A Rogue Meets His Match (The Rogue Chronicles Book 7)

by Lana Williams

  After waiting what seemed like an eternity to make certain he slumbered, she returned to her mother’s bedside. Barclay slept in the chamber next to her father so he would hear if he awakened again. His door was cracked open as it always was. God bless him.

  She hoped the servant was able to get some rest. What would they do without him? He had been such help since her father had started failing. Few servants would endure what he had.

  Margaret settled into the chair next to her mother once again. Was the rasp of her breath worsening or was it just her imagination? At the moment, she was too tired to be sure.

  Though only a few hours were left of the night, she drew a cover over herself, leaned back in the chair, and closed her eyes, praying things would be better come morning.

  She dreamed of dancing with Edward.

  ~*~

  Edward tapped his desk with one finger the following afternoon, unable to focus on the correspondence before him. He’d had luncheon at his club but returned home soon after, hoping Charlotte had heard from Margaret. He’d found his sister in the drawing room, embroidering a handkerchief for James to present him on their wedding day.

  “I didn’t want to pry,” Charlotte advised him when he asked about Margaret. “I thought it best to wait another day to see if all was well. I’m certain her father is the reason she didn’t attend.”

  “I see.” Yet he didn’t. He wanted to know what was happening now. But he couldn’t explain that he and Margaret had discussed seeing each other at the ball as it would lead to questions he didn’t care to answer.

  “Is something amiss?” Charlotte asked, her needle poised above the fine linen that she was stitching with Redmond’s initials.

  “Nothing of the sort. I was only curious.” He smiled and left her to her needlework, telling himself he should be satisfied with her answer. After all, she knew Margaret better than he did. No doubt she was correct in her assumption.

  But restlessness plagued him, his thoughts unable to settle. Would it be so terrible if he sent a message, asking if all was well? He could advise the footman delivering it to present it to Margaret and no one else. That should prevent the fact that he was corresponding with her from causing problems.

  Relieved to have a possible solution, he quickly penned a message, signing it with only his first initial and using his personal seal rather than his father’s. A measure of secrecy was called for in order to protect her reputation.

  After handing it to the footman with specific instructions, he settled behind his desk and studied the correspondence with renewed determination only to find himself staring out the window, wondering how long before he might receive an answer.

  ~*~

  Margaret closed the door to her father’s library and leaned against it, resting her eyes for just a moment. The day had been a long one and it was far from over. She was already exhausted.

  Her mother’s condition had steadily worsened. The doctor, their long-time family physician, had come and gone that morning, leaving some cough syrup but offering little else.

  “Although unusual to procure an illness in the summer months, that doesn’t make it less serious,” the older man had advised. “The coming days will tell us how concerning this is. It would be best if visitors are limited in case this is contagious. If she doesn’t improve, send for me, and I’ll apply leeches.”

  Margaret had quickly penned a note to both Caroline and Annabelle, advising them of the situation, and asking them not to call. How terrible if her nieces and nephew became ill. Children were precious, and she would do anything to protect them, along with her sisters.

  Dr. Smithson had looked in on her father as well which had only served to confuse Sir Reginald.

  “Am I ill?” he’d asked, his expression puzzled.

  “Not at all,” Margaret had said and hurried the doctor out the door.

  The doctor continually reminded them that his mind would grow worse as time passed. However, Margaret didn’t need that reminder today. Not when she was worried about her mother.

  She and Barclay were managing as best they could along with the help of the other servants. Mary, the maid, was sitting with her mother now. Margaret straightened and walked toward the stairs to see how she fared.

  “A message for you, miss,” the footman advised as she passed through the entrance hall.

  Margaret wasn’t surprised as she and her sisters had sent several to each other already. Yet a glance at the masculine scrawl had her taking the note to her sitting room to open in private.

  Dear M,

  I noted your absence last evening and wished to make certain all was well.

  E

  The carefully worded message had her blinking back tears. How silly of her to overreact. She reread the message, a fierce longing stealing her breath. A longing for what could never be.

  The idea that Edward cared enough to inquire touched her. Obviously, she must be tired if such a simple message brought her to tears.

  That didn’t keep her from hurrying to her desk to answer.

  Dear E,

  Thank you for your concern. Mother has fallen ill.

  She hesitated, wondering what else to say. She didn’t want to brush over her mother’s illness. Nor did she want to dramatize it. In truth, she wanted an excuse to continue corresponding with Edward.

  Any progress on your quest in my absence?

  M

  Then she sealed the note and requested the footman to find a lad to deliver it. Chances were Edward wouldn’t answer. No doubt he was busy with estate business. She returned to her mother’s bedchamber, her heart just a bit lighter for having received his message and knowing she was in his thoughts, however briefly.

  ~*~

  That lightness proved fleeting as the evening arrived and passed slowly into another day while her mother’s illness remained unchanged. Margaret helped to prop her up against the pillows to ease her labored breath but that didn’t seem to help. Nor did any of her other efforts.

