Philip. That was what society had discovered. And was clearly enjoying the speculation. How soon would there be rumours around Silvester’s father or mother… How soon would there be journalists calling on his poor brother? Thebeau mondewhen it learnt a long-held secret was vicious. The revelation blazed through Langley, alongside a wash of emotion. He had always promised his mother that no one would discover Philip. It wasn’t the fear or worry he had always assumed he’d experience were his mother’s shameful secret discovered, but something else entirely. A tiny part of him had hoped that the danger Lady Georgianna had seen was in fact Margot and himself together, compromised. Did he want that known to the widerbeau monde? And if he did, why? There was no way in hell he wanted Margot embarrassed… so what else might be the reason?
“I am not the only one to spot the striking resemblance,” Lady Georgianna continued, thankfully cutting off Langley’swandering and probing thoughts on why he’d hoped the rumours would have been about Margot and himself. Lady Georgianna got to her feet and straightened the hood of her cape over her hair. “I have already stayed too long, but I wanted to warn you. I know my dear Topping will not say a word, but of his friends I am less sure.”
Stretching out his hand, Langley led her to the open doorway leading down into his garden. Walking her outside and then impulsively kissing her on the cheek in what was a decidedly friendly if grateful manner. “I thank you for the generosity of letting me know before I read the scandal rags.”
Patting his cheek, Lady Georgianna stepped back and gave him a brief smile. “You are most welcome.”
“I wish you well with your Topping.”
Nodding her head, Lady Georgianna turned and hurried away, away into the night.
Langley pivoted on his heel and walked closer to the edge of the wall connecting him to Ashmore’s garden. It was then he saw the dark woodland eyes of the woman who haunted his dreams and befuddled his waking moments, glaring at him. His Amazon had come outside and had been watching him.
Grinning at her, Langley moved nearer. Only then did he realised she must have seen the entire exchange with Lady Herbert and himself, which, as innocent as it was, might not appear so to an outsider. How their interaction would look to her. Carefully, he studied Margot’s face. Was it envy mottling her features? He was not entirely certain why he wanted to see the validation of seeing her jealous. It did not say much about the goodness of his soul’s needs, because if he was truthful with himself, he was desperate to receive yet more from her. He wanted to hear and know all there could be from Margot. His feelings were leaving him desperate, but he would be damned if he showed her that side of his personality.
“Lady Herbert was paying a social call,” he said. “She came with an important piece of?—”
“Yes, I normally kiss gentlemen on my social calls.” Irony laced her words, and she sounded as cynical as he often tried to be.
“Do you?” he asked. Since she was innocent, Langley could not help smiling at the idea of her paying such a call on him. His default was to flirt as a way of easing out of any difficult interaction. It came as easily as breathing, and in regard to Margot, attempting to charm her was a natural act for him.
“I suppose I cannot expect any loyalty from you. There was never any?—”
Reaching forward over the wall and snatching up her waving hand, Langley raised his free hand, begging for a moment of respite. “She came here to tell me about my family’s secret—that my brother is soon to be exposed.”
Margot narrowed her eyes, still uncertain, so Langley continued. His earlier flirtation and desire to be flippant suddenly felt childish, as if he was devaluing her. Internally, he cursed himself—how did he never know what the best course of action with Margot was? It was as if all the experience with other women suddenly counted for nought.
“Lady Herbert believes herself in love with some baronet. She hopes for an offer of marriage. There is nothing between us,” Langley finished. He had never offered such a long-winded explanation to any one of his lovers before, but nonetheless it did not feel as if it was enough.
Slowly, Margot nodded as she listened, mulling over what he had said. She loosened her fingers and moved away from Langley, heading across the steps of her father’s stone veranda before descending into the garden. Unable to resist and needing to know her reply, Langley followed her, the wall still between them.
Only when Margot stopped and looked back at him did Langley pause, drinking in the image of her, hoping to preserve it in his mind. She was framed, lovingly held in nature, the fading light from the townhouse painting her in the softest of shades, but it did nothing to lessen the fierceness of her gaze.
“I do not know why I believe you,” Margot finally said. “It probably marks me out as a great fool.”
“I have done nothing to warrant your distrust.” He had not looked at another woman in weeks, Langley realised as he stared at her. That idea should have unnerved him, but it did not.
There was still the blasted wall that divided them, so quick as he could, Langley scaled it, and landed close to her. Margot did not move away, nor did she step any closer.
“I never lie to my lovers.” It was a mantra that Langley had always clung to, offered up as a balm to any woman who wanted more from him. However, in this moment it felt like a rather empty statement.
“No.” There was a note of sadness to her tone, but how to answer it. Langley felt he was unprepared to fill the gap. “I did not expect anything else from you.” It seemed to draw a line underneath that interaction, although Langley did not feel satisfied about it. Margot cut into his thoughts, with her question. “What will you do about the scandal of Philip’s birth?”
“Perhaps it is better for all concerned to tell the world, or the ones who care, that he is my father’s boy, rather than my mother’s,” Langley said. It would be scandalous, but it was better to blacken his father’s name than his mother’s. “My father, being dead, can shoulder it far more comfortably than my living mother.”
“It is far easier to be adulterous as a man than a woman,” Margot said.
Langley saw a flash of something pass over Margot’s expressive face—consternation, confusion even… he wasn’t sure.Was she thinking of her own mother’s ruined name, or herself if the facts of their illicit interludes were ever discovered? For the first time, Langley bit his lip, unable to press her until she was willing to share what troubled her. Still, it took all his willpower to stay quiet and urge her silently to reveal whatever preoccupied her.
“What will you do next?” she asked, and Langley wished heartily he could have posed this question first. He wanted to know what Margot’s intentions were around the keys, the missing diamonds, and the mysteriously absent heir, not to mention her original wish to leave London entirely. Was she still meaning to go?
“I must speak to my mother,” Langley said eventually. “And break the impending news to her.”
“And Philip,” Margot added. “After all, it is his name and future too.” Touching concern illuminated her face and a sense of warmth spread through Langley that Margot could feel so much compassion for his brother.
“Of course,” Langley said, stepping nearer, capturing Margot’s hand, and drawing her along the pathway and towards a picturesque bench, shielded by a weeping willow and away from the eyes of the house.
How had he never sought simple comfort from a woman’s presence before? From Margot it was infinite, not sought or asked for, but just a relief to be beside her. He had thoroughly enjoyed a woman’s company, multiple women’s company, in fact… but the solace of holding her hand in his was a new sort of peace he had not previously imagined. Not that he didn’t want to pull her down onto the ground and ravish her. What was this emotion that roared through him, ungovernable? Unable or unwilling to sum up these feelings, instead Langley said, “Your father lost more than just your mother when he did not marry her.”
