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“My goodness,” Margery cooed later that night as she lay on her side on the floor of her goddaughter’s nursery, one hand propping up her head and the other tickling Charlotte’s toes, “aren’t you the sweetest angel in all of creation. I could just eat you up, you darling thing.”
Lenora, seated cross-legged on the floor beside her, looked up from the sketch she was making of her daughter and chuckled. “Though I am biased, I agree with you completely. Why, these rolls look like the most succulent sausages.” With that she took her daughter’s pudgy arm and planted a wet kiss on it.
Charlotte gurgled merrily at the attention, her wide blue eyes swinging back and forth between the two women as she kicked her feet.
Margery laughed. This was what she needed to distract herself from her troubles. To spend an evening away from Seacliff and Daniel, to forget the horrible debacle at the Beakhead Tea Room and pretend, for even a few hours, that she was back in those halcyon days before Daniel had arrived and turned her world on its head.
But no, her life had not been ideal before his arrival. In fact, with the delivery of the blackmail letter her life had begun to unravel completely.
Would that she could get out of her deal with Daniel. How was she going to find him a wife when she wanted him for her own?
And there was the crux of the problem, the reason she had reacted so strongly to his offhand suggestion that they marry. Because she knew now what that longing in her had been when he’d made his hasty proposal: for a split second, she had wanted to say yes.
“Margery.”
Lenora’s voice startled her, so much so that her hand slipped from under her head and she nearly toppled over. “Pardon? Oh! Sorry, dear heart. I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere.”
“Yes, I’d noticed,” her friend replied dryly.
Margery chuckled. “I have been a bit distracted this evening, haven’t I? But is it any wonder, with such a dear, sweet creature to do the distracting?” She took up a rattle that lay nearby and shook it. Charlotte blew bubbles and kicked her legs, her pudgy arms flailing in excitement.
Margery went back to talking in silly singsong tones to the baby. All the while, however, she was sharply aware that her friend was watching her with a peculiar intensity. They knew one another better than anyone; Lenora could not have failed to see that, no matter how much Margery might deny it, there was something very wrong, indeed.
As the seconds passed Lenora seemed to go back to her sketch. Just as Margery was beginning to relax a bit and think she might come away from this visit unscathed, however, Lenora went in for the kill.
“How is His Grace, Margery?”
From anyone else it would have been mere polite curiosity. But Margery knew that Lenora’s seemingly casual question was anything but.
She cleared her throat. “He seems to be doing well.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Again, a beat of silence, broken only by Charlotte’s loud smacks as she gnawed on her fist and the faint scratch of pencil on paper.
Finally Lenora spoke again. “I’ve heard quite a bit of talk regarding the duke.”
“Have you?”
“Yes. It seems he’s all anyone can talk about. Miss Gadfeld was particularly vocal when she came to visit just two days ago.”
“Was she?”
“Mmmm.”
Margery, done with this game of cat and mouse, rolled her eyes and looked at her friend. Lenora was watching her closely, her pale green eyes shrewd. “I suppose you learned that His Grace is searching for a bride.”
“I have.”
“And I suppose you have come to the conclusion that I’m assisting him in his endeavors.”
“You are astute.”
Margery fought the urge to stick her tongue out, as she used to do when they were children. “And…?” she demanded.
