Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
M argaret sat beside the hearth in the drawing room, watching the fire flicker. It was the first time in days she’d left her bed, a restlessness finally driving her out of the room despite the doctor’s insistence she needed more time to recover. She should have felt triumphant for reclaiming her place at dinner, but instead, her thoughts were consumed by Benjamin.
He had hardly left her side these past few days, his presence a steady, comforting weight she hadn’t known she’d needed. They’d spoken about everything—her family, their childhood memories, his time in the army, their hopes for the future.
She had fought so hard to keep her heart intact, to avoid the entanglement she feared would come from getting too close. But after these past few days, she didn’t stand a chance. There was no denying it any longer: she had fallen in love with Benjamin Rockwell.
During dinner earlier that evening, her eyes had repeatedly slid toward where he sat across the table from her. Her face flushed each time their gazes met. She prayed no one noticed, but even if they did, there was no stopping it now.
Caution tugged at her, warning her to tread carefully. But how could she, when every part of her wanted to rush headlong into his arms? Wisdom may have advised restraint, but her heart begged for more.
When the ladies had withdrawn after dinner, Margaret welcomed the brief reprieve. She needed time to gather her scattered thoughts before she said or did something truly foolish.
If only she could still the fluttering in her chest as well.
“It’s such a lovely fire for so terribly cold a night,” Lady Emily said as she sat herself down in the chair opposite Margaret.
“Yes,” Margaret agreed. “I know it has been days since I fell through the ice. But there are moments when I still feel cold no matter how warm the room is.”
Lady Emily gave a visible shiver. “I cannot imagine how horrible that experience must have been for you.”
“It is certainly something I wish to never repeat.” Margaret’s memories, though, did not return to the feeling of drowning in icy water, but instead the feel of Benjamin’s arms around her as he’d pulled her out of the frozen pond. That part she wouldn’t mind reliving. If only there was a way to convince Benjamin to hold her that didn’t include her almost dying first.
Lady Emily lifted a handkerchief to her mouth and coughed lightly into it.
Margaret’s brow dropped. She couldn’t remember seeing Lady Emily with a handkerchief earlier that day, not even one tucked into her sleeve.
Lady Emily, noticing Margaret’s stare, gave her an embarrassed smile. “Pardon me. I’m not ill, I swear it. Only I swallowed some water wrong at dinner.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Margaret assured her.
Lady Emily smiled at her and slipped the handkerchief between the folds of fabric in her skirt.
“You have pockets sewn into your skirt,” Margaret thought out loud.
Lady Emily shrugged. “Mother insists I have them added to all of my dresses.”
That was right. Lady Abernathy had said as much when they’d been discussing Margaret’s reticule being slashed some weeks past.
At the time, Margaret had thought nothing of it.
But now…
“I can only imagine how convenient pockets would be,” Margaret said, choosing her words carefully.
“Oh yes,” Lady Emily gushed. “I use them for all sorts of things. Fans, handkerchiefs, pin money. I’ve hidden sweets and biscuits in them. Once I even slipped a slice of pie up to my room without anyone guessing. Of course, I had to wrap it and when my maid saw the state of my handkerchief, she was utterly appalled.” Lady Emily laughed lightly.
“I think if I had pockets, I’d use them to keep all sorts of things handy. Sweets. Hairpins and ornamental combs.” Lady Emily nodded furiously as Margaret continued. “Ribbons or even jewelry. Such as a brooch.”
Lady Emily froze.
Slowly the color drained from her face, and her lips turned downward.
It was a moment before she spoke. “If you will excuse me, Lady Margaret, I think I should like to retire early tonight.”
The door to the drawing room opened and the gentlemen walked in, bringing with them enough noise to smother the sound of Lady Emily standing and hurrying out the door on the far side of the room.
Lady Margaret stood hurrying after Lady Emily. Just before leaving the room, however, she glanced over at Benjamin and found him looking her way.
His brow dropped, and he seemed to be asking if she wanted him to follow her.
Lady Margaret gave him a subtle shake of her head. Lady Emily would be more likely to open up if it were only Margaret she was talking to.
Opening the drawing room door, Margaret stepped out in time to see Lady Emily hurrying up the stairs.
Margaret followed quickly. “Lady Emily,” she called. “Please, I only want to talk.”
Lady Emily stopped on the topmost step. She didn’t turn around but waited until Margaret reached her.
“What horrible things you must think of me,” Lady Emily whispered.
