was for Poppy. Turning from the visitor, she took the little girl’s face in her hands and said gently, “Look at me, love. Give me your eyes.”
After a moment’s pause, Poppy raised her eyes to Margaret. It hurt Margaret to see the pain and the dumbfounded expression reflected back at her. Whatever Lord Waddington might have meant to go over the child’s head, the result had been that Poppy understood every word of the insults thrown her way. Margaret held her gaze and spoke firmly and gently.
“You are very precious to me, and I always like you to be near me. I want you to run along now and fetch me a few of those fresh biscuits the cook was making earlier. Bring them right back for I don’t want to miss any time with you.”
A single tear welled in Poppy’s eyes. “I can go up,” she said, meaning her bedroom.
Margaret shook her head. “No,” she said with a bright smile. “Of course not. I will likely be up in my rooms myself, but you must bring them to me without delay so we might share them together.”
When the child had gone, she stood up curtly. “I’m sorry, Lord Waddington,” she said crisply. “But I’m afraid I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” she said. “I must retire at present. I have a headache.”
She moved for the door, and her guest rose, holding out his hands with a helpless shrug. “Lady Margaret,” he said with a little laugh. “You cannot be serious. A moment ago you were showing no signs of illness, and now you are running away without any chance at further conversation? I did not come here to call on you today merely to exchange words with the gamekeeper’s son and banter with a child.”
Margaret resisted the urge to roll her eyes at what he had termed banter. She knew that if she stayed any longer around this man she would be certain to attack him with her true opinion, and she knew it was a concession a lady could not afford to make. The real reason she had sent Poppy away was because, in her heart, Margaret wanted to give this man a piece of her mind, and she didn’t want the child to hear it or be exposed to the other man’s vitriol.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said curtly.
She turned, and nearly collided with her father, who had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in the doorway. Lord Somerville smiled broadly at them both and gave the polite bow of his head to Lord Waddington.
“What a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed, coming into the room.
“Margaret, don’t run off. I have no desire to break up your companionship with Lord Waddington. I only heard that we had visitors and made certain to stop by on my way to my study.”
“How was your business in town, Father?” Margaret asked quietly.
“Quite all right. Shorter than intended. Come now, sit back down.” Lord Somerville walked to the side table and poured himself a tumbler full of amber liquid, offering one to Lord Waddington as well.
“I’m afraid Lady Margaret complains of a headache,” Lord Waddington said, answering for her. “She was just taking her leave. Unless, of course, you are feeling better my lady?”
Margaret pursed her lips together, fighting to keep her tone even. “I’m afraid I am still quite unwell.”
“The child came in earlier,” Lord Waddington went on blithely, speaking to Lord Somerville as though the two were old university chaps catching up over a pint in the pub. “A drab little creature, but you must both be commended for your charity in taking her in. I’m afraid she gave your daughter a bit of a headache, and now we must suffer the loss of a lovely lady’s companionship.”
Margaret felt a slew of retorts tumble through her head, but she said nothing. She only forced a smile in her father’s direction and gave a slow and careful curtsy. “As I said,” she said quietly. “I am feeling far too unwell to continue in conversation at present.”
“When shall I come again, Lady Margaret?” Lord Waddington pressed.
She looked from him to her father, unsettled by the way they looked at each other and chatted, as though they were already family. She couldn’t help thinking of the way her father had responded when she had only shared a dance with Nigel the night before, threatening and scolding her about proper friendships. It was disheartening to see the contrast here, where Lord Reginald Waddington and