Lord of Darkness (Maiden Lane #5)(13)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

If Mrs. Crumb noticed her distraction, she gave no sign. “With your permission, my lady, supper will be served in here at eight of the clock.”

Megs glanced at the clock over the mantel and saw that it was already half past seven. “Then I suppose I ought to go freshen myself.”

Mrs. Crumb curtsied. “Yes, my lady. I’ll go see that everything is ready.”

And she marched from the room.

Megs blew out her breath and hurried to her bedroom. Normally she didn’t bother dressing for dinner at home, but tonight was special.

“The scarlet silk, please, Daniels,” she instructed her little lady’s maid and then stood impatiently as she was dressed.

The scarlet was over four years old—from before her retirement to the country. What social events she’d attended in Upper Hornsfield had been far less formal than London. It’d seemed a waste to have new dresses made when what she had already outshone the local gentry.

Megs winced now as her bodice was drawn perilously tight over her bosom. Abundant country meals seemed to have led to growth in that portion of her figure. She made a mental note to visit a London modiste as soon as possible.

Still, the scarlet set off her dark hair and creamy pale complexion quite well. Megs leaned toward the cloudy mirror over the ancient dresser in her room and shoved a lock of hair back in place. She ought to have Daniels take the whole thing down and start over, but she hadn’t the time—it was already five past eight.

Rushing from her room, Megs nearly cannoned into the back—the rather broad back, now that she looked at it—of her husband.

“Oh!”

He turned around at her involuntary exclamation, and she had to tilt her head back to see his eyes. He was close, his chest nearly brushing her bodice.

He glanced down swiftly, almost imperceptibly, at her bosom, and then up at her face. His expression didn’t change at all. He might’ve just glanced at a side of beef.

“Your pardon, my lady.”

“Not at all.” She wasn’t a side of beef, damn it! Inhaling, she smiled sweetly up at him and slipped her hand through his arm. “You’re just in time to escort me down to dinner.”

He inclined his head politely enough, but she felt him stiffen just a bit against her.

Well, she’d never been a quitter. She might’ve had to retire to the country for a bit to recover from the loss of Roger and their baby, but that didn’t mean she was going to lie down without a fight now.

She wanted a baby.

So Megs pressed close to Godric, ignoring his rigid posture, and linked her hands, effectively tethering him to her. “We quite missed you today.”

He’d left the ladies to organizing Saint House immediately after they’d all returned from St. Giles. Presumably he’d spent the day in some type of male pursuit.

His swift glance down at her was incredulous.

Megs cleared her throat. “Sarah and I did come to London to visit.”

“I was under the impression that it was shopping you and my sister were after.” His tone was as dry as the dust the maids had battled all day. “That and upending my house. You travel with a veritable village.”

She felt the heat rise up her neck. “Sarah is your sister and a good friend and we need all the servants.”

“Including the gardener?” Despite his remote countenance, he was careful to match his stride to hers.

“I’m sure your garden will need renovation,” she said earnestly, “if the state I found your country grounds in two years ago is any indication.”

“Hmm. And Great-Aunt Elvina? She rarely seems pleased with anything—including you.”

They were descending the stairs now to the dining room and Megs lowered her voice. Great-Aunt Elvina had proved on more than one occasion that her hearing could sometimes miraculously return. “She’s a bit starchy, but underneath she’s as soft as pudding, really.”

He only looked down at her and arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

Megs sighed. “She does get very lonely. I didn’t want to leave her by herself at Laurelwood.”

“She lives with you?”

“Yes.” Megs bit her lip. “Actually, Great-Aunt Elvina has made the rounds of all my relatives.”

His mouth quirked. “Ah. And you’re the last resort, I’m guessing.”

“Well, yes. It’s just that she has a tendency to speak her mind rather bluntly, I’m afraid.” She winced. “She told my second cousin Arabella that her baby daughter had the nose of a pig, which she does, unfortunately, but really it was too bad of Great-Aunt Elvina to mention it.”

Godric snorted. “And yet you take this harridan into your bosom.”

“Someone has to.” Megs took a deep breath and peeked up at his face. It had lightened … a bit. She decided to grasp what encouragement she could. “I had hoped to use this trip to get to know you better, G-Godric.”

Try as she might, the first use of his Christian name still stuttered on her lips.

His glance was sardonic. “An admirable goal, Margaret, but I think we’ve muddled along together well enough until now.”

“We haven’t done anything together,” Megs muttered as they made the main floor. She caught herself and remembered what she was trying to do. She began stroking his forearm with one finger. “We’ve lived entirely separate lives. And please. Call me Megs.”

He stared down at her finger, now drawing circles on the sleeve of his coat. “I was under the impression that you were happy.”

He hadn’t used her name.

“I was happy. Or at least content.” Megs wrinkled her nose. Why was he making this so hard? “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t change things, even make them better. I’m sure if we tried, we could find something … enjoyable to do together.”

His dark brows drew together over his eyes, and she had the distinct impression that he didn’t at all agree with her.

But they’d reached the small receiving room adjacent to the dining room now, and Sarah and Great-Aunt Elvina were already waiting for them.

“We’ve received word that we’ll have a real dinner tonight,” Sarah said at the sight of them.

Godric raised his brows, glancing at Megs as they joined the others. “Then you succeeded in hiring a new cook?”

“No, actually, we have someone much better.” Megs smiled up at him, despite his solemn expression. “Apparently, I’ve hired London’s most accomplished housekeeper, Mrs. Crumb.”