Saved by Scandal (28 page)

The menu only vaguely resembled the one Margot had agonized over for the past fortnight, and Fenning grimaced with a headache from all the wine-tasting.

Instead of leading the ladies from the room after the meal, Margot joined her husband and father-in-law on the receiving line, greeting the rest of the evening’s guests as Fenning intoned their names. Prinny’s was not among them, to Margot’s infinite relief. She just might survive her first entertainment, especially if her husband kept looking at her so approvingly. He had certainly approved her sapphire blue gown, what there was of it. Ella and the seamstresses seemed to have forgotten to finish the bodice, or they ran out of fabric, but Margot could only hope her guests’ eyes were on the diamond necklace, not her bosom. Of course she could barely take her own eyes off Galen, who was more handsome man ever in his formal midnight blue coat and white satin knee breeches. She could have stared at him all night. Unfortunately, her company expected music at a musicale.

The duke made a speech welcoming the guests and welcoming Margot to the family, then, to polite applause, Galen escorted her down the aisle between the rows of chairs to the pianoforte, only stumbling slightly when he saw who was to be her accompanist. Ansel stood and bowed, and Margot curtsied while Galen and his father took their seats. Ansel began the introduction to her first piece while Margot steadied her breathing and looked over the audience. Ansel repeated the prelude. Margot kept staring at the small, gray-haired man in the far corner, whose eyes flicked to Ansel, her necklace, the priceless artwork, the nearest doors.

“
Margot!
”
Ansel hissed, beginning her music once again.

She sang, without paying the least attention to the words or her timing. She even left out that same third verse. Luckily, Ansel could follow her lead, and luckily, few of the listeners could understand the Italian love song.

At the end of the piece, Ansel stood and bowed again, handing Margot a rose while everyone clapped. “Go sit by
Galen,
mon ange
.
Tell him Uncle Manfred is in the back row.”

Ansel almost flew to Galen’s side, his face pale and his lip trembling. As Margot’s usual pianist took his place, she saw the viscount glance over his shoulder, then beckon to Fenning in the doorway. He whispered something in the butler’s ear, meanwhile keeping his arm around Ansel’s shoulder. Then he nodded to Margot and smiled, as if to say she had nothing to fear.

Nothing was about all she could remember of her next selection. She stalled, thanking her guests for coming and inviting them to see her remarkably talented husband’s paintings in the library when the concert was over. That wiped the smile off Galen’s face, as he received curious looks from those nearby. His sudden anxiety made Margot forget her own trepidations, so she got through the long aria.

Fenning returned while the last note was still hanging in the air. This time, however, he whispered to the duke, who nodded and left the music room.

Margot’s last piece was to be the ancient lay, “Prithee Fair Gallant,” about a maiden begging her lover to slay her if he could not make her his bride. It never failed to bring a tear to the audience, but tonight Margot added a happy ending. “Thy love giveth breath onto me,” she sang to her own husband. “Eternity be too short to spend with thee.”

Galen came to her when she was finished and raised her hand to his mouth, turning her to face the enthusiastically approving audience. “You truly are magnificent, my Margot,” he said for her ears only. “Finding you was the luckiest day of my life, dearest, and I truly—”

The words Margot had been aching to hear were interrupted by His Grace, stepping forward while the string quartet took its place. The duke raised his arms for quiet. “My friends, I have an announcement. I know you have heard rumors, but they are all false. My daughter has this day become affianced to the Reverend Mr.—Blast, what is the nodcock’s first name? Surely it cannot be Skippy?”

Lady Harriet tripped down the aisle on Skippy’s arm, both looking as happy as grigs. “It’s Skidmore, Papa, but you can skip that part.”

“Ahem. To the Reverend Mr. Skidmore, with my blessings, and the bishop’s, I am sure. The wedding will be in the fall, and you are all invited. Oh, it was that unfortunate Cleary female who ran off with the doctor since no other man would have her. My daughter and her betrothed tried to stop them. Good riddance, I say.”

Fenning and a squad of footmen entered with trays of champagne-filled glasses for toasts and congratulations. Skippy just winked and said, “A bird in the hand, don’t you know.” They didn’t know if he meant his own engagement or Florrie’s decision to get herself wed, one way or another, but Galen and Margot knew they would have to wait till later to hear the amazing tale.

The quartet was all tuned and ready when everyone finally settled back in their seats, but Ansel was missing. Margot would have leaped to her feet in the midst of the performance, but Galen held her hand. “Don’t worry. He was exhausted from the excitement, so I sent him up to bed, with Jake Humber to guard him. Your uncle is still here where we can see him, and two Bow Street Runners in livery are watching his every move.”

Margot relaxed at his side. Her part of the evening was over, thank goodness. She had only the rest of the concert, the supper, and throwing her uncle out, before she could have Galen to herself again, to hear what he had been about to say. She closed her eyes to listen to some of the finest musicians in the country, but all she heard was a dog barking.

“I’ll kill that mongrel, I swear,” Galen vowed. “This time I mean it. Things were going so well.”

