“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 groom’s behavior,” she said. She looked up and met Ralph’s gaze, conquering her fear. At length, he colored and looked away.
“I would have you leave this establishment, never to return,” she said. “Mr. Billings can pay your wages up to today. I would not have you accuse us of being uncharitable.”
“And where would I go, mistress?”
“I care not,” she said, “as long as poor Milly nor I set eyes on you again.”
Ralph’s eyes flared with a final burst of defiance.
“Your wife has you fooled, sir,” he said to Dexter. “She’s been mooning over me ever since she arrived and couldn’t wait to spread her legs.”
“That’s enough!” Dexter snapped.
“Mark my words, she’ll betray you,” Ralph continued. “I can see it in your eyes—you don’t trust her.”
Dexter addressed the steward. “Billings, get him out of my sight. Do not pay him—he doesn’t deserve my wife’s generosity. Instruct the gamekeeper to shoot him if he’s seen within ten miles of this estate. Then send Mrs. Wells here when you’re done.”
“Very good.” The steward grabbed Ralph by the arm and marched him out of the room.
Dexter reached for the decanter on his desk and half-filled a beveled glass with brown liquid. Then he pushed it into Meggie’s hand.
“Drink this.”
She tipped the glass up and swallowed a mouthful of liquid. Fire burst on her tongue, and she spluttered as the liquid burned in her throat.
Her arm shook as she set the glass down, and he covered her hand with his.
“May I ask you a question, Margaret?”
“I-I didn’t offer myself to him.”
He shook his head and smiled. “I know,” he said. “No, I want to ask you to do something for me.”
Her heart fluttered. It had taken all her courage to face the man who’d tried to violate her. What else must she do?
He squeezed her hand. “Would you oblige me by moving your belongings to the lady’s chamber?”
“For propriety?”
“No, my dear,” he said. “For me.”
He patted her hand. “I confess I took the liberty of asking Mrs. Wells to arrange it—but don’t take that as an assumption on my part. The decision is yours.”
He lifted his brows, and she saw the plea in his eyes.
“You’d accept if I refused?” she asked.
“I would.” He lifted the glass to her lips. “Finish it,” he said. “The brandy will settle your nerves. Then you must rest. You’ve had an ordeal.”
“What about our guests?”