The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(24)
“You are obviously more cynical and dim-witted than I give you credit for.” Julia blew out a breath. “Being on the outskirts of our Society is different for a woman than a man. I shouldn’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to leave her be, Simon.”
“Fine,” he snapped, then gentled his tone. “I’ll leave her be.” He heard the resolution in his voice but wondered if he truly meant it.
Chapter Seven
Early the following morning, the door of Maggie’s studio swung open and Rebecca’s voice rang out. “I couldn’t wait a second longer. I want to hear all about last evening.”
Maggie didn’t look up. Sitting at the large wooden table she used for drawing, she continued to sketch, determined to get the image down perfectly. She’d been at it for over an hour. “Tilda, bring tea, if you would.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
Maggie heard the click of the latch and then felt a presence at her back.
“Are you working on the Scottish and Welsh drawings for Ackermann’s travel book?” Rebecca asked, up on her toes to peek over Maggie’s shoulder.
Maggie hunched and covered the paper with her hands. “No. It’s another cartoon for the shop, and you’ll see it when it’s done, not before.”
“Fine. Lud, you’re secretive about your work.” Becca crossed to the sofa near the tall row of windows. “It’s nothing to do with last night, I trust.” Silence stretched until Rebecca gasped. “Maggie! What are you thinking? Everyone will know Lemarc attended the duchess’s dinner party.”
“No one would believe such a thing. People will merely assume he’s well informed.”
“Still, it is an unnecessary risk in my opinion, but I know you will not listen to me. So what happened between you and Winchester last evening?”
Maggie’s hand slipped. Damn. The lower right section would need to be redone now. “Must we talk about this now?”
“Yes, I rather think we must. He must have been there because Tilda said you came home early, madder than a wet hen.”
Curse her loose-lipped servant. Maggie put down her pencil and stood to take the chair nearest her sister. “Yes, he was there. Glaring at me from across the room the entire evening. He is the most infuriating man.”
“An infuriating man you were once madly in love with. I worry you will not be able to resist him.”
The memory of being pressed up against his body last night rushed back. I think I could take you against this wall. Right now. Right here. He may have turned her plan to tempt him around on her, but she would not fall for it a second time.
She waved her hand. “He is the very last man I would choose to involve myself with.”
“Especially when you could have your pick of all the men in the ton. It’s not fair; widows get to have all the fun.”
Oh, yes. So much fun. The gossip, the snickers behind her back. The innuendo and improper invitations constantly hurled her way. Becca certainly had romantic visions of Maggie’s life, and Maggie loved her too dearly to ever crush them with the harsh reality. So she smiled and said, “I think you mean men get to have all the fun.”
“Well, no one could argue with that statement. Tell me who else was there.”
Tilda returned with tea just as Maggie began a recounting of the evening, starting with a description of the Colton town house. By the time tea had been poured, she’d told almost all of it and ended with her decision to come home early.
“You’ve left out the most important tidbit,” Becca said. “What caused you to leave prematurely? Something—or some one—obviously upset you.”
Maggie lifted a shoulder and took a sip. “A small disagreement. Nothing worth mentioning.”
“Liar. What did he say to you? I swear, if he was cruel—”
“I love that you worry, dear sister, but there’s nothing you can do to change the minds of the stubborn.”
Her sister tapped her toe, a sure sign Becca was deep in thought. Maggie sipped her tea and kept silent. Finally, Becca’s eyes grew wide, then narrowed. “So Winchester believes all those terrible rumors about you? He should be the one man to know better. I swear, I will never forgive him for not standing up for you when—”
“Oh, Becca.” Maggie sighed. “What’s done is done. Many times we expect more from our friends than they are prepared to give. Or capable of giving, really. I’m grateful I learned where I stood when I did. Otherwise, I could have spent many miserable years with a man who cared so little for me.”
“Instead you spent many miserable years with a man old enough to be your father.”
“They were not miserable. Lonely, certainly, but not miserable. Hawkins preferred his mistress and I had no arguments to the contrary.”
Becca leaned over to grip Maggie’s hand. “And you do not see that as miserable?”
Maggie smiled, shook her head. “No, I certainly do not. Not everyone finds love as you and Marcus did. You are one of the rare examples of a happy marriage, Becca. And while I could not be more pleased for you, not everyone is so fortunate.”
“And I have you to thank for my marriage to Marcus. Had you not married Hawkins, I never would have found my husband.”
Maggie squeezed her sister’s fingers affectionately. After the scandal, Maggie had the choice to marry Hawkins or bring shame on her entire family, including her innocent younger sister. Under no certain terms would Maggie have deprived Becca of the ability to debut and find a husband, no matter what it cost her personally. So she’d married Hawkins, endured the painful and embarrassing wedding night, lived in the little town where the whispers and innuendo followed, and buried herself in her art. But Becca’s gratitude and happiness made the past ten years worthwhile.