With a girlish sigh, Mrs. Bowley swatted at him. There was a pink-cheeked rosiness to her face, as if she were charmed by him, despite herself. “You are quite the naughtiest man I know.”
Langley bowed, first to Mrs. Bowley and then Miss Keating, before proceeding towards the doorway. In that stretch of seconds, Miss Keating called out to him, “I will honour my side of the deal. Make sure you do the same, my lord.”
CHAPTER 5
With Langley’s departure, Margot let out a small, shaky breath. That man’s reputation was warranted. With his rich, warm stare, the remembrance of that gaze Margot could still feel pressing into and heating her body, snaking his way past her defences even after he’d left the room. The way he smiled, a crinkle in his right cheek, that softened his demeanour, giving him such a roguish air. If someone could have drawn an Adonis, and somehow made the man into flesh, then it was Langley.
It should have been a comfort that Langley was a renowned London seducer. If he was the worst London had to offer, then at least Margot had been tested. So far, she had succeeded. Although she had agreed to that kiss…
When Margot looked back over her shoulder at the newly hired companion, Mrs. Bowley was frowning, her round little face creasing with displeasure at Margot’s final words to his lordship.
“Now, now, my dear.” There was a tutting noise to her voice. “You are very green. I think Ashmore said you were raised in Scotland, very rurally, but surely…”
“I know, Mrs. Bowley.” Margot bent her head. If she were to get her way in investigating the murder, then she needed as many people on side as she could manage. “He is very persuasive, and as you say, I have been isolated.”
“Come join me.” Mrs. Bowley tapped the sofa beside her, and Margot sat down. “You are twenty-five, I believe?”
“Twenty-eight,” Margot corrected.
Mrs. Bowley studied her features with deep reflection and concern, as if Margot had declared she had a wasting disease. “Perhaps we could tell everyone a slightly younger age…” She paused, her words almost to herself. “If you were hoping to latch onto the marriage mart then we would have to tell a few little lies…”
“Madam.” Margot leant forward and tapped Mrs. Bowley’s hand in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “I have no interest in matrimony. That is not why I am in London. I have happily embraced my spinster status. Nonetheless, I hope we will deal very well together.”
“It is a little unusual.” Mrs. Bowley looked very undecided. “All my other girls…” Fretful eyes and a nibbled lip told Margot that Mrs. Bowley was attempting to manipulate her. “Perhaps if we were to speak to Ashmore, and get his guidance.”
“His grace is unwell, locked away with his doctors,” Margot lied. Guilt twisted through her, but the fewer people that knew what had happened, the safer the investigation would be. “Until he is better, we must tackle this together. I look to you for all possible advice on how best to manage the Londonbeau monde, and I will bend to your instructions as best I can. With the exception of desiring a match.”
“But that is why everyone comes to Town!” Mrs. Bowley started fanning herself.
Before Margot could think of something to say to this, there was a knock, and in waltzed Elsie. At the sight of her sibling, Mrs. Bowley made a delighted sigh.
“This is your younger sister,” she said, getting to her feet and walking briskly to Elsie, snatching up her hands and spinning her this way and that. “Do tell me we may introduce this sweet creature to society.”
“You are right, this is my little sister, Miss Elspeth Keating. This is Mrs. Bowley, Elsie. But I’m afraid my sister has been called out of Town. I would imagine she will be returning in a week or two.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Bowley demurred, pouting a little, “Well that is better than nothing. You would be a charming sight in the latest fashion, and just look at all those curls. Why you are ever so lucky. When you do return, my dear, we will be certain to get you to the dressmakers, and the?—”
To this Elsie nodded. “Thank you, madam.” She glanced at Margot. “Hathaway has arranged the duke’s own coach to take me down to Tintagel Manor.”
Drawing nearer, Margot hugged Elsie tightly. “You will do very well. I am sure the heir will be most considerate.”
Elsie nodded and whispered, “You’re doing this to get me out of the way aren’t you?”
To this question, Margot kissed Elsie’s cheek. “Mamma would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”
“She would want to know you are well too.” Elsie stepped back, drawing herself up as much as she could. Still, very much in Margot’s eyes, Elsie resembled a delicate china doll, but with such an impressive set to her chin that Elsie looked ready to defy the world.
Linking arms, Margot walked her towards the door. She turned only to say to Mrs. Bowley. “I will see my sister off, and then return to you, madam.”
“Very good, my dear. I look forward to your speedy homecoming to London, Miss Elsie.”
Out in the corridor the two sisters walked arm in arm. It was odd to be saying goodbye, and Margot realised that in all her life, she had never been separated from Elsie for longer than a day or two. To say goodbye now, when there was so much to discuss and devour and understand—how was she to do that without her dear sister and friend she relied upon so much? Then again, there was a murderer on the loose, and Margot would not be so selfish as to leave Elsie in danger.
“I will write,” Margot promised as they walked down the steps towards where the carriage waited.
“Indeed. We have often said to each other we would be excellent correspondents, and now we have a chance to prove it.”
“You must tell me how the heir is, and I leave it to your discretion on what the man can be informed of.”
