Page 52 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
“Of course.”
“Father, would you be willing to keep Lord Hungerford-Fox imprisoned here, and allow the magistrate access to question him?” he asked the duke.
Drew nodded at his brother. “An excellent idea! We could keep him until the case goes to trial, by which time his evidence will be a matter of public record.”
The duke and his aide exchanged glances before he looked back at Snowy. “Would that be a solution to your problem?” the duke asked.
It would, of course. Snowy expressed his gratitude and his sense of debt. The duke waved a hand in dismissal. “You are my son’s friend, and my wife was fond of your mother. My household will help you in any way that we can. Also, Snowy, before you go my wife wished to have a word. I’ll take you to her.”
*
Margaret sent areturn note accepting Snowy’s suggested visit and inviting him to take refreshments with her and Pauline.
That still left her with hours to wait. Fortunately, the sun was shining, and she had seedlings to prick out from the seedbed into her herb garden. Pauline helped. She was proving to be an apt pupil and a willing helper in the still room, though that work interested her less than the actual gardening.
They were in the still room, finishing the careful peeling of the dried willow bark, when a maid came to find them to let them know that Snowy had arrived. Margaret cast a panicked glance at the watch she carried pinned inside her apron pocket. It was half past noon.
“I had intended to stop at noon, and change,” she said to Pauline. “I never thought of him being so early.”
Pauline turned to the maid. “Tell Bowen to show Lord Snowden to the small parlor and provide him with his choice of beverage. The message for Lord Snowden is that my lady will be with him as soon as possible.”
Margaret nodded, and the maid hurried off with the message.
“Come along,” Pauline said to Margaret. “You won’t have time for a bath, but we can manage a quick wash and a change of gown. I’ll dress for the afternoon after you have gone down. And do not worry about Snowy. Those who arrive early must expect to wait.”
Her maid was waiting in her room with a large jug of hot water. Margaret told her which afternoon gown she wanted and accepted Pauline’s help to strip down to her petticoat while the maid set out the gown, matching slippers, and a paisley shawl.
In fifteen minutes flat, thanks to Pauline and the maid working side-by-side, she was ready to go downstairs.
“I shall change, and sit in the drawing room,” Pauline told her. “Either call me to join you or join me when you and Lord Snowden have had your private conversation.”
Margaret descended the stairs alone and nodded to the footman standing outside the door to the small parlor. He opened it, and she entered. Snowy was sitting by the window readingThe Teatime Tattler, a cup by his elbow. He stood and smiled.
She stopped just inside the door, suddenly nervous. “I am sorry I kept you waiting, Snowy.”
“I was impossibly early,” he said, “which was rude of me. It is I who owe you an apology, for it is still not the time we agreed.”
“I see you have been reading the article about us,” she said, nodding at the paper.
“Rereading,” he corrected. “My Aunt Poppy is an avid follower and sent it up to me with my morning coffee.”
Margaret nibbled at her upper lip, wondering how to phrase the question that had been teasing at her mind all morning. Had Snowy meant the words he had said to Martin? Would he really like to have her as his wife?
His eyes riveted on her mouth, then he blinked and gave his head a swift shake. “Would you like to sit down and discuss our choices?” he asked.
She nodded and led the way to the table in the window, taking the seat beside his.
“May I summarize the situation?” Snowy asked.
She nodded again, and he continued. “Last night I spoke in the heat of the moment, meaning only to express my great regard for you. However,The Teatime Tattlerreport has reinterpreted that as an actual proposal rather than as an expression of my wishes. For, make no mistake, I meant every word. I had not intended to declare myself while my identity and peerage are still in question. I certainly did not mean to embarrass you by stating my intentions in public. I hope you will forgive me.”
Tears pricked Margaret’s eyes, but she blinked them away. “Of course,” she said. “But where do we go from here?”
“A betrothal? I had intended a courtship, but…” He waved at the paper. “I want nothing to touch your reputation, Margaret.”
The hollow feeling inside had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with what she had to say next. She had been so sure his compliments had no substance behind them she had not planned for a real marriage offer. She couldn’t accept. Not without telling him the truth, and then he would withdraw his proposal and she would be left to weather the storm.
At least this time, she would be without immediate family to disparage and badger her at every turn.
