In Which the Family Arrives with Great Fanfare.

And horrible timing.

Chapter: In Which Family Arrives with Great Fanfare

I was feeling rather pleased with myself.

Lady Vivienne Kentworth had arrived expecting to find a convenient widow who could be easily intimidated into stepping aside. Instead, she'd encountered a woman who saw through her desperation with embarrassing clarity and sent her slinking away with her tail between her legs.

The victory was intoxicating. For the first time in years, I felt truly formidable.

Percy's answering smile was absolutely wicked. "My darling Margot, I think you're going to be a very dangerous countess indeed."

"I certainly hope so," I replied, stepping closer to him with newfound boldness. "After all, what's the point of winning if you can't make your opponents weep?"

The way his eyes darkened at my approach sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with triumph over Vivienne and everything to do with the man standing before me. I'd spent so long being cautious, being proper, being safe. But standing here in my own sitting room, having just demolished his former lover's pathetic attempts at manipulation, I felt reckless in the most delicious way.

"And what," Percy asked, his voice dropping to that low register that made my pulse quicken, "do you intend to do with all this newfound confidence?"

I reached up and straightened his cravat with deliberate slowness, letting my fingers linger against the warm skin of his throat. "I haven't quite decided yet. Though I suspect you might have some suggestions."

He kissed me again, and this time there was nothing restrained about it. His hands framed my face as he backed me against the window, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my head spin. I could feel the heat of him through the layers of fabric, could taste the hunger in his kiss as my hands fisted in his shirt.

"God, Margot," he breathed against my throat, his lips trailing fire along my skin. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

I gasped as he found that sensitive spot just below my ear, my fingers clutching at his shoulders. "I'm beginning to get some notion," I managed, my voice embarrassingly breathless.

His hands moved to my waist, then higher, his fingers working at the fastenings of my bodice with surprising skill. I should have protested, should have stopped him, but the feel of cool air against heated skin as he bared my breast made me gasp instead. When his mouth followed the path his hands had taken, trailing fire along my collarbone before capturing the peak of my breast, I arched against him with a sound that was somewhere between a prayer and a plea.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with desire. "I've been dreaming of this, of you—"

A discrete cough from the doorway made us both freeze.

"My lady?" Hobbs's voice came from the entrance, carefully neutral and utterly discreet. "I do apologize for the interruption, but you have visitors arriving."

We sprang apart like guilty children, Percy running a hand through his already disheveled hair while I pressed my palms to my flushed cheeks and hastily adjusted my bodice with trembling fingers. Hobbs, to his eternal credit, was studying a point somewhere above our heads with the kind of studied blindness that marked a truly excellent butler.

"Visitors?" My voice came out slightly strangled.

"Indeed, my lady. Lady Honoria Fairfax and your stepdaughters have just arrived with their luggage. They appear to be... settling in for an extended stay."

Percy closed his eyes with the expression of a man praying for patience. "Aunt Honoria."

"The very same, my lord. Shall I show them to the drawing room?"

"Yes, Hobbs. Thank you." I smoothed my skirts with hands that weren't quite steady. "Please prepare the rose suite for Aunt Honoria, and the blue and green bedrooms for the girls. We'll be along presently."

"Of course, my lady." Hobbs paused at the door. "Perhaps my lord might wish to... attend to his breeches before greeting the ladies?"

Percy looked down at his hopelessly wrinkled breeches and swore under his breath. "Right. Yes. Thank you, Hobbs."

When we were alone again, I met Percy's eyes and we both burst into slightly hysterical laughter.

"Well," I said when I could speak again. "That was mortifying."

"That was nothing," Percy said grimly, attempting to restore some order to his appearance. "Wait until Aunt Honoria gets a look at us. The woman has eyes like a hawk."

"Perhaps she won't notice—"

"Margot, darling, you look like you've been thoroughly kissed. Your hair is coming down, your lips are swollen, and unless I'm very much mistaken, I've left a mark on your neck."

I flew to the mirror above the mantelpiece and groaned. He was absolutely right—I looked exactly like a woman who'd been caught in a passionate embrace. "Oh God. What am I going to tell them?"

"The truth?" Percy suggested, moving behind me to help pin up my fallen hair. "That we're madly in love and can barely keep our hands off each other?"

"Percy!"

"Well, it's true." His fingers were gentle as they worked to repair the damage. "Though perhaps we might phrase it more delicately for the girls."

A commotion in the entrance hall saved me from having to respond—the unmistakable sound of trunks being carried, excited feminine voices, and Aunt Honoria's imperious tones directing the proceedings.

