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She had turned away the man she loved! Margaret wrapped her arms around her aching midriff. Dear God help me. I’ve rejected the tempestuous man I love, for a man I don’t—who instead is the embodiment of stability. She had chosen safety and security over risking her heart. Had a woman ever faced such a conundrum before?
A sob rose in her chest. She fled to her bedchamber. Only when she reached its refuge did she indulge her emotions with great, racking sobs. Salty tears tasted in her mouth as she collapsed onto her bed.
Sad, remorseful, and conflicted about her choices, Margaret found her tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Just prior to luncheon, Margaret pulled the bell rope in her chamber and sent the summoned maid to inform Elizabeth that she had a headache and would miss the meal.
Margaret would have remained on a her bed until dinner time had she not received an urgent message from Elizabeth to join her in the drawing room. Reluctant to face anyone, but curious about the mysterious and insistent summons, she washed her face with cold water, fixed her hair and pinched her cheeks to dispel their pallor, then hastened downstairs.
She eased open the drawing room door. Five occupants were arrayed around the room. She gasped and her heart instantly beat faster.
Elizabeth and Edward sat near a table in the center of the room, set for afternoon tea. Alistair leaned back against the seat of a bow window. His gaze claimed hers as soon as she appeared in the doorway. Her heart contracted at the sight of his eyes, sunken with sadness.
The presence of the other two occupants filled her with dread. The last people in the world whom she wanted to see, stood warming themselves before the crackling fire—her brother Charles and her fiancé.
Mud splattered their usually immaculate clothes and boots, evidence of their travails through the sodden outdoors. Her brother had added displeasure to his usual superior look. The Squire remained a fit, well-muscled specimen who wore his middle-age well, despite the greying of the dark hair at his temples. His visage was pleasing in a non-descript way that engendered reassurance. Now it registered concern.
Every set of eyes had turned to her as she entered the room and closed the door. She read sympathy in those of Edward and Elizabeth. Relief mingled with annoyance showed in Charles’ and Samuel’s. Alistair’s gaze was intense but unreadable.
“There you are, Margaret,” her brother said. “The flood waters have abated for now. We’ve come to take you home.”
She leaned back against the door. “I’m not leaving yet.”
“When I realized these two had kidnapped you, the Squire and I decided to rescue you as soon as possible.”
She lifted her chin in defiance. “Kidnapped! Rescue me? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Would you like us to leave you alone to talk to Lord Farley and Squire Jenkins?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes,” Charles answered for her.
Margaret shook her head and held Elizabeth’s gaze. “I would prefer all of you to stay.” She returned her attention to her brother.
“If you don’t leave with us now you won’t be home in time for your wedding tomorrow morning,” Charles said, returning to their conversation.
“If I’m late it can be delayed.”
Charles’ brow descended into a furious frown. “That is not wise.”
“Wise?” The word clanged in her head. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Your wedding is arranged for ten o’clock tomorrow,” he said, flat and implacable, as though his reasoning should be clear to her.
“There are no guests beyond the immediate family to be put out by rescheduling it. I would like to postpone the ceremony. Reverend Briggs would be amenable, I’m sure.”
“Not possible,” Charles said.
She raised an eyebrow and gazed around the circle of curious faces. None but her fiancé registered understanding of her older brother’s argument. “Perhaps you can enlighten me, Samuel?” she asked him.
Samuel doused a look of annoyance from his usually composed face and cleared his throat. “What your brother means is that everything is organized for the wedding to proceed tomorrow and it would be best for all concerned if it did.”
His words made no sense to her. “How does it make any difference to you or I when the marriage takes place?”
The Squire sighed and his shoulders slumped. His eyes met hers with reluctance. “It doesn’t, but it makes a difference to your brother.”
She slewed her gaze to her brother. “How? Am I eating you out of house and home? Something else?” She didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm.
“The settlements!” Charles said.
Confusion filled her. “What settlements? Father told me there was no money to settle on me because the estate was close to bankruptcy.”
“It’s in serious financial straits still!” Charles said.
“Yet there was a massive cash injection when you married.” She had believed his finances considerably improved.
He shook his head. “Not enough.”
