She considered. ‘Well, I’m not quite sure. Perhaps you could show me again?’
He gave a savage laugh and put his face in her neck.
* * *
Next morning at breakfast, Argyle watched her come into the room, dressed in a high-necked, dark yellow gown trimmed with braid, and with a matching bandeau in her hair. He wondered for a moment, swallowing a silent, savage laugh, if the high neck of her dress was covering marks he had made on her skin—but it was a walking dress, so perhaps not.
She was completely composed, although her face was glowing. She looked around the room, said, “Good morning,” and her gaze passed over him indifferently. The night before they had dozed off in each other’s arms, and he had woken in the early hours to find her gone.
Someone said, “You look in fine form this morning, Marguerite.”
She answered, “Thank you. I slept very well—it is so peaceful at night, in the country.” She smiled at Felix Crampton who had fetched her a cup of coffee, and seamlessly joined the general chatter. An expedition had been planned to visit some Roman ruins nearby, with a picnic to follow.
How could she do it? He was burning up. This made him even more aloof and intolerant of others than usual. He left the table and went for a long ride in the woods alone; thinking of her naked body beneath his, on the bookroom sofa.
* * *
Marguerite, standing by the window with a cup of coffee in her hand, saw him trot off down the drive, and was troubled. She felt strange—frozen outwardly but melting inside. Elated and confused. The men were debating whether it was preferable togo hunting again, or to join the ladies on the outing—opinions differed, but a fair number decided to go on the expedition. Some people were to ride, others drive in an assortment of carriages.
One of the girls said, ‘Will you be going in the duke’s curricle, Marguerite?’
She turned back from the window and put a smile on her face. ‘No, I do not think he’s coming with us. I have just seen him ride out on his horse.’
‘So, he won’t be hunting, either. He is so trying—he never joins in anything. But you must be disappointed.’ The girl threw her a meaningful look.
She shrugged. ‘Hardly. It would be too much to expect to be allowed to drive again. No, I do believe I will ride my mare.’ She was restless and could not bear the idea of being cooped up in a carriage with other people.
Felix said, ‘Then I think I will ride also.’
Marguerite bit her lip. She would have liked to have been riding out with Argyle, the two of them alone in the woods. Or even better, the two of them alone in her bedchamber, with the door locked. Of course this was not possible, but it could be made possible, if she married him. If she did, he would probably always prefer to go off into the woods alone and avoid all her friends. She pushed a strand of hair off her face, and said, ‘That will be very nice. Who else is riding? Alice?’
‘Most definitely. We can have a good gallop, clear out the cobwebs.’
* * *
That evening there was to be dancing. This was discussed at length by everyone during the picnic:
‘We knew the Shales are swimming in lard, but they have really laid on every possible extravagance.’
‘I thought the dance was to be in the Assembly rooms in the town, but no, they are opening the ballroom.’
‘I hear the chandeliers are enormous, they hold thousands of candles.’
Alice said, ‘Imagine what it must be like to clean the beeswax from the crystal, afterwards.’
‘The servants will spend weeks doing it after we leave.’
‘Probably fed on dry bread, too, to counterbalance the expense incurred this week.’
‘I cannot start to imagine what these few days have cost.’
‘Yes, the food and drink alone…’
A girl laughed and said, ‘My mother cannot stop calculating what it is costingher—and we are only guests.’
‘Yes, all the clothes—three changes per day, at least. And hiring the chaise to bring us.’
‘We have our own, thankfully.’
