May 1866
THE HACKNEY JOLTED ITS WAY onto the bridge and Margaret, as always, felt as if she was crossing the border between one world and another. Since the Easter break, her time in Lambeth had been constrained by the daily influx of invitations arriving at Montagu House, to picnics and garden parties, dinners, balls, and soirées. Derby Day and Ascot Week were now looming. Rushing from one engagement to the next in a flutter of silk and lace and ribbons, she had become adept at smiling and making small talk while her mind and her heart were on the other side of the Thames.
She had not seen Louise since their tea at Marlborough House, and her friend’s letters since then had been sporadic, little more than brief notes containing nothing of a personal nature. Louise could be fickle, making a person feel as if they were the centre of her world before snubbing them completely for no apparent reason, but Margaret knew better than to imagine she was the latest victim. Louise was preoccupied by something. Or someone.
As you are yourself, M., and not only by one person but two. In truth, she was happy to leave Louise to fend for herself for the time being. Margaret had pressing issues of her own to deal with.
The familiar feeling of impending doom settled over her like a dark cloud. Killin made a point of asking her to dance at least once at every ball. It was nearly always a march, rarely a galop, which was far too undignified for him, and thankfully it was never a waltz or a polka, which would require him to put his arm around her. His proprietorial air ensured she had no other suitors, the one positive Margaret clung to as she endured his company. His continuous surveillance of her every time they met made her feel like a criminal whose claim to have reformed the judge didn’t quite believe. And yet, he persisted. The only thing constant about him was his determination to get his own way. It was but a matter of time before he claimed her.
And then there was Sebastian. The man she loved, and who she was almost certain loved her in return, even though they had stuck to their resolution never to mention, far less repeat, that one blissful kiss. Their feelings for each other were acknowledged silently every time their eyes met or their hands brushed. Their love could never flourish given the harsh reality of their respective circumstances, but that didn’t stop Margaret from imagining how it might. She spent half her nights lost in an unhinged, romantic fantasy of being with him forever, and the remainder trying to reconcile herself to the marriage which she feared would be announced within a few short weeks. She desperately wanted to live up to the expectations she had worked so hard to cultivate since the start of the year. If she reneged on her betrothal again, she would never be forgiven, and rightly so.
Not that she was planning to renege, she truly wasn’t. In her heart, she knew it was wrong to marry one man while she was in love with another, but she had resolved, back at Dalkeith on Christmas Day, to steel herself to do her duty. So her feelings for Sebastian, no matter how deep they ran, were irrelevant. She was set on a path to marry Killin, and that was what she was going to do. Lenchen’s wedding was to be held on the fifth of July. By the end of that month at the very latest, she would be betrothed to Killin. Her new life as the Countess of Killin was fast approaching.
No, it was hurtling towards her at breakneck speed!
The cab slowed to a halt, and as Molly jumped down to pay the fare Margaret’s heart lifted. Instead of bemoaning what she would come to miss, she would follow Louise’s example and concentrate on making the most of what she had, while she still had it.
“Margaret, it’s so good to see you.” Sebastian rose from his chair as she entered the study, a smile lighting up his face.
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him as always. He hesitated before sitting back down again, deciding against taking her hands in greeting, and as usual she tried not to be disappointed. They settled down into their letter-writing routine, but today neither of them seemed able to concentrate. Looking up from the sentence she was composing for about the fourth time, she found Sebastian’s gaze fixed on her, a frown furrowing his normally untroubled countenance.
Margaret set down her pen. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Yes.” Sebastian jumped to his feet and seized her hand. “I have tried, Margaret, but I cannot stop thinking about our kiss. It changed everything for me, but if you don’t feel the same, say the word and I swear I will never mention it again.”
Taken aback, it didn’t occur to her to prevaricate. “I can’t forget it either, though heaven knows I have tried.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “As have I, but to no avail. Surely it cannot be wrong to give voice to what is in my heart. I love you so much, Margaret.”
The words which she had secretly, guiltily longed to hear made her forget everything else. A wild, soaring joy ripped through her. “I love you, too, Sebastian, so very much.”
“Margaret!” He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “Oh, my darling.”
Their lips met in the sweetest kiss that was just as she had remembered, and yet utterly different. As he pulled her closer, she twined her arms around his neck, and he fastened his lips to hers again, coaxing her mouth open into a very different kiss. The intimacy shocked her; her reaction shocked her even more. His tongue touched hers and she broke away, breathless and utterly confused. Was this what passion felt like? It was overwhelming and slightly terrifying, and yet at the same time, she wanted more.
Sebastian looked unfamiliar, his eyes dark, heavy-lidded, colour slashing his cheeks. “I apologise,” he said, his voice gruff. “I did not mean to— I allowed my feelings to get the better of me. Forgive me.” He raked a hand through his hair, smiling raggedly. “It will be difficult, but I will try to exercise more restraint until we are in a position to marry.”
“Marry!” Margaret plummeted abruptly back down to earth. “We can’t get married.”
“Of course we will marry.” Sebastian clasped her hand to his chest. “My dear Margaret, you cannot have imagined I would have kissed you in such a manner unless my intentions were honourable.”
She had never properly considered the situation from his perspective at all, being so preoccupied with her own. “I am so very sorry, Sebastian, but I can’t marry you.”
“Why on earth not, if you love me, as you say? Is it because our stations in life are so radically different?”
“It’s not that. I don’t give a fig about that.”
“Then what is it?” His smile faded. “Don’t you want to marry me?”
If only she had explained her situation earlier. “It’s what I want more than anything, but it’s simply not possible. My parents would never give their consent.”