She jabbed an index finger at the two men. “One of you please explain to me how there are settlements involved in my marriage.”
Samuel sighed. “I agreed to make a substantial payment to your brother upon our marriage.” His embarrassment and annoyance that his secret had been revealed to her was betrayed by his flushed face, furrowed brow, and compressed lips. His eyes did not meet hers.
Margaret transferred her gaze to Charles and back to her fiancé again. Realization dawned, sending her stomach roiling. Anger flared within her. “So you effectively bought me from my brother?” Her voice vibrated with resentment and disappointment. In the periphery of her vision she saw Alistair move closer.
“Not at all!” Samuel answered, clearly disturbed by her summation of his actions.
“Do you think I would give away a prize such as you to a mere squire without recompense?” her brother spat.
Margaret stared at her brother, hardly able to stop her lips curling in disgust. “I don’t know what to think, except that you consider me a piece of merchandise to sell to whomever you wish.” Anger ignited within her.
Charles said, puffing himself up in his haughty manner. “Whomever you married would have to do the same.”
“What an unusual occurrence. I have never heard of such a thing. Usually the bride brings the money to the match.” She filled her words with bemusement, rather than the anger she felt.
Charles shook his head. “Not so, especially where the bride and groom are so ill-matched in rank—the daughter of a baron with an ancient lineage, and a minor landowner,” he scoffed.
Margaret looked to her fiancé. His eyes had narrowed, clearly unhappy about her brother’s pronouncement on his social position.
“But Samuel has informed me he will be knighted soon.” She kept her tone light, hoping for more information.
“That has not happened yet. Even so...” Charles left his opinion hanging in the air for everyone to grasp.
She returned her attention to her fiancé. “And you, Samuel, did you plan to ever tell me that you had paid for my hand in marriage?”
Samuel at least had the decency to look sheepish.
“I thought not.” How could she trust him? The anger in her turned into cold rage.
Margaret looked around the room. Elizabeth sat nearby on the sofa, leaning toward her, as though ready to leap to her aid at any moment. Alistair had moved across the room towards her, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes trained on her elder brother. Edward restrained him with a hand clamped on his shoulder. All three looked ready to defend her should she require it.
Margaret turned back to her fiancé. She didn’t love this man. His transaction with her brother without disclosing it to her gave her no confidence that the marriage would be one of equality and respect. She concluded that she owed him no allegiance. “Samuel...Squire Jenkins, I find I must withdraw from our engagement.” She tugged at the gold engagement ring on her left hand.
“Please reconsider, Miss Johns. I’m convinced we will deal famously together.”
Behind her, Alister growled. She ignored him, focusing instead on her fiancé. She held out the ring. “I’m afraid not. You have proven you cannot be trusted.” With the breaking of her engagement, a lightness filled Margaret, tempered by sadness at the thought she would have to remain in her brother’s home, under his control.
“You can’t do that, Margaret,” Charles said. “You must do your duty to your family. The estate needs the money!”
Her brother’s ‘sale’ of the right to marry her enraged her to a breaking point. She must find the bravery to forge a future that would make her happy—one free of others’ demands, for the first time in her life. She filled her lungs. “You have proven you care more for money than for me, Charles. I cannot believe I have a duty to someone who treats me in such a way.” She released a trembling breath. “And now I ask you both to leave.”
Charles’ face hardened, with his mouth tight, eyes slitted, and a heavy frown on his brow. “If you do not marry the Squire, there will be no home for you at Farley Hall, ever again,” he snarled.
Margaret’s stomach constricted, as someone in the room gasped. Disbelief at her brother’s declaration morphed into understanding. She stared at him. His face showed not an ounce of regret or guilt over what he had just threatened. He could throw her away, disregard her so easily. Like she meant nothing to him.
Where would she go? What would she do?
I’ll be homeless! Panic and fear gripped her. Margaret hesitated before answering, not wanting to show Charles how scared and vulnerable she felt.
She swallowed. There must be a solution. But her mind was blank, frozen.
The words to dismiss her brother and fiancé would not come.
Elizabeth took Margaret’s cold hand in her warm one. “You will always have a home with me,” she whispered. “Send them away, if that is what you wish.”
