A Masked Deception Read Online Free Page A

felt some relief that the waiting period was finally over, that the knot was tied. Now that he knew there was definitely no way out, perhaps his mind would be less tortured. The only big ordeal ahead was the consummation of the marriage that must take place within the next few hours. Once that was over, they would be able to settle down into some sort of routine. And he would see that he spent much of his time alone. It was a while since he had visited Brampton Court; there would be plenty of estate business to keep him occupied. And his wife would have much to learn about the house and the running of the household. He would feel contented to leave her in the capable hands of Mrs. Foster, the housekeeper.
    Margaret was grateful for the long silence, grateful that her husband did not feel the necessity to keep up the meaningless conversation that had occupied them for the first several miles of their journey.
    She needed time to compose her mind after the frantic bustle of the last month. Her mother had taken care of all the arrangements for the wedding. She had been whisked through an endless round of visits to dressmakers, milliners, bootmakers, and the like. She had stood through hours of fittings, standing until every muscle ached as Madame Dumont pinned and measured and tucked and snipped. Margaret had thought that she had ample clothes. But it seemed that none was suitable for a bride’s trousseau, especially the bride of the Earl of Brampton.
    When she was not shopping or at endless fitting sessions, there were the numerous visitors to receive, flocking to congratulate her on capturing one of the greatest prizes on the matrimonial market. All seemed to think that she was incredibly fortunate; no one commented that the earl was the fortune one.
    Of the earl himself, Margaret saw almost nothing. It seemed that her schedule was too full to allow of something so unimportant as meetings with her betrothed. Margaret was not sorry; she felt shy to the point of gaucheness before her very handsome fiance.
    The only person who helped Margaret keep a firm hold on sanity and apparent serenity during those weeks was Charlotte. She was ecstatic over her sister’s engagement.
    “Just think, Meg,” she had said, clapping her hands and twirling around the drawing room, on that first day after the earl had left, “you have been insisting for the last year or more that you are just a spinster. And you have been wearing those stupid caps for the last year, though I told you and told you that you were far too pretty and had far too much character to do any such thing. And now you are to be married! And to the Earl of Brampton. He’s ever so gorgeous, Meg, even though he’s so old.”
    Margaret smiled as Charlotte paused for breath, and quietly folded her embroidery.
    “You see, Meg, he must have realized what a diamond you are.”
    Margaret smiled again. “He is an older son, Lottie,” she explained patiently. “He must marry soon. Do not make a grand romance out of this, my love.”
    “Phooey!” Charlotte commented inelegantly. “You are eminently suited, Meg. You so small and dainty and so pretty; and he so tall and strong and handsome.”
    Margaret laughed. “You are looking through the eyes of a fond sister,” she said. “I fear not many people would agree with you.”
    “Well, perhaps he is not that strong or that handsome,” Charlotte agreed mischievously.
    “You know what I meant,” Margaret replied, smiling affectionately at her sister.
    Charlotte was to be bridesmaid at the wedding and delighted in every moment of the fittings and the shopping sprees. She had not yet made her come-out, and to her, all the activity was magical. Through a complicated set of negotiations that involved mainly the mothers of the bride and groom, it was agreed that Charlotte would live with her sister and brother-in-law for the Season, after they returned from Hampshire, and that Margaret would undertake to chaperone her come-out. Mr.