“Caroline...” Margaret gently admonished. “People in service are still people. She’s young, but she’ll learn. Be kind.”
“Oh, don’t fuss at me, Margaret. I doubt she even understood what I said.”
“I don’t know.... Appearances can be deceiving.” She added in a lower voice, “As you and I have both learned.”
Caroline hung her head. She sat quietly for several moments, then whispered, “I was deceived. I thought Marcus loved me, but he only pretended. He confessed he only asked me to marry him to please his uncle. Sterling was certain it would bring you home.”
“And he was right.” Margaret twisted and pinned Caroline’s hair. “You won’t believe me now, but it is a blessing Marcus ended the engagement. He would have broken your heart a thousand times over. Better to know it was all an act before the vows were said.”
“I know you’re right. But it still hurts.”
“I know, my love. I know.”
———
Margaret went into her own room. She ought to summon Miss Durand to help her dress for dinner. Instead she stood at her window feeling listless and let down. She had so hoped for some word from him.
She glanced out the window at the Berkeley Square garden below and told herself to cheer up. She saw a traveling coach waiting across the street and wondered who had called. With a start, she recognized the coachman on the bench and the young groom climbing up beside him. Clive! It was the Upchurch coach. Nathaniel must have come to call while she was in Caroline’s room. The coachman lifted the reins, and the horses began to move off.
Leaving?Had Murdoch turned away Mr. Upchurch as well?
She flew from her room, drummed down the many stairs and across the hall, heedless of decorum. Flinging open the door, she prayed she would reach him in time. She leapt the stoop and dashed into the street, but the carriage was already turning the corner.
She was too late. The Upchurch coach disappeared from view.
Tears filled her eyes. If only she had not refused to see callers today, of all days. She had only herself to blame, for she had told Murdoch to send all gentlemen away. Foolish girl!
Margaret wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, gave a deep shuddering sigh, and turned toward the house.
She stopped short, breath catching. For there on the front stoop stood Nathaniel Upchurch.
“Mr. Upchurch,” she breathed.
He wore a dark green coat, buff breeches, and tall boots. He did not smile. He only looked at her, his expression inscrutable. “Miss Macy,” he said dryly. “I was told you were not at home.”
Chagrined, she hurried to explain. “I am sorry. I have had a great many callers of late, and I—”
“Suitors, I suppose?”
“I’m afraid so. All desperate fortune hunters, the lot of them.”
His brows rose.
“Oh! Not that I include you among them, Mr. Upchurch. I didn’t mean that.” Now that he stood before her at last, she rambled on like a schoolroom miss. She swallowed and gestured vaguely toward the street. “I’m afraid your carriage has left without you.”
He nodded. “I told them to go on. I was determined to wait as long as necessary. Your butler was testy until I told him I had come a long way to see you. For some reason, at the mention of Maidstone he became much more welcoming.”
Her cheeks heated. “Oh.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Where do you tell people you’ve been?”
“I... don’t. I say only that I was staying with friends. At least... I hope that is true... that we are friends?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“Of course.”
He stepped from the stoop and walked toward her, studying her as he neared.
