Chapter Twelve
M aggie always forgot which step squeaked the loudest. When she tackled the staircase later that night, she got her answer. The third.
“Maggie, dear, is that you?” Alice called out from the library. How was that possible? It was midnight. She was supposed to be merrily snoring until breakfast.
Maggie paused. She could pretend that she hadn’t heard her aunt and—
“Niece? Please come here. I need to speak with you.”
Maggie sighed and turned, yawning loudly the moment she entered the library. Aunt Alice sat comfortably on her settee, enjoying a tea and a plate of iced biscuits next to the fire. When she saw Maggie, she marked her place in the book she’d been reading and placed it at her side.
“I didn’t think you had plans tonight,” she remarked. Maggie couldn’t tell if there was a warning in her voice. “Certainly not plans that involved your going out without a companion.”
“I… I…” Maggie blew out a blustery breath, desperately searching for a plausible explanation.
“Don’t bother,” Alice replied blithely, massaging her eyes. “My headache is not in the mood for a lie.”
Maggie hurried to her side. “I’m sorry. I should have told you—”
“Yes, you should have, but no one has to know.” Alice patted Maggie’s hand. “I was once a girl too. I may be an old maid, but I know a clandestine meeting when I see one. I will let this go, but don’t make me regret it.”
“You won’t!” Maggie replied, sitting next to her aunt on the settee. “I promise. And it wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t clandestine, not really… not intentionally —”
Alice held up a hand. “Please. I don’t need to know. Unless I need to know.” Her hawklike eyes felt like they were digging into Maggie’s soul. She raised a brow. “Do I need to know?”
Maggie shook her head. “No.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” Alice said, “but you did spend a lot of time with my mother growing up, so I wasn’t sure. God only knows what you learned from her. Now, on to more important matters.” She picked up a beige envelope from the side table. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Lady Everly wrote to me, asking if we could join her at her brother’s estate at the end of the week. It seems that a couple dropped out last minute and she wanted to see if we could fill in. I know it’s late, but I thought you might enjoy it. I have to admit, I’ve always been anxious to see Lord Baxter’s estate.”
“Yes, of course,” Maggie replied, hiding her surprise. Jo had failed to mention this to her. She wondered what the widow had up her sleeve. “Though are you sure you want to? As you said, it is last minute, and we’ve only returned from Manchester a couple of weeks ago. I’d hate to make you travel again.”
A look came over the older woman’s face that Maggie couldn’t read. Alice placed the letter back on the table and picked up another. “I received another note today,” she said gently.
Maggie’s stomach tightened. Nothing about her aunt’s tone boded well.
Alice continued, her expression incredibly kind and restrained—incredibly un-Aunt Alice-like. “Your parents have written. It seems they won’t make it back for Christmas like they told us. Instead, they’ve decided to travel more.” Her voice lifted as if she were trying to make the news sound optimistic. “They have their sights set on India.”
“India?”
The lines along Alice’s mouth drooped. “Indeed. They are quite the adventurers.”
Maggie attempted to rustle up some form of admiration. “Indeed. Adventurers.”
The fire crackled. It threw light and shadows over the room, highlighting her aunt’s roving emotions. Alice struggled to continue. “My sister said that they’ve already contacted the boys’ school, informing them that they should stay on over the holidays. They write that it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Not a problem for them, no, Maggie thought bitterly. Nothing ever was their problem. But what about her young brothers, who hadn’t been home in months? Or Maggie, who’d been palmed off on relatives so often in her youth that she didn’t know where to call home?
But anger was fruitless. There was no one to cry and scream at. Her parents always made sure of that. There were always messengers.
Maggie forced a smile. Poor Alice’s lips quivered. Was the woman sad for her, or sad that she had to deal with Maggie and her clandestine nights longer than she’d planned?
Alice tapped the letter against her hand, watching Maggie closely. “Don’t worry about me, dear. I think a weekend in the country would be a lovely diversion—for both of us.”
Maggie held her aunt’s gaze, instantly understanding where Alice’s sympathies lay—with her—and began to regard the woman differently—which shamed her. Hadn’t she just told Michael about all the ways one could think about something? Why hadn’t she shown her aunt the same grace?
True, the woman lacked the spirit and biting humor of Maggie’s grandmother. In fact, Maggie could barely comprehend how her grandmother had birthed a child such as Alice. Maggie’s mother had always made sense—she matched the old countess’s joie de vivre and zest for running against the grain. However, Alice was a different sort of animal. She preferred the safety of the ton ; she reveled in the dependable nature of Town life. The excitement that took place between the four walls of a ballroom was more than enough for her.
