Page 75 of A Secret Correspondence
Love? Marguerite’s stomach flipped. She had long known how she felt about him, but hearing that word on Samuel’s lips made her heart cease beating.
He cupped her cheek, his eyes boring into hers. “I believe we can overcome the hardships thrown at us. What do the difficulties of life matter when we are together? Eliza and Jacob are some of the happiest people I know, and Eliza was not raised in a small cottage, Marguerite. She grew up in a house finer than mine. I do believe love has a power greater than all the pride and difficulties in this world.”
Marguerite yearned for the relationship he described, but that did not erase all the ways she had been dishonest over her years in Harewood. She had dug her own hole, and she feared it was one she could never come out of. Closing her eyes, she leaned away. “I cannot, Samuel. There are things I have not told you.”
His hand dropped, but the other still brushed tenderly over her knuckles. “Surely, there is nothing we cannot overcome together.”
“I do not think it possible.”
“Shall I give my speech again? I thought it was quite moving, but if you need to hear it a second time?—”
“Samuel,” she said, fighting a smile. “It was beautiful, but it does not erase my poor choices.”
“You know already, then? I have been searching for a way to tell you.” He ran his free hand through his hair, disheveling it once again in his agitation. “I cannot fathom how a woman could be so cruel, but she is undeterred. Surely, if we put our minds together, we can find a way to save your reputation.”
Marguerite’s head reeled back, her stomach dropping to the floor. “What of my reputation?”
The color drained from Samuel’s face, his hand dropping from his hair. “You did not know, then.”
“Evidently not.”
He swallowed. “I suppose I should start at the beginning.” He explained everything he had experienced that day, telling of how the Farrows had descended on his house, accusing him of terrible things, breaking the engagement, and threatening to ruin Marguerite. “They would not allow me an adequate moment of defense, and when I could slip a word in, it was refuted and dismissed.”
The longer he spoke, the more ill Marguerite felt. “It appears Mrs. Farrow was unwilling to believe our innocence. I will admit that leaving your curricle outside the shop all night and stepping from my door in the early hours was probably unwise.”
“Oliver, Ridley, and Ruth had all done so moments before I did,” he argued.
“Yes, but evidently they were not seen,” she countered. “Ill timing, I suppose?”
Samuel’s brows drew together. “You do not seem angry with me.”
She took a moment to inhale and found that the frustration edging her body was not for him. While the situation was far from ideal, how could she hold Samuel to account for it? He had done nothing but help her these last few weeksand support her in friendship for months before that—though, admittedly, he did not know it washerhe was supporting.
Marguerite gave a soft shrug. “My reputation will be in tatters. Indeed, my very livelihood is in jeopardy. Yet there is nothing I can do about it tonight.”
He stared at her. “I will do what I can to set it to rights.”
“Samuel, I do not blame you.”
He opened his mouth to reply when the door opened, and Jacob poked his head in. “Come quick. Oliver has seen movement in the churchyard.”
Samuel was on his feet immediately. “Marguerite, you should remain?—”
“I will come,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.
He nodded. Neither of the men said anything further. She followed them from the parlor and through the back door to the mews. They circled a stack of hay bales and hurried down the slender alley to where Oliver waited.
“The dark shadow is just beyond the tree now,” Oliver whispered. “I’m going to cross toward the church. Sam, you move to the south corner.”
“Yes, sir.” He slipped around Oliver and creeped into the shadows. The moon was out this evening, but clouds moved over it, providing a decent amount of light while giving them cover of darkness.
“You recall the plan?” Oliver asked.
Jacob nodded. “Go.”
Oliver turned opposite of the direction Samuel had taken and disappeared.
“What shall I do?” Marguerite asked.
