Unnerved under his scrutiny, she rushed on, “I am glad you’ve come. I’ve been thinking about y—Uh... H-how is Lewis?”
“He is doing well.”
“I am glad to hear it.” She hesitated, then gestured toward the house behind him. “Would you like to come in... again?”
He winced up at the house, then looked over her shoulder. “How about a turn in the garden instead?”
The day was chilly and the garden spent. But she said, “Of course. Just give me a moment to collect my shawl.” She stepped past him toward the door.
Murdoch, as if sensing her intention—or eavesdropping—hurried out with her shawl and draped it around her shoulders.
“You ran out before I could announce him,” he whispered. “Did I do right in allowing him to wait?”
“You most certainly did. Thank you.”
He leaned near. “From Maidstone, miss?”
She nodded, quaking with nerves and excitement.
The butler bestowed a rare smile.
Together Margaret and Nathaniel crossed the street and entered the long oval garden at the center of the square. Walking beneath a canopy of autumn-red maples, they crushed dry leaves with each step.
Nathaniel abruptly began, “You know you nearly killed me, don’t you?”
Margaret gaped up at him. “Killed you? How?”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “You were barely gone a day when we heard Marcus Benton had changed course and married a different lady.”
She nodded. “An American heiress.”
“I know that now. Hudson and I have our ways. But you gave me a few dashed miserable days, I can tell you.”
Her heart tingled at the thought. “I’m sorry. I thought of writing... but, well...” Her words trailed away.
He nodded. “You don’t know how I thanked God when I learned the truth.”
He gestured toward a park bench, and she sat down.
He crossed his arms and remained standing. “Will you ever be able to come back to Fairbourne Hall, do you think? I imagine it could be somewhat awkward for you.”
Come back? How did he mean? As maid, friend, wife? She decided to tell the truth, hoping it wouldn’t spoil her chances. “It would be awkward, I’m afraid.”
“Even for a visit, perhaps?”
A visit... Then he was not thinking of asking her to marry him. Disheartened, she murmured, “Perhaps a short visit.” She would, after all, like to see Helen again.
Sitting there surrounded by late autumn color, Margaret breathed in great draughts of crisp November air and breathed out a prayer.Be thankful, she told herself.Nathaniel is here.... There is hope.
“I would have come sooner,” he said. “But I had something very particular to attend to first.”
“Oh. I see.” She didn’t see but hoped he would explain.
“As soon as that was taken care of, I came.” He sank onto the bench beside her. “And of course, I had to see you today, on your birthday.”
“You remembered?”
He turned to her, expression earnest. “I remember everything about you, Miss Macy. Every moment between us—the good and the bad.” He chuckled dryly. “Though I prefer to linger on more recent pleasant moments.”
