“Annabelle and Raybourne are with them. They planned on reading another chapter or two from Annabelle’s latest book after dinner, so you know they’ll enjoy themselves.”
“You’re right.” The thought shifted her smile to one more sincere. Raybourne was especially talented at reading his wife’s pages out loud with great enthusiasm.
As they walked farther into the ballroom, admiring the tall columns and sparkling chandeliers, Caroline leaned close. “Aberland raised a question that I must ask.”
“Oh?”
“Is there something growing between you and the Earl of Wynn?” Caroline glanced at her with a hopeful smile.
Though her instinct was to brush off the remark, she hesitated as doing so might raise her sister’s suspicions. “We have become friends of a sort, I suppose. My working on Charlotte’s gowns has brought us in close contact often in the past few months.”
“I see.” Caroline paused to face her fully. “And?”
“And what?”
“Do you think I don’t see the delicate blush rising in your cheeks each time his name is mentioned? I am your sister, after all.” Caroline smiled and looped her arm through Margaret’s in a polite version of a hug. “I notice more than you think.”
Margaret blinked, uncertain how to respond. The thought of Caroline guessing the depth of her feelings for Edward alarmed her. Surely, Caroline couldn’t guess the extent of her emotions since Margaret had yet to name them herself.
Her sister’s hopeful expression encouraged Margaret to share.
But she couldn’t. Telling anyone would somehow give it weight, make it more real.
And yet it could lead nowhere.
Nor was she prepared to advise Caroline of her intention not to marry but to remain home with their parents. Not yet. That conversation needed to come soon, but not here. Margaret needed more time to build her defenses around the issue.
“He is a good man, but one who is in search of an heiress to marry,” Margaret said at last with the hope a version of the truth would satisfy Caroline’s curiosity. “As I mentioned before, I volunteered to offer advice in his search since Charlotte has been busy with wedding plans.”
Caroline’s lips pressed tight with disappointment. “He said as much to Aberland, but I thought it a ruse.”
“Nothing of the sort.” A sharp stab of pain shot through her. If Edward had told Aberland that as well, perhaps it was the only reason he was concerned about her—because she was his sister’s friend and helping him select a potential bride.
“Hmm.” Caroline’s expression turned pensive. “I thought you might have found someone for whom you cared. In fact, I hoped so.”
I did. I have. But Margaret bit back the words. “You know I’m in no hurry to marry.” That truth was the best way to ease her family into realizing she never intended to do so.
“Yes, and there’s certainly no rush.” Caroline smiled. “I suppose I just wish for you to be as happy as Annabelle and I are. We have both been lucky in love, and you will be as well.”
The urge to cry stole Margaret’s breath. How she wished the situation were different. Not that Edward had declared his feelings for her. Perhaps she’d read more into the moments they’d shared than she should’ve. Perhaps he only felt friendship toward her.
One truth was clear. It would be difficult to remain friends with him in the coming months while he courted someone else.
“Thank you,” Margaret managed. “You are an excellent example of what is possible.”
“Just remember that sometimes we must release our expectations and allow fate to work her magic.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” But Margaret knew that wasn’t the case for her. Any possibility of magic had passed her by. At the very least, she would enjoy the many blessings she had. For the moment, those included Edward’s friendship.
“Good evening, ladies.” Charlotte joined them with a smile. “I’m so pleased you came, Margaret.”
“As am I.” She looked past Charlotte to see if Edward had accompanied her. Sure enough, he was conversing with their hostess. As she watched, Lady Evanston led Edward forward only to pause to speak to other guests.
Her heart pinched as she watched her introduce him to Lady Dorothy, who curtsied gracefully then laughed at something Edward said.
“What is it?” Charlotte whispered then turned to follow Margaret’s gaze.
“I only thought I saw someone with whom I wanted to speak, but I was mistaken.” She turned her back on the pair, not wanting to see any more.
“Is that Lady Dorothy my brother is visiting with?” Charlotte asked.
“I believe it is,” Caroline advised. “She is a lovely young lady, isn’t she?”
Even Caroline thought the pair would suit. Margaret should take pride in that. Except her heart ached too much to do so. Perhaps she should attempt to play the role of matchmaker more often.
She glanced about, suddenly feeling as if everyone’s lives were moving forward while she was left standing in the same place she’d always been.
How silly of her. This was her choice. She loved her parents and would do anything in her power to aid them. Regret served no purpose, nor could it change her path.
She forced herself to turn around to search for Edward’s tall form again and quickly caught sight of him. He looked especially elegant this evening, dressed in a black suit coat with a snowy white cravat tied with a mail coach knot, a simple yet distinguished look. A cream waistcoat set off both the dark suit coat and his white shirt. He always dressed well, but not so well that one noticed his attire rather than the man himself.
Her gaze shifted to the woman who held his attention. Lady Dorothy was slender with golden hair, green eyes, and a heart-shaped face. Her shy smile and the way she looked at Edward from beneath her lashes was rather fetching. He seemed to appreciate it based on the way he smiled. She knew him well enough to know that it was a genuine one.
Yes, she thought with a nod. They suited quite well. Then she turned away, though doing so didn’t keep her heartache from worsening.