Relief filled Margaret at her friends’ words of support. When Elizabeth squeezed Margaret’s hand, a renewed sense of strength ignited within her.
“Miss Johns, do you truly wish to break our engagement?” Samuel’s voice held a tinge of sadness.
“Think carefully, Margaret,” her older brother said, threat heavy in his voice.
“Do what you think best,” Edward said from where he stood beside Alistair.
Margaret hesitated, teasing her bottom lip with her teeth. She desperately wanted to hear Alistair’s advice. She raised her eyes to him. “And you, Lord Dunridge? Do you have an opinion?” Her words were a hoarse whisper.
Alistair held her gaze. “You know my opinion, Margaret. It hasn’t changed in the last few hours or over the last seven years.” His steady voice conveyed utter conviction and sincerity.
He truly loved her. And for so long. Oh why he hadn’t declared himself years ago?
Tears prickled her eyes.
Samuel Jenkins wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn’t Alistair and she didn’t love him. She turned to face her fiancé. “Squire Jenkins, I cannot marry you.” Now she’d made her decision, there was no hesitation in her voice.
His eyes blinked shut, then his expression blanked and he looked away. “As you wish,” he sounded wounded by her words, but not as shattered as Alistair had been when she refused his marriage proposal.
“I shall have your possessions packed and sent to you here,” her brother said, his voice cold with anger.
She nodded. At the thought of never seeing her home again, words were beyond her ability.
Her brother stomped from the room, followed more sedately by her erstwhile fiancé. The French-made carriage clock on the mantel piece chimed the hour like a bell tolling the end of the world as she knew it.
I’ve done it! I’ve finally said the words that release me. Margaret’s legs turned to jelly and she crumpled towards the floor. Strong arms caught her.
***
Margaret’s eye fluttered open. She lay in a bed. Above her hung an unfamiliar canopy. Morning light filtered through half-drawn curtains. Slowly she remembered. She was at Elizabeth’s home. A fire crackled behind a grate on one side of the bedchamber. Elizabeth sat beside the bed, holding her hand. A bottle of smelling salts stood on her night table.
Margaret eased herself upright. Her head swam until Elizabeth administered the smelling salts.
“Feeling better? You’ve had quite an emotional time yesterday.”
Margaret grimaced. “It was like being captured on an endless carousel ride.”
Elizabeth chuckled and handed Margaret a cup of hot chocolate. “This will help restore you.”
Yesterday, Margaret had experienced a torrent of emotions. After the scene with Alistair, crying her eyes out in her bedchamber for the remainder of the morning, and standing up to her brother, she had needed restore her equilibrium. Exhausted and wanting to forget her pain and remorse, sleep had been the panacea.
Today, she felt normal again. Margaret looked out the window. The rain had gone, at least for now. “I need to walk in the fresh air. Will you join me?”
“Of course. What a lovely way to start Christmas Day. I’ll fetch my cloak while you dress.” Elizabeth summoned her maid to assist Margaret.
A short while later, arm-in-arm, they strolled outside into the garden that encircled the house. Sunshine burst through the clouds. Gravel on the pathway crunched under her feet. Dripping trees and wet grass surrounded them. A robin hopped from branch to branch, emitting its cheerful song. The smell of damp earth filled Margaret’s nostrils, telling of renewal and freshness after rain. “Thank you for your kind offer to stay with you. I assure you, it will only be temporary. I’ll find a paid position as a teacher or governess or a companion,” Margaret said.
“My offer isn’t temporary, Margaret. I want you to stay indefinitely...or at least until you marry.”
Warmth filled Margaret at her friend’s kindness towards her. “I’m not sure there is a husband in my future. Currently, I have no income and I will never have a dowry.”
“I’m not sure you’ll need a dowry.”
“Every woman needs a dowry—at the very least to provide for her and her children should anything happen to her husband.”
“A groom can provide that, if the bride cannot. Did not the Squire make provisions for you?”
“I believe so, but my brother would not tell me the details.”
“You are well shot of your older brother,” Elizabeth said with asperity.
How very true, but without his protection, she was at the mercy of her friends’ charity.
