A look of alarm passed over Marguerite’s face, quickly banished, but Win was already turning with the force of the queen’s stride as she moved toward him, her hands held out. He bowed to her then turned in one smooth motion back toward the house, tucking the queen’s hand into the crook of his arm.
“My dear Mr. Masters, you are everything Marguerite promised you would be, and we’ve only just met,” Queen Catherine said. Her voice was low, melodic, and Win smiled as they made their way back up the wide lawn.
“I’ve very much enjoyed getting to know Marguerite these past few weeks. She’s a credit to your country.”
“She is.” But despite the obvious opening, the queen didn’t appear to be interested in Marguerite. “You’ve lived in the area long?”
“We’ve had a residence in the county since the mid-1800s, yes,” Win said. “Before that, and to this day, we also have a residence in upstate New York.”
“Whatever brought you so far south? Business, I must assume?” At his nod, she pressed on. “But what made you stay? The south was going through a terrible time in the mid-1800s, unless I misjudge my history. For someone so recently come to the area, I’m surprised at your family’s fortitude, staying to keep a presence in the area during such a tumultuous time.”
Win blinked down at her. He’d never thought of it in exactly those terms, but he supposed she was right. “We’d put down roots, almost despite ourselves. And we are stubborn, as a rule.”
“Stubborn is good,” the queen patted his arm. “Stubborn gets things done.” She allowed him to draw her a little further up the lawn, until the music reached them through the trees. “Oh! A string quartet. How absolutely marvelous on a summer evening. I’m so glad that Jasen wore his dancing shoes.”
Win might have misheard, but he would have sworn he heard a groan behind him. The queen, however, carried on.
“Will we dance first, and be done with the theatrics, or were you looking for a slow build up to a grand finish?”
Despite his growing anxiety, Win smiled. The queen’s excitement was infectious. “I do hope we don’t end up disappointing you, your highness. The house seems quite serious about holding on to its sullenness. We’d—Marguerite and myself—thought we’d already have witnessed a few flowers opening with the excitement of the music and the crowd. They haven’t.”
“Don’t you worry another moment about that, dear boy,” the queen said, throwing him a mirror bright smile. “The moment those flowers see King Jasen turn around in a waltz, they’ll burst into full bloom just to see more.”
This time, the groan was loud enough to carry all the way back to the river.
Chapter Twenty-One
Marguerite couldn’t help herself. She beamed with delight as she stepped back out into the gardens from the close embrace from the trees. Even if they couldn’t stir the place to its former glory, it was worth it to see Holt House surrounded with light once more.
In the scant minutes it had taken them to return from the river with the evening’s special guests, full night had descended on the house and lawn, and the winking fairy lights in the trellises and beneath the gazebo arches took on new prominence, embraced by the soft strains of music that flowed from the garden’s edge.
She noticed something else, too.
“Win? Who are those…”
“Wellingford asked earlier today if they could come. In the end, he broke me down.” Win’s voice sounded more tired than annoyed now, and Marguerite tried not to gape as she took in the dozens of additional people now milling through the space, including video camera operators. Kit had acted quickly, but the county had reacted with a speed that made her heart warm. Men and women strolled around the gardens in flowing dresses and casual suits, exclaiming over the views.
“Well, I think it’s delightful,” the queen announced. Ahead of Marguerite, she turned to Win. “So, what is the plan? You must tell me everything.”
“I should introduce you both to Dawson Holt, who has no idea that you were coming,” Win said. “He’ll—he’ll be quite taken aback.”
“Holt—of Holt House—oh, how exciting for him to see this lovely home with so many people around it. Is he very happy?” She looked ahead, obviously trying to pick out Holt from the crowd. “I would be happy. Is he?”
“Right now, he’s trying to convince his children not to commit him,” Win said drily, and the queen stopped short, allowing Marguerite and King Jasen to draw even with them.
The queen’s tone sharpened. “You can’t be serious.”
To Marguerite’s surprise, it was the king who replied. “Catherine, this isn’t our country. Their ways are not ours.”