  Her mother managed to share between raspy breaths that a sharp pain lingered in her chest. Unfortunately, the cough syrup the doctor had left failed to aid her in the least.

  That brief conversation had been hours ago, and Lady Gold hadn’t been truly awake since, nor had she slept properly.

  As if understanding there was a problem, Margaret’s father continually entered the bedchamber, shaking his wife awake to ask if she was well. Her lack of response upset him further, and he demanded Margaret fix the problem.

  By late evening, Margaret was at her wit’s end between the two of them. However, she’d insisted Barclay get some rest for the first half of the night. She considered sending for the doctor again, but his talk of leeches seemed illogical. How would the blood-sucking creatures aid her mother’s lungs?

  She wished her sisters were there to help, though they’d sent several messages to protest the doctor’s advice not to allow visitors. They’d offered support but having another opinion on what could be done would be welcome. Margaret knew she was too tired to think straight and worried she was making the wrong decisions for her care.

  What had made her think she could help not only her father but her mother in the coming years? She didn’t know enough to aid either of them. Not when something went wrong. And the current situation was terribly wrong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Edward paced his study, frustration building with each step. Luncheon had passed, and still, Margaret had not replied to his message from the previous day. She’d written him but once. Though he realized it was ridiculous to worry, the pit of his stomach told him something was wrong. He had no real reason to believe it to be true. No evidence to point to. Yet he couldn’t shake his concern.

  No doubt she was busy tending to her mother—too busy to send a reply. As if caring for her father weren’t enough, now she had two people to worry over.

  However, even Charlotte was concerned as her message to Margaret also remained unanswered. The question w
as what should he do about it? He didn't dare call on her. Doing so might create more problems than it solved. Nor did he think she would welcome his arrival on her doorstep so he might see for himself how she was.

  His gaze fell to his desk, and he stopped abruptly to stare at the letter he had received earlier. The note from Aberland advising him that all was proceeding as planned with the investment had been welcome news, filling him with hope. A few more sound investments like that one could very well put the estate on the proper footing for the future, creating lasting results.

  But now he stared at it with growing frustration. Were Aberland and his countess doing anything to aid Margaret? Had she been left alone to deal with both parents while the rest of the family went on about their lives?

  Before he could think twice, he rang the bell to call for his carriage. In short order, he was driving toward the earl's home, ignoring the voice in his head questioning his sanity. Soon thereafter, he awaited an answer to his knock then was shown into the library.

  Aberland rose from behind his desk, a smile on his lips. “Good afternoon, Wynn. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  Edward halted as he considered what to say. Who was he to champion Margaret? How could he pose his questions without causing offense? Only too late did he realize the earl most likely had the matter in hand.

  Aberland raised one dark brow as he waited for Edward to respond.

  “Good afternoon.” Edward sighed as he walked slowly forward, deciding honesty was called for given the unusual situation. “Forgive my intrusion. I realize this is none of my concern, however, I understand Lady Gold is under the weather.”

  Aberland frowned as if puzzled by the statement. “Yes, that's true. She’s been feeling poorly these past two days.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. I wondered how Miss Gold was faring given the difficult circumstances.”

  Now Aberland looked even more perplexed. “I was unaware that you and my sister-in-law were on such good terms.” He gestured for Edward to take a seat then sat as well, his hands folded on the polished surface of his desk.

  “Yes, well,” Edward paused, uncertain how to describe their relationship now that he was pressed to share it. “I'm sure you're aware of her friendship with my sister. She’s helping Charlotte with her trousseau.” He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug as if his concern was casual, but one glance at the earl suggested he had yet to be convinced.

  “Yes, Margaret mentioned it. I suppose you and she have had opportunities for conversation.” Though the remark wasn’t a question, Aberland’s tone invited—or rather, demanded—that he provide details.

  Edward realized he shouldn't have come. This truly was none of his business. While he was worried about Margaret, he had no reason to believe anything was amiss other than an unanswered message.

  Yet now that he was here, what could he do but proceed with the hope the earl understood his intentions were well-meaning? “It seems a heavy burden for a young lady to bear to attempt to care for both her mother and father at a time like this.”

  Aberland nodded slowly. “True. However, Margaret has advised us the doctor suggests no one visit as Lady Gold's illness could be contagious.”

  “Of course.” Edward understood. The earl had his own family to protect as well. But what about Margaret? “Though I do still worry how Miss Gold is faring. My sister sent a message but has yet to receive a reply.”

  “My wife has been corresponding with her, but perhaps further inquiries should be made in case she needs assistance. Knowing Margaret, she would do her best to deal with the situation on her own rather than request help.”

  Relief eased the tension in Edward’s shoulders. “Excellent. I only mention it because Miss Gold already spends much of her time caring for her father.” He hoped he didn’t sound judgmental, but it didn’t seem fair to Margaret. “The added duties of nursing her mother would make a difficult situation even more so.”

  “I must say I find your concern touching.” A small smile played about the earl's mouth.

  Heat stung Edward’s cheeks as he shifted in his chair. “Miss Gold has become a good friend of the family, and we are concerned about her.”