Maggie had considered Alice a know-it-all gossip, but that wasn’t fair. At least she was here . At least she wanted to talk to Maggie. That counted for something. How could she forget that it was her aunt who’d served as her companion and allowed her to travel all over the country playing cricket last month? Without her, Maggie wouldn’t have been able to go.
“Aunt, I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for allowing me to stay here. I know it probably hasn’t been easy.”
Alice leaned back in her chair, slightly embarrassed by the attention. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. It is my pleasure. You’re my niece.”
“Still,” Maggie continued, “I need you to know how much I appreciate your being here for me.”
When Alice recognized that Maggie wouldn’t stop with her silly show of emotions, she relented with a shy smile. She studied her niece for a long beat, her gaze narrowing as if she were coming to terms with something.
Her mouth opened, and she hesitated before speaking. “You know… you remind me of your mother so much sometimes. My sister and I are two very different people, always have been. My parents used to complain about how rambunctious she was, but I knew they were secretly enchanted with her. Everyone was. Despite our differences—and there were many—we were thick as thieves.” She studied her hands, her voice taking on a far-off quality. “When she met your father, I couldn’t believe she’d found someone to match her. I have to confess, I know I was young, but their love frightened me. They were always so intense with each other, so dramatic. I couldn’t understand the appeal.”
“You are not alone,” Maggie replied.
Alice’s brow lowered. “I don’t mean to criticize them. It was just my observation. When she found your father, she never looked back. Sometimes I wonder if I would have been the same if I’d ever married. I doubt it. Whenever your sister and I would go swimming in the pond by our house as children, she would jump right in regardless of the temperature. I always started by sticking in a toe.”
Maggie laughed. “You were sensible.”
“I was cautious. But I think about it, and I wonder if she made me that way, or at least had something to do with it. You see, the world needs balance to work. So do people, and so do marriages. Your parents, for all their love, never had that. I used to think of them in terms of a scale. If you put one of them on each side, it would balance perfectly. But your parents could never bear to be apart, so they’d stay on the same end, inevitably toppling the whole thing.”
Alice let out a quiet laugh and dropped the letter into her lap. The lines around her eyes appeared deeper, the sentiment in her voice more pronounced. And the guilt that Maggie harbored over her actions that night intensified. Was this a warning or just insight from the older woman? Either way, she welcomed it.
A loud crackle popped from the fire and Alice blinked. She picked up the letter, stacking it over Lady Everly’s note in a perfunctory manner. “Listen to me, going on,” she said, reclaiming her old self. “You’re tired, my dear. Why don’t you go off to bed, and we’ll discuss our weekend plans tomorrow?”
Maggie nodded, accepting the fact that her aunt needed time to herself. She had thinking to do as well. But before she left the room, she turned back to Alice, who was surreptitiously wiping at the corner of one eye. “If you don’t mind, Aunt,” she began, “I’d like to write to my brothers and ask if they’d want to spend their holidays here. I know what my parents said, but I still think it’s worth asking.”
Alice’s nod was firm and swift. “I’d like that very much. The more the merrier, as they say. It will give me an excuse to ask Cook to try out new recipes!”
*
Three days later, Lady Everly stared at Maggie with an expression akin to wonder. “You know, I hate to admit this, but when you first concocted your plan, I wasn’t sure you had it in you to see it through. But the man is already kissing you. I’d say you’re ahead of schedule. Well done.”
Maggie looked down at her boots, unsure of how to respond. She didn’t want to point out that Michael had kissed her more than once, and some of what they’d experienced together involved more than kissing. That information was only for her.
With Aunt Alice in tow, Maggie had arrived at Lord Baxter’s estate early that afternoon. It was an easy ride, only two hours from London, so Maggie unfortunately couldn’t claim exhaustion when Jo pounced on her the second she stepped from the carriage.
Even though more guests were scheduled to arrive, the widow hauled Maggie along her brother’s spacious grounds in search of privacy and, more importantly, information.
“Ahead of schedule? Don’t you believe it’s time to end this game?” Maggie asked. Her tone was breezy, careless, not like she’d been worrying over the topic since the night of the boxing match. “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t know if I want to do this anymore. It’s lost its fun.”
“Lost its fun?” Jo stopped in her tracks, her hand steady on Maggie’s arm. “But the fun hasn’t happened yet. The fun is when Lord Michael shouts his love to you and you rebuff him.” She fixed her cool eyes on Maggie. “I thought that’s what you wanted?”
Maggie continued to walk, needing to look at something other than Jo’s damning disappointment. “It was. It is ,” she added quickly. “I just don’t think I should be spending any more time with him. That’s all.”
