quizzically on Nigel, and then back to Margaret’s face again. He bowed deeply and walked into the room.
“I hope that my visit is not unexpected,” he said.
Margaret blushed, nervous. “Of course you are welcome.” She paused a moment, and then turned to Nigel. “Captain Bateson, this is Lord Waddington. He is from Cornwall as well.”
Nigel bowed carefully, his expression reserved and careful.
Reginald smiled quite properly. “Bateson…how do I know that name?”
Nigel’s jaw worked for a moment and then he said quietly. “My father is well-known in the area. He was gamekeeper to Lord Somerville.”
Reginald’s eyes widened, and a smile of amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Oh yes, you were on the Somerville estate. Tell me, how did you become fortunate enough to earn an invitation to their house here in London? Surely there is no need for the son of a gamekeeper here, where there are neither woods nor fields upon which to hunt.”
Margaret winced at his even, patronising tone. “Captain Bateson has long been a friend of the family,” she said a little too brightly, hoping to mask the tension with an easy manner. “I knew him when we were both children.”
“Much changes since childhood, I’m sure,” Reginald said with a mocking smile. “Tell me, Captain, was it the service that helped you rise above my station?”
Nigel’s eyes hardened ever so slightly, but he betrayed little else. “My station is what it is,” he said coldly. “I cannot rise above where I am. It is metaphysically impossible.”
“Hear this?” Reginald laughed, turning to Margaret as though sharing some secret with her. “The gamekeeper’s son has learned a bit of vocabulary.” He turned back to Nigel. “A word of advice for you, my lad – it is unwise to come across as too educated when you haven’t the pedigree to carry it off. The young ladies of your place in society can well forgive a handsome man who has grown in status by his proximity to the service. But they cannot forgive one who has elevated himself with higher learning. It is an insult to their own ignorance.”
Margaret frowned. “I am not certain what you mean, Lord Waddington,” she said. “The young ladies I know of are more than happy to engage in proper conversation with a man who has some knowledge of the great books in his repertoire.”
“I was not speaking of the young ladies you would know, my lady,” Reginald corrected her in a telling tone.
Nigel turned to Margaret himself, his gaze cautious. “My lady, although you may be gracious enough to pretend an ignorance of Lord Waddington’s views on this matter, I am afraid that I have the privilege of understanding him perfectly. It seems that I have overstayed my welcome at present.” He bowed crisply at the waist, a strand of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Lady Margaret.”
He stepped out into the hall and she heard his footsteps moving quickly away. She gave a quick curtsy to Lord Waddington.
“I am afraid I must see him out,” she said, hoping that he would hear the tone of reproof she allowed into her voice. “I hope you find it possible to wait until my return.”
She was gone before Reginald could interrupt her with any sighs of disapproval. She caught her childhood friend just as he was about to step back out into the street outside.
“Captain Bateson,” she said quickly.
He paused, his back to her, and then turned around. His eyes looked hurt, but he pushed the expression away and smiled slightly.
“My lady.”
“You will come again, will you not?” she heard the earnest pleading in her voice.
He paused for a long moment, his eyes searching her face as though determining whether or not she was being honest, and then, at last, seemed to accept her words and sentiment at face value. “I will, of course, come if you wish me, my lady.”
She thought about asking him to say her name as he used to say it when they were children – Maggie – but then realised how foolish such a request would sound. Instead, she took a proper step back and inclined her head gently in his direction. “I do wish it.”
He tipped his hat and left her alone in the foyer. She turned and made her way back to the parlour, thinking of what she would say to Lord Reginald Waddington. The wild Maggie who used to ride along the cliffs would have told him off then and there in her house. But Lady Margaret