  “I see.” Aberland’s gaze held steady on Edward as if expecting to see something more than what Edward had shared.

  He should have stayed away. Now he might have given the earl the wrong impression. But part of him didn't care. He only wanted someone to call on Margaret and discover if she needed help. Never mind that he dearly wanted to do so himself.

  “I will say that at times I worry about Margaret,” the earl said, his tone overly casual. “She has resisted our suggestions to consider finding a husband.”

  Now it was Edward’s turn to frown. “Surely the reason is obvious.”

  “Oh?” Aberland asked.

  “How can she possibly leave Lady Gold on her own to care for Sir Reginald?” Edward moved to the edge of his chair as frustration filled him. “She cares deeply for her mother and father. I would hazard a guess that she feels leaving home would be impossible when her presence is needed there.”

  Margaret had never said as much, but he believed that was the case.

  “Obviously, my wife and I would make arrangements for assistance to be provided if Margaret were to marry.”

  Edward bit his tongue to keep from responding. Knowing Margaret, she wouldn’t think that would suffice.

  Aberland seemed to consider the matter further, his gaze pensive. “Perhaps we have been remiss in sharing our thoughts with her as to how that might be arranged. If she wished to marry.”

  The image of Margaret in another man's arms had Edward jerking to his feet. How had the conversation turned to this? He'd only wanted someone to check on Margaret and make certain she was well. Now Aberland was discussing her potential marriage.

  Edward clenched his jaw at the anger that rushed through him. “I have taken enough of your time.” He needed to leave before he said something he shouldn’t. “I hope Lady Gold soon recovers.”

  “As do I.” The earl’s expectant gaze held steadily on Edward, making him shift uncomfortably.

  He had no desire to try to explain his feelings regarding Margaret to Aberland, but one look at the earl’s expression had him trying. “I feel a certain protectiveness towards Miss Gold given her friendship with my sister.”

  “Much like you would for Lady Charlotte,” Aberland suggested.

  “Yes. Exactly.” Edward latched onto the explanation despite the memory of their heated kisses. Perhaps at one time, he’d felt brotherly affection toward Margaret. But that had shifted into something much more—something that made him feel as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff when the ground gave way, leaving him unsteady and searching for balance.

  He gave himself a mental shake. Now was not the time to consider how he felt about Margaret. He’d accomplished what he set out to and should leave before the earl’s observant gaze discovered more than Edward was willing to share.

  “Thank you for your time, Aberland.”

  “Thank you for calling.” The earl stood and walked around his desk. “It isn’t everyone who acts on their concern for others. I appreciate it, and I’m certain Margaret will as well.” The glint in his eyes suggested he found Edward’s interest rather curious.

  That would never do.

  “Between you and I,” Edward found himself explaining, “she is helping me to find a potential bride.” There. His explanation would surely put an end to that speculative look.

  “She is?” Aberland frowned as he studied Edward.

  “Now that I’ve inherited, the time has come to marry. An heiress, preferably,” he quickly added. “Unfortunately, my father did not leave our estate in good order.”

  “Marrying wealth is certainly a quick way to fix such a problem. Of course, it’s not an easy path.”

  On that, they could agree. Nothing had been easy about his search, including his attraction to Margaret.


  “I wish you luck in your search,” the earl added as he extended his hand. “Thank you again for sharing your concern.”

  Edward was soon back in his carriage, wondering why he’d thought it a good idea to interfere.

  ~*~

  “You shouldn’t have come.” Margaret shook her head as she looked between Caroline and Aberland but kept her distance from the pair. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if either of you or the children became ill.”

  “We had to see for ourselves how you were doing.” Caroline rose from the chair in the drawing room and took a step closer, concern wrinkling her brow.

  Margaret fought the urge to hug her sister and instead took two steps back. Though thrilled to see her and Aberland, they shouldn’t have risked a visit.

  The way Caroline stared at her with concern darkening her eyes had Margaret self-consciously pushing back a strand of hair that hung along her face. She was exhausted and could imagine how disheveled she looked. She hadn’t slept for more than an hour or two at a time since her mother had fallen ill. But she didn’t want them to risk catching the illness.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted and hoped they believed her. “You should go. If the children became ill—”

  “Margaret.” Caroline tilted her head as she studied her. “We will take care. But you need help. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll send a few of our servants over.”

  “That might upset Father. Besides, we’re managing. Barclay and the other servants have been of tremendous help.” She pressed a finger to her aching temple only to let it fall back to her side, unwilling to reveal how tired and disheartened she was. The night had been terrible. Each breath Lady Gold had drawn sounded as if it would be her last. But with the dawn had come a small measure of hope as her raspy breathing had eased somewhat.

  “How is Mother?” Caroline asked.

  “I think she might be improving.” Margaret prayed it wasn’t temporary. “When she woke briefly less than an hour ago, she said the pain in her chest has lessened.”

  “Her fever?”

  “Still there, though she doesn’t feel as warm.”