Jo hesitated, and Maggie could sense the condemnation building. But her friend surprised her with one gentle word: “Why?”
Maggie kicked the loose pebbles on the path, her frustration winning out. Frustration for the insufferable woman and all her questions, and frustration in her own shortcomings. Jo and Ella were the only people she could discuss this ridiculous plan with. The only issue was that they didn’t want to hear what she had to say. They’d assumed that it would all go so easily—maybe it was supposed to—but Maggie had been the problem. Because the more time she spent with Michael, the more she wanted to spend with him. She was a glutton for punishment. Rebuffing him was the furthest thing from her mind. Which was why she had to stay away.
She might not be her mother, but Alice was right: they had so many things in common. And Maggie’s response to Michael the night of the fight had only pointed them out more. She didn’t want to be her mother. She certainly didn’t want a marriage like the one her parents shared—all selfish passion, no sense or regard for others. But she could feel Michael’s pull. The invisible string that continued to tug her every waking (and nighttime) thought back to him. It was desperation. It was pure, utter madness. Resisting wouldn’t be enough. Maggie would have to hide.
She feigned a smile for her friend’s benefit. “It’s nothing. Pretend I didn’t say anything. I think I’m just tired from the drive.”
Jo finally relented. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I shouldn’t have dragged you on this walk right away. I should have allowed you to get situated in your room. I promise, the rest of the weekend won’t be like this. The men will hunt, but the ladies don’t have a schedule. In fact, you can stay in your room or hide away as much as you want. You won’t even have to see Michael at all.”
“What?” Maggie coughed on the word. “What do you mean, see him? He’s not here.”
Jo blinked. “I thought I told you. My brother invited him; they’re good friends. That’s why I invited you. I thought it would help, but that was before you told me all this.” Maggie’s face must have turned green, because Jo immediately became alarmed. “I’m so sorry! I really thought I’d told you. Or maybe Ella was supposed to tell you?”
Maggie waved a hand in the air. She closed her eyes, reaching for strength. Why was she behaving like such a weak ninny? Of course she could be near Michael! She would just take pains to not stay that near him. “I’ll be fine,” she reassured her friend. “I’ll just keep my distance.”
There was nothing subtle about the concern in Jo’s voice. “Is there something you want to talk about—besides kissing? Oliver did say you were alone with Michael for more than a few minutes. A lot can happen in that time.”
“What! Why would he say that? I didn’t know the duke was recounting my actions like a gossipy grande dame! And I thought you hated him!”
Jo squinted at the sky. “I do hate him. Lord knows I do. But now that I’ve acknowledged his presence again, he’s written me a few times. I never write him back. The scoundrel doesn’t deserve it. But don’t worry; he doesn’t relay your every movement. He’s just an old, clucking hen passing the time between amusements.”
Maggie hated the fact that she was now considered one of the duke’s amusements . But she couldn’t blame him entirely. As Jo had declared, he was a scoundrel. And what was it that people said? If you lie down with dogs, you get fleas. Maggie had the urge to scratch her entire body.
“What did he do to you?” she asked, turning the tables on the widow.
Sadly, Jo was so much better at hiding her emotions than Maggie. Outbursts were not her thing. However, she did turn her nose up and stare off into the maze of shrubs, avoiding her friend’s prying eyes. “He didn’t break my heart, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Maggie let the statement linger, waiting for Jo to say more. She was rewarded for her patience.
“I never let it get that far,” Jo continued.
“Are you so certain it would have ended in that way?”
Jo let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh yes, my dear. Lord Oliver is a duke, and dukes break all their toys because they always know that someone will bring them new ones.”
The defensiveness in Jo’s tone tugged at Maggie’s heart. There was so much she didn’t know about the widow. She came across as so hard and unyielding, but the woman was flesh and blood, just like the rest of them.
“But you weren’t a toy, Jo,” Maggie replied gently.
Jo flicked a piece of hair out of her face. “Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t see it that way… Men like that, when they look your way, it’s like the entire sun is shining only for you—but when they give you their shadow, it’s like you’ve never been so cold. And when they are done playing, and you can’t make them laugh anymore, they move on. They leave.” She gave her a tight smile. “So, bravo to you for taking matters into your own hands, for leaving Michael first. Whatever you do, don’t give up. Remember why you started this in the first place. Remember what he did to you and what he will do again. You almost have him. He’s almost eating out of your hand. So don’t hide. Keep going until you win.”
“I don’t think there can be a winner in this game.”
Jo patted Maggie on the shoulder, directing them back to the house. “Of course there will be. There’s always a winner. Hasn’t cricket taught you anything?”