Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,57
floor.
“That was for insulting your mistress.” Dexter pulled off his necktie and bound the unconscious man’s wrists, then secured him to a chair to be on the safe side.
He held his hand out to Margaret. “Come here, my dear.”
She took his hand, and he led her outside.
“Did he touch you?” he asked.
“N-no.” She touched her cheek and winced.
“We’ll need to get Mrs. Wells to see to that,” he said.
“Are you angry?” she asked, her voice wavering.
“Of course I’m bloody angry!” he said. “I should have known what was going on.”
“You think I encouraged him?”
“Dear God, no, Margaret,” he said. “I only mean that he saw you as easy prey. It’s not your fault that you were naïve enough to mistake his advances for friendship.” He sighed. “It’s my fault. It was too much to expect you to become a lady overnight.”
She turned away and approached her mount.
“No, Meggie,” he said softly. “You’ll ride with me. I’ll send Billings to deal with the horses and…” he hesitated, “…that young man. Rest assured, you’ll never have to see him again.”
He pulled her into his arms, and her body shook. Brave little soul, she was fighting back the tears.
“My sweet, Meggie,” he said. “I’ll do anything I can to make up for what’s happened. I should never have sent you here alone and friendless. But you’re not alone now.”
He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her onto his horse. Then he mounted behind her and set off for the house.
***
“Oh, mistress—your face!”
“That’s enough of that, Sarah,” Mrs. Wells scolded. “Use the poultice.”
Meggie winced as Sarah placed a cloth on her face, which carried the aroma of lavender.
“Shh…” the housekeeper soothed. “Stay still. It’ll help with the bruising.”
The kitchen door opened, and Milly rushed in. “What’s happened? I heard the master attacked Ralph.”
“Hush your nonsense, girl!” Mrs. Wells admonished. “Look at what your precious Ralph did to the mistress?”
Milly’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone,” she said. “He wouldn’t…”
“Foolish child!” the housekeeper said. “If you’ve nothing useful to say, then return to your duties. Or do you want to be dismissed also?”
“Ralph…” Milly whispered.
“I always thought he was a bad lot,” Mrs. Wells said, “but you were so sweet on him, you wouldn’t listen to reason. He fooled you, just like he fooled the mistress.”
She turned to Meggie. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, you weren’t to blame, but he always did think too highly of himself. If you want my opinion, he deserves everything the master intends to do to him.”
“What does my husband intend to do?” Meggie asked.
Shortly after returning to the house, he’d carried her to the kitchen, roaring for Mrs. Wells to tend to her. The feel of his strong arms around her gave her a sense of safety and security she’d never experienced before—almost as if he genuinely cared for her. He’d set her down on a chair, placed a delicate hand on her shoulder, and told her to remain there while he dealt with everything.
“You’re in no fit state to worry about what the master intends to do,” the housekeeper said. “I always said he’d asked too much of you to take over the mantle of the lady of the manor when you have so little experience.”
Why did they—her husband, Mrs. Wells, the rest of the staff—all think her so incapable?
What better chance did she have than now, to prove that she could weather her position?
“Where’s my husband, Mrs. Wells?” she asked.
“He’s in the study, but he won’t want to be disturbed.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” Meggie rose to her feet and made her way to her husband’s study. Raised voices came from within, and she pushed open the door.
Two men stood facing the large mahogany desk—Ralph, and Mr. Billings, the steward. Ralph had a pathetic air about him. Shoulders slumped, face swollen where Dexter had struck him, he looked every part the defeated bully.
Dexter’s eyes widened as she entered. “I told you not to leave the kitchen.”
“I wish to voice an opinion in respect of the groom’s punishment,” she said.
His mouth twitched into a smile, and she crossed the floor to join him at his desk. He rose from his chair and motioned to her to sit.
“Very well,” he said. “Give us your counsel.”
“You’re not going to let this woman dictate my fate?” Ralph sneered.
“I’ll thank you to show my wife more respect,” Dexter growled.
Meggie placed a hand on her husband’s arm.
“Let us not distress ourselves any more over the