“See that you do not.”
Margaret watched her disappear into her room. Alone in the corridor, she realized the one thing that she did not want to acknowledge. She was happy to leave home. She had believed she was strengthening their position, but there was more to it than that. The match provided an escape, a chance to be herself rather than someone that simply helped her family and little more. Now she saw the cost more clearly.
If she was to rise, she wanted to bring her family with her, and that demanded more of her than a mere courtship.
Margaret did not send word before leaving that evening.
The decision had been impulsive, which in itself irritated her. Her conversation with Emily had settled, but it had left her restless. She wished to act, and that meant telling the Duke what she intended to do, so that they could make arrangements together.
She stepped from the carriage and ascended the steps alone. It was a risk, but one that she had taken before. Her maid was nearby, at least. The door was opened by an older servant this time, one she recognized from the dinner.
“Miss Fairleigh,” he greeted. “How may I assist you?”
“I wished to see His Grace.”
“I am afraid that he is not here this evening. He departed shortly after his return.”
“Did he leave word as to when he would return?”
“No, my lady.”
She held his gaze calmly.
“Did he say where he was going?”
“He did not, I am afraid. He hardly ever does.”
It was not what she wanted to hear at all. She enjoyed their time together, but there were too many things that she did not understand about him, and she wished that there were not.
“I see.”
The entrance hall felt larger than she remembered.
“Would you care to leave a message?” the servant asked.
“No. I shall call again another time.”
“As you wish. Good night, Miss Fairleigh.”
She turned before he could study her too closely. The carriage door closed behind her with a hollow sound. He was not there, and nobody knew where he was. She tried not to think on it. After all, men of his position had engagements. She knew that, and tet as the carriage began to move, her thoughts betrayed her.
Miss Eliza.
The name returned, and she leaned back against the seat, annoyed with herself. It was nothing, a servant’s mistake and no more, and she had chosen not to dwell on it.
But he had not elaborated. He had not clarified. He had simply closed the matter and she allowed him to. The carriage turned down a busier street. A pair of riders passed, splashing through shallow puddles left by the earlier storm.
Margaret stared at the blurred movement beyond the glass. She had to trust him, and she wanted to, but trust did not eliminate her curiosity, nor did it silence imagination. She recalled the speed with which he had corrected the footman, as if it were something he was prepared for.
She pressed her hands together in her lap, feeling rather foolish. He had made no secret of his movements before. He had called upon her when he said he would. He had conducted himself openly at the garden party. He had stood beneath the oak without hesitation.
If there were someone else, surely she would have known?
She closed her eyes briefly. Speculation without evidence was unfair, but Emily’s words echoed. She had to remember her place. What was her place in that moment?
A woman in courtship. Not a wife, and therefore not entitled to explanations beyond courtesy. If he were elsewhere by choice, if he were with a woman accustomed to that house, then he did not have to tell her as much.
But he had told her that he would not lie to her, and he had convinced her that she could trust him. And so, Margaret forced her breathing to steady. He was absent. That was all, and yet as the wheels carried her back toward Fairleigh House, the name lingered in her mind.
