“I am not,” Margaret said, though the denial lacked force.
“Have you not decided what you feel yet?”
Margaret finally turned toward her. The truth was that she was not in love with him, but she would have been lying if she said she had not considered it. He was a man that she could grow to love, and that brought only trouble to everything.
“You are both far too serious,” Poppy huffed when there was no response.
Emily folded her arms loosely.
“Someone must be.”
“That is not fair! Our sister is being courted by one of the most eligible gentlemen in the ton. We should all be overjoyed, yet here you both are questioning the tiniest things.”
“It is my future, Poppy,” Margaret reminded her. “I wish to be certain, as does Emily. That is all it is.”
“But you are as happy as I am, yes?”
Margaret was convinced that there was not a soul in England as happy as Poppy, but that was not the answer that her sister was looking for.
“Of course. This will mean the most wonderful things for us, Poppy, and I am thrilled, but I must also consider all that is to come. Does that make sense?”
“I know. Well, I shall speak with Mama about it, and help her design her gowns of course.”
She disappeared, but Emily remained where she was.
“Maggie,” she said softly, “if this is for us–”
“It is not a burden,” Margaret interrupted gently.
Emily held her gaze.
“You would say that even if it were.”
Margaret did not answer. Poppy’s excitement rang clear and uncomplicated beneath them, and suddenly nothing else mattered. Emily’s glance back at her, however, carried something heavier.
“I do not want to spend the rest of my life knowing you did something that you did not want to do for my sake,” Emily continued. “We would manage fine without all of this.”
“Which should give you confidence that I am happy to do it.”
But Margaret knew more than Emily did. If she wanted a future at all, it had to be with a man that she did not know, and one that seemed to know everything about her without revealing anything at all about himself.
It was pleasant, she had told her friends, more than she expected.
When she was alone, she pressed her hand lightly to her wrist, remembering the warmth that had lingered there. Everythingwas changing, and for the first time, she was no longer certain whether she was guiding it or being carried.
And if she was not in control, then that meant she was at someone else’s mercy, and the thought of it terrified her.
CHAPTER 13
Nathaniel saw her before she saw him, and she was radiant.
Miss Fairleigh stood near the iron railing that bordered the square garden, gloved hands clasped, posture composed in such a way that he knew it was deliberate. The morning light caught in her hair where it escaped its pins. She looked as though she had been waiting.
He felt something shift low in his chest, and he approached without haste.
“Good morning, Miss Fairleigh.”
She turned at once. There was no surprise in her expression.
