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The floodgates she’d kept bolted shut on her emotions had finally broken open. Was this what passion felt like? She could barely quell the desire that was rushing around in her veins from a single kiss. Margot almost laughed. That hadn’t been a kiss…that had been a meteor crashing right into her. An Ara-sized comet, incinerating everything in its path. And for the first time that she could recall, Margot wanted to burn.
The whole affair had been planned out from beginning to end with Honoria’s help. Percy had been right that she was the perfect coconspirator. Margot hadn’t planned the kiss when she’d walked out with the cake, but all she’d wanted to do was erase the stark confusion, uncertainty, and flickers of alarm on Ara’s expressive face. And in the end, Margot simply hadn’t been able to stop herself from laying claim to those parted, trembling lips.
Brow scrunching adorably, Ara glanced in Honoria’s direction. “What good stuff?”
“There’s more in the restaurant, some magicians and performers, and a supper spread,” she told a somewhat dazed Ara, whose lips Margot expected looked as red and ruined as hers.
Would others know? She didn’t dare look around for fear of what she would see, but Honoria had carefully organized the party with only friends from their art and theater circles. Even if any of them guessed, they were much more open in their opinions than most of the ton.
“Sounds fancy,” Ara said.
Margot gave a small nod. “I wanted you to have a memorable birthday.”
“I’m honestly happy to leave right now,” Ara said, those amber eyes shining and still dilated with pleasure. “There is nothing in the world that can top the past two minutes. I need more of that, not whatever else your best friend has up her sleeve.” She let out an incredulous laugh, the light of her smile illuminating the room as she leaned in with a whisper, “What in the hell was that, Margot?”
“A birthday kiss?” Margot’s lip curled in amusement and a stronger pulse of need throbbed between her thighs at the hungry rasp in Ara’s voice and the matching stare in her eyes. No one had ever looked at her like that. “Patience. I promise you’ll enjoy it. But first, I want you to meet someone.”
“I don’t want to meet anyone. I want to leave, get you alone to myself, and tear your clothes off with my teeth.”
Margot’s gut clenched as every nerve in her body jumped to attention, but tugged on Ara’s arm against the flow of people following Honoria. She steered them toward where her son was waiting in a quiet corner, his hands in his pockets. She couldn’t read the expression on his face and that made her question her choices yet again. Was it too soon?
For all his energy and impetuous nature, he could be sphinxlike when he chose, too, and right now his handsome face was inscrutable. Margot faltered for a moment. She wanted this—Ara—more than anything, but her life had rules and expectations. Could she truly have both?
With each step toward Percy making this real, her stomach inched into her throat. Even now, while claiming such a small piece of happiness for herself, he was ever at the forefront. He’d been her North star for so long that she felt off balance.
“This is my son, Percival, the Marquess of Waverly,” she said breathlessly, before she lost her courage. “He’s visiting from university and wanted to meet you.”
Ara’s eyes went wide and Margot was sure she’d bungled it. As if he could sense her awkwardness, Percy pulled her under one arm, despite her muttered protests that they were in public and had to comport themselves accordingly. Her pleas went ignored.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Vaughn,” Percy said kindly. “I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I know you already.”
Ara’s surprise was genuine. “You have?”
Percy smiled. “Yes. I know you’re a very talented artist, but all I truly need to know about you is that you’ve made my mother happier than I’ve seen her in a very long time, if ever. And I am profoundly grateful to you for that.”
“Oh.” Her stunned gaze collided with Margot’s, whose heart felt like it was already twice its size. “I’m so glad,” Ara said softly. “She makes me happy, too.”
Margot disentangled herself with a scowl as Percy let out a small laugh. “Good. By the way, I apologize for staring at you like a complete dolt earlier when you arrived. It was just fascinating to me to get a glimpse of the person who could make the unreachable, impervious Marchioness of Waverly,”—the over-the-top, highbrow thespian way he drawled her title made Ara grin—“a mere mortal like the rest of us.”
“Percy,” Margot chided, but her son wasn’t finished.
The soft sincerity in his gaze floored her. “I approve, Mother. Wholeheartedly. Not that you need it.” He turned back to Ara, a dimple popping in his cheek. “I’d love to get to know you better, but alas, I have plans. Perhaps we can spend some time together soon. Happy Birthday!”
“Thank you, and I would like that very much.”
They both watched as he took his leave, jumping into a nearby hackney on the street, and then it was just the two of them. The foyer was nearly empty as everyone else had headed inside for the rest of the festivities.
“So that was Percy,” Ara said. “He’s just like you.”
Margot let out a scoff. “We are complete opposites.”
Ara glanced fondly at her. “You forget I’ve seen your heart, Margot, and it is the same as your son’s. Only he chooses to wear his for the world to see while you tuck yours away.” She reached out to run a thumb over Margot’s knuckles. “Your reasons are your own and I hope you’ll be able to share them with me one day, but you two are more alike than you know. He inherited your eyes, that luminous smile when you choose to use it, your insight, and your kindness.”
“No one ever says I’m kind,” Margot whispered. “I’m cold and forbidding.”
Ara squeezed gently. “No, you’re not.” Her eyes were so warm, they glowed like honey shot through with pure sunlight. “I know we should stay awhile, or Lady Rawdon will skewer us both, but will you come home with me tonight?”
For once, Margot threw caution to the wind and let her heart reply. “Yes.”