Chapter Fifteen
As Edward walked along the corridor from his bedchamber the following day, he noted the open door of his sister’s sitting room. He peeked his head inside to see her in her favorite chair, reading a book. The sight of her so relaxed made him smile.
“Good afternoon, Charlotte.”
She looked up with an answering smile, tucked a bookmark between the pages, and set aside the book. “Good afternoon. Where are you off to?”
“What makes you think I'm going anywhere?”
“You rarely stay in one place for long. Therefore, I have to assume you're either returning from somewhere or leaving. Given the hour of the day, I would guess it's the latter.”
He chuckled as he dropped into the chair beside her. “I had no idea your skills of observation were so finely tuned. Are you reading anything of interest?” He cocked his head to better see the cover of her book.
“It's a rather thrilling mystery by A. Golden that I can't put down. I don’t dare read it at night or I find myself wide awake, listening to every squeak and groan of the house.”
“I shall have to borrow it when you’re done. It sounds intriguing. What is on your agenda for the rest of the day?” He would miss these conversations once she’d married. He regretted not taking the time to speak with her more often, though he liked to think he’d made up for it since their father’s death. He supposed the event had bonded them in an unexpected way. How odd to think she would soon be moving out. The house wouldn’t be the same without her.
“James will be here soon to take me driving in Hyde Park.” She glanced out the window. “It should be a lovely day for it. What of you?”
“I am calling on Lady Dorothy,” he admitted with some reluctance. Though he hadn't intended to tell Charlotte yet, perhaps he should.
“Truly?” Her brows rose in surprise. “I noticed you speaking with her last evening.
I didn't realize you were so taken with her.”
Taken with her? He would hardly call it that. In truth, he felt nothing for her. Not compared to his feelings for Margaret. “She seems nice enough.”
“Does this mean you are thinking of marrying?”
He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “The time to do so is drawing near, I suppose.”
“You don't sound particularly enthusiastic.”
He rose to walk to the window and stare out, unable to contain the energy her remark caused.
“Well, it is expected when one inherits.” He paused to turn and hold her gaze. “And our financial situation must be considered. More money is vital. I still owe a significant sum to Redmond.”
Charlotte sighed. “I wish I could do something more about that. If only Father hadn’t gambled so much. But you must know James doesn't care about the money. He has told us that numerous times. As far as he’s concerned, we owe him nothing.”
“I know, but a debt is a debt. And it’s not the only one. The easiest way to eliminate them is to wed an heiress.”
“I hate to think you will marry for money. I would much rather you found love. Our lives have been unhappy enough,” she said with a shake of her head.
“True. Our childhood was unpleasant more often than not. Do you remember the summer when Mother was going to take us on a picnic until Father forbid it?” That had been the first time he’d been truly angry with his father.
“Unfortunately, yes. I was so disappointed, and Mother was as well.”
“One of many disappointments we endured.” The blame lay squarely with their father for nearly all of them. “However, just because I marry an heiress doesn't mean I will be unhappy.” At least, he wanted that to be the case.
“If you sounded more confident, I would feel more reassured. Are you certain this is the best path?” Her doubtful expression caused him to seriously consider the question. Perhaps because he wished there was a different answer.
No, he wanted to say. But he bit back the response. As always, Margaret filled his thoughts. It didn't seem to matter how much or how often he told himself not to think of her. She lingered inside him as if she were a permanent fixture in his mind. And in his heart.
But given the circumstances, even if she indicated she cared for him, how could they possibly proceed? She had her parents to consider, and he had his father’s debts.
He needed to be practical about his future as well as that of future generations. In this one thing, his father had been right. Happiness was a fleeting, fickle thing too often elusive. He would be better served focusing on what he could control.
“Yes,” he forced himself to say. “This is for the best.” He stared out the window, aware of his sister’s careful regard, before turning to face her. “So tell me,” he said as he returned to his seat, “what do you think of Lady Dorothy?”
Charlotte considered his question for a moment, taking so long to answer that he began to wonder if she would. “I don't know her well, but she seems nice.”
“Why do I sense hesitation in your words?” he teased. “She seems intelligent and kind. And if she has a significant dowry then all the better.”
Charlotte nodded slowly. “That is all true. I suppose I should like to get to know her better before I say overmuch. If there were one thing I would offer, it’s that she seems too...agreeable.”
Edward chuckled. “Too agreeable? Is there such a thing?” Margaret would think so. He halted the thought before it took hold.
“It’s just that the few times we've spoken, she shared the same opinion I did on every topic we discussed. I suppose there’s a chance we truly do have similar thoughts.”
“Or maybe that is her way of being polite,” he suggested.
“Perhaps.” Charlotte caught his gaze. “I don't want you to jump into anything without being certain that whoever you choose will make you happy. Never would I want you to have a marriage like Mother and Father.” She whispered the last part as if worried their mother might overhear.
“I intend to avoid that as well. While I don’t think it possible to find a great love like you and Redmond, I would like my wife and me to be friends and respect each other.” He’d wanted that from the beginning. But the simple wish had become complicated as his feelings for Margaret had grown.
