“Because she tried to force me into it.” Hart’s voice was unmistakably angry. “I detest scheming women.”
Meg gulped. Her discussions with Lucy marched through her mind. Guilt flooded her. She was scheming even now, wasn’t she? “Force you? What do you mean?”
“Annabelle employed a friend to find us in a compromising situation she’d invented. We’d only been outside alone for a few minutes. I hadn’t touched her. The entire thing was ludicrous. I learned that some young ladies will do nearly anything to secure a title and wealth.”
“That is horrible.”
Annabelle had left town, never to be heard from again. She had paid a steep price for her attempt at blackmail.
“Yes, well, that incident put me off marriage. That and my father’s endorsement of the institution.”
“After the Annabelle incident, I don’t blame you.”
A few moments ticked by in silence before Hart asked, “Are you truly leaving town?”
“Yes,” Meg sighed, hearing the sadness in that sound, but not knowing what to say. What else was there? She was leaving the country and he was marrying Lady Eugenia.
“Why?”
There was no use denying it. Hart would find out soon enough. “My father has decided we must move to the Continent.”
“Because?” Hart prompted.
Meg kept her cheek firmly between her teeth. She did not want to cry. “He owes quite a lot of money to a good many people.”
“Ah. Of course.”
“Apparently moving to the Continent is…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“One way to outrun his debtors,” Hart finished for her. “You’re going too?” Hart spared her from a reply to the debtors comment.
She was not going to be able to say this without tears in her eyes. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see her, she nodded. “Yes.” She forced the word past her dry lips, ashamed at the quaver in her voice. At least he couldn’t see her burning face.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Does Sarah know yet?”
“I told her this morning. Only Lucy hopes—” Oh, she couldn’t finish that awful sentence, either… what Lucy had instructed her to say to Hart should this subject be broached.
“Lucy hopes Sir Winford will offer for you before you leave,” Hart finished for her again.
Was the man a mind reader? More ridiculous nodding and then she said, “Yes.”
“Is that whatyouwant, Meg? To marry Winford?”
She turned her head toward Hart in the darkness with tears cooling her cheeks. Her throat was closed. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t get any words past the huge lump that had formed there.
“A marriage proposal would keep me here,” she finally managed.
“I see.”
She couldn’t talk about Sir Winford anymore. All she wanted was get out of here and rush home and cry. Her skirts rustled as she stood. She brushed Hart’s leg as she moved toward the door slowly, carefully, feeling her way. She tried to ignore the warmth of him and the scent of him. So near. So close. She could reach out and touch him… if she dared. Her body shook with pent-up longing.
Steeling her resolve, she made it to the door and stood and tugged at the handle again. “Lucy knows we’re here. She’ll come in search of us. We’ll just have to hope she finds us and not some gossipy servant.”
“Don’t worry, Meg. Whatever happens, I’ll stand up for you.”
She snapped her head to the side. “What?” she asked breathlessly.
“If we’re found by the wrong person and a scandal ensues, I will do the gentlemanly thing and stand up for you.”
