Page 59 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
“Piers, I know it will be difficult, but you need to broach the subject of the Prince of Orange with her. The last thing you want is for the woman whom you have in mind to marry finding out about those rumors from other parties.”
After downing the last of his brandy, Piers kept his gaze focused on the empty glass. He might have a plan to deal with the army, but when it came to openly discussing what he had seen while serving under the prince, he was at a loss.
His father leaned forward and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. “All you are doing by not challenging those rumors is giving your enemies more power. Your loyalty to the prince has not been rewarded with his support. He has the King of the Netherlands at his back; it’s time to put you and your own family first.”
It wasn’t anything Piers hadn’t already thought himself. “You are right. And that is what I am trying to do.”
But courting Maggie, convincing her to become his wife, while at the same time having to reveal the dark rumors about him and the prince having once been lovers was not going to be easy. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t an ounce of truth to any of it. Piers had learned that while truth was the first casualty of war, lies never seemed to die.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maggie woke late the following morning feeling rested and somewhat recovered. The cold had been a minor one, successfully seen off by copious bowls of chicken soup and bed rest. After dressing warmly, and with a hearty breakfast in her belly, she was keen to explore Denford Park.
Stepping out from the front entrance of the main manor house, she was greeted with a vision of bucolic delight. Green fields stretched for miles in all directions. Sheep and cows grazed in the meadows. All seemed well in God’s good country.
“Ah, she is risen!”
Maggie turned at the cheery greeting, smiling as Piers approached. Her gaze settled on his attire; he wasn’t wearing his officer’s uniform. It was first time she had seen him in civilian clothes. His traditional garb of black jacket, greatcoat, and tan trousers had her looking twice and blinking hard.
And I thought you were handsome in the red coat. You look even more dashing dressed in civilian attire.
“How are you this morning?” he asked.
“Better, thank you. I think my cold might just have been a nasty chill. Though the soup your cook made for me was so delicious that I must confess, I did consider feigning a cough just to get some more.”
She didn’t want to mention that she had missed him being part of her convalescence. The soup had been most welcome, but it wasn’t the same as when Piers had sat on her bed in the inn and spoon-fed her.
He laughed. “Maggie, you may have soup for every meal if you wish. You only have to ask.”
A moment of awkward silence descended upon them. They hadn’t seen much of each other since their arrival the day before. She suspected Piers was as unsure of how they should behave toward one another as was she. This was his home. His parents were here.
And Lady Denford knows Mama. News of whatever happens at Denford Park is surely going to get back to London.
Changing the subject, she pointed toward the estate grounds. “You have a lovely home, Piers. Everywhere is so lush and green. I can understand why you were keen to bring me here.”
“Thank you. And yes, it is a beautiful place. London might be exciting and full of life, but nothing is better than being here. If I could leave the army, I would be back home as much as possible.”
There was a great deal left unsaid in that last remark. Maggie couldn’t quite understand why Piers was still an army officer. A man such as himself, a future viscount, shouldn’t have any problems in resigning his commission. She hadn’t ever heard of a captain being forced to stay in the military. His unfinished business couldn’t be all that important, could it?
There is something he is afraid to tell me.
This time at Denford Park might well provide her with the opportunity to delve deeper into Piers’s problems. To get to the bottom of them.
“Would you care for a stroll around the gardens? Only if you feel up to it, of course,” he offered.
She had her cloak and gloves on, rugged up against the chill of a late November morning. The thought of stretching her legs and getting some fresh air was most appealing.
“I would love that. Your mother mentioned that she is a keen gardener. Though I can’t say the same for myself.”
“Really? The gardens at Fulham Palace are legendary. I assumed you would have a green thumb.”
Maggie slowly shook her head. “The gardens at home are magnificent, but we have a whole retinue of gardeners to keep them looking as wonderful as they do. My sister, Claire, foolishly bought me a small potted plant for my birthday one year, hoping that I would take care of it. I’m ashamed to say it didn’t survive very long.”
“I shall make a note not to buy you plants as gifts. Speaking of birthdays, when is yours?”
Heat raced to Maggie’s cheeks. She hadn’t been hinting about presents—just making conversation. “December the second,” she replied.
“That is soon.”