“When they grasp the depth of our feelings—”
“Feelings have no relevance in my parents’ world.” The difference between that world and Sebastian’s was a chasm he had no concept of. “Marriage is about wealth, connections, status.”
“And I possess none of those attributes,” Sebastian said wryly. “Very well, if they will not give their consent, then we will simply have to wait until you are of age.”
“That is almost a year and a half away.”
“I would wait twice as long if I had to,” he said, kissing her hand. “I do not lack occupation. If it must be so, the time will pass in the blink of an eye.”
For him, but what about her? Didn’t he understand that she would be consigned to solitary confinement for the duration? No, how could he, when she had never explained the reality of her situation! Gathering her courage in both hands, Margaret prepared to enlighten him. “We never discuss my family.”
“That’s because I am only interested in you, not them.”
“I know.” She lifted his hand to her cheek. “That is one of the wonderful things about you, but I can’t discard them like an old pair of shoes.”
“Indeed, and I’m not asking you to do any such thing.”
“No, but the shoe would be on the other foot, so to speak. What I mean is, they would discard me. You see, as far as my father is concerned, my only purpose in life is to make a good match.”
“And a lowly Anglican priest won’t pass muster, is that what you are saying?”
Imagining what her father would make of Sebastian made Margaret shudder. “My father has already selected the Earl of Killin as a suitable husband for me.”
“You are already engaged!” Sebastian dropped her hand.
“The betrothal has not been formalised. It was almost announced last year, but—”
“Last year!”
“But I ran off before it could be. It caused a terrible scandal that I am only now recovering from.”
“I don’t understand. Are you telling me that your parents are trying to force you into a marriage against your will? That would indeed be a scandal.”
“No, it’s not like that. They are not forcing me. I want to marry him. At least I want to want to marry him.” She broke off, realising how ridiculous she sounded.
“Are you or are you not betrothed to another man?”
“No,” she whispered, scarlet with mortification, “but it is generally understood that I will be, before the end of the summer.”
“Look at me, Margaret,” Sebastian said gently. “If you don’t want to marry this man, you have only to stand firm in your resolve until you are of age, and then we can be married, with or without their blessing.”
“If only it were that simple.”
“If you love me . . .”
“I do, how can you doubt it?” A sob caught in her throat. “I am absolutely miserable every single moment I’m not with you. I wish we could be together always.”
Sebastian wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly up against him. “And we can be, if we want it enough.”
Torn, she pressed herself closer, closing her eyes, wanting to lose herself in their perfect little idyll, to forget all about the real world and everyone in it. The familiar scent of him and the heat of his body was making her senses whirl. “I love you,” she said, willing it to be enough. “I love you,” she said again, an incantation against reality.
“Then that is all that matters, isn’t it? There are hurdles to be overcome, I realise that,” he said. “Obstacles to be removed. We may have to wait, but I am willing to wait forever for you. Do I take too much for granted, expect too much? It would be a very different life that you would lead here in Lambeth, not without its challenges and short on comfort.”
“How could I be anything other than happy, if I was with you?”
“Then it’s settled. You will be my wife.”
He truly believed it was possible. He had no idea what he was asking of her, but if Sebastian believed in her, and in the power of love, then why couldn’t she? “I can’t,” Margaret said, though even to her own ears, she sounded ambivalent. “I want to, more than anything, but wanting is not enough. My parents—”
“Must come to understand that your first duty is not to them but to yourself. What will make you happy, Margaret? Marriage to some man you have admitted you cannot love, playing the lady of the manor and dispensing jam at Christmas? Or a new life in Lambeth by my side, genuinely doing good, making a real difference?”
“You know the answer to that question,” Margaret said, knowing full well that it was the wrong question. Sebastian made it sound so simple and so wildly attractive. He loved her. He had chosen her as the woman he wanted by his side for the rest of his life. She loved him, too, but there were more pitfalls than he could possibly imagine. And yet, when he looked at her like that, she believed it just might be possible.
He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her tenderly. “We will find a way.”
She wanted to prove that she could do whatever it took to be with him. She wanted to believe that love could conquer all. Even her father.
“I know, it’s overwhelming,” Sebastian said, misreading her hesitation. “I never dared dream until today.”
Nor had she, but now there was an irresistible flicker of hope. Instead of telling herself it was impossible, could she turn her mind to how to make it possible? “If my parents discovered my feelings for you, they would have me sent away.”
“Then keep your feelings hidden from them. Though it goes against the grain and all that I teach to encourage deceit, in this instance I think it is justified.”
“There is still the matter of Killin.”
Sebastian frowned. “A simple refusal will suffice, surely. No man will wish to marry an unwilling bride unless he is a scoundrel.”
Was it possible to discourage Killin? She sincerely doubted it. But if she wanted to marry Sebastian, which she did, desperately, surely she could find a way of ridding herself of him? If only she had not worked so hard to make herself amenable. Good grief, was she really considering Sebastian’s proposal? Her head was spinning.
“You look unconvinced, Margaret,” he said. “If you would rather we took the bull by the horns and declared our love publicly, I will speak to your father forthwith.”
“No! Good God, no. That would be the worst thing you could do. We must not do anything rash.”
“You’re right: there is no point in acting with unseemly haste. After all, we have the rest of our lives to look forward to.”
Did they? She couldn’t believe it could happen, but when he smiled at her, with such love and tenderness, she wanted to. Then he pulled her into his arms again, kissing her with no trace of the flaring passion that had so excited and terrified her. And when he let her go, Margaret couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed.