg observed her hostess. She often caught Lady Vyne frowning and today was no different. Something was on her mind that she would not talk about with Meg.

  Lady Vyne drew closer, helping the maid insert a few of her more decorative pins to her hair. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Meg said, hiding her smile. She felt a bit lovely, too. Despite the cold of The Vynes, she was happy to be here. She had not realized how much she had missed the company of another woman. Even the countess’ children’s antics appealed to her. The young boy was a sweet little gentleman, happy to perch on her lap occasionally, especially if it meant he was closer to the cakes placed on the tabletop.

  The girls were playful, running here and there through the upper floor of the grand house. They were not allowed in any of the ground-floor rooms. Lord Vyne was said to prefer not to see his children more than once a week. Lady Vyne, however, was as devoted a mother as anyone could want.

  Because of the absence of affection from their father, all held their older brother, Lord Clement, in the highest regard. He toted them around, played with them, admonishing them to be good or quiet when they became too rowdy. He was a wonderful older brother. He would make a kind husband and father one day too.

  She turned away slightly as her face heated a little because she was thinking of him again.

  Meg could not seem to forget that Lord Clement had kissed her, but had not tried to do it again since. She was not sure whether to be grateful or despondent about that. He was not avoiding her, but he was busy and always seemed rushed. She rather thought she might like another kiss from him if he was ever so inclined. After all, she was being forced to look for a husband in London. Why not be prepared to pick someone who kissed well? But in order to do that, Meg needed to be able to make a comparison.

  “What are our plans for the afternoon?”

  “We must wait.” Lady Vyne moved to the window, and Meg dismissed the maid. “My husband has invited friends of his to join us for the holiday. They could arrive anytime now, I believe.”

  Meg was disappointed by the news that she must meet new people. “Who are they?”

  “Mr. Xavier Milne. He is a prosperous merchant and quite wealthy, from London.”

  A prosperous husband might make a good husband too. “I see. Is Mr. Milne married, madam?”

  “Indeed he is. His wife has given him several children.”

  Meg sagged with relief. For a moment, she feared Lady Vyne had invited the gentleman for the sole purpose of meeting her before the season began. Given the secrecy of everything that had gone before to get her here, she would not have been surprised if Hector had arranged something like that. “I do hope they are enjoying a smooth journey.”

  “Yes, but until they arrive, I am not quite certain how many members of his family will be joining us.” Lady Vyne shrugged. “We shall see. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Meg snatched up a woolen shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders.

  Lady Vyne smiled and led the way to the door.

  They were in the morning room half an hour when a servant came with the news that a carriage was approaching the manor. Lady Vyne seemed displeased by the news but moved to the drawing room to receive them.

  Meg was dragged along although she rather hoped she might have been excused. Lord Vyne was already in the drawing room, pacing. Meg had not seen her host more than once since her arrival. He was said to be ill and spent much of his day in bed. However, during the times she had been exposed to his company, she found him a cold and hard man, one with little conversation for Meg.

  “I’ve sent for your son, madam,” he said curtly.

  Lady Vyne nodded.

  Meg looked down at her fingers, feeling ill at ease that any search would be in vain. Lord Clement had left the manor before elevenses. Meg had waved to him from her upper bedchamber window when she’d seen his figure on the snowy lawn below. He’d waved back but continued on his way to the stables. She’d seen him ride off, too, but not return to the manor in the hours since.

  “I will expect him to be attentive to all our guests,” Lord Vyne informed his wife.

  Lady Vyne nodded and arched her neck toward the door. “They are here.”

  The earl cast a baleful eye upon his wife. “I will speak with the boy later about his absence.”

  That did not sound very pleasant. Meg eased back as greetings were exchanged with Mr. Milne and a daughter. She seemed about Meg’s age but with a polish Meg could never hope to imitate. Miss Milne was spectacularly pretty, with russet-red hair and a heart-shaped face. Meg rather thought she knew her looks were superior, too. The pair were very loud and exuberant. Meg did not like them very much.

  Miss Milne glanced at Meg, frowning slightly at her presence.

  Lady Vyne introduced Meg with a fond smile. “And this is our dear friend, Lady Margaret Stockwick.”

  “A pleasure, my lady.”

  “Miss Milne.” Meg inclined her head. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”

  “Indeed it was,” she replied, smiling at Lady Vyne.

  They all sat down together, and Meg ended up beside Miss Milne. Being new acquaintances in the presence of old friends, Meg held her tongue and let others talk. Miss Milne felt no such compulsion. She added her pennies’ worth at every opportunity, drawing all eyes in the room to look at her.

  Miss Milne leaned closer suddenly and whispered, “Will Lord Clement be joining us soon do you think?”

  “I cannot say,” Meg whispered back.

  “Have you been visiting long?”

  “We arrived several days ago.”

 

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