Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Margaret was going to do something drastic if Septimus did not stop making her want to drag him back to the parlor. It started when he pulled out the chair for her and casually brushed the back of her neck. Then he sat next to her. She understood that he was a tall man who need more room than she did, but his leg kept touching hers in a most intimate fashion. And occasionally brush her arm near enough to her bosom that her nipples tightened and rubbed against her stays. She was almost, but not quite, at the point where she would moan the next time he touched her. Was this what being married to him would be like? An almost constant state of arousal? The dessert course had just been placed on the table when he touched her thigh when his hand. Well, two could play this game. Margaret slowly moved her hand to his leg and caressed him. Septimus suddenly went still, and she slid him a look. He caught her eye, and his lips tilted up slightly. She moved her hand again so that it was hovering just over his placket. When she placed her fingers on him she could feel his member start to grow. He had been right. It did react to her. She glanced around the table, certain that someone could see or would know what they were doing, but no. They were busy discussing the arrival of his siblings. Septimus covered her hand with his, and held hers more firmly on his hardening member. Then her skirts began to rise.

He would not!

His fingers caressed her thigh and crossed to her mons.

“Shhh. No one must know.” His voice was the softest whisper. She felt it more than heard it.

Heat spread through her and she clamped her legs together. Trapping his hand. Oh, God. That was worse. Or better. But not here.

“Excuse yourself. I’ll follow.” His hand fell away and her skirts brushed her legs as if fell.

When she started to rise, he jumped up and held her chair. “Excuse me. I will meet you in the drawing room.”

Just as she reached the other side of the door and closed it, he murmured something, and steps approached from the dining room. Margaret moved away just as it opened. He stood behind her. “What did you say to them?”

A slow, wolfish smile appeared on his countenance. “That I was going to ensure that you were all right.” He placed her palms over her breasts and a pleasurable shiver speared through her body. “Come.”

They practically ran down the corridor to the parlor they had used earlier. Unlike earlier, neither of them though to undress. Septimus feathered kisses from her lips to her breasts as his hands caressed that place between her thighs. Margaret rocked against him, searching for what she knew should happen. She tightened her grip on his neck as he kissed her again. The something soft and hard rubbed against her mons. “Is that”—her voice was dry—"is that your member?”

“That’s one word for it.”

She was hot and it was as if champagne, not blood flowed through her veins. Then it happened. This time she saw stars, and something liquid seemed to come from somewhere. Septimus leaned against her moaning. It took some time before she could speak again. “What happened.”

“I don’t dare take your virginity. But rubbing my member against you eased my arousal.” He took out a handkerchief. “Let me take care of you.” He wiped the fluid from her legs, then tucked the piece of linen away. “Are you well? We must go back.”

If it was up to Margaret, she would have stayed there and tried to convince him to make her his. Yet, in a real way he already had. “I suppose we must.”

“Indeed, we do. Your father wants to have a ball and we need to decide who will be invited.”

What? She stared up at him and searched his eyes. How had she missed that? “When did that conversation occur?”

“Just about the time my hand was between your legs.”

“Good Lord.” She moaned. “You have got to stop touching me during dinner. I remember very little of the discussion.”

He pulled her into his arms and his hand stroked her from her neck to her derrière. “I’m not sure I want to. Perhaps you will simply learn to follow the conversation.”

“I do not know how I am supposed to do that.” Perhaps they will take time before and after meals to be together. She took his hand before she succumbed again. “Let us be on our way. I do not want anyone coming to look for us.” Although simply joining the rest of their friends and family brought up another problem. “What are we going to tell them we were doing?”

He stopped walking. “We could say that we you were concerned about the wedding, and that we had to talk about some of the particulars.”

“Such as? Someone is bound to ask what I was upset about.” None of them, with the possible exception of Lord Maryville, was at all reticent.

Septimus leaned against the wall and attempted to draw her to him. “That is not a good idea. I know where that leads, and we do not have time.”

“You could be afraid that my family won’t like you.” It was clear from his expression that he did not believe that likely. Then he looked at her intently. “Or that your dependents will think that you are marrying too quickly and that they won’t like me.”

That would work. Everyone who worked on the estate and for her and her father were wary of outsiders and protective of her. “That is actually rather perfect.” But how was he supposed to have soothed her fears? “What did you decide to do to earn their trust?”

“That’s a good question.” A crease formed between his brows. “Hmm. I’ll find a way to ingratiate myself with William Coachman and the footman. Then they will be able to vouch for my character.”

She was at a loss as to what Septimus could do to accomplish that, but it would have to do. “Very well. I think I want a glass of wine before tea is served.”

“I do as well. Or perhaps a brandy.”

“This is becoming complicated.”

“My love, this was always going to be complicated.” He grinned at her and took her hand.

My love? She knew that he said he loved her. Yet, for some reason, hearing him call her ‘my love’ made her feel loved. And that made her feel like loving him.

They entered the drawing room and Maryville gave her a glass of wine and her betrothed a glass of brandy. “We thought you might want these.”

“Yes, thank you.” She took a drink of the claret. “What have you been discussing?”

Maryville glanced at Septimus. “A message came from your sister. The family plans to travel to us the day after tomorrow.”

There was something he was not telling them. “What else?”

“Meg thinks that the wedding should be ‘set in stone’ as she put it before they arrive.”

