Page 117 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Chapter 35

Margaret’s lady’s maid, Taylor, tiptoed into Margaret’s bedchamber. “Chef sent another tray. He hopes this will tempt you.” She set it on the bed within reach. “He said he made the mac-a-ron, especially for you.”

“Macarons,” Margaret corrected faintly.

“He also said that you are welcome in his kitchen any time.”

Margaret said, “Please thank Monsieur Beaufort for his thoughtfulness.”

Taylor left, and Margaret stared at the tray. Steam curled from a bowl of lobster bisque. A fresh bun with sweet cream butter and a plate of macarons completed the tempting meal. But a rock sat in her stomach, leaving no room for food.

Rachel came in and stood with her hands on her hips. Adopting a mock scolding tone, Rachel said, “You’ll break Monsieur Beaufort’s heart if you don’t eat.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

Softening, Rachel sat in the very chair St. Ives had used. “You haven’t eaten anything for nearly two days, Meggie. It’s time. Take a bite. Just try.”

With a sigh of resignation, Margaret sat up and dutifully took a bite. Her taste buds sang, but her stomach hesitated.

Rachel leaned back. “Are you ready to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to tell. He doesn’t want me.” Margaret looked out of the window.

“Is this about Connor Jackson?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rachel let out a sigh. “As you wish, but please eat.”

Margaret managed a few more bites of savory lobster bisque and even a nibble of bread. The macarons looked lovely, but nothing really appealed.

What would she do now? With the danger over, all her siblings were preparing to return to their country homes. Margaret could live with any of them—they’d all made offers, bless them—but solitude appealed more.

Perhaps with time, she could breathe and feel… something other than emptiness broken by occasional bursts of pain.

When she’d eaten all she could, she pushed the tray away.

“Margaret, it’s me.” Rachel got in bed next to her like they did as children. “Confide in me the way you once did when we were girls. Don’t keep secrets.”

Margaret tilted her head and glared at Rachel. “Don’t talk to me about secrets. You never told me about what happened two years ago that sent you fleeing up north nearly to Scotland.”

Rachel sighed. “Very well. I’ll reveal the entire sordid story. Soon. But that’s all in the past, so it can wait. This,” she pointed at Margaret, “this is the present. And possibly the future. So, this is what we need to discuss today. Tell me about Connor Jackson. It’s apparent you have tender feelings for him. And that he’s broken your heart.”

From behind a barely concealed barrier, a sob leaped out of her. Margaret put a hand over her mouth but finally gave in and sobbed while words poured out of her.

“I love him.” Tears fell in a steady shower, curse her weakness. She ground them from her eyes. “Or at least, I thought I did. But he was using me. I mean, he was clearly attracted to me, and there always was this stormy sort of heat between us.” She flushed. Really, she ought not say such a thing to her unmarried sister, but Rachel only nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“He saved me and made me feel safe and cherished. He kissed me. I mean really kissed me. There was so much passion, and we almost….” Another sob tore out. “Thank heavens the surgeon arrived when he did. If I’d given myself entirely to Connor and then learned the direction of his heart, I would have been shattered. As it is, I am at least left with my dignity.” Perhaps she wasn’t shattered, but she certainly felt broken.

“I’m such a fool,” she said. “I can’t believe I thought he loved me but was holding back because he was reluctant to cross the social boundary between us, when all along…” Margaret held out her hands in a helpless gesture. What? What had he been doing?

Quietly, Rachel asked, “Does he know of your feelings for him?”

“Yes, I told him.” She huffed a disgusted laugh. “I virtually threw myself at him. I thought he truly returned my love. But he told me there was nothing between us. He has no use for a wife.”

“The bounder,” Rachel muttered. “Men are all alike. They tell you whatever they know you want to hear just so they can take advantage. I have half a mind to grab my gun and hunt him down.”

Margaret almost smiled. Almost. “Well, we need him to find the Finches, so perhaps wait until after he does that.”