"Oh dear," I muttered. "Here we go."

Percy caught my hand and squeezed it. "We'll face them together."

"Will we? Because in about five minutes, Aunt Honoria is going to take one look at us and know exactly what we were doing."

"Then perhaps," Percy said thoughtfully, "we should give her something else to think about."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that we're going to elope."

I stared at him. "Are we?"

"I rather think we should." His thumb traced across my knuckles. "After all, if we can't manage ten minutes alone without me wanting to tear your clothes off, how are we going to survive a week of you sleeping just down the hall from me? I'll be sorely tempted to visit you in the dead of night."

Despite everything, I laughed. "You make an excellent point."

"Besides," he continued, his voice growing more serious, "after dealing with Vivienne's dramatics and facing the prospect of Aunt Honoria's interference, don't you think we deserve a wedding that's just about us? No society gossip, no machinations, no one trying to cause trouble?"

The idea was suddenly, powerfully appealing. "When?"

"A week from tonight. After the engagement ball for the girls—because I assume that's why they're here?"

"How did you—yes. Florinda is engaged to that poet of hers, Edwin Hartwell, and I thought a ball would be the perfect way to announce it. Though it will take at least a week to prepare properly and allow guests time to arrive." I bit my lip. "You don't mind waiting?"

"Mind? A week gives us time to... enjoy being engaged." His eyes sparkled with mischief and something far more heated. "We'll give the girls their moment, dance once or twice to keep up appearances, and then slip away." His voice dropped lower. "What do you say, Lady Ashbourne? Ready to scandalize society?"

"With you?" I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him softly. "Always. And there would be no opportunity for Ella to interfere with a fait accompli."

The sound of approaching footsteps made us spring apart again, just as the sitting room door burst open and my stepdaughters tumbled through, chattering excitedly.

"Margot! Oh, we've missed you dreadfully!" The speaker was Florinda, her golden curls in charming disarray from travel, her eyes bright with barely contained excitement.

"The journey was absolutely endless, and Aunt Honoria made us stop every hour because she was certain the roads were too rough for her constitution," added Drusilla, ever the practical one, though I noticed she carried what appeared to be a small specimen jar. "But we're here now and—" She stopped short, taking in Percy's presence with those unnervingly perceptive eyes. "Oh! Lord Raventhorn. How lovely to see you again."

Both girls curtsied prettily, and Percy bowed in return. "Miss Florinda, Miss Drusilla. You're both looking well."

"Thank you, my lord." Florinda beamed at him, then turned to me with barely contained excitement. "Oh, Margot, wait until you hear our news! Well, my news really, but Drusilla's been absolutely wonderful about it all—"

"Let me guess," I said with a smile. "Edwin finally worked up the courage to propose?"

Florinda's squeal of delight could probably be heard in the next county. "How did you know? Oh, but of course you knew—you always know everything. Isn't it wonderful? We're to be married in the spring, and he's written me the most beautiful verses about eternal devotion and—"

"Florinda, breathe," Drusilla said with fond exasperation. "You'll make yourself faint again."

"I'm just so happy I could burst! And Drusilla has news too—Marcus finally asked her properly, didn't he? With that lovely speech about how her botanical knowledge would make their candlemaking business absolutely unique—"

Before either of them could elaborate further, another voice spoke from the doorway—cool, cultured, and laced with dry amusement.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Lady Honoria Fairfax stood in the entrance, taking in the scene with eyes that missed absolutely nothing. Her gaze swept from Percy's still-rumpled appearance to my flushed cheeks, and one perfectly arched eyebrow rose in a manner that made me want to sink through the floor.

"Aunt Honoria," I managed. "How lovely to see you."

"I'm sure it is, my dear." Honoria glided into the room with the grace of a woman who had spent her life commanding attention. "Lord Raventhorn. You're looking... invigorated."

Percy had the grace not to wince. "Lady Honoria. Welcome to Raventhorn."

"Mmm." She continued to study us with that knowing look. "I do hope we're not interrupting anything... important."

"Not at all," I said quickly. "We were just... discussing the arrangements for tomorrow's ball."

"Were you indeed? How very... thorough of you." Honoria's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "I trust the planning is proceeding satisfactorily?"

"Oh yes," Florinda chimed in, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents. "Margot throws the most wonderful parties. Remember the Midsummer celebration she gave for us last year, Drusilla? Everyone said it was absolutely magical!"

"This one promises to be even more memorable," Percy said, his eyes meeting mine with perfect understanding.