“But this is this man’s house,” she protested. “He should be allowed to do whatever he wants with it.”
“He believes he can turn around a century-old curse, sweetheart. Most people would suggest that he’s potentially not in possession of his full abilities.”
“How can you even say that?” Catherine demanded. “He didn’t ask to inherit a curse, just like you didn’t ask to inherit a kingdom. Sometimes what your family has done before you isn’t what you’d expect, but you work with it!”
The king smiled. “I’d hardly call the monarchy a hardship.”
“No, but if the tables were turned, and you’d inherited a cursed mansion—someplace as—” she waved, incorporating the whole of the gardens— “as beautiful as this is, you would do what you needed to bring it back, if you could. He’s doing the best he can with the lot that fate dealt him.”
Marguerite didn’t miss how Win stiffened at these words, though of course the queen could have no idea of his past.
Could she?
A cheer went up from the porch area, and Marguerite turned in surprise. Then she caught sight of Kit, bowing theatrically as he held up a slim volume.
“And who is that?” Queen Catherine asked.
Win snorted. “Local blow—”
“A local historian, and an author too,” Marguerite cut him off. “He has some additional research from the time when the Holt House last held its grand parties, so he arranged the music that will be playing tonight and was gracious enough to gather the guests.”
“Well, we shall have to meet him too,” the queen announced, and she set off toward them, pulling Win with her. “And do hurry, Marguerite, I can’t wait to begin dancing!”
The next hour went remarkably quickly, beginning with the charming introduction of the queen and king to Dawson Holt, who blushed to the tips of his ears, and his completely blind-sided children, who at least had the grace to smile and be polite, though their expressions were slightly stunned. Kit Wellingford, Constance Gibbs and the awestruck psychiatrist were next, and Marguerite watched with satisfaction as their wonder grew at the august friendships the diminutive old man had forged in such a short time, with the queen exclaiming at length at the beautiful gardens, the lights, and the gorgeous old home. Constance, for her part, had changed her look from sneering to calculating…no doubt wondering how she could leverage the Holt House’s new popularity in the district.
The queen even now was getting a tour through the old house’s interior, and Marguerite found herself alone with Win, standing on the lawn and looking up at the newly-elegant home, catching glimpses of the royal couple, their bodyguards, and a dozen or so awed locals as they trouped through the mansion.
“She really is everything you said she was,” Win said wryly, his gaze moving from room to room. “I’d believe she could turn back a curse too.”
Without waiting to second guess herself, Marguerite slipped her hand into his. “You did this, Win, I didn’t,” she said. “You brought life to these grounds, this beautiful old house. You came up with the idea of the quartet….”
“Well, Kit did that.”
“And you listened to him. Without you, there would still be an enormous tree weighing down that gazebo, and we wouldn’t have uncovered the beautiful wrought iron designs. It would have all still bee
n weighed down with vines and brush.”
“And spiders.”
She nodded with a wry chuckle. “And spiders.”
“I wish…” Win looked around, and he didn’t have to put voice to his thoughts for her to know them. He wished that the moonflowers had bloomed the way they had a century ago, brought out by the music and the laughter and the people. But all around them, the blossoms lay curled into tight little fists, unwilling to show their colors.
Marguerite squeezed his hand. “I wish they’d bloomed, too,” she whispered. “But even if they never do, we still have this night.”
He looked down at her, and his expression was so intent it nearly took her breath away. “We have this night,” he agreed. “And on this night, I have you.”
He leaned down then and she stood on her tip toes reaching up until their lips met. Time seemed to stand still for just a moment, and Marguerite could no longer hear the sound of music, could no longer tell that there were people milling around the outdoor bar, laughing and talking. For that moment, there was nothing but her and Win and this dream they’d had for such a short time but that had seemed to grow until it filled their whole hearts.
She rocked back on her heels and realized Win had closed his eyes, clearly savoring the moment as much as she did.
