Margaret covered her lips with her fingers. She could still hear Liam yelling in the corridor. She looked around the courtroom and saw the other ladies looked much the same as she did.
“That was invigorating!” Ingrid’s eyes were bright with excitement.
Elise nodded. “I knew he was guilty.”
Margaret would have to disagree. Someone who had sat in a cell and maintained his innocence for three years couldn’t be guilty. Could he? She didn’t think so, but the evidence was compelling, even with the rehearsed feeling from the Lord General Crompton and Lieutenant Bryant. Standing with her friends, she started to file out of the seating. “We should go,” Margaret said. “I want to get away from here.”
“Why?”
Margaret shuddered. “I can still hear him screaming. It was such a horrible sound.”
“All right, we can go.” Ingrid stood on her toes, looking around the room. “People are starting to leave, anyway.”
Following them, Margaret kept her head down as she walked. She gasped when she ran into someone. “My apologies!” Margaret finally looked up and blushed.
He smiled, his white teeth gleaming. “No apology necessary, my lady. It was my fault.”
“Oh, no.” Margaret put a hand to her chest. “It was mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“I’m glad that you weren’t.” His bright blue eyes roved her face. “What’s your name, my lady?”
Elise came up behind her, linking arms with Margaret. “This is the Lady Margaret, daughter of the Count of Dorcia. And you are?”
“Elise,” Margaret whispered, “I can handle a conversation by myself, thank you.”
“Lord Nicholas, son of the Baron of Marcel.” He picked up Margaret’s hand and gently kissed her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
Margaret blushed and pulled her hand away. “It’s nice to meet you, Lord Nicholas.”
“May I escort you home, Lady Margaret?”
“You may,” Ingrid said for her. “She lives in Cerule House.”
Margaret’s jaw dropped. “Ingrid! Shouldn’t I be the one to answer?”
Lord Nicholas linked arms with Margaret. “I would love to get to know you better, my lady. Won’t you let me?”
Her cheeks warmed. Wasn’t this what she wanted? Margaret looked between her friends, who all looked back at her with bright eyes and excited smiles. “It’s a very long walk from here.”
“The longer, the better,” Nicholas answered, grinning at her.
“Go on, Margaret!” Ingrid nearly shoved the pair toward the door. “We’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Shall we go, my lady?”
Margaret didn’t know why she was hesitating. Her whole goal of the day was to find a suitor, and there was finally one standing in front of her. She smiled up at him. “I suppose we shall.”
Nicholas grinned back at her, patting her hand on his arm. “Would you like to go a more direct way…or the long way?”
Margaret swallowed. “The long way, please.”
Nicholas was quite handsome, Margaret had to admit. He was taller than her by a few inches, but he did not tower over her, and she did not need to strain her neck to look at him. His eyes reminded her of her father: kind and soft. He had a strong jaw only lightly dusted with stubble. Margaret wondered what it would feel like against her cheeks.
“As my lady commands.” He led her from the palace. “How is it that I’ve never seen you before?”
Likely because Margaret had never worn something so daring. “I don’t know, my lord. Perhaps it was the war?”
Nodding, Nicholas said, “It would have to be. I doubt I would pass up such a pretty face without vying for your attention.”
“Were you in much danger?” Margaret asked, her cheeks warm. “In the war, I mean.”
“I fought alongside the Lord General Crompton in the war—we were fortunate to have a very elite force.”
“Does that mean that you served with Private Fulton?”
Nicholas’s face darkened, his dark brown brows furrowing. “Unfortunately so. We did not get along, I’m afraid.”
Margaret looked up at him, worrying on her bottom lip. “Do you think he could do such a thing?”
“I do, without a doubt,” he said quickly. “There was plenty of evidence against him.” Nicholas paused their walk. “Do you not?”
Margaret shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can believe any of our soldiers could wish ill on Anatalia.”
Nicholas let out a short laugh. “If only we could all have your innocence, Lady Margaret. We would be a better world for it.”
Margaret blushed, looking down at the road. “Surely, you don’t believe everyone has ill intent, my lord?”
“I believe that you don’t,” he said. “And that is a wonderful thing to see.”
