“What?” William gasped.
“Evidently you cannot be trusted to ensure that young girl’s safety. Until such a time as your life has returned to order, I would have Miss Eliza reside here with her sister. You will agree with me, I hope, that this is the best course of action regarding the joint happiness and security of your daughters.”
The door remained half-open as William considered his demand. It was a generous offer, and more than that, a tie between their side of the family’s and Alexander’s—means for more negotiations down the line.
“If you would have Eliza for a time, so be it,” William replied. “But I will come to reclaim her one day soon. And by then, Margaret, I hope you will have forgiven me.”
Alexander looked up from the fire, a snifter of brandy halfway to his lips. Margaret had crept up on him quietly. She looked healthier than earlier that evening, her cheeks flushed with color. He had retired to the parlor again after dinner when Margaret had said she wanted an early night. Her parents had promised to remain in the area, seeking residence nearby under aliases so as not to draw attention.
“For the good of my daughters,”the viscount had told Mr. Collins upon leaving, though Alexander was reluctant to believe him.
"How did you know?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
Margaret smiled, circling his seat. “When the butler announced my father earlier, you acted as though you had expected his homecoming. I am wondering how that can be, given that he arrived without warning.”
Alexander raised his glass to take a sip, but Margaret caught it. He admired her, even as a thief, holding his drink captive until he answered her.
“The night you told me of Bastian and Isadore’s rendezvous, someone slipped a letter from your father under my door. I assume there is no use describing the letter in question.”
“No.” Margaret stared into the fire. “I thought perhaps you had found the letter yourself, but it seems that I have once again been the target of someone else’s schemes.”
“You may say her name.”
“It seems a waste of breath, since she is so far gone. And I do not want to cause you any more trouble while we know nothing for certain.” She returned the snifter. “Iamsorry that I kept the letter a secret from you. I worried what you would say when you learned of his intentions.”
“Why were you afraid?”
She sat so close on the arm of the chair that he could smell her perfume. He looked at her lovingly, wanting her to move even closer, perhaps into his arms, if she wanted to be there.
“I thought you might send me away," she said. “You did not agree to become the son-in-law of a fugitive when we married.”
“But I did.” Alexander reached over her to set down his glass. “I knew precisely what I was agreeing to when I took you as my wife.”
“You augured his return, did you?” Her voice was playful, soft, making him ache in the darkness of the night. “My fall from that horse? And now my sister’s stay here?”
“Not quite all that,” he replied, smiling. “But I knew that I would not regret marrying you. The rest has become as it was meant to be.”
Margaret’s brow twitched as she looked down at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, swaying forward slightly. “For this and for so much more...”
Alexander wasn’t sure, at first, whether he had kissed her or she had kissed him. His hand wound gently into her hair, encouraging her to come closer as his lips met hers. She tasted as he thought she would—sweet and soothing. He sought her even after she had pulled away with a smile, warmth spreading over his face, not from the drink.
He thumbed her cheek as they parted, her laughing softly, and felt a tear slip into the crook between his thumb and forefinger.
“You needn’t thank me so long as you are happy,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “I mean it, Margaret. I took a vow to protect you.”
“I know.” She nodded softly, pausing long enough for him to kiss her jaw. “I am happy, even when so much is undecided, so long as I am yours. But are you?”
“You make me happy,” he said.
But the rest of it, those uncontrollable other things, were still fresh in his mind: Bastian and Isadore, the viscount andviscountess, the tension between him and Carlisle. It seemed needless to mention his worries on a night as sweet as theirs.
So Alexander answered her with another kiss, grateful when Margaret responded in kind.
They came apart quickly as someone rapped on the door. Margaret hopped out of his lap, turned toward the hearth, and cleared her throat. Alexander rose out of his chair, finding Carlisle in the doorway. His uncle entered in his traveling clothes, staring intently at his nephew.
“I am just returned,” Carlisle said, stepping inside. “And you will forgive me for the intrusion, but I bring news that cannot wait till morning.”
