The Seduction (42 page)

But her cousin did not respond to the teasing with a smile. She looked back at Margaret with a serious face. "I'm glad you're happy, darling."

"I am happy, and you don't look glad about much of anything these days. You've been such a
sobersides
since Naples."

"I'm just tired. The trip home and all the rushing of the past few days have quite exhausted me."

Vague uneasiness stirred inside Margaret, but before she could pursue the subject further, her cousin gestured toward the fabrics all around them and gave an unexpected laugh. "My dear, unless you're planning to sew Lord Ashton a shirt—and knowing you, I doubt it—I don't think you'll find a wedding gift for him here."

"You're quite right," Margaret answered and pointed at the sporting equipment across the room. "I was headed in that direction."

She left the textiles department, and Cornelia followed her. She passed the golf clubs and cricket bats and made straight for the fishing gear, halting before a display of rods and tackle baskets. One rod took pride of place, and Margaret pointed to it with a cry of delight. "It's perfect! I knew it the moment I saw the advertisement in the
Times
this morning."

"A fishing rod?"

"Yes, indeed. Trevor is quite an experienced angler. He's going to love it!"

"It's a rather unusual wedding gift, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," she admitted. "What would you suggest?"

"I gave Edward a pair of gold cufflinks with his initials. He was quite pleased."

That idea left Margaret completely cold. She envisioned Trevor putting a present like that in a drawer and forgetting all about it. "No," she said. "Thank you for the suggestion, but for Trevor, this is exactly right."

A young man in gray flannel approached them. "Ladies, may I be of assistance?"

Margaret pointed to her intended gift. "That is the latest thing in fishing rods?"

"Oh, yes, quite."

"Do you think a man would appreciate it as a wedding present?"

The clerk recovered from his initial surprise and beamed at her. "Madam, any gentleman would be profoundly pleased. I must confess, I wish my wife had thought to give me such a gift."

"What did your wife give you, if I may ask?"

"Cufflinks," he said with a sigh.

Margaret choked back a laugh and wisely did not look at Cornelia. "I'll take it. Could you also outfit a tackle basket to go with it, please?"

"Certainly. Have you an account with us?"

"Yes, indeed. It's under my maiden name, Margaret Van Alden."

The clerk obviously read the papers. "Lady Ashton," he said in a new tone of hushed respect that contained none of the casual friendliness of a few moments before. He gave her a formal bow. "My apologies. I did not know— I'm new here— That is, I did not realize . . ." His stuttering words faded into a mortified silence.

Margaret looked back at him, surprised by his obvious and painful embarrassment. "That's quite all right," she said, hastening to soothe him. Leaning closer, she confessed in a whisper, "I've only been a countess since yesterday, and I'm not quite used to it myself yet."

The clerk, red-faced, gave her another bow and turned away to write up the order.

"Poor man," she murmured to Cornelia as they followed him to the counter. "He's quite upset. What difference does it make anyway?"

"A great deal of difference," her cousin answered. "A peeress should never be spoken to in such a familiar fashion."

"Well, I don't see how he was supposed to know."

"It is his job to know such things. And you probably should have reprimanded him."

"What? Heavens, the man feels badly enough as it is. Why should I do such a thing?"

"A countess would be expected to do exactly that. Put him in his place. Maggie, you are a countess, now. You must begin learning to behave like one."

"I certainly shall not," she answered with spirit. "Not if it means being rude to poor sales clerks and looking down my nose at people who are only being friendly. No, thank you."

Cornelia sighed. "When you begin managing Ashton Park, you will find a stern and aristocratic demeanor goes much further with English servants and shopkeepers than friendliness, particularly since you are an American. Believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way."

Margaret did not think she wanted to learn that lesson at all.

"But then," Cornelia added, "I didn't have a mother-in-law to help me. You'll be able to rely on Caroline to help you."

The idea of turning to Trevor's formidable mother did not appeal to Margaret. "Must I?"

"I know she seems a cold woman, Maggie, but you can learn a great deal from her. And you must.

English country houses are not easy to run, and you've no experience at the task."

"I've run Papa's households for a long time, Cornelia. I think I can manage."

