Page 32 of A Secret Correspondence
Taking the reins from the groom, he commanded his horses to walk on, and they moved smoothly through Locksley’s streets, dodging a group of men walking in the road and a wide carriage passing in the other direction.
“You are a good driver, Mr. Harding.”
“I would tell you of the race I won last year, but I do not wish to appear boastful.” He flashed her a wide smile, which made her laugh. The sound was surprising and melodic, making Samuel realize he hadn’t heard her laugh much before. “Did you have a pleasant journey?”
“I visited an old friend of my family, and it was nice to see him. Though I feel every time I see him, he looks much older.”
“But he is in good health?”
“He seems to be, yes.” She was quiet for a moment, the dark countryside passing them by. “You did not wait at the inn the entire day, did you?”
Samuel looked at her sharply. “I might be concerned for you, Marguerite, but I am not mad.”
She drew in a sharp, surprised breath.
Realizing his blunder at once, Samuel drew his horses to a walk and turned to face her better. “Please forgive me. That was exceedingly impertinent. I spent the evening with friends who are on such terms as to call you by your Christian name, and I fear they managed to put it in my mind. I should not have spoken it aloud, and I vow never to do so again.”
She was silent for a moment. “Which friends?”
“Jacob and Eliza Ridley.”
She looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. “I have given them permission.”
“But not me.”
“Youhave not asked me.”
He glanced at her, attempting to read her face. She was a work of stone, her mouth a resolute line, her chin firm. “May I call you Marguerite? I should like for you to call me Samuel. I enjoy our conversations, and I would like to call you a friend.”
She was quiet much longer than he had expected. It had felt for a moment like she wanted him to make the request, but now she was holding her response. “I would like that, Samuel.”
Something deep in his chest gave a little jolt. He glanced at her sidelong and commanded his horses to move faster. It was not in his habit to drive around unmarried ladies late at night, but Marguerite was a widow, and thus he felt she was in a different situation. But did it matter? She was young and beautiful, and people would still come to conclusions were they to be seen together.
“What did you mean when you said you were concerned for me?” she asked.
“I did not like seeing that man peer through your windows late at night.” He tried to shrug, because he didn’t want to make her more worried than she needed to be. “It is not natural.”
“No, but that does not make it nefarious.”
“Do you have relentless suitors? Anything questionable?”
Marguerite pulled at her hands, playing with each finger before pressing them on her lap to still them. “No, nothing like that. I am sure it was a curious person leaving the inn. Probably someone who drank too much and looked in all the windows as they walked.”
“Hmm.” Samuel let it drop. He asked Marguerite about her pelisse. They spoke of trimmings and the wrong sort of hats some women liked to wear as they traveled to her shop.
Marguerite’s laugh tinted the cool night air again as she toldof the last time she influenced a young woman toward a better color and how glad the woman ought to be that she did not end up with the horrid gown she originally wanted.
“You love your occupation,” Samuel said.
Her smile was sweet, arresting him. “I do. I am fortunate to have found something I find such joy in.”
He considered Ridley’s blacksmithing and Oliver’s estate management. Both men were good at what they did and found joy in their lives. Samuel wanted nothing more than a family. A wife. A companion. Someone to ease his tired loneliness and fill the crevices of his heart. “You are, indeed,” he agreed.
Her independence and fortitude were impressive. Samuel respected her greatly. Their conversation flowed smoothly, and each laugh he drew from her felt like a small victory.
But when they reached the High Street, the unease had not fully left him. While he watched her unlock her shop and walk inside, then lock the door behind her, he wondered about the man he’d seen swathed in shadows peeking through her window. If he had innocently been looking in all the shops, why did he disappear as soon as Samuel had stopped to check on Marguerite?
Chapter Twelve