Margaret leaned against the wall behind her. “Then it was you who took it.”
Lady Emily nodded as she reached into her pocket and then pulled out a fist. Slowly, her fingers opened. Resting on her palm was the glittering purple gem in a gold filigree. “I’ve been carrying it with me ever since the night of the musicale.”
Little wonder no one had been able to find it.
“But why?” Margaret asked.
Lady Emily slipped the brooch back into her skirt pocket. “Because…we’re in love . And my parents will never approve. He is so far beneath our station. But I don’t care.”
“I had no notion,” Margaret said…though it wasn’t exactly true. There had been that letter from Mr. Oliver Thrup. “But are you certain your parents would be opposed? A good-hearted man, no matter his station, is still far preferable to a blackguard with a title.”
“I cannot say how happy it makes me to hear you agree. But I’m afraid my father, in particular, could not be made to understand. Perhaps if you talk to him?”
Margaret supposed a duke might see the grandson of an earl as being too far removed from the haut ton to be suitable for his daughter, but Mr. Oliver Thrup was an upstanding gentleman, despite his lack of title.
“I may agree with you,” Margaret said, “but His Grace and I do not often bring out the most understanding side in one another.”
Lady Emily wrinkled her nose. “I suppose you are right.”
“But I still don’t understand. Why steal your mother’s brooch? Why convince His Grace to tell others that he’d taken it to cover Ingram’s debts?”
Lady Emily tilted her head, and her brows drew together. “My father said what?”
“He didn’t tell me directly. I overheard him was all.”
Lady Emily still appeared confused. “But he said he’d taken it? To cover Ingram’s debts?”
“That is what I heard. I don’t know who he was speaking to at the time, but it was his voice and he said…”
Smiling, Emily rolled her eyes and shook her head. The change in Lady Emily’s expression caused Margaret to leave off.
“That must have been Isaac you heard,” Emily said. “He really is so clever.”
This time it was Margaret who was lost. “Who is Isaac? And what does he have to do with you and Mr. Oliver Thrup?”
“I never said it was Oliver I cared for.”
A shadow crossed over Margaret. She looked up.
Standing at the top of the stairs was Benjamin’s valet, Mr. Haverford.
She expected him to hurry by, as he had many times when they had been traveling together by boat. Instead, he glared down at her, arms folded.
Margaret’s stomach twisted.
Emily hurried up the remaining few steps and took the valet’s hand. “Isaac, I am so sorry.” Words tumbled from her mouth. “She learned the truth, and I found I couldn’t lie again. But there’s no harm done. She understands. I told you she was a treasure.”
Slowly, Mr. Haverford unfolded his arms. Candlelight from the wall sconce glinted off the dark barrel of a gun.
“Issac!” Emily said, her tone half shocked, half scolding.
He pulled away from Emily, stepping back and to the side so that both she and Margaret were easy shots.
“Give me the brooch, Emily.”
“Issac,” the young woman said again. “I demand you put that gun away.” Her voice trembled even as she stood her ground. “How dare you have such a thing to begin with.”
Margaret moved up closer to Emily. “You’d best do what he says.” It burned her to hand over a beloved piece of jewelry to a man such as Haverford, but she knew the Abernathys would rather lose the brooch than their daughter.
Emily, however, only began to shake. “You said you loved me,” she cried softly, tears starting to flow down her cheeks. “You said we would always be together. That we only needed a little money first. I stole from my parents—for you!”
“Give it to me,” Mr. Haverford demanded, aiming his gun directly at Emily’s chest.
Trembling hard against Margaret, Emily held out the brooch.
Mr. Haverford took one step down and snatched the piece from Emily’s palm before immediately stepping back once more, his gun up the entire time.
“Now,” he said, his voice low and hard. “We three are going to take a little ride into Lichterwald.”
“You have the brooch,” Margaret said, angling herself between Emily and Mr. Haverford’s gun. “Be off. You have no need for either of us.”
“And leave you two to alert the house the minute I’ve walked through the front door?” He tsked. “I wouldn’t make it out of the stables. No, you two are coming with me, and you’ll do it quietly.” He ground out the last word—a clear warning of what he would do if they didn’t comply.
Silently, Emily started crying in earnest. Margaret wrapped an arm around the young woman’s shoulders, and without a word, they descended the stairs. Without anyone around to see them, Mr. Haverford opened the front door and ordered them both outside.