“What will we do tomorrow, when all this is finished?” she suddenly asked, regretting the words almost as soon as she asked them.
A look of deep chagrin passed over Win’s face, but she was spared his response as the doors to the back porch banged open once again, and the queen’s laughing voice rolled down to them. “Mr. Masters! I understand that Holt House was known for only one thing more beautiful than its gorgeous flowers,” she called out.
He turned, picking up his role with perfection.
“You’re correct, your majesty,” he said. “It was known for its dancing.”
“Then by all means, we should dance!”
A cheer went up from the crowd and Marguerite cheered too, Win glancing down at her as his own face broke into a smile. They moved as one to the gazebo, and to her surprise, excited conversation bubbled up around them. Apparently, everyone knew enough to expect something, and Marguerite bit her lip. “Kit?” she asked.
“How could it be anything else,” Win said, bemusedly. “We may not be able to stir the flowers, but we’ve certainly touched a chord with locals.”
He was right. Couples held hands and swayed together as the music shifted, their eyes alight as they moved across the lawn toward the gazebo. Above and around them the lights shimmered and swayed in the slight breeze, as if eager for the spectacle as well.
Win stepped up toward the gazebo and mounted the stairs, then turned around to address the crowd. “Before we open the floor tonight for all of you to dance, I was hoping our special guests would do us the honor of starting off the evening with a song that I’m told was last played on these grounds nearly a hundred years ago. According to a very reliable source…” he turned to glance meaningfully at Kit Wellingford, who looked like he would faint with the implied praise, “it was a song that could charm the stars out of the heavens. We don’t need it to do that, exactly, but…”
He lifted his hand and the king and queen approached the stage, looking like they were used to such command performances. Win bowed, but the queen stopped him. “I think it would be best if you joined us. Would you mind, terribly?”
“I…” Win blinked at her, then looked to Marguerite, confusion writ large on his face. But Marguerite didn’t hesitate.
“Of course,” she said, mounting the steps to the gazebo and taking Win’s hand. “Only—we’ve never danced together before.”
The queen took her position with Jasen, and gave both her and Win a radiant smile.
“All the more reason for you to begin now,” she said.
Win felt like he was moving through a dream as he and Marguerite took the floor. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, and he could tell by Marguerite’s expression that she didn’t think so either. Still, she gamely winked at him. “Promise not to step on my feet?”
“If you promise to let me lead.”
“I never understood what that meant,” she confessed, as the music started up across the garden. Nearly two dozen people stood around the gazebo now, and Win frowned, taking them in.
“Did more people show up while I wasn’t looking?”
“They’ve been trickling in all evening,” Marguerite said. “I don’t know how they found out about this event, but—gossip seems to travel quickly in this neighborhood.”
He chuckled, scanning the crowd. “More quickly than you would ever believe.”
“Win,” Marguerite said softly.
He looked down at her, and instantly he understood what she was going to say. And understood just as certainly that he couldn’t let her say it. “No, Marguerite, no.” He shook his head. As one they seemed to tighten their grasps on each other’s hands, and he didn’t know if it was to steady each other or out of a desperate need to not let the other go. “You can’t turn back the curse on my family the way you tried so desperately to turn back the plague on this house. Some things you can’t fix.”
“But it wasn’t your crime, Win,” she said, her voice low, but earnest. “It was the actions of a man who you didn’t even know.”
“He was a member of my family, and he killed people, Marguerite. Knowingly taking over their care when he was not qualified to do so. More than one. He killed soldiers who had risked their lives for what they believed in, slaves who had already suffered the worst kind of abuse. And then he—he charged his own neighbors for his services, amassing the monies that apparently served only to extend and expand the Masters’ wealth.” He could hear the disgust in his own voice, but to her credit, Marguerite didn’t shrink away.
“I don’t care,” she said staunchly. “You weren’t there, you don’t know what he faced, why he did what he did. You can only carry on now. Not by damning yourself to a future without love, either.”
