Page 21 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
She hadn’t ever questioned the contents of the letter before. As far as she was concerned, Robert was dead, and that was all that mattered. But the events of the past few weeks had seeded doubt in her mind. Something wasn’t right.
Setting the letter aside, she unfolded the second piece of paper, fighting back tears at the half-finished sketch of Robert. She had made quite a good likeness of him and had asked Robert to sit longer so she could complete the piece. He had promised to do so, but with his sudden call to duty, they had run out of time.
Now she would never get the chance to finish the sketch. Maggie stared long at it.
I will find the truth. I promise.
She packed up the papers and the diary, dropping them onto the floor next to the bed. In the morning, she would show them both to Piers and seek his opinion.
What if this is all a lie? And I have wasted years of my life.
Blowing out the bedside candle, Maggie lay in the dark. There was a hum of noise from the tavern downstairs—locals finishing up the last of their drinks and sharing raucous laughter, no doubt from some bawdy jest.
Her own thoughts drifted as she lingered on the edge of sleep. Comfort came in the knowledge that Piers slept in the room next door. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she didn’t feel alone.
Chapter Fourteen
They left late the following morning, their destination, Towcester, some twenty-eight miles away. Piers’s intention was to stay overnight at the Saracen’s Head, a well-known coaching inn, which he had visited many times on his trips up and down from London.
He was in no particular hurry to make it to Coventry. The sooner he arrived in the city, the quicker he would have to return to town. To his way of thinking the slower they travelled, the better. He was more than happy to be out of the capital and away from Major Hall.
If nothing, it would give him time to think. To ponder his own predicament. And to consider what the future might hold for him, and the Denford family name.
Maggie didn’t complain about their slow progress, which he found rather odd. If he had been in her position, he would have been eager to complete the trip. Instead, she sat quietly in the Denford travel coach, reading her book, and occasionally lifting her head to glance out the window at the passing countryside.
Piers tried in vain to keep his own nose in a book, but he found it difficult to concentrate. More than once, he caught himself staring at her. At her beautiful, sable locks, which he was pleased to see Maggie was now wearing in a simple ponytail, finished off with a lilac ribbon. Whispers of hair kissed either side of her cheeks. Without a maid at her disposal, she was plainly just brushing her hair out each day and making do. He liked her “making do;” it framed her face perfectly.
The only thing he didn’t appreciate was her manner of dress. Those dowdy grays and pale purples did nothing for her complexion.
I would love to see you in bright colors. You would look stunning in red.
Anything but the attire which constantly reminded him that she had almost once belonged to someone else.Almost.
“Piers?”
He blinked back to the now and their gazes met. She had caught him staring at her.
Blast.
A flush of heat raced to his cheeks. “Ah. Yes?”
“Was there something you wished to say? You were looking at me and your lips were moving, but nothing came out of your mouth.”
He almost turned away, then a sudden thought struck him. Here was a perfect opportunity to engage Maggie in conversation. To find out a little more about her. Only a fool would let such a chance go to waste. “I was going to ask you about Robert. How did you meet?”
She shifted in her seat, and he silently cursed himself for having raised the subject. Now they were going to share the rest of the journey to Towcester in awkward silence.
But Maggie simply nodded. The lack of emotion in her eyes, tore at Piers. Joy had been stripped from this young woman’s life.
“He was at the theater. Well, actually, standing outside in the street. Our eyes met, and he boldly stepped up and introduced himself. My parents were talking to some other friends at the time and so they didn’t notice. As you know, it is not the usual way that a gentleman approaches a lady, but he looked so smart in his uniform that I let the oversight go.”
She bent and began to rummage around in her oversized travel bag, then pulled out a small notebook. “That reminds me. I would like you to read the letter I received when Robert died. Since you are in the army and likely have experience with these matters, it might be worthwhile for you to take a look.”
Maggie opened the book and handed Piers a folded-up piece of paper. He opened it and quickly read the brief missive.
A horrid feeling sunk to the pit of his stomach. This was not an official letter from the commander of the regiment. The lack of letterhead was a tell-tale sign. As was the fact that it was signed from the Commander-in-Chief of the First Foot. The regiment had been granted a new title under royal proclamation as soon as the battle was over. The letter should have been from the Commander-in-Chief of the Grenadier Guards.
From what he could guess, someone had written this note with some idea of what was usually included in such correspondence, but they had omitted many of the obvious details such as Robert Taylor’s muster roll number and the correct regiment. Important details that an army officer tasked with writing such a significant letter would normally take pains to include.
