Page 451 of From Rakes to Riches

“Not anymore,” she said brokenly, and she shook her head sadly, sobbing as she lifted her gaze.

Gabe frowned. He understood she was telling him something important, but he couldn’t concentrate on her words with those sweet green eyes focused on him so intently.

“My father says never again—oh, Gabe!” she cried woefully. “He says I must never, ever see you again, and he’s going to make your papa send you away.”

Her words registered at last.

She was not overreacting to his spending more time with the boys.

Gabriel blinked. “Send me away?” She nodded, her cheeks rosy and streaked with tears. He felt the blow of her words like a fist to his gut. “Why?”

“Because he says ’tis unseemly to play with you—a boy—and if your papa wants to remain employed at Blackwood, he must send you far, far away.”

Gabe felt numb. His gut roiled. “But… where will I go?”

She shrugged. “Away… to school, I think.” Her brows slanted sadly. “He says your papa will do it because he knows what is best.”

Gabe sank from his knees to his bottom and said, “My da would not send me away.” But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. His Da had seven mouths to feed, including his own, and he would do whatever it took to be certain the entire familywas secure. If the duke of Blackwood demanded he send Gabriel away... away, Gabe would go. He stared for the longest while at the windflowers dancing with a gentle breeze. “When?” he asked quietly.

“I… I don’t know,” she said, and then she threw her arms about Gabriel, embracing him ardently. “Oh, my dearest, Gabe!”

“Hell’s bloody bells,” he breathed, and sat, confused by a barrage of emotions he couldn’t untangle. He thought perhaps he hated her father, but he wasn’t about to say that. He put his arms about Maggie, returning her embrace, uncertain whether the tears that pricked at his eyes were for the family he knew he would leave so soon... or for the best friend he didn’t think he could live without.

Together, they sat for a long, long while, embracing, and Gabe didn’t feel the least bit ashamed for the small kiss he bestowed on her cheek.

She peered up at him, green eyes glistening with tears, and Gabe looked down into that familiar face he knew so well and stared, memorizing the contour of her face, the curve of her lips, every freckle on her nose.

Maggie had been his best friend for more than five years, his confidant, his playmate. And now he realized with a terrible jolt that he was losing her... and in his heart, he’d begun to think of her as… something more.

“Promise you will never forget me,” she implored as tears spilled from his face onto his shoulders and sleeves.

“I promise,” he said dumbly. And regardless, he meant it with every fiber of his being. He plucked a windflower, pressing it into Maggie’s hand. “Promise you won’t forget me, Maggie.”

She hugged him tight. “I Promise,” she said.

His senses reeled. The scent of her teased him. The feel of her hair sticking to his face with her tears, the softness of her cheekagainst his own… it dizzied him. “I… I... I love you,” he said, with a bewildered sense of self-discovery.

“I…I… love you, too,” she said in return.

And together they sat, embracing when words were too difficult to speak.

Someday, he would come back for her.

Someday, he would be good enough—not simply a gardener’s son.

Someday...

1

June 1, 1862

Dearest Mr. Smith,

I realize it has been some time since our previous correspondence...

Lady Margaret Willingham tapped her quill on a drying pad. Blotting the tip, she stared at the ink stain that remained.

But, of course, if she’d had her druthers, she would be done with men. Moneyed or not, she didn’t especially enjoy being told what to do, when to do it, or how and why to do it. She saw enough “romance” between her father, mother and grandparents. Not a one of them had been enamored of their partners, and men could be despotic—her father being the worst offender.

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