“Megs!”
She stopped and turned on the landing.
Sarah was panting behind her and Megs realized that this wasn’t the first time the other woman had called her name.
“Are you all right?” Sarah paused, looking worriedly into her face.
“I …” Megs tried for a calm, ladylike tone but in the end burst out, “Oh, Sarah, I just want to hit him sometimes!”
“Well, and I don’t blame you,” Sarah said loyally—or rather disloyally since she was taking Megs’s side over her own brother’s.
But Megs couldn’t be anything but happy that Sarah was such a good friend. “I can’t go back in there—not right now.”
Sarah frowned. “Where will you go?”
“I need …” She needed to speak to Griffin. The thought bloomed in her mind fully formed, and she knew at once that it was the right thing to do. She had to ask Griffin several long-overdue questions.
Megs focused on Sarah. “I have to leave. Actually, there’s something important I need to talk to my brother Griffin about. Can you make my apologies to the earl and countess?”
“Of course.” Sarah’s eyes softened in sympathy—and a touch of curiosity. “But we only brought the one carriage.”
“Oh.” Megs felt her face fall.
But Sarah had already rallied. “Your great-aunt Elvina has been gossiping with Lady Bingham all evening. I’m sure she’ll be amenable to giving us a ride home.”
“You’re an angel.” Megs just took the time to press an affectionate kiss to her sister-in-law’s cheek and then she was down the stairs.
Fifteen minutes later, she was the sole occupant of the carriage and on her way to Griffin and Hero’s town house. Only now did it occur to her that her brother might not be home at this hour. But considering the matter as her carriage clattered through the dark streets of London, she decided there was a good chance that he’d be in tonight. She knew from Hero’s letters that her brother, once one of the wildest rakes in society, now spent most of his evenings at home with his wife and small son.
Megs decided that she wouldn’t be jealous of her brother.
Twenty minutes later, her carriage was pulling up in front of a neat town house. On marriage, her brother had given up the house he’d spent his bachelor days in and moved here to a much better neighborhood.
Megs mounted the front steps, her heart dipping as she realized that although there were two bright lamps burning out front, the house itself was dark. For a moment she hesitated, but the matter really couldn’t wait: she wouldn’t face her husband again without clearing up this mystery.
She raised the knocker and let it fall twice.
There was a long pause and then a butler answered the door. It took a bit of wrangling to convince the manservant that she really was Lord Griffin’s sister come to visit him at a terribly inconvenient hour, but soon she’d been ushered into a pretty little sitting room. A sleepy maid had just got done stirring the dying fire and left when Griffin burst into the room.
Her brother strode across the sitting room and took her by the shoulders, examining her with piercing green eyes. “What is it, Megs? Are you all right?”
Oh, dear, she hadn’t meant to alarm him. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to … uh … talk to you.”
Griffin blinked and stepped back. “Talk to me? At”—his gaze went to a brass clock on the mantelpiece—“half past midnight? Megs, you’ve been avoiding me for years.”
She gulped. “You noticed.”
He rolled his eyes. “That my favorite sister corresponds more often with my wife than with me? That she’s declined half a dozen invitations to come visit? That when you came after William’s birth you hardly spoke two words to me? I’m not stupid, Megs.”
“Oh.” She didn’t quite know what to say to that. All she could seem to do was stare at her fingers as she plucked at a loose thread on her gown.
Griffin cleared his throat. “Hero said I should give you time. Was she wrong?”
“No.” Megs took a breath and lifted her head. She was being a craven coward and it simply wouldn’t do. “Hero is almost maddeningly wise.”
He smiled crookedly. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a widgeon,” she said softly.
“The only time you’ve been a widgeon is right now,” he said almost irritably. “There’s no need to apologize to me.”
She caught her breath, feeling her eyes go all hot and liquidy, but really it was Griffin’s own fault for being such a sweetheart. Why had she ever stayed away from him?
She beamed through her tears and sat on a delicate primrose settee. “Come talk to me.”
He looked suddenly suspicious. “Megs?”
She patted the empty place beside her.
Griffin narrowed his eyes and picked up a wing chair, placing it in front of her before lowering himself to the chair. He’d obviously come from bed. He wore a dark blue banyan, edged in black and gold, and slippers on his feet, but in contrast to her husband, there was no soft hat on his bare head. Griffin, like most men who wore a wig, kept his hair cropped close to the skull.
“So,” he drawled, “what is so urgent you must drag me from my bed? My very warm bed?”
She blushed, for although most couples at their level of society kept separate rooms, she had the sudden strong impression that Griffin and Hero did not.
Megs inhaled. “I want to know why Godric married me.”
Griffin’s face went entirely blank, but before he could say a word, Hero appeared at the door, a pale green wrapper held close at her throat, her beautiful red hair a curling mass over one shoulder.
“Megs? What has happened?”
Griffin rose at once, crossing to Hero. He bent over her, murmuring something quietly and with one hand touching her cheek in a tender gesture that declared louder than any embrace what he felt for his wife.
Megs bit her lip, feeling again that miserly twinge of envy. It wasn’t that she didn’t wish Griffin all the marital happiness in the world. It was just … well. She’d never have that with Godric, would she?
She winced in something very like pain at the thought. She had friends, family that cared for her, wealth and privilege. Maybe, if she could change Godric’s mind, she might even have a baby.
Couldn’t she be happy just with those things?
Hero nodded at whatever Griffin said to her and then smiled at Megs and gave a little wave.