Margaret nodded. But then shook her head side to side. She didn’t know. Was it the burn from the sun that pained her or her heart?
The door opened again and, feeling embarrassed, Margaret would have moved away from him if she’d had any room to do so.
“I’ve found you all. Is that Rockingham back there?” Miss Drake briefly peeked around the others but then disappeared. “Move in.” But there was no place any of them could go. Laughter sprang up as she and others attempted to squish inside because, of course, there was no way that the door was going to close this time. Sebastian’s arms felt, oh, so wonderful and Margaret wished the game wasn’t over.
The last person to arrive, Margaret heard someone announce, was Mr. Joseph Spencer, Mrs. Spencer’s young husband. He would have to hide next.
Before everyone filed out of the closet, Margaret took one moment to squeeze Sebastian’s hand in hers.
In a few months, he would be on the other side of the world. He would be exploring, following his dreams, and when he returned to England, he would be wanting to accomplish great things that would be far removed from her.
He is my friend, nothing more.
* * *
“I can’t get it off.”As much as Margaret tried to remove George’s ring before climbing into bed later that night, she could not. The more she persisted, the more swollen and red her finger became. The skin around the ring was quickly starting to burn as much as her cheeks.
Esther had made up her gooey concoction despite Margaret’s objections and dabbed it on Margaret’s face, leaving only her eyes and nostrils and mouth clean of the remedy. Although Margaret’s hair had been tied back, a few strands had escaped and were sticking to her face as well.
“Let me fetch some lard for it. Hold your hand in the basin of water to bring down the swelling until I return.”
Margaret could only nod and do as the maid instructed. The evening had gone on forever and all she’d wanted to do was escape to her room. Only now that she’d escaped, all sorts of discontent assaulted her. The ring was growing increasingly painful.
Hopefully, cold water and lard would help. She forced her breathing to slow. One did not panic simply because she could not remove a piece of jewelry, did one?
As she leaned against the table where the basin sat, her hand slipped and overturned the entire bowl of water, drenching her night rail.
It was the perfect end to a perfectly atrocious evening.
There was a knock on the door. “Come in!” she called out, thinking it would be a maid from the kitchen. She could not even remove her gown without assistance because of the mess on her face.
When she turned to take the lard from the maid, she gasped. It was not the maid.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
Sebastian stood, unblinking, looking nearly as shocked as she felt.
And then she realized; the concoction on her face!
He closed the door, remaining inside. But quickly turned his back to afford her some privacy. “Forgive me, Maggie. I meant to give this to you earlier—for your birthday.”
Just as she was about to order him out, she realized he was handing her a package, reaching out behind him as he faced the door.
“What is it?”
“Take it and see,” he answered, his back to her still.
Soaking wet, still dripping, in fact, and feeling like some creature who might have crawled out of a muddied lagoon, she stepped forward and took it from him.
“I forgot to bring it down for the party earlier,” he explained.
“I did not expect any gifts for my birthday.” Penelope had gone too far. But she opened the paper that had been loosely wrapped around it.
It was a book—a well-worn book.
“I’ve read it dozens of times. I wanted you to have it.”
If he’d brought it with him, all the way from London, by horseback, it was not a meaningless item. The title came as no surprise.