He looked sharply at her. “Marguerite…”
She sighed, but she held his gaze, her eyes luminous in the flickering lights. “Who was she, Win? Who did you feel like you failed? You can tell me. Right here, right now.”
He grimaced, but to his surprise, the words were there. Finally, terribly, able to be shared with this incredible woman who’d completely overtaken heart. “A…girl I knew in college. Annelise. She didn’t tell me but—she was on medication. For her nerves—more than her nerves, I think, I never truly knew. And when we began dating I fell head over heels for her. I overwhelmed her and she stopped…well, she stopped taking her medication. I think she thought love would be enough.” He smiled grimly. “I did, certainly. I couldn’t understand why she became more and more despondent. I should have seen, understood the signs. But I didn’t. She attempted suicide. Pills she’d been collecting—I don’t know where she got them. A lot of pills.”
Marguerite drew in a sharp breath, but her hold on him never wavered. “Did she—”
“Die? No.” Win shook his head. “She never was the same, though.” He heaved a sigh, feeling like he’d just moved a mountain off his chest. “I wasn’t either, I guess you could say. I’m still not.”
A dulcet voice cut across their conversation. “I do believe you’re supposed to be thinking thoughts of love and happiness, dears. You’re not very good at this.”
Marguerite stiffened in Win’s arms, and he glanced up to see the queen eyeing him disapprovingly over King Jared’s shoulder. “I apologize, your highness,” he said, working his jaw.
“It’s not me you should apologize to.” She glanced up, and Win followed her gaze. The flowers that had been planted in the base of the potted ferns were caught halfway between open and closed—but they had opened. Or started to open. They’d tried.
Win caught his breath, an almost absurd hope rushing in to fill the emptiness his admission had left behind.
“Win!” Marguerite w
hispered.
“There, that’s much better.” The king and queen whirled away from them again, and he looked down at Marguerite, suddenly unsure what to do.
“You can’t seriously think…” he asked, but he could see on her face that she did. She truly did.
“Oh, Win,” she said and she glanced away quickly, blinking as if to hold back tears. When she looked back at him, he almost stumbled at the emotion pouring forth from her eyes.
“I’m going to say this here, to you, because…because I don’t know if I’m going to get a chance to say it again.” He was turning her easily, their steps almost too fast, the mindless pattern of the waltz so ingrained in his memory that he didn’t need to focus on anything else, couldn’t focus on anything else but Marguerite. “In part, I hope that something I have to say has any impact on this beautiful old house, but that’s not why I want to tell you. I want to tell you because it’s something you need to know.”
A pang of worry rang in Win’s chest, and he lifted his brows. “You don’t need to say anything to me.”
“Yes, I do, Win. I do.” She pulled in a deep, heavy breath, then began speaking all in a rush. “When I first came to this country with my sisters, I did it because it was what I’d been told to do, I didn’t so much care where I was or what I was doing, because I knew, eventually, my life would work itself out. It always did, I was lucky that way, and the youngest member of a family blessed by circumstances. What did I need to care about, even if my life never had any real meaning? But then I came here, and…” she swallowed. “And I saw you.”
She blinked rapidly again, and Win smiled. “And that devastated you?”
“No! Yes. A little. I saw you and you were—well, you were engaged to a beautiful, cold woman and you had beautiful, cold conversations together and you rarely looked over at me, never seemed to want to speak to me, and of course, what was I even thinking—you were engaged.” She bit her lip. “But I did think, Win, I imagined us together. I fantasized that we would be dancing like this, or having dinner overlooking the beach. I imagined what we would talk about and how you would look when you laughed, how you might hold my hand and gaze at me and smile. When Cindy offered to do research on you I jumped at the chance, telling myself it was all because you were an important guest of the resort, and then that you were a hotelier and possibly I could use you to help me find a job, but none of that was true. I asked for the information because every little shred of your past or your present made you a little more real, brought you a little closer to me. And I wanted that—craved it—even though I knew it was wrong. Even though I knew you loved somebody else.”
Chosen: Gowns & Crowns, Book 7 Page 21
