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“Though I don’t doubt that Miss Denby will one day become the recipient, willing or not, of Lady Tesh’s matchmaking prowess,” Lenora said with a smile, “you know your grandmother better than anyone, and so should fully comprehend that there may be something behind her suggestion that you assist His Grace in getting about in Synne society, such as it is this time of year.”
Which Margery had not considered at all until that moment. “But that’s ridiculous,” she sputtered, more than a little flustered at the idea.
“It’s not ridiculous in the least. You have to admit, it does sound like something she would do.”
“Well, yes,” Margery conceded grudgingly. “And I might think you were onto something, if you were not includingmein this equation.”
“And why ever not?” Lenora demanded. “Though we all know how deeply you loved Aaron, and how difficult it was for you after his death, you’re still young. And she loves you and wants to see you happy.”
But Margery had heard enough. She pulled her arm from Lenora’s and, pressing her lips tight, worked the gold band on her fourth finger in agitated circles. “You know where I stand on this, Lenora. As does my grandmother.”
“Yes, we know.” Lenora’s expression turned sad. “I was the one with you when you received word of Aaron’s death. I know the struggles you faced day in and day out to keep your head above water when the grief threatened to drown you completely.”
Pain tore through Margery. She had a sudden flash of that long-ago day: the quiet afternoon she and Lenora had spent together in the small house Margery had shared with Aaron in London, the tension so thick they could fairly taste the bitterness of it, a strange premonition having settled deep in her bones. Then a knock on the door, the trembling in her limbs as she’d exchanged a fearful glance with Lenora, the somber look on the messenger’s face as he handed over the sealed letter. And then the chaos and confusion of the next days, her wails mingling with Lenora’s tearful words of comfort, curling in a ball in her friend’s arms on the bed she’d shared with Aaron, each hour bleeding into the next until she didn’t know night from day.
She shook her head to dispel the unending grief of that memory. “Yes,” she whispered, reaching for her wineglass. Her hands, she noticed as if from a distance, were shaking as she took a deep swallow. “And so you also know I’ll never marry again. I will never love another as I loved him, will never replace him in my heart. Ever.”
“Of course, dear,” Lenora soothed. She rubbed a hand over Margery’s back in gentle circles, just as she’d done the day Margery’s life had split apart into a million pieces, jagged fragments that she had not been able to fully mend back together. “Forgive me. I never meant to cause you pain.”
“I know,” Margery said. And she did know. Lenora was her dearest friend in the world. They had been there for one another through so many of life’s tragedies. Hurting one another was the last thing either of them wanted.
“But,” Margery continued, straightening and turning to smile bracingly at her friend, “though I’ll agree that my grandmother most likely has matchmaking on her mind, I cannot agree with you that I’m the recipient. If we exercise patience, I’m sure she’ll show her hand soon enough.”
Lenora returned the smile, her eyes shining with relief. “I do hope I won’t have to say ‘I told you so’ in a month’s time,” she teased.
Margery laughed. “You won’t have to.” Her smile slipped as her friend turned away.You can depend upon it.
***
After a fitful night’s sleep, Daniel woke at dawn to a sky teeming with gray clouds. It seemed the inclement, unseasonable weather they had been battered with in Cheshire had followed them to the Isle. To most people it would be an unfortunate start to a holiday.
Not so to Daniel.
He was all too aware that sunny skies and warm weather would mean there would be no stalling his entry into Synne society. And though he needed to begin working with Mrs. Kitteridge on the search for a bride with all haste if he was to avoid the marriage mart in London—as limited as it would be in autumn—after the strain of the evening before, he was in no mood to converse and smile with strangers.
He had never been easy in company, of course. But in his youth he’d at least had the protection of being a second son. No one had paid him the least mind, especially when Nathaniel had been present, and most had even indulged his propensity for preferring solitude to company. Now, however, he didn’t have Nathaniel to hide behind.
He exhaled a heavy breath and peered out his borrowed bedroom window to the rose garden below, hardly seeing the late-summer blooms that gave a cheery cast to the landscape despite the thick clouds that loomed over it all. He may not have ever wanted this life, but he had gotten it regardless. And he would do the best he could with it. With luck he would succeed, at least in finding a wife. Especially as he now apparently had Mrs. Kitteridge in his corner.
If, of course, she still wanted to assist him after the disaster that was last night.
He blanched as the memories came flooding back. Between spilling the wine on the footman, to fumbling through every question put his way, to dealing with a dog that was much too interested in sniffing his…delicate areas, every minute had been rife with embarrassment. If Mrs. Kitteridge wanted to renege on her offer, he would not be the least bit surprised.
He sighed, his fingers tightening on the plain curved head of his cane, his finger finding and rubbing anxiously at the bit of bullet embedded in the wood. But he would never know if he didn’t leave his room. Gathering his courage—sadly lacking this morning—he headed to the ground floor.
The descent was slightly easier than the night before. Even so, his ruined muscles made their outrage known, and he took a moment to lean against the banister once at the bottom, surreptitiously using the last riser to stretch his leg.
“Your Grace, do you require assistance?”
Apparently not surreptitious enough. Daniel straightened and turned to face the butler. “Perhaps you might point me the way to the breakfast room?” he inquired with a polite smile.
The man’s face fell. “Ah, I am sorry, Your Grace, but breakfast is not yet ready. I’ll hurry down to the kitchen to speed things along.”
Daniel’s face flamed. And there went his hopes to remain unobtrusive and no bother. He was so used to rising with the sun, he quite forgot that wasn’t how things were done in the majority of the homes of the British nobility. “No, please,” he said when the butler made to turn away. “That is, I’m not at all hungry just yet. Though if you could let me know where I might find the duchess?”
“Her Grace has not yet descended for the day. Would you like me to show you the way to her rooms?”
Oh,God, no. The very idea of climbing those stairs again had him feeling vaguely ill. Though he could only be grateful that she was resting. More often than not, over the past few years his mother had woken well before him—if she even slept at all. He hoped this was a sign that the Isle would be able to work its magic on her and return her to good health. And to give her contentment, if not happiness. Goodness knew being surrounded by reminders of Nathaniel and all they had lost with his passing had done the opposite of that.