Elizabeth stopped them and turned to her. “I have a proposal to make to you.”
Margaret looked into her dark eyes, so like Alistair’s. A pang of regret shot through her heart. She had turned him down to protect herself from an imagined future based on fear of continuation of his former behavior.
“I propose not only that you stay with me as my friend and companion but also that you come up to London with me for the Season.”
Margaret gasped and clutched at her leaping heart. “I can’t! That’s too much! The cost alone...”
Elizabeth grasped Margaret’s arms and gave her a gentle shake accompanied by a reassuring smile. “It will be my pleasure to have you with me. You missed your London Season because of family duties. Now is the ideal time to redress that omission.”
Excitement bubbled inside Margaret at the thought of finally going up to London, seeing all its sights and participating in the glamour of the Season. Tears prickled her eyes as she hugged her dear friend.
“Besides, there’s someone else who wants you to enjoy a London Season. And here he is,” Elizabeth whispered in her ear. She stepped back and beckoned to someone behind Margaret.
Margaret turned to see Alistair striding towards them. Her heart flip-flopped at the sight of him.
“My brother told me of your hesitation in accepting his marriage proposal. And I don’t blame you for being cautious. However, if you could see for yourself how he has changed from the wild young man he was to one who can now offer you the security you deserve, would you change your mind about marrying him?”
Margaret’s face heated.
“I can see that you might. I suggest you give yourself time to be sure.” Elizabeth said, emphasizing her words of advice with an encouraging pat on Margaret’s hand.
Alistair reached them. “You’ve told her?” he asked Elizabeth, although his eyes were fixed on Margaret’s face.
“I have. I’ll leave you to talk.”
Alistair offered Margaret his arm and she took it without hesitation. They walked towards the park outside the garden walls.
“I hope you’ll take up Elizabeth’s offer to stay with her in London. The Earl will be back in town after his travels. Ed lives in lodgings there and has offered me accommodation during the Season.
“What about your duties for your grandmother?”
“She’s adamant I’m to bring you home to her as my bride, so she will release me for a few months.”
Her face flushed. So many people were hopeful they would build their future together!
“Margaret, I want to prove to you that I’ve changed, that I love you, and that I’ll make a worthy husband.”
Her heart swelled at his words.
“And I want to make you fall in love with me if I can.”
Should she tell him that he already had her heart? “I want all those things too,” she murmured.
Initially, she had thought she had two choices—to live in a prison of her own making, serving a husband she didn’t love; or as an unpaid servant of her sister-in-law with no freedom or independence to live her own life. Alistair had offered her an alternative, but through fear of marrying an irresponsible man who drank too much, she had turned him down. Then he revealed that he hadn’t changed his wish to marry her, despite her refusal to accept his proposal.
Elizabeth had presented another option, one that gave Margaret time to make a considered decision about her future and to test whether a life with Alistair was possible.
Sensible Margaret thought they still needed time to know each other better. Wildly-in-love Margaret wanted to grab Alistair by his coat lapels and tell him that she loved him madly and had done so since she was seven and ten years old.
Sensible Margaret won. “I think it’s the best idea for determining my...our future that I’ve ever heard.”
“You agree?” Eagerness filled his words.
“I do.”
“It’s important you know that I am no longer a rudderless man feeling rejected by his family. And it is important that you experience a London Season, as you should have done years ago, and that you meet all the eligible gentlemen before I propose to you again, so you’re certain you truly wish to marry me. And if you do choose me, I’ll make sure you never regret it.”
“What of my brother? Can he stop us marrying, if that is our choice?”
“He can’t. You reached your majority on your twenty-first birthday. You may marry whom you choose.”
Hope flourished in her. She leaned into Alistair and rose onto her tip-toes to place a kiss on his lips.
He met her halfway. His lips were warm against hers, offering his love. She answered him.
His arms slipped around her waist encircling her in his body heat. It felt like coming home.
He pulled her closer and deepened their kiss. Each brush of his lips conveyed hope and a promise for the future. “My heart,” he murmured.
She responded to him with a kiss filled with all her own dreams.
“I’ll meet you in London when the Season begins in February,” Alistair murmured and kissed her again.
She couldn’t wait.