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“What an inspired idea,” Margery proclaimed with a smile. “Indeed, I know it well.” She looked at Daniel. He must have looked dubious at best, for an understanding light brightened her eyes and she dropped her voice to a whisper as she leaned closer. “Truly, it would help more than you could ever guess. I have seen the positive effects myself. One of my cousins was injured as a boy in a riding accident, and his groom had him exercise in the swimming pond near his home. The buoyancy eased his efforts and quickened his healing.”
Her delicate scent of sugared violets wrapped around him, made all the more potent as the gentle swells of music began to fill the room, and he found it difficult to concentrate on her words. He should perhaps quickly agree and put the conversation behind them, and then spend the rest of the evening charming Miss Peacham—as dubious as it was that he had any talent in that particular area. After the initial unease between them, she had finally managed to be comfortable in his presence, and seemed a sensible and kind woman.
Instead he cleared his throat and said to Mrs. Kitteridge under the cover of the music, “I won’t ever heal further. It would be wasted on me.”
“Nonsense, Your Grace,” she declared with a firmness and utter lack of pity that amused—and delighted—him more than it should. “While it may not miraculously heal you, it can only help in providing you some relief.”
“Very well,” he muttered. “I will go. But only if you accompany me and show me what I should do.”
She blushed scarlet, and he knew with a horrified certainty that he should have never suggested such a thing. Though she was a widow, it would still be highly improper for her to join him in such an endeavor. Before he could recall the words, however, she raised her chin and nodded.
“Very well, Your Grace. I will. Low tide for tomorrow should be just after luncheon, blessedly when the day is at its warmest. We can visit with the Gadfelds, where you can exclaim over their uncommon talent in tonight’s performance, and head to the inlet after.”
She turned resolutely back to the front of the room as the music swelled louder, putting an end to their whispered conversation. But as he followed suit and redirected his gaze to the musicians on their raised dais he found himself utterly distracted by Mrs. Kitteridge at his side—as well as the surge of anticipation for what the morrow might bring. An anticipation that had nothing at all to do with visiting the Gadfelds and, possibly, his future bride, and everything to do with Mrs. Kitteridge herself.
Chapter 6
As much as Margery might have wished it, the weather of the following day did not miraculously bring in chill winds and storm clouds. No, it dawned bright and warm, a last gasp of summer, exploding in all its splendor.
Damnation.
Casting one last dark look at the cheerful puffs of white clouds that hung about in the endless blue sky, Margery turned away from her window, and grabbing up the basket she’d prepared for today’s outing, she hurried from her room to her grandmother’s suites. Why had she agreed to accompany His Grace to the tide pool? It would have been an easy thing to refuse. He no doubt would have understood; already there had been a dawning horror in his eyes at the impropriety of his suggestion.
Yet the hint of challenge in his words had drawn a surprising amount of stubbornness from her. Why? For what purpose? Surely she only wished for his well-being and was assuring he followed through with the proper way to swim to better relieve the pain in his leg. It was certainly not because, for one shining moment, she hadwantedto swim with him…
But no, she thought harshly, frowning as she reached her grandmother’s room and knocked sharply on the door, she was merely doing him a kindness, nothing more. Besides, it wouldn’t do to leave the man to his own devices. Why, he could harm himself, slipping on the rocks. He could get a stitch in his side and find himself in distress. Yes, she thought with some relief at her reasoning, this was the best thing all around.
A slight scuffle on the other side of the door distracted her from these thoughts. A large black nose peeked under the door for a moment, then a sharp exhale, followed by a great deal of grunting and scrabbling and canine nails on the polished wood floor. Then the door was flung wide, and a flushed Miss Denby stood in the entrance, one hand firmly on Mouse’s collar as he attempted to show Margery just how very happy he was to see her.
“Ah, Mrs. Kitteridge,” Miss Denby said breathlessly. “Good morning to you. Please excuse Mouse; I do think he’s due for a walk—”
It was the wrong word to say, it seemed. Before it had left Miss Denby’s lips the beast let out a joyful woof and lunged out the door, tearing his collar free from her fingers, pushing past Margery in his unbridled joy at the coming treat. Miss Denby stood staring after him in dismay for a moment before turning her gaze back to Gran, who was currently seated at the desk in the corner.
The viscountess rolled her eyes. “Oh, go after the creature,” she said, using one hand to shoo the girl on her way. With a quick bob and thanks Miss Denby was out the door and after her pet, the pink ribbons of her gown trailing her like banners.
Bemused, Margery chuckled and moved into the room. “It was good of you to allow Miss Denby to bring Mouse with her when you took her on. Not many employers would have.”
“Hmm.” Gran frowned and looked to the doorway, as if she could see Miss Denby from where she sat. “I daresay if I had been able to see into the future and witness just how that beast would upend my life, I would not have been so quick to do so.”
Highly doubtful.Margery hid a smile. Gran never said as much, but Margery could see how she’d come to care for the young woman. And Gran would do just about anything for those she cared for, no matter her bluster.
“But where are you off to today?” the dowager viscountess queried, pointing at the basket in Margery’s hand with her quill. “Got something planned for His Grace, have you?”
And there went Margery’s good mood right out the window. “Er, yes. I have.” She cleared her throat. She had yet to tell anyone where they were headed after their visit to the Gadfelds; she did not want anyone construing something improper from it, after all. But nothing was ever hidden indefinitely from Gran. She had the sharpest mind of anyone Margery knew, after all.
Another clearing of the throat. “Which brings me to why I’m here,” she continued.
Gran, who had been in the process of returning her attention to the missive she’d penned, cast an arch look up at Margery. “So you didn’t come here because of your undying affection for me?” she drawled.
“Of course I did,” Margery said soothingly. “But I also have need of a maid to accompany His Grace and myself, and was wondering if I could steal one away for a time.”
“A maid? Whyever for? It’s not as if you haven’t gone about with the duke these past days in a completely proper manner.”
Indeed, they had. Every trip had been conducted in an open carriage, visiting friends and acquaintances. Her face heated as she shifted from foot to foot. But then, they had never traveled to such a secluded locale.
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she said. “But today requires a bit of chaperonage.”
“Chaperonage?” Gran scoffed. “At your age and station? You’ve no need of a maid.” She turned back to her letter, an indication she was done with the conversation.