"I'm sure it will be," Honoria murmured. "In fact, I have a feeling next week will be quite... revelatory."

And from the way she was looking at us, I had the distinct impression that Aunt Honoria knew exactly what we were planning—and thoroughly approved.

---

By the time we assembled for dinner, I had managed to restore some semblance of respectability to my appearance, though I caught Honoria's knowing glances throughout the meal. The girls, bless them, remained blissfully unaware of any impropriety, chattering away about wedding plans and the upcoming ball.

"Oh, and Margot," Florinda said as the second course was served, "I do hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of inviting Edwin to join us for the week leading up to the ball. He should arrive tomorrow afternoon with some of his literary friends from Bath."

"Of course, darling. I wouldn't dream of celebrating your engagement without him." I turned to Drusilla. "And what about Marcus? Will he be joining us as well?"

Drusilla nodded, a soft smile crossing her usually serious features. "Actually, yes. He's bringing samples of his new candle collection—he's created what he calls 'scents for special occasions.' He thought perhaps we might spend the week testing them before the ball."

"How... practical," I said, though I found myself charmed by the young man's thoughtfulness. "The house can easily accommodate more guests if needed. In fact, Percy, you might wish to invite some of your friends as well. We'll make it a proper celebration."

"An excellent suggestion," Percy agreed. "Though I confess, I'm rather curious to meet these young men who've captured the hearts of our girls. I take it they meet with your approval, Aunt Honoria?"

Honoria set down her wine glass with deliberate precision. "Young Hartwell has considerably more substance than his profession might suggest. His poetry, while occasionally overwrought, demonstrates genuine feeling. More importantly, he treats Florinda with the reverence her dramatic nature requires while gently discouraging her more excessive theatrical impulses."

"Which is quite an accomplishment," Drusilla added with a smile. "Edwin actually convinced her that fainting at inappropriate moments was neither romantic nor practical."

"It was terribly romantic," Florinda protested, though her cheeks pinkened. "And I only fainted twice. Well, three times if you count the incident with the hedgehog, but that was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances."

"And Mr. Pemberton?" Percy inquired, his tone carefully neutral in the way that suggested he was taking his guardian duties quite seriously.

"A sensible young man with excellent business prospects," Honoria replied. "His candle shop is quite successful, and he seems genuinely fascinated by Drusilla's botanical knowledge. More importantly, he doesn't find her moss collection bizarre."

"A sensible young man with excellent business prospects," Honoria replied. "His candle shop is quite successful, and he seems genuinely fascinated by Drusilla's botanical knowledge. More importantly, he doesn't find her moss collection bizarre."

I noticed Drusilla's pleased expression at this assessment and made a mental note to speak with her privately about her feelings. "I'm sure both young men are perfectly suitable," I said diplomatically. "Though I do hope they intend to ask properly for the girls' hands. I shall have to direct them to Percy, of course, as their new guardian."

Percy straightened slightly at this reminder of his impending responsibilities. "I look forward to meeting them properly and hearing their intentions."

"Oh, Edwin is terribly nervous about it," Florinda said with obvious fondness. "He's been practicing his speech for weeks. Something about 'seeking the blessing of her esteemed guardians for the honor of her hand in matrimony.' He turns quite pale when he rehearses it."

"And Marcus has been asking me what sorts of questions you might pose," Drusilla added with a small smile. "I told him you'd likely want to know about his business prospects and whether he can support a wife, but he's convinced you'll quiz him on botanical terminology."

"Actually," Drusilla said hesitantly, "there is one small complication. Edwin's bringing his cousin, Miss Caroline Hartwell. She's... well, she has very strong opinions about appropriate matches."

"She disapproves of me," Florinda said matter-of-factly. "She thinks Edwin should marry someone with better literary connections. Someone who can appreciate his genius properly." She paused, then added with a slight edge to her voice, "Someone more like herself, actually."

Percy's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "I see. And how does Mr. Hartwell feel about his intended bride being criticized by his cousin?"

"Oh, Edwin defends me beautifully," Florinda said with obvious pride. "He wrote her the most scathing poem about narrow-minded individuals who mistake snobbery for sophistication. Though he did turn rather pale when he recited it."

"How delightful," I murmured. "It seems next week's ball will be quite the gathering. Between Lady Vivienne's expected attendance and now Miss Hartwell's... particular views, we should have entertainment aplenty."

Honoria's eyes sharpened with interest. "Lady Vivienne Kentworth? How intriguing. I wasn't aware she'd returned to society so quickly after her recent bereavement."