“Hmm.” She tilted her head to the side as she considered him. “Are you certain there's no one who has captured your affection?”
Edward looked away, afraid of what she might see in his expression. “We shall see what happens with Lady Dorothy. Who knows? Perhaps she is the one.” He smiled and met her gaze, dismayed to see the doubt he felt reflected in her eyes.
“I look forward to hearing how your visit with her goes. Will you let me know?”
“Of course.” He stood. “Miss Gold is the one who suggested her to me.” Why had he mentioned that?
“Margaret?” Charlotte looked surprised. “How did that come to pass?”
“She guessed my intent at a ball and said the woman I first considered would never do because you wouldn't like her.” That sounded like a reasonable explanation and had the added benefit of being true.
“Who was it?”
Edward shook his head. “I don’t remember. But she insisted that whoever I chose needed to be someone you would like as well.”
Charlotte smiled. “She's right, you know. I wouldn't care for a sister-in-law whom I didn't like. Think of how difficult family dinners would be. I adore Margaret but now I adore her even more.”
“You are lucky to have such a good friend.” Only too late did he realize he put too much emphasis on the words. Charlotte stared at him as if he’d told her something unexpected. The time had definitely come to leave. He dipped his head. “I shall miss you when you leave home.”
“Have no worries,” she said. “You won't be rid of me so easily. Prepare for me to visit often. But I shall miss you as well. I suppose things won't be the same once I leave.” The wistfulness in her tone pulled at him.
“Times change whether or not we want them to. I find it best to embrace the changes and focus on the positives.” He hoped Lady Dorothy might prove to be one of those positives despite the fact that his heart wasn’t in the attempt to determine if they’d suit.
~*~
Margaret entered Madame Beaufort’s shop, pleased to see it bustling with activity. The dressmaker was one she’d used for years when she didn’t sew her designs herself. Luckily, Madame Beaufort was happy to keep the extent of Margaret's involvement in the gowns a secret.
Margaret searched for Mary Adams, a young lady who had escaped a difficult situation and now worked here, thanks to both Margaret and Beatrice Walker. Only they and Margaret’s sisters knew the truth about Mary. The poor woman had been forced into a brothel upon her arrival in London. If not for Daniel and Beatrice’s assistance, she might still be there.
Margaret had been happy to recommend her for a position at Madame Beaufort’s as Mary was talented with needle and thread and seemed to enjoy the work. While Margaret had always liked Madame Beaufort, having Mary’s assistance was more rewarding because of their personal connection. She liked to think both she and Mary had secrets they kept for one another.
Margaret nodded at several of the other customers in the shop as she walked farther into the interior. Madame Beaufort employed nearly a dozen seamstresses of various levels of skill. Most remained in the workroom in the rear of the shop, but a few worked at tables along the back wall.
Though the large windows in the front provided daylight, candles and lamps were used as well so the seamstresses could better see. Madame Beaufort had invested in numerous globe-shaped glass bowls filled with water to reflect the candle flame, an expense not all dressmakers bothered with.
The women working there ranged from quite young—only ten years of age—to one who’d reached eight and thirty. However, sewing was not an easy occupation. Between aching fingers and sore backs, not to mention faili
ng eyesight from many hours spent working in dim light, it was not a position for the faint of heart.
Madame Beaufort often complained of losing seamstresses for one reason or another. But if they were able to find something that paid better and was less demanding, Margaret didn't blame them.
Margaret was surprised that Mary remained employed there. She was an attractive woman, and Margaret had been certain a young man would catch her eye. From what little Margaret knew, Mary showed no interest in men. Margaret hoped that wasn't a result of the time she'd spent in the brothel. She never spoke of what she’d endured, but Margaret knew it had to have been terrifying.
She was pleased to see Mary come from the back workroom, glancing about as if to make certain all the customers were being helped. Madame Beaufort had shared how important Mary had become to the shop, assisting with some of the more difficult customers and helping keep customer accounts.
Madame Beaufort was one of the few dressmakers who insisted on customers paying each month. More than one modiste had been forced out of business when members of the nobility failed to pay. It was a difficult position for the dressmaker to be in. She needed money to pay her seamstresses and other expenses. Yet insisting on accounts being paid before additional dresses were ordered angered many customers and resulted in lost business. Madame Beaufort thought it worth the risk.
Mary's gaze caught on Margaret, and she hurried forward with a smile. “Miss Gold. How lovely to see you.”
“It's wonderful to see you as well, Mary. I hope you are well.” Margaret searched her face. Mary always had a kind word and a smile, but oftentimes a shadow lingered in her eyes which suggested her life was far from easy.
“I am. Thank you. And you?” Mary's eyes narrowed as she waited for Margaret's reply, making Margaret wonder what she saw.
Were there shadows in her eyes, too? Given the fact that she hadn't been sleeping well of late, she assumed she didn't look like her normal self.
“I'm quite well.” Margaret hoped that if she repeated the phrase often enough, it would become true. “I have come to see if you could work on a couple of designs.” Margaret patted her reticule, keeping her voice low. “These are for a friend of mine who is soon to be married.”
A Rogue Meets His Match (The Rogue Chronicles Book 7) Page 15