Except that statement niggled at me. The truth was I did not know what Edward thought. At times, I wondered if he had ever considered our relationship could be more than friendship. The intense way he looked at me, the intentional touches and flirtatious comments—did he know of Father’s reason for inviting him here? Was that why he had come, or was the decision simply to place him closer to Adda and Hollinsby?
I nibbled on my lip. The latter made far more sense, of course, and I hated the way that disappointed me. Should I not be upset with the idea that he came at Father’s request and with the intention of proposing despite knowing it went against my desires?
“You will keep me informed on your progress, will you not?” Margaret reached for my hands, her eyes pleading. “To learn you are engaged would bring me such joy.”
I forced a smile. “Of course. I shall visit you in a few days, but do not set your hopes so high as an engagement. The lieutenant and I are barely friends, and even that is often on unstable ground.”
The way Margaret grinned, I feared she would not heed me, and I left the cottage no closer to peace of mind or a reinstated resolve against marriage than I had when I arrived. It should have agitated me to have been so thoroughly thwarted in my plans, and yet the more I considered new possibilities for my future, the less my frustrations rose to the surface.
Unlatching the gate, I left the cottage behind me and took the path toward Kenwick, my thoughts a whirl of considerations I’d once avoided. I could marry. I could have children. Indeed, the former no longer seemed such a burden if it gave me the latter, especially if I was not required to sacrifice all of my independence to do so. Even the idea of being with Edward did not produce the discomfort I once expected. In fact, any unease had been replaced with an excitement and an anticipation so filling it made my heart race at the mere thought.
It was not love, I reminded myself. I did not love Edward Paget, but I did admire him, both his handsome features and his passionate determination to pursue change. There was a difference, was there not?
I believed so, and I would cling to that belief. For as much as I had begun to trust the lieutenant, I still preferred to guard my heart to some degree. I wouldn’t become entirely insensible. At least, not until I had ascertained whether Edward might ever be romantically inclined toward me.
And if he was? Well…
Warmth spread through my chest. I attempted to tamp it down, along with the smile pulling at my lips.
“Well, now, someone is in a happy mood.”
My feet halted as I looked up and found Mr. Wilcot standing in the path ahead. His hair and clothes were disheveled, and his cravat hung loosely over his shoulders, untied. The top three buttons of his waistcoat were open, revealing his neck. It was not the first time I had seen him in such a state, as he often returned home this way after a bout of drinking at one of the nearby inns.
“Been to visit Margaret, I presume?” Even as he said his wife’s name, his eyes raked over me, a devilish glint in them that twisted my stomach.
I lifted my chin. “I have, and now I am on my way back to Kenwick. So, if you will excuse me.”
He remained in place as I approached, requiring me to shift to the side of the path to pass by him. I sensed his eyes on me, and I fought a shiver of uneasiness when I skirted around him. I exhaled a breath, but my relief was too soon. His hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me to a stop.
“Release me,” I said in a firm tone that hid my swelling anxiety.
A crooked smile filled his lips as his eyes wandered over me again. “You’re always visiting Margaret. Or do you come to my home for another reason?”
His breath carried the smell of alcohol, and the scent churned my stomach. I tugged my hand, testing his hold, and his grip tightened. I had been around this man before while he was drunk, but it had never been without Margaret’s presence. We were alone on the path, and for the first time in my life, I regretted not bringing along my maid.
“What other reason would I have, sir?” I asked through gritted teeth.
He took a step closer. Instinctively, I matched him with a backward step of my own. He chuckled when I scowled at him and yanked on my arm. I stumbled forward—stumbled into him, my free hand landing on his chest. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I shoved hard against his waistcoat, but his arm wrapped around my back, pinning me against him.
“Release me,” I demanded, though the words were more timid than before.
“And if I don’t?” His tone held a challenge, and while the man was clearly inebriated, that did not mean I could hold my own against him. Mr. Wilcot was not small in stature, nor had his carefree life at the tables and excessive drinking diminished his muscular frame.
“My father will—”
“Will what? Word has it, your old man is ill. Certainly too sickly to call me out. Besides, doing so would only declare you ruined.” He leaned forward, and I held my breath to avoid the pungent smell of spirits. “If you refuse to stay away, then can I be blamed for being seduced?”
His nose nuzzled the skin at my neck. I shoved hard against his chest once more, but the effort did nothing with his tight hold. Bile rose in my throat. I refused to become his victim, as Margaret had. Reaching up, I dug my nails into his bare neck. Mr. Wilcot pulled away from me with a yelp. I fisted my hand, and with as much force as I could muster in my current position, swung my arm and punched him solidly in the jaw.
Pain erupted in my hand, and I cried out. The impact was enough to loosen his hold, though it had not done more than cause him to stumble backward a pace. I spun away and shot forward, lifting my skirts to prohibit them from hindering my escape. Arms wrapped around my middle, lifting me from the ground, and when I screamed, a hand covered my mouth and nose. I struggled against him, but I was no match for his strength.
I was destined to become a victim.
Chapter nineteen
Edward
There is much to be said of a person’s character when they prove their dedication to helping their fellow man. I am proud you have taken such a firm stance and strive to do what you can, even when your position does not readily permit it. I pray you maintain that dedication, that it grows as you are sure to do. How blessed you are to have found your purpose at such an age! I confess, I required far more time to plant my feet on an honorable course. Perhaps it is the misdeeds of my past that press me to so fully pour my soul into the will of God—to do good and fight for righteousness. It is a wonder I ever claimed the heart of my dear Mary, my angel, but it is she who holds responsibility for my present convictions. It is she I fought for first, through my lowest of lows. My dedication to God, my desire to fight for the freedom of man, came much later. That dedication continues to grow, and again, I equate much of it to my dear Mary. She encourages me forward, and I have often wondered, who should I be without her loving guidance and support?