They walked for a while in silence, the cool air urging her closer to Nicholas. She should have brought a shawl with her, not only to cover up, but to keep herself— Margaret started when she felt a heavy coat fall over her shoulders. She looked at Nicholas, now without his woolen uniform jacket.
“You were shaking so hard, I thought you would break your teeth, Lady Margaret,” he said. “Unless, my presence is making you shake?”
Margaret pulled the jacket tighter around her, smiling at him. His pleasant smell enveloped her, warming her cheeks as thoroughly as his jacket did. “It’s the cold, I assure you. It’s unusually chilly for Semonat.”
“Good. I would hate for this to be our only encounter.” He grinned at her, showing his pearly white teeth sitting in straight rows.
They talked companionably the rest of the way to Cerule House. Margaret turned to him when they reached her front door. “Thank you; I’ve enjoyed this.”
“May I see you again?” His dark brown hair fell into his eyes, and he swiped it away with a small smile.
“You…want to see me again?” Margaret almost laughed. No one ever wanted to see her again.
“Of course I do.” Nicholas smiled at her. “I’ve had a very good time with you.”
“I don’t think my father would be opposed to my seeing you again.” Margaret pulled his jacket from her shoulders and handed it to him. She loathed to give up its warmth, but by now, he needed it far more than she did. “Why don’t you come calling some time next week?”
“I’m already looking forward to it.” He bent forward, kissing her hand.
Margaret smiled at him as he walked away, rushing inside quickly after.
“How was the trial?” Her mother asked.
“It was emotionally charged.” Margaret sat across from her in the library. “I almost wish I hadn’t gone.”
Her mother laughed. “Don’t tell your father that.”
“I won’t.” Margaret looked to her mother with a small smile tugging on her lips. “I have a gentleman caller coming next week.”
Her mother set down her book. “Really?”
Margaret nodded. “I met him today at the trial. He was a soldier in the war, and he’s the son of a baron.”
“A baron?” Her mother frowned. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate for you. At least try for the inheriting son of a duke.”
“Mama, he’s the first man to show any interest in me,” Margaret whined. “The only way I’d even get close to a duke is being a courtesan.”
Her mother looked her over slowly. “Well…”
“Mama! I will not become a courtesan!” Margaret stood, her fists clenched at her side.
“You’re the one who brought it up, Margaret.”
Margaret glared at her. “I can’t believe you’d even consider it.”
“It could be very lucrative for you.”
“Ugh!” Margaret stormed out of the room, running up to her room and slammed the door. How could her mother prefer her to be a whore than be involved with someone below her rank?
A gentle knock sounded on Margaret’s bedroom door. “My lady?” her maid called. “Your gentleman caller is on his way.”
Margaret unceremoniously tossed her book on her bed and ripped open the door. She’d lost hope that Nicholas was going to come—it’d been two weeks since they’d met, and she hadn’t heard from him since. She was beginning to believe that, like all the others, he’d lost interest in her after their initial meeting and moved on. “He’s coming?”
Her maid nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
Margaret squealed and pushed past the maid. She went down to the library, where they received visitors, and sat impatiently in a chair by the window. She wanted to look her best when he arrived.
Her father came into the room, paper in hand. “I understand you’re to have a visitor?”
Margaret nodded. “The gentleman I met at the trial, Papa.”
“I should like to meet the man who makes my daughter so excited,” he said.
“He’s very handsome.”
“I’m sure that he is.”
“And he seems intelligent,” Margaret added. “And kind.”
He smiled. “Kind is good.”
Bruggen entered the doorway, clearing his throat. “Lady Margaret, a Lord Nicholas to see you.”
Margaret smiled brightly, standing. She smoothed her skirts and clasped her hands in front of her. Nicholas wore his uniform, the dark blue bringing out his eyes. His hair was perfectly combed, not a hair out of place.
Her father was the first to reach him, hand held out. Nicholas grasped it firmly and nodded respectfully. “My lord.”
Margaret joined them, letting Nicholas pick up her hand. As he kissed it, she said, “Papa, may I present to you Lord Nicholas Oliphant?”