The two young women said their goodbyes, and Margot stood on the steps of Norwood Park as she had a thousand times before, waving to their guests. Arran stood beside Margot, his hand on the small of her back. Her father and her brother stood below them, speaking low to each other.

Margot took Arran’s hand. “I’m so weary I can scarcely walk. Shall we retire?”

“You go, leannan,” he said, and pulled her into his side and kissed her temple. “I’ll have a word with your father.”

“But I’ve so much to tell you. And it’s so late!” she complained.

“Aye, that it is. Go on, find your bed. I’ll wake you when I come.”

Margot was too weary to argue. She said good-night and trudged up the stairs to the green suite of rooms with the view of the lake and rolling hills of northern England.

She undressed, brushed her hair and crawled into the four-poster bed, sighing as she sank into the down mattress and pillows. Her lids were heavy, but she was determined to wait up for Arran. She would tell him, “There, do you see? No one here wants to harm you.” And he would say, “You were right all along, mo gradh.” She would say, “Dermid has been arrested!” and he would say, “Aye, your father told me, but I didna care to distress you.”

She could almost hear his deep brogue saying those words to her now, could almost feel him crawling into bed beside her to keep her warm. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, tomorrow they would decide what to do next.

It was a lovely little dream. But it was nothing more than the dream of a naive young woman.

Because Arran never came to bed.

Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

MARGOT’S SLEEP WAS a dead one, the sort from which it’s hard to wake. As sunlight began to filter into her consciousness, she startled awake and sat up. Sunlight meant it was well past dawn. She hadn’t meant to sleep so long.

She looked around the room, saw no sign of her husband. She thought perhaps he’d been lost in a dark house last night and had found another room.

She rose and hurried through her toilette. There was no maid to help her, so she dug through a trunk of her things she’d left behind until she found a serviceable day gown and donned it. She left her hair undressed and went down to breakfast.

Quint and a footman were clearing dishes from the sideboard. Margot looked at the mantel clock—it was half past ten! “Where is everyone?” she asked.

“The gentlemen have gone to Fonteneau, madam,” he said.