“But the barking is coming from the back garden, and you know Ruff would never have left Ansel’s bedside when there was warm milk and—” This time she did jump to her feet and rushed past the startled guests to the door, Galen at her heels. Skippy and Harriet followed, as well as the duke,
who was not letting his son-in-law-to-be out of his sight. The dowagers raised their eyebrows. Aunt Matty clutched her vinaigrette. Harold tittered. The quartet played on.

Margot was heading up the stairs to Ansel’s room when Jake Humber staggered down the steps, blood dripping from his head. Harriet screamed and would have fainted into Skippy’s arms, but he told her to stop being a peagoose.

“Damn, I like that boy already,” His Grace commented while they waited for Jake to catch his breath.

“They got the boy!” he shouted from the second-story landing. “Some great hulk was waiting upstairs, and he clobbered me with a club, stuffed the nipper in a sack, and took off down the servants’ stairs.”

“The back garden!” Margot was already running, her hair coming loose and falling down her back. Galen shouted for Fenning to fetch help, pistols, and the gentlemen from Bow Street, but not to let Manfred Penrose get away.

By now half the guests were in the hall, watching this much more entertaining drama. The quartet’s playing dwindled to a strum and a plucked chord before they gave up altogether and peered out the windows like the other half of the audience.

Margot and Galen and a handful of others ran through the kitchen, wreaking havoc on Cook’s preparations for supper. She grabbed up her rolling pin and came after them, but no one was certain whom she meant to attack, so they ran faster.

Once outside, they listened for Ruff. With his mouth full of Renshaw’s leg, though, the big dog could not make as much noise. The former pugilist was halfway over the garden wall, Ansel slung over his shoulder, but Ruff was not letting go.

“Good dog,” Galen shouted. “We’ll take over now, Ruff. Dammit, dog, let go so I can throttle the dastard. Margot, get back in case he has a weapon.” Neither listened to his orders, so he leaped to the top of the stone wall and shoved. Renshaw screamed and fell, but Galen grabbed Ansel in the
sack before he could get dropped, and lowered him to the waiting arms below. The footmen had Renshaw tackled, and Cook was bashing him over the head with her rolling pin. Ruff had let go of the bruiser’s leg to lick at Ansel, who was covered in flour, the sack’s previous contents. Fenning came running with a blunderbuss and a bald head, his wig having fallen somewhere along the way.

All the guests and the musicians were streaming out the library doors at the side of the house to see what was happening. A few of them even managed to notice Galen’s paintings on their way, storing up every aspect of this gossip-rich evening.

“Don’t kill him,” Galen yelled. “We need him to testify.” Renshaw was already babbling about Penrose and ransom notes.

But where was Penrose? The Bow Street Runners were hauling Renshaw to his feet and putting manacles on him. “We thought as how you’d want us to save the little baron, governor.”

“Dash it, the dog saved the boy! You were supposed to be watching the uncle.” Galen was halfway around the house by now, bypassing the servants gathered at the kitchen door. He ran back through the library, to the music room, which was almost entirely empty, except for Aunt Mathilda, who was clucking her tongue about the rag manners in London, and Horrid Harold, all twenty-five stones of him, sitting on top of little gray Manfred.

*

“Well, I thought the evening was a success, didn’t you?” Galen was pouring a glass of wine for Margot. “Although I cannot imagine what we’re to do for an encore.”

Manfred and Renshaw had been carted off to prison, thence to Botony Bay, Galen hoped. Ansel had fallen asleep with his hand wrapped around Ruff’s scrawny neck, and the guests had gone on to other parties or to their clubs, full of enough gossip to last the rest of the Season.

Lord and Lady Woodbridge were in their sitting room, in
their robes, both too tired and too stirred up to sleep. They were also too aware of each other. Margot sipped at her wine. “I…I suppose we should be going to bed. Tomorrow will be nearly as chaotic, with Harriet home.”

“You’ll manage, as you’ve managed everything else. Don’t go yet. I was hoping we might have a private talk. We’ll never get much chance, between my sister, your brother, and the rest of the household. Gads, do you think we’ll have Skippy living here, too, now that he is leaving the Church?”

With the party over, Margot was not even sure where she would be living. “What was it you wanted to speak about?”

Galen rubbed his hand on the silk of her dressing gown. “I wanted to, ah, discuss the terms of our marriage.”

Margot’s heart sank. He was going to tell her that he wished to dissolve the marriage, one way or another. After so much public embarrassment, one more shock to Society would not matter to him, as long as he had his freedom. “I see. You want the contract to end sooner than the six months we’d agreed on?”

“Dashed right I do. Margot, I cannot wait six months to make you mine. I doubt I could last six more weeks. Six hours might be too—”

She was in his arms, pressed tight against him, body to body, separated only by two thin layers of fabric. “Six minutes?”

He cupped her face in his hands. “Sixty minutes, sweetheart. It will take me that long to tell you how much I love you, and to hear you say those words. You do love me, don’t you, Lady Woodbridge?”

“Why, Lord Woodbridge, it’s positively scandalous how much I love you. Sixty years won’t be enough time together.”

Their robes were on the floor, in six seconds.

Chapter Thirty

Whoever said that all’s well that ends well, well, he said it all.