Page 82 of A Secret Correspondence
“It will open his valise, and I know where he left his carriage,” Marguerite said.
Jacob put the key in her palm, and she tucked it into her gown’s pocket.
The front door flew open and Ruth ran inside. She eyed Paul for a moment before seeing Marguerite and crossed the floor swiftly, pulling her into her arms. “Oh, you gave us such a fright! I am so glad that dreadful man has been caught.” She leaned back. “But you’re hurt!”
“It is nothing,” Marguerite said lightly, though Samuel boldly disagreed. “I’m certain it looks far worse than it feels.
Ruth looked at Paul’s bruised face. “Who gave him such a milling? I know Samuel wanted to.”
Samuel’s body flushed warm. It was true. He had been fantasizing about that very thing for the duration of their drive to Harewood.
“Jacob did,” Oliver said, coming in behind her. “Samuel’s duty was to Marguerite.”
“As it should be,” Ruth said, squeezing Marguerite tightly. She released her and leaned back. “Now we all need to be on our way so you can get some rest.”
Oliver and Jacob heaved Paul up from the floor and carried him out to the carriage.
“I think I will go to Paul’s house, actually,” Marguerite said. “I do not think I can wait another moment to find the trunk.”
“I will take you,” Samuel offered.
She looked at him, a question in her eyes. He wanted to answer it, but he did not know what she was asking.
“We will take care of Paul.” Ruth gave Marguerite another hug. “Please inform us of what you find. Oh, I am sorelievedyou won’t be attacked in your sleep. I have been restless for weeks.”
“Come now, darling,” Oliver said, returning to the parlor and fighting a smile. “Let us leave them. Samuel, shall we drop you anywhere?”
“I think we will be able to use Paul’s conveyance.”
“Very good.” Oliver gave a nod, took his wife’s hand, and they left, closing the front door behind them.
When the shop was left in silence, the candles burning on the hearth glowing around them, Samuel turned to face Marguerite. “I have never felt so terrified in my entire life, Marguerite. I wanted to…well, I will save you from the ways I had planned to make that man pay for what he has done to you.”
She blinked at him, her hands clasped lightly in front of her as though she was merely waiting for him to finish perusing her shop, and not at all like she had just undergone a horrible abduction. She had a bruise across her cheekbone, a narrow cut on her neck, and another along her jaw, and those were only the injuries he could see. Her hair was in disarray, locks falling from their pins and strands loose about her face. Still, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her grace shone brightly.
“When I stepped through that door”—he pointed at the parlor door—“and saw that knife to your throat, my entire world came to an end. Nothing else mattered—not my father’s debts or my mother’s need to be saved or the way Mrs. Farrow intends to turn everyone away from you. All those things fell away, and I was left with one clear and uncontested truth: I love you fully, and nothing else matters.”
A single tear gathered in Marguerite’s eye and trailed down her cheek. It caught in the flickering candlelight and glowed. It was too much for Samuel. He closed the distance between them and brushed the tear away with his thumb. She leaned into his touch, providing him with hope.
“Do you feel you could possibly forgive me for the ruination I have brought upon your name? Upon your shop?” he asked.
Marguerite’s eyes widened, surprised. “Ruination? Surely it cannot be so bad as that. I will lose patronage, yes, but not fromeveryonein Harewood.”
“It could be devastating.”
“But together, we could withstand it,” she said.
“Yes.” He cupped her face with both hands, hope rising like the sun. “Together, we could withstand anything. I want to do so with you. I want to be your steady companion, to be the reason you never feel lonely again, Marguerite. I shall be your greatest friend if you will allow me to be your husband.”
Husband. Oh, how deeply he wanted that.
“Oh?” she asked, sounding alittle breathless.
“Yes. What do you say? If you are curious what my opinion is, I would like for you to say yes.”
“Would you?” she asked, pretending to mull it over.
Heavens, hehopedshe was only pretending.
