by Jenna Brandt
Randall nodded and said, “I will stay with them as well.”
The assembled servants left one by one, whispering about the boy’s first nightmare and what might have caused it. She also wondered what had brought this on. It was probably just all the craziness that had been going on lately. First Francisca and, then more recently, Motty left the family’s service. He had a new uncle, and soon he would have a new father. It was a lot of change for anyone, especially a little boy who did not know how to process it all. Perhaps she needed to take him away for a while. Well, they would all be leaving soon enough after the wedding for an extended trip to Portugal.
“Is Albert getting senile in his old age?”
Margaret looked at Randall in puzzlement. “Whatever motivated that question?”
“I just find it odd that he would rush into the room with a loaded pistol when all Henry did was cry out in his sleep.”
How could she answer that? To her, it was perfectly normal for Albert to react the way he did, considering he worried that Catherine or the duke would one day find them. He always kept a pistol close at hand, just in case they ever needed it.
Choosing to avoid answering the question directly, she said, “You know he is extremely protective over Henry.”
Henry was still sobbing and Margaret sat down in the rocking chair to calm him down. “Oh, darling, it is all right. Mummy is here, and I will stay with you. I will not let anything or anyone hurt you.”
She held him for several minutes as he calmed down. She went to put him back in his crib, but he started to cry again.
“All right, I suppose you can sleep with me tonight.”
He curled against her and rested his head in the crook of her neck. She patted and rubbed his back lightly as she headed for the door.
She stopped and turned to face Randall. “Are you coming?”
“I will be there in a minute,” he said as he walked over to the window.
“Good night, then. I will see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Maggie.”
Chapter 24
Deciding to go riding one last time before her wedding, Margaret invited Randall to travel to the stables with her. He agreed, admitting he was thinking of purchasing a horse for Jackie as his own wedding gift. Not one for riding, as Jackie was not one for pleasure riding, but one they could enter as a contestant in racing. Jackie loved anything she could bet on, so Randall thought it would be the perfect gift.
When Charlie saw Margaret, she neighed and threw her mane back in happiness. Margaret walked up to her horse and patted her coat, talking to her affectionately.
“I am so glad that you are here. I have missed you so much. I promise that I will never leave you again. I do not care what it takes to keep you with me.”
She had just mounted Charlie when Randall walked up, asking, “Where are you going riding?”
“I think I will take the paths to the east this time. I have already explored the other areas.”
Randall approached Charlie and rubbed her down for a few moments, then looked up and asked his sister, “Last time we were here, I forgot to ask you, why did you not send for your horse?”
Avoiding the whole truth, Margaret answered evasively, “Because, when our father died, he passed away with a mountain of debt. The estate was taken over, and I lost everything. That is why I came here.”
“Yes, I understand that, but what happened to everything your husband owned?”
Trying to sidestep the question, she said, “It is such a lovely day for a ride. Would you like to join me?”
“Yes, in a moment, but you still have not answered my question. Between what happened last night with Henry and all the times you have evaded answering my questions, I feel like you have been keeping things from me. I think it is time you tell me the truth about what happened back in England.”
She wrinkled her face in thought. What would be the easiest thing to do? She decided to give him a piece of the truth. “After Henry’s death, his sister took control of the Rolantry family holdings.”
“I do not understand. Why would that happen if my nephew is the Rolantry heir?”
She pulled in on the reins to keep Charlie from shuffling her feet. Her horse could feel the tension in her.
“I would rather not talk about it.”
“But I only ask because what happened seems to upset you and—”
Margaret did not let him finish his thoughts, but interrupted him instead. “What happened back then does not matter. And I have changed my mind. I think I would much rather ride by myself. I will be back in an hour or so.”
With that, she turned Charlie around and galloped off, leaving Randall to watch their departing figures.
She hated treating Randall like that. She hated that she could not think about her husband without sadness flooding her. But most of all, she hated the power that Witherton and Catherine still had over her.
Catherine she feared because she wanted to take her son away, and it was a mother’s instinct to hate any danger to her child. But she was afraid of Witherton for a completely different reason. She feared him because, every time she thought of him, she thought about what he tried to take from her, what she secretly feared he still wanted to take from her. Every day, she fought back the fear that one day he would find her and finish what he started that night in his study.
Looking for a place to rest, Margaret noticed an area in front of her, which looked to be a lake. She slowed Charlie down as they approached it, finally bringing her horse to a stop. Dismounting, she walked over to the lake. She stood and stared at it for several minutes. It looked a great deal like the lake that she and Henry had spent time in right before his death. She had been so happy back then.
Margaret sat down and slowly made trails in the water’s edge with her fingers as she permitted herself for the first time in a long time to think about everything going on in her life.