"She called on me this afternoon," I said carefully. "She felt we should... discuss certain matters before tomorrow's festivities."

"Did she indeed?" Honoria's smile was razor-sharp. "How very thoughtful of her. I trust the conversation was... illuminating?"

Percy choked slightly on his wine, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks. "Quite."

"Excellent. I do so enjoy reunions with old friends. It will be fascinating to observe how people have... changed over the years."

"Indeed," I said with perhaps more sweetness than was strictly necessary. "Though I confess myself curious about how Lady Vivienne is managing financially these days. I heard such conflicting reports about her late husband's estate."

Honoria's eyes lit up with wicked delight. "Oh, my dear, didn't you hear? It seems poor Vivienne discovered rather belatedly that Huntington's fortune was entirely entailed. Everything went to his nephew upon his death."

"How... unfortunate," I murmured. "Particularly after five years of marriage without producing an heir to secure her position."

"Quite shocking, really," Honoria continued with relish. "One might have expected a woman of her... experience to have managed such matters more effectively."

Florinda's eyes were growing wider by the moment, clearly fascinated by this display of refined feminine warfare. Drusilla watched with the analytical interest of someone studying a particularly interesting specimen.

Percy had developed a sudden intense interest in his wine glass, though I caught the slight shake of his shoulders that suggested he was struggling not to laugh outright.

"Perhaps," I said thoughtfully, "that explains her renewed interest in renewing old... friendships. How very practical of her."

"Devastatingly practical," Honoria agreed. "Though one does wonder about the wisdom of pursuing attachments that have already proven... inadequate to one's needs."

The conversation moved on to safer topics—the latest London fashions, mutual acquaintances, the girls' excitement about their engagements—but I was acutely aware of Honoria's penetrating gaze throughout the remainder of the meal.

When we finally rose to retire, the girls chattering about which gowns to wear and whether Florinda's new ruby earrings would complement her engagement dress, Honoria fell into step beside me as we made our way upstairs.

"Such a charming evening," she remarked conversationally. "Though I must say, you seem rather... glowing tonight, my dear. Engagement clearly agrees with you."

"Thank you, Aunt Honoria."

"Mmm. And Lord Raventhorn appears equally... invigorated. Quite the picture of marital anticipation, if I may say so."

I stumbled slightly on the stairs, and she steadied me with a gentle hand on my elbow.

"Now then," she continued briskly, "about the sleeping arrangements. I assume you've given thought to where everyone should be housed? With young men arriving over the next few days, we must be quite careful about propriety."

"Of course. I thought Edwin and Marcus could take the blue and green bedrooms in the east wing, with Miss Hartwell in the rose room nearby. That should provide adequate space while maintaining proper separation."

"Excellent planning. And naturally, you'll want Percy in the master suite, well away from the young people's quarters. We can't have any... misunderstandings about engaged couples and their sleeping arrangements, can we?"

My cheeks flamed. "Aunt Honoria—"

"Oh, my dear girl, don't look so scandalized. I was young once myself, you know. And after witnessing your earlier... consultation about tomorrow's ball arrangements, I must say I thoroughly approve of a man who can make a woman look so thoroughly kissed."

"We weren't—that is, we were merely—"

"Discussing ballroom logistics with exceptional enthusiasm, I'm sure." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Though I must commend Lord Raventhorn's technique. Your hair was coming down in the most becoming manner."

I covered my face with my hands. "Oh God."

"Now, now, none of that missish behavior. You're a widow, not a green girl, and if you choose to anticipate your wedding vows with your intended husband, that's entirely your affair. Though I would suggest being rather more... discrete with the younger generation about."

She paused at the door to her room, then turned back with that knowing smile.

"Of course, if you were to decide on a more... immediate wedding ceremony, I'm sure no one would be particularly surprised. After all, when passion strikes at our age, it seems rather foolish to waste time with lengthy engagements, don't you think?"

Before I could formulate a response, she disappeared into her room, leaving me standing in the hallway with burning cheeks and the distinct impression that Aunt Honoria would not only approve of our elopement plans—she was practically encouraging them.

Perhaps, I thought as I made my way to my own chamber, having family about might not be quite the impediment to romance I had feared. At least not when that family possessed Honoria's particular brand of worldly wisdom.

Though I did make a mental note to be rather more careful about where Percy and I chose to conduct our more... thorough discussions in future.

🩷 Some family members bring casseroles. Others bring luggage, judgment, and a lifetime of expertly arched eyebrows.

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