least for today. She couldn’t very well speak to him of Carstairs at the moment, not with the duchess and her daughters present. Perhaps she could send him a note.
“Oh, dear, where has the day gone? We’ve so enjoyed your company,” the duchess said. “Please don’t concern yourself over your aunt. I promised I will deal with Lady Dobson, and I shall. We’ll see you on Tuesday.”
Margaret stood, bobbing as she took her leave. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.” She snuck one more look at the immense, lustrous piano, standing proudly in the corner of the room. No lover could be more seductive.
Her eyes slid over Welles. Almost.
Phaedra and Olivia came forward and bid her goodbye as did Romy, who stuck her unintentionally with a pin from the cushion attached to her wrist. Margaret liked the duchess and her daughters. Today had been the happiest she’d spent since her father’s death and certainly the most fun she’d had since arriving in London.
Welles rose from his chair. “I fear I must take my leave as well, madam. I only stopped by on my way to attend to a business matter. I’ll accompany Miss Lainscott out.”
Margaret’s pulse leapt wildly. It appeared fate was intervening. She became more certain of her plan for Carstairs, for surely the coincidence of Welles being here was a sign of sorts.
The duchess pouted prettily. “I expect you and your brother to dine with us this week.” The thread of steel returned to her voice. “Promptly at seven, two days hence.”
Welles inclined his head. “We will both be here, madam. And I’ll take you all for a ride in the park tomorrow,” he said to Phaedra, Olivia and Romy. “And Theo if we can pull her away from her studio.”
“Possibly a visit to DuPere’s?” Romy asked, shooting a glance at her mother. “I wish only to look at the silks.”
“Say yes, Mama.” Phaedra came over and placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Of course.” The duchess nodded. “But take a full purse, Tony. Your father says these girls are like to bankrupt us all.”
The way Welles’s face froze at the slight mention of the Duke of Averell was obvious, though he recovered quickly before taking the duchess’s hand. “Until then.” He pressed a kiss to her proffered cheek. “After you, Miss Lainscott.”
5
Margaret marched to the door, every nerve in her body aware of Welles just behind her. She planned to broach the subject of Carstairs as soon as Margaret was assured she wouldn’t be heard from the conservatory.
Welles’s much larger form hovered dangerously close to Margaret’s as they made their way down the stairs, making her feel much smaller than usual. Her senses were so inflamed, her body humming at an alarmingly high pitch, Margaret’s attention wandered. Her heel caught on the hem of her skirts and she nearly toppled over.
Welles reached out and deftly caught her elbow. “I saw the look in your eye, Miss Lainscott. Lust.”
Heat rushed up her cheeks. Had he guessed the direction of her thoughts? “Lust, my lord?”
“The piano, Miss Lainscott. I’m not certain any gentleman could compete with the Broadwood for your affection.” His lips twitched. “What else would I possibly have meant?”
“Of course,” she replied smoothly. “Was my admiration of your instrument so obvious?”
Welles paused for a moment, mischief swirling in the depths of blue, as he looked down at her. “Oh, Miss Lainscott, how lovely of you.”
It took only a moment for Margaret to take his meaning. Her cheeks felt as if they’d been scorched by fire. “That isn’t what I meant,” she sputtered in mortification. “I would never—”
“Of course not, Miss Lainscott. Although you are given to rather improper suggestions.”
Margaret caught a hint of his scent—leather and tobacco, mixed with wind and the outdoors. “About that, my lord. I consider it fortuitous we saw each other today. I wish to speak to you about Lord Carstairs.”
“I was wondering if you would bring up your very unusual request. I’m not in the habit of playing matchmaker, Miss Lainscott. Furthermore, I consider the institution of marriage to be a form of entrapment. Why should I assist in landing my friend in such a circumstance?”
“Entrapment is a bit harsh, my lord. And I do apologize if I am presuming on our short acquaintance but I’ve no one else to ask.” Margaret kept her voice low, lest the duchess’s butler overhear. He stood beside the door as they passed through to the steps outside.