Yes, she was happy, but it was happiness she felt for others, not for herself. She felt merely contentment for herself, and mild contentment at that. In large part, it was due to her relationship, or rather lack of relationship with Michel. She knew she did not love Michel the way she should, but she felt she had no other choice but to marry him. If she did not follow through and commit to him, it would not only cost her own future, but her entire family’s as well.
Standing up, Margaret walked over to a nearby tree. She leaned against it and sighed. How did she get here? Everything was so complicated now. Her life had been so simple when she was younger, and now nothing made sense. Nothing had in a long time.
She was staring at the water when she heard a noise from behind. Thinking it was Randall, she said, “Rand, even though I asked to be alone, I am glad that you came after me. I have some things I need to tell you.”
Hearing another noise from the same direction, Margaret turned her head, expecting to see her brother. But instead, what she saw made her lose her breath and sway in terror. Without thinking, she turned and started to run, not caring where she went except away from him.
But with only a few quick strides, Witherton caught up with her and grabbed her arm, saying in his cold, cruel voice, “I told you that you would never escape me, Margaret.”
She tried to break free from his grasp, but his grip only became firmer. He towered over her as he snapped, “You are not getting away, so you might as well stop fighting me.”
Realizing he was right, at least for the moment, she did as he said and stopped squirming. With shock in her voice, Margaret asked, “How did you find me?”
He looked down at her with his cruel, blue eyes. “I have to admit, you have been clever, little one. Tracking you down has proved most difficult. But as you know, I never give up on something I want. I did not care how many men or how much money it took. You were never going to escape me.” He laughed triumphantly. “You really should be more careful about whom you trust. One of my detectives overheard an admirer of yours, some Frenchman I believe
, talking about you in an English pub.” He smiled maliciously. “Once I knew you were in France, it was simple enough to locate you.”
Margaret glared up at him in anger. Then lowered her head, disgusted with the look of conquest he had on his face. He had found her. Pierre had stupidly given her away without knowing it because he was still so obsessed with her that he could not control talking about her.
It was never going to end. She was never going to be able to escape Witherton or what happened back in England.
“What do you want? Why did you come after me?”
He rubbed her cheek with his free hand, and instinctively, she recoiled.
“Come, come now, you do not think that I would do anything to you right here in the open?”
“I would not put it past you.”
“I only came here to make a proposal to you. Actually, you really have no choice but to accept it. Once you hear it, you will understand what I mean by that.” He let her go. “And do not even think about running away. If you try, I promise you will regret it.”
She stood her ground but kept her eyes open for anything that could help her escape. She waited what seemed forever while he continuously watched her like a lion stalking its prey. Then finally, he said, “I am still willing to take you as my wife.”
She gripped her fists at her sides and forced herself not to slap him. “I told you once that I would never become your wife. I still stand by that.” Trying to make him see reason, she stated, “With your wealth and title, you can have anyone you want. Why can you not just let me go?”
“Since our last encounter, I can think of nothing else but having you. I want you. I have always wanted you. And I always get what I want. I told you I would do whatever it takes to have you.”
She raised her chin and said defiantly, “No.”
“No? What do you mean ‘no’?”
“Exactly that. I will never be yours. You can threaten me all you want, but I am engaged to the Marquis de Badour, and I will be marrying him next week.”
Biting each word out in anger, he said with spitefulness, “Perhaps I need to give you more incentive. Let me explain the circumstances to you. Catherine is looking for you—actually, for your son. She could care less about you. Up until now, she has had no luck and cannot seem to locate you, thanks to me. But one flick of my wrist, one letter from me, and she will know where you are and will come and take your son.”
She narrowed her eyes, trying to hide the fear his words invoked. “I said never, and I meant it. I despise you! Just the sight of you repulses me.”
Without her even knowing what happened, he reached out and grabbed her arms, yanking her towards him.
He glared down into her eyes. “You are walking a fine line, my dear. You should watch that tongue of yours. Do I need to teach you a lesson?”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Do not even think about it!”
He laughed sadistically. “You never cease to amuse me, little one. You have no power in this situation.”
She started wiggling, trying to get free, but he would not yield. Margaret was starting to panic. She began to cry out, begging anyone who was around to help her, but she knew they were isolated near the lake.
Angry at her defiance, the duke shouted, “I told you not to fight me. This will be easier for you if you just give in to what I want.”
Terror began to take hold of Margaret. The longer she went without being able to get away from him, the deeper the fear gripped her. Unable to free herself, she began to pray to God. Lord, please help me. I need your help. Please, God, please, help me!
As he momentarily let go of one of her arms to fumble with his belt, Margaret yanked free, stumbling backwards and landing on the ground. She searched for anything that could help her. Her hand came in contact with a jagged rock.
As he charged towards her, she grabbed it and, without thinking, swung up and over.
She heard a loud crack, and then a shocked Witherton stumbled to the side before tumbling to the ground. She laid on the dewy grass for several seconds as she tried to catch her breath. Still shaken from his attack, she forced herself to stand up. She heard him groan from where he lay a few feet away. Margaret knew she had to move quickly as possible before he had a chance to wake up, knowing that once he did, he was going to come after her with a vengeance.
