A Masked Deception Read Online Free Page B

Wells was relieved to have the chance to return to his own estate after the unexpected expense of Margaret’s wedding. Both sisters were delighted by the arrangement.
    Margaret wished that they were already back in London. Surely life would be easier there, where there would be numerous activities to occupy their time and furnish them with topics of conversation, and where Charlotte’s vivacious personality would fill in any awkward silences.
    Margaret was dreading the next week. What, would they do to occupy the days? Would Richard take it upon himself to entertain her? She wished for and dreaded such intimacy. How would she converse with him without appearing dull or stupid or silly? Would he go about his own business and leave her to her own devices?
    And, of course, the biggest ordeal of all was the night ahead. Would he kiss and caress her as he had so long ago in the Hetheringtons’ garden? Her breathing quickened at the thought and she made an effort to control it. She opened her eyes for a moment and found herself looking straight into her husband’s eyes. She felt dazed with shock until he asked her if she was tired.
    A minute later, as Brampton turned away to the window, Margaret bit her lip. She had seen the flash of annoyance in his eyes as she had called him “my lord.” She must accustom herself to calling him Richard, though it seemed too great a familiarity. Goodness, this man was now her husband!
    What was he going to think of her tonight? Margaret knew that he was experienced with women. His caresses had told her that six years before. But she had also heard of his many affairs and knew that he kept mistresses. Did he have one now? A sharp stab of pain and jealousy hit her. And she really did not know how to please him. She did not even know what came after the stage of lovemaking they had reached in the garden, though she knew that it had something to do with the bulge of desire she had felt when he had pulled her against him. She must just learn. She drew some comfort from his remembered words. He had called her a “very passionate little innocent.” Would it be enough?
    Margaret sighed inaudibly, opened her eyes, and turned to gaze sightlessly out of the window on her side of the carriage. No point in teasing herself over something that she could not control.
    * * *
    Margaret sat at the dresser while Kitty brushed her long wavy hair until it shone.
    “Braid it, please, Kitty,” she instructed.
    “Oh, miss—I mean, my lady, it looks so lovely this way. Leave it just for tonight.”
    “No. The braids, Kitty,” Margaret answered firmly. She did not understand herself. She recognized that she looked feminine, almost attractive, with her hair down. And she knew that the braids made her look prim—Charlotte had told her so often enough. She wanted to attract her husband’s admiration, but she could not bring herself to cast out deliberate lures. For the same reason, she had chosen a high-necked, long-sleeved nightgown that swept the floor. The only concession she had made to Charlotte’s loud protests was the liberal amount of lace that trimmed it. Kitty had unpacked it earlier with the rest of her trousseau that had come in a baggage coach, with Kitty and Stevens.
    Kitty pursed her lips when Margaret rose from the stool. She obviously did not approve either of the nightgown or of the heavy braid draped over each shoulder as suitable for her mistress’s wedding night.
    “Shall I wait, my lady?’’ she asked doubtfully as Margaret climbed into the huge four-poster bed with its heavy gold brocade hangings.
    “No, Kitty, you may leave.” Margaret suppressed a panic-stricken urge to make some excuse to keep her maid with her. “And you may leave the candle burning.”
    Kitty gave her an anxious glance, curtsied, and withdrew.
    Margaret slid down on the pillows and forced herself to wait calmly. How long would he be? She had left him downstairs in the drawing room. He had some business to