“I should bloody well hope not.”
“I-I was looking for something,” she said.
He folded his arms and waited. The silence stretched like an empty vat waiting to be filled.
“I needed my pin money,” she blurted. At least that was the truth.
“What for?”
“Must I give a reason?”
“Of course not, but it doesn’t explain why you have my private correspondence in your hand.”
“I…” she broke off, unwilling to continue.
“Well?”
She dropped the letter in the drawer. “I was merely curious,” she said.
“You were a little more than that.” Disapproval lined his features, and she found herself irritated. He was accusing her of snooping, yet he had a secret of his own.
“Who’s Mrs. Farrell?”
He narrowed his eyes. “So, you have read it.”
“Only the direction,” she said. “Why do you send her money?”
“If you suspect me of something, Margaret, pay me the courtesy of saying what it is.”
Unwilling to voice her fears, she shook her head. “I-I don’t know…”
“But I do,” he said, anger flashing in his eyes. “What would you say if I told you that despite pledging my honesty to you, I was sending money to a mistress behind your back? Or, perhaps, that I had sired a by-blow and was funding the brat’s education? Is that what you wish to hear?”
“No, of course not!” she cried.
“Good God, woman, what the devil do you take me for?”
He closed his eyes and wiped his brow. When he opened them again, the anger had been replaced by disappointment.
“Mrs. Farrow is my sister, Daisy,” he said. “She doesn’t have much, and I send her money from time to time. You’re at liberty to read the letter if you require proof.”
She picked up the letter, and he set his mouth into a hard line, then she set it down again. “No,” she said. “I don’t want proof.”
“Then what do you want, Margaret?”
“Nothing. I-I’m sorry, Dexter, I shouldn’t have assumed…”
“No,” he said. “You shouldn’t.”
“Do you want to visit her?”
He sighed and shook his head. “She wouldn’t welcome it.”
“Not even now, you’re married?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“But if you write…”
“I send her money,” he said. “That’s all. Daisy belongs to a different world, and long ago made it abundantly clear that she had no wish to reside in mine. I see no reason to burden her with tales of my life when I was responsible for ruining hers.”
Meggie’s heart ached to see the pain in his eyes. She approached him and took his hand. He stiffened, then relented, and she curled her fingers round his.
“You care for her,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Margaret, I’m tired,” he said. “I’ve had a busy day and have been looking forward to a quiet evening. Can’t this wait?”
“No,” she said, “it can’t. I should have trusted you. You’ve been nothing but honest with me. I’m sorry, Dexter.”
He drew her close. “I see I must work harder to gain your trust, my love,” he said. “But whatever regrets I have over Daisy, she and I cannot return to how we were before.”
“Yes, you can,” she said. “I believe that if you had the opportunity to see your sister again, you would take it. Can we not visit her?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” she asked. “We could deliver your letter in person.”
“And if she refuses to admit us?”
“Then at least we’ll have tried,” she said. “Won’t you at least consider it, Dexter? As a favor to me?” She swallowed her guilt and continued. “What better way to gain my trust than to grant me this?”
He cursed under his breath, then caught her chin and tipped her head up until their eyes met.
“Is this what you really want?”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “Then your wish is my command,” he said. “I’ll do anything you ask in order to prove I’m worthy of your trust.”
He held her against his chest, and she relaxed into his embrace, feeling the steady thud of his heart against her body—a heart that beat for her.
Perhaps, by reuniting him with his sister, she might be able to lessen the guilt of her deception.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As the carriage drew to a halt outside the squat, stone building, Dexter’s wife gave him a smile of encouragement.
This was a bloody mistake. Daisy would turn him away at the door. Meggie would suffer the insult, and he’d be reminded of what a bastard he’d been to his sister when she needed him.
With luck, Daisy was out. But then, his tenacious little Meggie would most likely insist they remain at the Croxleigh Arms until she returned.
He didn’t want to stay another night in that godforsaken inn. The walls were too thin, and though he cared little whether the landlord and the other guests heard his wife screaming in ecstasy as he pleasured her, he didn’t want to subject Meggie to their stares.
Christ—was this what love did to a man?
Meggie had seemed out of sorts for the past few days—ever since he’d caught her in his study. He’d seen her staring out of the window, looking as if she were about to burst into tears—and for the past few meals, she’d not cleared her plate. Perhaps she still felt guilty over being caught with Daisy’s letter. Given her upbringing and treatment at Alderley’s hands, it was no wonder she suffered guilt at almost everything she did.
As for her poor appetite—he smiled to himself over the likely cause. Harold Pelham had told him that Anne had stopped eating the moment she quickened with their first child and that her moods were as interchangeable as a weathercock in a whirlwind.
He took Meggie’s hand and led her to the front door of the cottage. The building next to it bore a sign written in clear, neat letters.
Jon Farrow
Bread and Biscuit Baker
Meggie squeezed his hand in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.”
He knocked on the door, praying it would be met with silence, but he heard footsteps from within.
The door swung open to reveal a tall woman with black hair and brilliant blue eyes. Small creases lined her face, which was grayer than when he’d last seen her. But she was as beautiful as he remembered—a beauty to torture men’s hearts, he’d said. But in the end, it was Daisy who’d been destroyed.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.
He took off his top hat. “Hello, Daisy.”
Her eyes widened.
“I thought I said I never wanted to see you again!”
“Never is a long time.”
“Not long enough for me.” She glanced at Meggie. “So, you’re married?”
“Yes,” he said. “May I introduce you to…”
“Spare me,” Daisy interrupted. “I’ve no wish to be looked down on by you or some fancy heiress.”