I'll be an earl."
"Bully for you." She yanked at her nightgown and tugged on a robe, pulling the belt tight and hiding what she'd been so keen for him to behold only minutes earlier.
He stood and walked away from the sofa so that Margaret couldn't see him, but Lavinia was bristling with malice. He was humored, and he laughed at her.
"Face it, Vinnie," he taunted. "You're a trollop. You always have been, and you always will be."
"Get out of here!" she bellowed. "And next time you need someone to suck you off, you can beg the housemaids. I'm sure any one of them will be happy to oblige you."
"I'm sure they will."
Margaret recognized it as her cue to sneak away. She hadn't ascertained why Romsey wished to marry her, and she didn't care why. He was a distasteful fiend, and she'd never agree.
Her eye was still pressed to the crack in the door, her hand on the knob, when abruptly, it was jerked open. She lost her balance and stumbled into the room.
Lord Romsey chuckled. "Hello, Miss Gray. How kind of you to join us. We were just talking about you."
With how he was grinning, he had to have been aware of her presence. When had he realized it? She was mortified, and she flushed with shame.
Lavinia whipped around, and she was more irate than Margaret had ever seen her. She stormed over, her anger so evident that Margaret worried Lavinia might strike her when she never had prior.
"Margaret!" she seethed. "What are you doing?"
"I... I..."
"Margaret?" Romsey gasped and frowned. "Your name is Margaret?"
"Yes," Margaret mumbled. "You're not Penelope?" "No, why?"
He was horrified. He assessed her for a charged moment; then he muttered an epithet and stomped across the room to stare out the window.
Lavinia leaned in until she and Margaret were toe-to-toe. Lavinia was only an inch or two taller, but she was so livid that she seemed much bigger. Margaret could detect the tiny age lines around her eyes, the creases around her mouth that she concealed with creams and powders.
"You were eavesdropping," Lavinia accused.
"No, I wasn't," Margaret lied. "I was searching for you. I was about to knock. Penelope said we had a visitor, and I was ... was ..."
Romsey butted in. "She's been loitering there and listening to us, practically the whole time."
"You knew, and you didn't tell me?" Lavinia hissed at him.
"She amuses me. I take it she's not your daughter."
"No, she's not my daughter," Lavinia spat. "Why would you presume something so ludicrous?"
Suddenly, she grabbed a fistful of Margaret's hair and wrenched hard enough to make Margaret wince. With her other hand, she seized Margaret's wrist, her nails digging deep, breaking the skin.
"Ow!" Margaret was stunned by the attack and wrestling to free herself.
"Jesus, Lavinia!" Romsey barked. "Are you mad?"
As if to intervene, he rushed over, but before he could assist, Lavinia warned, "You didn't see anything."
"No, I didn't," Margaret agreed.
"You didn't hear anything."
"No."
"If you whisper a word of this to Penelope, I'll kill you, do you understand me?" "Yes, Lavinia, I understand." "Get out!"
She pushed Margaret, and Margaret lurched away just as Romsey had reached out to separate them. Margaret glanced over, their gazes locking. He had the decency to appear apologetic, but his paltry concern provided no solace whatsoever.
Margaret had never been more humiliated in her entire life. Praying that she never saw the despicable man again as long as she lived, she turned and ran.
Chapter Three
“This is my darling daughter, Miss Penelope Gray." "Hello, Miss Gray." "Hello, Lord Romsey." Jordan forced a smile at the pretty adolescent girl, but he was having trouble exhibiting any courtesy. His fury at Lavinia was palpable, the moment extremely awkward. An uncomfortable silence ensued.
"As I explained, Penelope"—Lavinia was desperate to smooth things over—"Lord Romsey has come specifically to meet you. Isn't that marvelous?"
"Oh, absolutely grand." Penelope's lack
"Bully for you." She yanked at her nightgown and tugged on a robe, pulling the belt tight and hiding what she'd been so keen for him to behold only minutes earlier.
