if he should—”
“He won’t have the chance. Jane’s already agreed to convey me back to Beasley in her carriage. Her aunt is coming, too, and they’ve both promised to stay a week, at least. It’s all been arranged.”
“Rather hastily arranged, it seems.”
“Fred didn’t give me much choice in the timing.”
“You aren’t obliged to dance to his tune. He’s the guardian of your fortune, not your person. He can’t prevent you from staying in London if you wish to.” St. Clare took her hand, cradling it gently in his. “Isn’t it better to remain here? Close at hand, where I can see you? Touch you?”
Her pulse briefly lost its rhythm. “I want to be with you,” she said softly. “More than anything.”
“Then stay. Please.” His voice was a husky caress. “Don’t make me call in my last forfeit.”
It would have been easy to say yes. To give in to the longing she felt for him. But she refused to lose sight of reality. “I can’t,” she said. “Not even for a forfeit. I won’t risk your cousin and his mother poking about the estate. It wouldn’t take much digging for them to learn about you and Jenny.”
His head bent closer to hers. “And what if I told you that the title didn’t matter? That none of this mattered except you?”
Her breath stopped for a moment. She stared up at him. “You don’t mean that.”
“Have you already forgotten what I told you at Grillon’s?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” He’d said he was never letting her go again. And she’d believed him. She still believed him. “But this separation isn’t permanent. It will only be for a little while. Just so that we can get a handle on the gossip. With Fred and I out of London—”
“Maggie—”
“I need to go back,” she said. “I need fresh air and wide-open spaces. It’s the only way I’ll ever get well.”
He stilled. “Did the doctor tell you this?”
“Yes. He didn’t promise I would recover completely, but he gave me reason to hope. Once I’m home—”
“Home,” St. Clare repeated. “To Beasley Park.”
“It is my home. And at the moment, it’s where I can do the most good for you. You can’t go there yourself. It would be too dangerous. But I can go in your place. I can protect you from whatever it is Fred and your relations are up to.”
Something fractured in his expression. An emotion lurking just behind his eyes, briefly breaking to the surface. It was pain. Regret. Raw feelings from youth that had long been under ruthless control. “You haven’t changed,” he said gruffly. “Even as a girl, you were as brave as you were small. Always trying to save me.”
“A false bravery. I had my father at my back. He was the one with the power, not I.” She smiled slightly. “I suppose I must thank him. He raised me to be as bold as any son. And a little boldness never goes amiss.”
“‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’”
Her brows lifted. “Is that Shakespeare?” she asked, momentarily diverted.
“My grandfather made me read an appalling amount of the stuff. He considers himself something of a scholar.” Drawing her hand to his lips, he brushed a light kiss to her knuckles. It was an old-fashioned gesture—and one that made her heart turn over. “How long do you plan on staying in Somerset?”
“I don’t know. A fortnight, possibly. Perhaps longer. It depends on what happens there.”
St. Clare didn’t look at all pleased by her answer. “And I must wait here, must I? Wait and hope that you’ll come back to me.”
“Wait and hope. Just as I did for so many years after you left Beasley.”
He gave her a piercing look. “The difference being, my dear, I’m not half so patient as you are.”
Beasley Park
Somerset, England
Summer 1817
Maggie tugged on her gloves as she descended the grand, curving staircase at Beasley Park.
Bessie followed after her at a trot, down the stairs, through the expansive marble-tiled hall, and out the tall, carved oak front doors into the warm, early afternoon sunlight. “Slow down, Miss Margaret!”
Maggie stopped on the stone front steps, inhaling a breath of fresh country air. Her lungs expanded to their utmost. It still wasn’t very much. She’d only been back at Beasley for a week. Hardly enough time to effect a full recovery. She nevertheless felt better in the country. Despite the havoc created by her guests—by Fred and the Beresfords, and even by Jane and her aunt Harriet on occasion—Maggie was glad to be