"It's not the same. You're accustomed to all the modern conveniences, to servants who are friendly, and to leaving many of the details to housekeepers. Ashton Park will be different."

"Lady Ashton?" The clerk placed a charge slip before her and handed her a pen.

"Cornelia," she whispered, pen poised hesitantly above the paper. "How do I sign this? Margaret St. James? Lady Ashton?"

Her cousin gave a despairing sigh. "Margaret Ashton," she answered. "You never paid any attention to all the lessons I gave you on titles, and I knew you'd come to regret it one day."

Margaret shrugged and signed her new name with a flourish. "Well, now that I have use for such lessons, I'll pay attention. I promise."

"Would you like these delivered, my lady?" the clerk asked.

"No, thank you. Just have them wrapped, if you please, and I'll take them with me."

"To Lady
Longford's
?" Cornelia asked as the clerk departed to carry out her instructions.

"No. I'm going home. You can drop me at the house on your way. Make my apologies to Lady
Longford
, will you, darling? I'm so excited about this. I must give Trevor his present right away. He should be back from his appointment by now." She beamed at her cousin. "Oh, Cornelia, I know he's going to love it."

By the time Margaret returned to the house, she was tingling with anticipation. There was nothing more fun, she decided, than finding the perfect gift for someone you loved.

Her arms full with her packages, she fumbled awkwardly for the door pull, but before she could reach it, the front door opened. Sims had already heard the carriage approach and, like any proper butler, was there to open the door for her.

"Shall I take those for you, Lady Ashton?"

"Only for a moment, Sims. Thank you." Relieved of her packages, Margaret pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto the card tray. Her bonnet followed. "Where is everyone?" she asked, removing her cloak.

"Lord Ashton and Lord Kettering are in your father's library, my lady. They have just sat down to tea. Your father has gone out. Shall I take these to your room?"

"No. Give them to me." She draped her cloak on the coat tree and took back her packages, then started toward the long hallway that led to the library at the back of the house.

Trevor and Edward were indeed in the library. She could hear their voices as she approached that room along the carpeted hall.

"I must admit, it's been a rather stressful week," Edward was saying. "While you were in Kent, I thought sure Margaret was getting cold feet. But she seems to be very happy now. I think everything has turned out quite well."

"I think so, too," Trevor answered. "But I'm glad the whole thing is over and done."

"Courtship is a tedious business, is it not? Plays merry hell with a man's nerves. But, I must say, you've handled it all rather well."

Margaret halted outside the half-open door, curious to hear her husband's reply.

"You're wrong, Edward. There were moments when I thought I'd go out of my mind, I assure you. You just weren't there to see it. By yesterday, I was a wreck."

Margaret smiled, quite pleased to learn that her husband wasn't always as cool and collected as he appeared. She took another step forward to push open the door, but Edward's next words stopped her.

"I can't believe it actually worked. No other man of my acquaintance could pull off such an outrageous scheme. Really, you amaze me." Edward laughed. "Only you would think of arranging to have a woman kidnapped in order to woo her."

Everything in Margaret suddenly went ice cold. Trevor had arranged her kidnapping? No, she must have misunderstood. Numbly, unable to believe what she was hearing, she hovered outside the door, listening.

"Hiring your friend Emilio to snatch her away," Edward went on, still laughing, "and then coming to her rescue so that she'd think you the brave, strong hero. God, what an idea!"

Margaret suddenly felt sick. She swayed and leaned one shoulder against the door jamb to steady herself, straining to hear every word.

"I had to get her alone somehow," Trevor was saying. "Once she realized I intended to marry her, she wouldn't even speak to me. She left me little choice."

"Perhaps, but you must admit, it's a unique way of winning a wife."

"I suppose it is."

"But Trevor," Edward said in a suddenly serious voice, "if she ever finds out, she'll be devastated."

Too late,
Margaret thought with bitterness.

"She's not going to find out," Trevor answered harshly. "There's no need for her to know. Ever. Do you understand?"

"I certainly won't tell her. The results speak for themselves anyway." Edward coughed and added, "She loves you, you know."