He stood and walked away from the sofa so that Margaret couldn't see him, but Lavinia was bristling with malice. He was humored, and he laughed at her.
"Face it, Vinnie," he taunted. "You're a trollop. You always have been, and you always will be."
"Get out of here!" she bellowed. "And next time you need someone to suck you off, you can beg the housemaids. I'm sure any one of them will be happy to oblige you."
"I'm sure they will."
Margaret recognized it as her cue to sneak away. She hadn't ascertained why Romsey wished to marry her, and she didn't care why. He was a distasteful fiend, and she'd never agree.
Her eye was still pressed to the crack in the door, her hand on the knob, when abruptly, it was jerked open. She lost her balance and stumbled into the room.
Lord Romsey chuckled. "Hello, Miss Gray. How kind of you to join us. We were just talking about you."
With how he was grinning, he had to have been aware of her presence. When had he realized it? She was mortified, and she flushed with shame.
Lavinia whipped around, and she was more irate than Margaret had ever seen her. She stormed over, her anger so evident that Margaret worried Lavinia might strike her when she never had prior.
"Margaret!" she seethed. "What are you doing?"
"I... I..."
"Margaret?" Romsey gasped and frowned. "Your name is Margaret?"
"Yes," Margaret mumbled. "You're not Penelope?" "No, why?"
He was horrified. He assessed her for a charged moment; then he muttered an epithet and stomped across the room to stare out the window.
Lavinia leaned in until she and Margaret were toe-to-toe. Lavinia was only an inch or two taller, but she was so livid that she seemed much bigger. Margaret could detect the tiny age lines around her eyes, the creases around her mouth that she concealed with creams and powders.
"You were eavesdropping," Lavinia accused.
"No, I wasn't," Margaret lied. "I was searching for you. I was about to knock. Penelope said we had a visitor, and I was ... was ..."
Romsey butted in. "She's been loitering there and listening to us, practically the whole time."
"You knew, and you didn't tell me?" Lavinia hissed at him.
"She amuses me. I take it she's not your daughter."
"No, she's not my daughter," Lavinia spat. "Why would you presume something so ludicrous?"
Suddenly, she grabbed a fistful of Margaret's hair and wrenched hard enough to make Margaret wince. With her other hand, she seized Margaret's wrist, her nails digging deep, breaking the skin.
"Ow!" Margaret was stunned by the attack and wrestling to free herself.
"Jesus, Lavinia!" Romsey barked. "Are you mad?"
As if to intervene, he rushed over, but before he could assist, Lavinia warned, "You didn't see anything."
"No, I didn't," Margaret agreed.
"You didn't hear anything."
"No."
"If you whisper a word of this to Penelope, I'll kill you, do you understand me?" "Yes, Lavinia, I understand." "Get out!"
She pushed Margaret, and Margaret lurched away just as Romsey had reached out to separate them. Margaret glanced over, their gazes locking. He had the decency to appear apologetic, but his paltry concern provided no solace whatsoever.
Margaret had never been more humiliated in her entire life. Praying that she never saw the despicable man again as long as she lived, she turned and ran.
Chapter Three
“This is my darling daughter, Miss Penelope Gray." "Hello, Miss Gray." "Hello, Lord Romsey." Jordan forced a smile at the pretty adolescent girl, but he was having trouble exhibiting any courtesy. His fury at Lavinia was palpable, the moment extremely awkward. An uncomfortable silence ensued.
"As I explained, Penelope"—Lavinia was desperate to smooth things over—"Lord Romsey has come specifically to meet you. Isn't that marvelous?"
"Oh, absolutely grand." Penelope's lack
Similar Books
The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5
Christy Barritt
Reckoning
Molly M. Hall
Jake's Justice, Book Three of Wizards
John Booth
Sons
Pearl S. Buck
Davina Dupree Predicts a Plot
SK Sheridan
Crow Bait
Douglas Skelton
Storm the Author's Cut
Vanessa Grant
The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)
Jeff Wheeler
Noah
Mark Morris
Broken Hearts
R.L. Stine