“Good Lord, yes!” Septimus turned to Margaret. “We must send instructions to your servants before they arrive. My sisters are perfectly capable to attempting to take over the arrangements.”

“In that case, we must get started.” She guided them to where her father was sitting around a small round table with Meg and Amanda. “We have been informed that the wedding and dinner must be planned this evening.”

“Yes, indeed.” Papa chuckled. “I insist we have roast beef, and the ladies will insist upon goose.”

Septimus held Margaret’s chair, then took his own. “We could have both. It will be a large dinner. Will it be held in the ball room?”

“Excellent, idea my boy. Everyone will be much more comfortable there.” Her father smiled at him as if he had just made the event much easier.

He slid her a look, his eyes filled with mirth. “A buffet might also be in order. Particularly if you what the household servants to join us.”

Papa nodded and glanced at her. “I am coming to like your young man very much. He has a great deal of sense.”

Septimus did indeed have a lot of sense. And finesse. It must come from his position in government. “I agree. I am discovering he has a good many excellent ideas.”

He did his best not to preen under their approbation. He still must secure Margaret’s love and could not appear at all smug. “Thank you. I do my best to please.”

They all continued to add dishes that they liked and thought the others were enjoy as well. Because it was a buffet held in the ballroom, they, and his brothers and sisters, would mingle with the Sutton Hall people.

“If you would like,” Amanda said. “I could have our staff come to serve at the buffet and pour wine.”

He looked at Margaret as she considered the idea. “Yes, I think that might work. I will tell my butler in the letter that your servants will be there to assist.”

She seemed tentative about the scheme. Servants, especially upper servants, could be very protective over their duties. “Do you believe that your butler will feel displaced?”

A line formed across her forehead as she regarded him. “I will have to be careful with the wording. I do not believe that anyone other than a Whittle has served wine at our house before.” She was quiet for several seconds. “I will explain how important it is for everyone to be able to celebrate the wedding with us. After all, it is the first marriage since my father and mother’s, and it will be the last until our children are ready to wed.”

“Let’s hope that does it. If not, they will serve if they wish,” Lord Sutton added.

“You might also ask your housekeep and cook if there are dishes they think should be added.” Septimus looked at both his soon-to-be-father-in-law and his betrothed.

Margaret nodded. “I shall tell them you suggested that.”

Clever. Beautiful, intelligent, and wise. It was no wonder he was in love with her. “Are we still keeping our wedding from everyone except your butler?”

“For another day or so. I will tell them we are also having a house party.”

Amanda held up a piece of paper. “I have made a list of all the neighbors. My mother writes to me regularly about any changes in the area.”

That brought up something he’d not thought about. How close was Margaret to her friend’s parents. He leaned over to speak in her ear. “Should we invite her parents to the wedding service?”

She flashed him a smile. “Amanda will write to them for me. Her mother was like a second mother to me, especially after my mother died.”

An hour later, the letters were ready to be sent to Sutton Hall. This was also his opportunity to begin to know her servants. Well, their servants. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take them to William Coachman.”

Amanda gave Septimus a confused look, but Margaret smiled warmly. “That is a wonderful idea.”

He gathered the invitations, the menu, and the list of tasks to be accomplished. “I shall see you in a bit.”

When he reached the front door, he realized that he didn’t know where the stables were. Fortunately, a footman was stationed there. “Could you direct me to the stables. I must deliver these to the Sutton coachman.”

“My lord, I’ll be happy to take them for you.”

“No need. Just tell me how to get there.”

“Well, the coachman is in the servants’ parlor. Are you sure you don’t want to me fetch him?”

Septimus wondered if anyone in the family had ever visited the servants’ parlor. “If it wouldn’t be too much of a disruption, I will go there.”

The footman appeared disconcerted. “I will tell him to meet you here.” The servant disappeared through a blue baized door and returned moments later followed by a tall, lean man. “Can I help you, my lord?” To Septimus’s ear the man sounded dubious.

“Yes. If you will. These are the letters that must be delivered on the morrow to Mr. Whittle.” He wanted to talk to the coachman. “Walk with me if you will.”

“If you want.”

Septimus took him a little down the other corridor off the hall. “Miss Sutton and her father are planning a celebration of a sort at Sutton Hall in about three days’ time. All the servants and dependents will be invited. We have tried to think of the dishes everyone would like, but please tell Mr. Whittle that he can add to them if he wishes.”

The coachman raised his chin in a most un-servant like way. “What’s this about?”

There was only one way to explain it and that was to tell him the truth. “Miss Sutton and I are going to wed. Please trust me that it cannot be widely known until after the wedding. It will be held on Christmas Eve.”

The man’s eyes rounded and a large smile donned on his face. “Miss Margaret’s going to marry? Finally, after all these years?” The coachman grabbed Septimus’s hand and pumped it. “You got yerself a good’un, my lord. None better.”

“I agree. I am thrilled to be marrying her and into the family.” Septimus had never before had a servant shake his hand before. It was an experience he wouldn’t forget.

“You can count on me to get the letters to Mr. Whittle.” William Coachman stopped and stared at Septimus. “Does he know?”

“It is in the letter of instructions.”

“I’ll just get a sack to put them all in.” The coachman walked away then turned a bowed. “I’ll be off first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.” That had gone well. Once the servant had left, he went back to the drawing room. He had a feeling this was going to be the best wedding the Sutton Hall staff could put together.