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But she would not allow anything to disturb the happy glow that enveloped her, even if that meant purposely ignoring the very troubling realization that she still wanted Daniel and, in fact, wanted him more than ever. But the day was halfway to being done, she reasoned as she began to dress, and so surely one more day enjoying this small affair they had entered into wouldn’t hurt. She pulled on a clean shift and corset, securing the latter with quick fingers. One more day—and night—to lose herself in Daniel, before she returned to her life.
Which suddenly didn’t seem as perfect as she had believed it was. She bit her lip as she fastened her gown. She had thought it noble to spend the rest of her days mourning Aaron, to preserve their love instead of embracing life’s possibilities. To live in the past instead of looking forward to the future. Now, however, that life didn’t seem as brave as it had at first. Instead it seemed based in fear, and no way to live at all.
Before she quite knew what she was about, she strode to her wardrobe, flung it open, and dropped to the floor. Rooting around, pushing aside violet and purple and gray skirts, she located the large chest hidden in the very depths. It was what was left of her life before, when times had been happy and new and full of hope. She opened it now, revealing colorful gowns wrapped in tissue, shawls in bright hues, long lengths of ribbon, dancing slippers and fans and all the accoutrements of a debutante. Biting her lip, she lifted out a shimmering soft pink ribbon. Then, before she could think twice about it, she rose and hurried to her dressing table, working the silk through her hair. It seemed so small, the merest hint of color. And yet, to Margery, it was as loud as a scream. The beginnings of maybe, just maybe, moving forward.
It was with trepidation that she made her way to her grandmother’s sitting room. She fully expected her to comment on the ribbon; after all, hadn’t she spent the last several years trying to get Margery to wear colors again?
But beyond a slight double-take, the older woman didn’t remark on it at all, instead diving right into the important subject of the day.
“I’ve heard from Lenora, of course, and she was even kind enough to send over a quick sketch of Clara’s child.” Here she gave Margery a withering look that spoke volumes about Margery’s own lack of supplying information up until then, no matter that she had been sleeping. “But now that you’re awake I would have the whole story from you. And don’t think to skimp on details,” she continued, her voice stern, as Margery sat beside her. “I wish to hear everything. We shall have plenty of time; Katrina blessedly has taken the afternoon off to run some errands in town, dragging Mouse along with her, and so we have all the peace and quiet we shall need.”
Suppressing an amused smile, Margery launched into a retelling of the events of the previous day. The birth had been long, but Clara had been brave throughout the ordeal, listening intently to the midwife, pacing herself so she didn’t tire easily. And when dear Frederick—named for Clara’s father, the previous Duke of Dane—had been born, and had let out his first lusty cry, there had not been a dry eye in the entire house.
Gran hung on Margery’s every word. And, though she tried to pretend otherwise, she was not immune to a tear or two herself. She surreptitiously dabbed at her eyes when Margery was through, clearing her throat several times.
“Well, then,” she said, her voice gruff, “that’s wonderful news. Just wonderful. I cannot wait to meet the child. And Quincy? He did not make a pest of himself, did he?”
Margery, knowing what was to come when the truth came out, pressed her lips tight and busied herself with smoothing her skirts.
Gran stilled and speared her with suspicious eyes. “I do hope,” she said with a frown, “that Peter and Oswin were wise enough to keep Quincy away from the birth.”
“Oh, you know Quincy,” she said, purposely vague.
“Yes,” her grandmother said slowly, “I do.” When Margery remained silent, Gran let out a huff of frustration. “He was there, wasn’t he? In the room for the birth?”
Margery couldn’t help but grin. “You know how dearly Quincy loves Clara, Gran. He wouldn’t hear of staying away, and insisted on remaining by her side through the entire ordeal.”
As expected, Gran’s reaction was not pleasant. She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air, letting loose a low curse. Freya, curled up until then in her lap, jerked awake and glared up at her mistress.
“And here I thought the boy was smarter than that,” she raged. “To put that strain on Clara, so she had to worry about him as well as herself and the child? When I see him next, I’ll tell him exactly what I think of his actions.”
Gran was quickly working herself up into a frenzy. Margery, laughing, placed a hand on her arm.
“Truly, he was wonderful, Gran,” she said. “If anything, he made the situation easier on Clara. He was supportive, and gentle, and was so very helpful. The rest of us were nearly rendered superfluous.”
That seemed to deflate some of Gran’s ire. “Well,” she grumbled, “if that’s the case. But it’s still not natural, I say. Men are too squeamish, too weak, for the horrors of childbirth.”
Margery laughed outright. At that moment Daniel and his mother arrived.
The laugh died in her throat at the sight of him. Goodness, he looked wonderful, so tall and strong and capable. As she knew he could be from firsthand experience. Her body went liquid at the thought of it. He caught her eye, an answering simmer in his gaze. And then he looked up toward her hair, and stilled.
She had forgotten about the ribbon. And, even if she had not, she wouldn’t have expected anyone else beyond Gran to understand the meaning behind it. But he seemed to. His face lit up with anendearingly lopsided smile that told her he knew exactly what that simple ribbon meant.
It should perhaps worry her that he might misconstrue what the ribbon meant, that he might think she was reconsidering his suggestion that they marry. But the happiness bubbling up inside her overwhelmed everything else, even common sense.
Conversation was light and easy as tea and a small repast was ordered up. They ate, and drank, and talked of Clara and the babe. When the meal was over and Margery brought up what the rest of the day’s schedule would bring, however, Gran interjected with customary firmness.
“You exhausted yourself yesterday,” she declared, spearing Margery with a firm look. “You shall take the rest of the day off and do something enjoyable and relaxing. Take a walk on the beach perhaps.” She pursed her lips and gave Margery an innocent look that did nothing to detract from the slyness behind it. “And take His Grace with you.”
Margery might have been surprised and annoyed at such a blatant attempt at throwing her and Daniel together—especially as it contradicted Gran’s previous denial of any intention to match them—if she wasn’t so blasted happy at the chance for some time with the man.What was wrong with her?She should be concerned that she wanted to spend time with him outside of the agreement they had made. Yes, they had entered into a short-term affair. But that was physical. An afternoon at the shore decidedly was not.
But her concerns lost whatever ground they had made when Daniel stood and, looking down at her, held out his hand. She fairly melted under the regard in his eyes as she placed her hand in his and rose. Reality could intrude later, she determined as they exited the sitting room in order to prepare for their outing. For now, she thought with a small smile as she walked alongside him, she would focus on the here and now. And enjoy every moment of it.
***
Daniel could not recall the last time he’d been so content.
He rested back on his elbow on the large flat rock Margery had found for them. Farther down the stretch of sand bright yellow bathing machines were being pulled out into the water, white tents shaded groups from the late-afternoon sun, children teased the waves, and several couples strolled arm in arm. Yet Daniel was hard-pressed to look away from Margery, who sat beside him.
