“Sir Winford has already gone to call for our carriage,” Lucy replied.
Meg barely registered the disgruntled look on Hart’s face. She was trying to control her rapid breathing. Father? Father was ill? He had acted hideously thismorning, but the idea of her father (she could hardly bring herself to think it)dyingmade her hot and cold all over.
Meg flew through the ballroom on Lucy’s heels, ignoring the partygoers who watched their flight. Lucy had assured her she’d already paid their respects to Lord and Lady Cranberry and thanked them for their hospitality. The two ladies entered the corridor on the other side of the ballroom, quickly made their way toward the foyer, and exited through the front door. Sir Winford stood outside near the carriage line. Just as Lucy had said, he’d ensured the duchess’s coach was brought around. The conveyance was waiting for them in the street when they arrived.
“Thank you, Sir Winford.” Meg barely glanced at the knight before allowing one of the grooms to help her into the coach beside Lucy. They were on their way in a matter of moments.
***
Less than a quarter hour later, Meg was kneeling at her father’s bedside, clutching his cold hand. Her mother sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, glaring at her husband as if he’d got sick on purpose.
Lucy had ensured that Meg’s father was resting abed before taking herself off, assuring Meg that if she needed anything night or day, she had only to send a note. Lucy also promised to call for her husband’s private physician to evaluate Meg’s father. Meg was ever so grateful.
“Oh, Papa,” Meg said, rubbing her father’s hand. “I was so worried. Are you all right?”
Her father lifted his opposite hand and patted her on the head. “Yes, Margaret, I’m fine now.”
“What happened?” Meg asked, searching his familiar face.
“I had an awful pain in my chest. My arm seized. I fell to the floor. It was all quite terrifying.”
“I can only imagine.” Meg’s eyes filled with tears. Her father was reckless, irresponsible, and often thoughtless, but he had always loved her. “Have you any idea what happened to cause it?”
“Oh, he knowsexactlywhat caused it,” Meg’s mother intoned from her throne across the room. “Tell her, Charles.” Her voice was a sneer.
Meg searched her father’s face again. “What? What is it?”
Her father took a long, deep breath. He patted her head again. “Margaret, dear, I must… that is to saywemust… I’ve decided we must move to the Continent. Immediately.”
“What?” Meg nearly shouted. Lifting herself from her knees, she stood next to the bed. “Why?” She continued to squeeze her father’s hand. “What does that have to do with your illness?”
“Tell her, Charles,” Mother prompted, her dark eyes narrowing.
“Tell me what?” Meg searched her father’s pale face. She’d got her curls from him, and her green eyes. She’d also got her love of life. Despite his circumstances, Father had always been ebullient and happy. Perhaps it had been what made him not care that he owed so much money. Yes. He was reckless, her father. A trait she had decidedly not inherited. But she loved him despite his faults.
“My dear Margaret,” her father said, letting his hand fall to the bedspread. “I was paid a visit tonight by twogentlemen who…” She could tell her father was searching for the right words.
“They werehardly gentlemen, Charles,” her mother scoffed.
“Yes, well, they, ahem, threatened me,” her father continued, clearing his throat. “You see, I owe them both a great deal of money and they want it back.”
“Oh, Father, no!” Meg squeezed her father’s hand tightly. “They threatened to hurt you?”
“Yes,” her father replied. “They did. If I don’t come up with ten thousand pounds in three weeks’ time, that is.”
“That’s what caused your episode?” Meg asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Father replied, nodding.
“And we must leave our home and all our friends and possessions, such as they are, to run like bandits in the night from these men.” Mother’s knuckles were white from clutching the wooden arms of the chair so tightly.
“No.” Meg shook her head frantically. “There must be another way.” Ten thousand pounds was a fortune. There was no way her father would be able to come up with a sum as great as that in such a short amount of time. They would be forced to move to the Continent. It stood to reason, of course. The Continent was where men went who owed more money than they could ever afford to repay. Meg had never considered it. She’d never contemplated that Father might make such a decision. Not now. Not when she was finally getting her chance with Hart.
“We must go,” Father said. “We’ve no other choice, I’m afraid. We leave in a fortnight.”
A fortnight? So soon? Her future dimmed before her eyes. There was little chance she could make Hart fallin love with her in the span of a fortnight. Or even wring an offer from Sir Winford. She wouldn’t marry for money and she’d die before she’d admit to either man that she was leaving so her father could hide from creditors. There would be gossip enough as it was.
She would end up a spinster somewhere in Europe, remembering her few cherished dances with the man she’d once loved. And Sarah? Meg couldn’t even contemplate being ripped away from her dearest friend. Would she ever even see Sarah again? Meg’s eyes filled with tears, but she forced them away. She had to be brave for her father’s sake.
