Lila presumed to settle lightly at the end of the bench. “The men have run off to catch a runaway horse,” Lila reported.

Jessica shut the red notebook she’d been writing in, slipping it into her purse, and straightened. “You people can’t even throw an intriguing ball, can you?” she complained. “The men in this neighborhood would rather catch a horse than flirt with the pretty girls. What a pack of rubes.”

Stung, Lila scowled at her. “‘You people’? I suppose the gentry are so much more fascinating in South Africa,” she snapped.

“No, not in Johannesburg, though we have our share of darlings. The place where they’re really suave is London,” Jessica declared.

At the mention of London, Lila decided to bite back the instinct to match Jessica’s peevish tone. “You’ve been to London?” she asked.

“During this past spring season: Father wanted Teddy and me to meet some of society’s best, so he brought us over. He had his fatal heart attack at one of the season’s fanciest balls given by one of the best families in London. That’s how we happened to come to you. We wouldn’t have come all the way here from South Africa. Our father’s solicitor, who has our money held hostage right now, insisted that we come here until we turn eighteen. It’s so dreadful.”

“Is it really so awful?” Lila challenged, her temper rising. “Hasn’t everyone been nice to you here?”

“It’s not that,” Jessica allowed. “It’s simply so dull here.”

Lila stood up, deeply annoyed. Jessica’s implication was that Lila—the only one who had attempted to be friendly to Jessica—was too dreadfully dull for words. Lila felt foolish for ever believing Jessica could be a friend to her, or an ally in trying to win Teddy’s affection. Would she think it was hilarious for poor hopelessly boring Lila to set her cap for the fascinating and incredibly wealthy Teddy Fitzhugh?

“Thank heavens I have this notebook to write in or I’d go mad,” Jessica continued. “There’s not even an interesting novel in the entire library. Believe me, I’ve searched.”

She couldn’t fault Jessica for that last statement. Lila had often thought the same thing herself. Lila wandered to the edge of the patio and looked out over the moonlit field. She strained to hear any sign of the runaway coach horse or the men. Lila was about to turn away when she spied movement in front of the stable.

Under the beam of the overhead stable lantern, Michael stood talking to Maggie, who looked like a figure out of a romantic painting. The skirt of her gown was caught up over one arm, and her soft blond hair was coming unfurled from its silver combs.

Lila leaned closer to the glass. What were they talking about? Was Maggie smiling? It was a smile Lila remembered from long ago but hadn’t seen in over a year. Michael was leaning toward Maggie.

In the glow of the lanterns, Michael looked devastatingly handsome. In fact, Michael and Maggie made a gorgeous couple. It was a scandalous thought! Lila almost laughed out loud at the idea.

Regardless of what they were talking about, they seemed to be having much more fun than Lila was. Maybe they wouldn’t mind her joining the conversation.

“Where are you going?” Jessica asked, looking up from the writing to which she’d returned.

As Lila dashed across the lawn, she looked over her shoulder at Jessica. “I think I will see what’s happening with that horse,” she said.

Chapter Ten

Michael gazed into Maggie’s brown eyes and every feeling he had been denying came rushing back. How he’d missed her!

“When I saw you needed some help, releasing the duke’s horse was the only thing I could think of,” Michael told her. “It was a bit drastic, but it worked.”

“Absolutely! It worked like a charm. I can’t thank you enough,” she replied, laughter in those lively eyes. “Are you sure the horse won’t come to harm?”

“Very certain,” Michael assured her. “It will gallop across the fields, enjoy its bit of freedom, and then head back for its stall. It knows the way back. The men know it as well. They’re making a big show of finding it but I think they’re just enjoying a little freedom too.”

This made Maggie laugh hard. The sound of it made Michael’s heart leap. It had been so long.

“So everyone is in this plot together,” she concluded. “It’s just that no one will admit what’s really going on.”

“Something like that,” Michael agreed, the smile fading from his lips. “It’s somewhat like what’s going on with you.”

Maggie also became serious. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“I mean that you’re angry with me and I don’t know why.”

Maggie turned her back on him. “I was, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Because you’ve moved on?” Michael asked.

“You were right, Michael,” Maggie told him. “I couldn’t accept it at the time but I’ve grown up since then.”

“Don’t do this, Maggie,” Michael urged. Maybe he was being rash, he knew. But the chances to be alone with her were so few and far between. He had to say his piece, especially now when she wasn’t shutting him out. “That night before you left, I only said I didn’t love you because I thought it was impossible between us. I didn’t want to hurt you; I actually thought I was helping you by setting you free from a love that could never be. But since you’ve been gone I’ve realized it was pride and false nobility on my part. I’ve grown too. I know now that we belong together. Whatever it takes.” Michael was surprised to find he meant it. He had fooled himself into believing he could go on without Maggie. Finally being able to talk to her—to tell her all the things he’d meant to the moment she got back, before the weeks she’d spent ignoring him for Teddy—unleashed his true feelings.

“I love you, Maggie Darlington,” Michael continued. “I’ve probably loved you my whole life, before I even knew what it meant to be in love with someone. When we are together, I feel more myself than I have ever felt. I am not Michael the groom, or Michael the gardener’s son, I’m just Michael. And you are not Lady Margaret. You are Maggie. The most beautiful, sweet girl in the world. The girl who can squeeze more happiness and life out of one day than most folks can in a lifetime. Come back to me, Maggie.”

When Maggie turned back toward him, tears brimmed in her eyes. “Then you should have said all that at the time. Before I left for France. It’s too late now, Michael.”

“Listen to me. I have a plan. I’m going to go to the racetrack and find work as a horse trainer.”

“When are you planning to do that?” Maggie asked, looking shocked.

“I’m not sure yet. When the time is right. Soon.”

For a moment he thought Maggie seemed interested, but her face crumpled once more. “Don’t speak any more, Michael. It’s no use. Too much has happened!”

“What? What has happened?” Michael asked passionately. Maggie opened her mouth to speak and then seemed to think better of it. “It’s too late! It’s too late!” she wailed, tears spilling over onto her cheeks.

“Tell me why!” Michael implored.

“It just is,” Maggie insisted. “Things have changed! Changed forever!”

“But what has changed?” he begged to know.

“Life!” Maggie cried, throwing her arms wide.

Even in her pain and misery, this was the Maggie he knew, full of feeling, not the ice queen she was trying so desperately to be. He reached out and held her by the shoulders, wanting to pull her close as he had so many times before, to protect and love her.

Maggie gazed up at him, her tear-stained eyes filled with longing, but then she broke free, running off into the darkness outside their circle of lantern light, her gown rustling as she fled.

Michael took a step forward to go after her but decided against it. Silently he cursed himself for ever telling Maggie he didn’t love her. What a fool he’d been! He had been so certain he was doing the right thing at the time.

How desperately he wished he could take it all back. He should have told her, instead, that he wouldn’t be a horse groom all his life, that he would work hard and do whatever it took to advance his station in life. While he could never reproduce the grandeur of Wentworth Hall, he could promise her a decent life.

If only. If only.

Something moved off in the darkness and Michael turned sharply toward the sound.

Lila! How long had she been standing there?

“Lila!” he called, but she was gone.


Nora sat at the big round kitchen table, hemming a velvet ball gown, still in her maid’s uniform. After all the excitement of preparing the girls for the quadrille she was wide-awake and couldn’t sleep. The red fabric she was working with was luscious but difficult to get a needle through. The satin and crinoline hems underneath it would be easier.