Off balance and disoriented, she rushed towards where she thought she had left her horse. Not finding her, Margaret leaned against a tree and whistled for Charlie. Across the clearing, from behind a bunch of trees, her horse came forward. She mounted without a backwards glance and galloped towards the stables.
She had to get Henry and hide. If Witherton found her, or worse yet, told Catherine where they were like he threatened, she would lose everything. When she reached the stables, she dismounted and hurriedly handed the reins over to the stable boy, who was stunned to see her come back splattered with blood.
Fear guided her as she rushed towards the carriage house, thinking only of fleeing. But before she could escape, Randall found her. He stopped her fleeing figure with his nonchalant voice. “Where are you going in such a hurry? Did you forget about me?”
Margaret stopped without turning around or saying a word.
He must have only noticed her muddled state as he asked, “What happened on your ride? Did your horse throw you?”
She turned her head to face him, mechanically lifting her hand to push back her hair that had fallen free from her bun during the attack. Randall watched her, and his eyes fell to the blood that was on her sleeve. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him.
Startled by the blood that was still wet and all over her yellow and tan riding habit, he asked, “What happened out there, Maggie? Why are you covered in blood?”
She glanced down in dismay. Disconcerted, she whimpered, twisting free from his grasp.
Margaret took a few steps back and gazed with an unfocused look over his shoulder. She stood there for several moments before she started backing up and then quickly turned around, trying to flee. But he grabbed her again before she could get away.
“Whose blood is all over your clothes?”
She pressed her lips together, not wanting to talk about the ordeal she just went through.
He shook her, not thinking what effect it would have on her. “Tell me. If I am going to help you, I need to know what happened.”
She cried out from fear, and he released her as quickly as if he had been holding a flame.
He dropped his balled fists to his sides and then asked again, “What happened while you were riding, Margaret?”
“He found us.” She looked up at her brother and whispered, “Rand, is that you?” And before she knew what was happening, Margaret was falling as her brother caught her collapsing body.
Chapter 25
Opening her eyes, Margaret tried to focus her vision. Everything was blurry and her head was pounding.
“What… what is going on?”
“You fainted earlier today after you came home from riding.”
She looked to the side and found Randall sitting next to her. She reached out to him and said, “I feel horrible, Rand. My whole body hurts and I—”
Oh, my goodness, Witherton! I have to get Henry and get out of here. Nothing else matters. She sat up quickly, too quickly, and grabbed her head.
“Lie back down, Maggie. You need to rest. We can talk about what happened later.” He patted her hand and then stood up. “I will leave you to rest. You are safe now, in your chambers.”
Margaret pretended to fall back asleep and forced herself to wait until he left the room. Once she heard the click of the door, Margaret jumped up.
She was shaking with fear but paused only long enough to adjust to the pain all over her body. She headed for her closet and reached in to drag out a trunk, already packed with the bare minimum she needed. She took out a second one that was packed with Henry’s belongings. She had kept them both ready, part of her kno
wing this time would eventually come.
Running over to her vanity, Margaret grabbed her jewelry box. She would need all of it to sell once their money ran out. Unlocking another drawer, she pulled out a billfold full of money. It was not much, but it would help.
She was putting them with her other things when Randall walked in. She stopped midaction, bent over her trunk.
He looked from her to the trunk and back to her with a scowl on his face. “What is going on?”
“I am packing. What does it look like?”
“I can see that, but why?”
Straightening up, Margaret grimaced in pain. Not looking at him, she replied, “Because I am leaving France, and I am taking Henry with me. I will contact you as soon as it is safe.” She looked at her brother with fear and desperation. “I do not want to leave you, Rand, but I must,” she said, trying to keep the tears from falling.
She bent down and continued packing, thinking there was nothing left to say. Apparently, she was wrong, as Randall walked over to her and pulled her around. “I want to help you, Maggie, but you keep everything from me. Let me in, let me help you. You have to tell me what is going on.”
Margaret started to object out of hand but, after a moment’s hesitation, decided she loved her brother enough to at least tell him why she was leaving France. She wanted him to understand and not think she was deserting him. It was bad enough that both Michel and Jackie were going to think that.
“I suppose you are right.” She walked over and sat at the windowsill. She needed its comfort in order to be able to get through telling him everything.
“I told you I was married, but I have never told you much more than that. Our father betrothed me to Henry when I was only a child.”
“I remember Henry and your betrothal to him.”
Margaret nodded, then continued, “I thought I did not love him and that I was in love with another man. His name was Richard Charles Crawley III, the Duke of Witherton, and he was dashing, charming, and suave. And he was also Henry’s most bitter enemy. I thought he really loved me, and when he asked our father for my hand in marriage, and Father said no, I thought I could not live without him.
