storehouses, and stayed to drink a cup of tea and sample some sweet biscuits fresh out of the oven while she discussed menus and meal times with Mrs. Kettering, the cook.
She met a number of the servants and thoroughly enjoyed the morning. She was very aware, as she had never been at Warren Hall, that this was /her/ home, that these were /her/ servants.
She felt consciously happy. And though she remembered the night with pleasure – they had made love twice, once when they went to bed and once before Ducan got up for an early morning ride – it was last evening she remembered with a warm glow about the heart.
They had kissed each other out in the summer house with a deepening affection and a promise of passion when they went home – but with something that went beyond affection or passion. They had talked between kisses and had even been silent for a longish spell, her head on his shoulder, his fingers playing lightly with her hair. And they had laughed.
Their shared laughter had caused her to slide closer to falling in love with him. She had not heard him laugh often, and almost never with total lightheartedness at some silliness that was probably not really funny at all. And she could not remember laughing herself in quite so carefree a manner for a long time.
There was mutual trust in shared laughter.
She trusted his unexpected commitment to making a love match of their union. He had been open and frank with her. She had to trust him. She /needed/ to.
Duncan was busy too. He had taken breakfast with Toby in the nursery, but he was spending the rest of the morning with Mr. Lamb, his steward.
They had gone out on horseback just after breakfast, probably to tour the home farm.
Honeymoons were wonderful things, Margaret decided, but it felt equally good to be settling to what would be the routine of daily life whenever they were in the country. And that, she supposed, would be most of the time, at least for the next several years, with Toby so young. And perhaps soon there would be another infant in the nursery.
Oh, she /hoped/ so.
Duncan was to spend the afternoon with Toby. Margaret told herself that she did not mind. He had said from the start that the child must come first with him, and he had arrived here just yesterday. He needed to spend time with his father.
However, just before luncheon, when Margaret was in her dressing room changing her clothes, there was a knock at the door. Ellen opened it.
Toby was standing there, Duncan behind him. 'There you are,' the child said to Margaret. 'We looked in the big room downstairs, but you were not there. You are to tell me today if you will be my friend.' 'Oh,' Margaret said, looking briefly up at Duncan and finding that for some reason her knees felt suddenly weak, 'I have been busy and have not given the matter a great deal of thought. But I think I might like to be your friend, Toby. Indeed, I am certain I would be. Shall we shake on it?' She stepped closer to the door and held out a hand for his.
He pumped her hand up and down. 'Good,' he said. 'We are going out after I have eaten. We are going to play cricket. Papa is going to bowl to me and I am going to hit the ball. You can catch it. If you want to, that is. I'll let you bat some of the time.' 'That is kind of you,' she said. 'And then,' he said, 'we are going to the lake, and Papa is going to let me swim if I have been a good boy.' ' /Is/ there a lake?' She looked at Duncan with raised eyebrows. 'At the foot of the west lawn,' he said. 'It is out of sight from the house behind the trees.' 'Splendid,' she said, looking at Toby. 'What shall I call you?' he asked her. 'I won't call you Mama.' 'That would be absurd anyway,' she said, 'since I am /not/ your mother.
Let me see. Papa calls me Maggie. Everyone else in my family calls me Meg. How about Aunt Meg, even though I am not really your aunt either?' 'Aunt Meg,' he said. 'You had better be ready after luncheon or Papa will go without you. He said so.' 'I was talking to /you/, imp,' Duncan said. 'Off you go now. Mrs. Harris is waiting for you in the nursery. Can you find your own way?' 'I can,' the child said, darting off. 'Of course I can. I am four years old.' 'Going on forty,' Duncan said when he was out of earshot. He stepped inside the dressing room – Ellen had already left. 'I am sorry about this, Maggie. Playing cricket with a child who has not yet learned to swing his bat on a collision course with the ball is probably not your idea of an enjoyable way to spend a sunny afternoon.' 'On the contrary,' she said. 'I always did find fielding the ball the most dreary part of playing cricket. Now I can claim a different role and teach Toby how to hit a ball. If he will grant me the favor, that is, as his newest friend.' They both laughed – and locked eyes. 'This evening,' he said, 'will be just for us. And for romance.' 'Yes.' She reached up and cupped his face with both hands. She kissed him lightly and briefly on the lips. 'I really do not know,' he said, 'how I could have imagined even for a moment that I would be able to find a bride, marry her in haste, and then settle her somewhere on the outer periphery of my life.' 'You have accomplished two out of the three,' she said, 'and that is not a bad average. However, you must have imagined all that before you met me or got to know me at all well. I do not function at all well when balanced on peripheries.' He laughed and returned her kiss just as briefly. 'If we do not go down and eat immediately,' he said, 'I daresay Toby will go without us and we will be doomed to an afternoon with nothing to do but entertain each other.' 'Oh goodness,' she said, 'whatever would we find to do?' She laughed when he merely waggled his eyebrows.
She had done the right thing, she thought as she took his arm. Oh, she had done the right thing in marrying him. That collision in the Tindell ballroom /was/ something that had been meant to be.
She was happy already.
They were going to fall in love.
And perhaps their determination to fall meant that they had already fallen – at least a part of the way.
22
DUNCAN found that his days were busy with varied activities – so different from most of the past five years, when time had often hung heavily on his hands. Now there often seemed to be not enough time.
He set about reacquainting himself with the estate and the home farm after six years of absenteeism. The work took up all his mornings and often cut into his afternoons. He spent as much of those as he could with Toby, for whom he would find a governess or tutor once the summer was over, though he would always give the child a few hours of his company each day. There were also neighbors to receive when they called – and they all did over time. Some came out of genuine cordiality, others probably out of mere curiosity. It did not matter. He received them all with courtesy while Maggie always showed genuine warmth. And she always spoke openly about Toby. Whether anyone was scandalized was unclear, but the Murdochs invited the child to attend the birthday party of their youngest son, and the day after their whole brood of four youngsters came to play.
The calls had to be returned. And Maggie was already promising both him and their neighbors dinners and a garden party and perhaps a Christmas ball when the time came – with an afternoon party for all the children.
In the evenings, after he had told Toby a bedtime story and tucked him into bed and kissed him good night, there was a courtship to pursue.
They strolled outside most evenings, their hands joined, their fingers laced. On the one wet day they danced in the gallery – to music they supplied themselves with breathless, not particularly musical voices and a great deal of laughter.
Always they ended up kissing and holding each other with a curiously chaste lack of sexual passion considering what always happened later in their bedchamber. It was amazing that they were not both hollow-eyed and haggard from lack of sleep, in fact.
But the evenings were as intoxicating in their own way as were the nights.
He was falling in love, Duncan realized. He liked and respected her and enjoyed her company and conversation. His physical hunger for her was insatiable. But somewhere between liking and lust there was – well, he was beginning to trust her and her affection for him and Toby. He was in love with her, though he tried not to verbalize the fact in his mind – and never put it into words. Perhaps he did not trust enough yet. He brought her flowers from the garden every day, and she always pinned one of the roses to her gown.
She was good with Toby. She never pressed her company on him or her attention, but she was ready with both when he asked for them. She was content to be his friend while they all played cricket or dodge-the-ball or hide-and-seek or one of any number of other games. She was prepared to be his audience when he swam in the
