Page 97 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Chapter 27

With a shaking hand, Margaret adjusted a flower about to topple out of the centerpiece in the middle of the long dinner table. She fisted her trembling hand. Dolt. She had nothing to fear. Even if all of the beau monde rejected her, she would never be truly alone. Her family had always rallied around her. In many ways, she was freer as a widow, even if everyone believed her a murderess. Still, she’d mastered the intricacies of society so well that she’d come to rule it in more ways than the self-appointed goddesses of Almack’s Assembly Rooms.

Her mother had taught her to be her own person, to flick society’s opinion off her shoulder, yet somehow, keeping up appearances for the beau monde had become all-consuming. Margaret had spent years exceeding society’s expectations, even going so far as to place herself in her husband’s proximity every Season, despite the blows to her peace of mind. Could she truly live in isolation with few friends and little to no social interactions? Could she really give that up and become a creature of scorn as a suspected murderess?

She considered a life without dinner parties, balls, musicales, and only a few close friends to share small, intimate gatherings. As a matter of fact, that sounded delightful. She could stop watching all the latest fashions, stop ensuring she was everywhere fashionable and seen talking with the very finest of people. She could stop keeping a perfect façade of urbane boredom, stop showing mild displeasure to any fresh-eyed young lady who dared step out of line.

She could stop all that. And be her true self.

It sounded a bit like heaven, actually. With Connor in her life, it might be as close to heaven as she’d ever come. Would he trust her with his heart? Could she trust him with hers?

She shoved the flower back into its place and inspected the settings. A snowy cloth stretched the length of the table. China, silver, and crystal sat in their places with the precision of an army at full attention in perfect rows.

Her sister-in-law Alicia walked in, holding a note in one hand. With disgust in her voice, Alicia said, “It’s times like these when one learns who one’s friends are.”

Margaret only allowed herself the smallest pause before adjusting a piece of greenery. “Another guest sent their regrets?”

“That makes three couples who’ve come up with excuses as to why they have decided not to attend after all. Really, one simply doesn’t accept an invitation and then refuse mere hours before a dinner party.”

Margaret threw off the temptation to wallow in misery. Instead, she donned an indifferent air, the one that had served her all those years being married to a blatant adulterer. “I suppose no one wants to dine with a murderess.”

“You were exonerated,” Alicia said hotly. “That should be good enough for them.”

“Small minds will believe what they will. Now, as you said, you know who your friends are. At least… we know who mine are, and who are not.”

“If they aren’t your friends, they aren’t mine. I will give them the cut direct the next time our paths cross, and they will never receive an invitation from me.”

Margaret found a ghost of a smile and put her arm around her sister-in-law. “Hell hath no fury like a woman whose sister-in-law is scorned.”

Alicia smiled at Margaret’s mis-quote and hugged her back. “I suppose part of the problem with trying to have a dinner party after Season’s end is many of our closest friends are already rusticating in their country homes.”

“Indeed. In any event, I appreciate your attempt. If nothing else, it sends a message that you support me, and that means a great deal.” She cleared her throat against an annoying little lump.

The butler entered and approached Alicia. “You sent for me, my lady?”

“Remove two place settings,” Alicia said. “And we’ll need to see about the seating arrangements now, too, since they were in the middle of the table….”

Margaret slipped out to allow Alicia to see to her duties as hostess. As the lady of the house, Alicia didn’t need a hovering relative to tell her how to handle the arrangements. In truth, the only guest Margaret would enjoy having at the table would be Connor Jackson, but he’d never be comfortable at a party that included members of the haut ton. Not that she blamed him. It all seemed a great deal of pomp simply to consume a meal.

A private party, with just the two of them… now that would be ideal. She fanned a suddenly hot face. Who would have imagined he could kiss like that?

Margaret wandered into the music room, but instead of sitting at the pianoforte or harp, she paced. Questions continued to circle. Could they find a place to be together, or was theirs a doomed relationship?

Rachel came in after her and sat nearby, watching her steadily. “What is it, Meg?”

Margaret made a helpless gesture around her. “This. This isn’t home anymore.”

Rachel cocked her head. “Because it belongs to Cole and Alicia, now?”

“I just don’t seem to belong in this world anymore.”

Was it possible that after traveling with Connor, where she never needed to act the perfect lady for members of the haut ton, she’d discovered a preference for a simpler life?

Thinking, Rachel tapped her fingers. “You’re accustomed to being the mistress of your own home. Perhaps it’s time to find a place of your own.”

Margaret nodded slowly. “Yes, a place of my own.” Something less ostentatious, and in a quieter corner of the kingdom.

Rachel continued to muse. “Where? Surely not that crumbling dower house. It would take the entire rest of your marriage settlement to restore it so it’s livable.”