Margaret’s heartbeat thudded—once, violently—as footsteps approached. She straightened in her chair, smoothing her gloves, steeling herself for some anonymous gentleman—Bell’s agent, perhaps, or a representative of the Oxford properties.
But the moment the man crossed the threshold, every thought dropped clean from her mind.
John Thornton.
He filled the doorway like a blow she could not brace for—tall, stark in his black coat, his face carved in winter lines, the London cold still clinging to his hair and shoulders. His eyes swept the room, hooded and cautious, until they found her. And widened.
Margaret’s breath deserted her.
If the floor would only open, she might gladly sink straight through it.
3
The warmth struck himfirst — a close, glowing heat that clung to the paneled walls and did nothing to ease the tight, cold ache in his chest from the street outside. He stepped into the room with his hat in hand, prepared to address the solicitor with the brisk courtesy he reserved for professional dealings.
Then he sawher.
Margaret rose halfway from her chair before she caught herself, the movement no more than a startled hover. Her face paled, then flushed, then cooled — all in the space of a breath. She looked exactly as he remembered. And nothing like he remembered. Her grey half-mourning gown was softer than the stark black she had worn in Milton, and the London light coaxed a faint warmth into her complexion. Three strands of dark hair had fallen loose near her temple.
He had not imagined he would ever see her again.
He had trained himself not to imagine it, yet here she was.
Which meantshemust be the heir. The one who now held the reins of his future.
“Mr. Thornton,” the solicitor said brightly, oblivious to the jolt that ripped through him. “Do come in.”
Thornton bowed — stiff, automatic. “Miss Hale.”
“Mr. Thornton.” She dipped her head in return, her gloves twisting faintly against each other. The sight of her hands doing that — a quiet nervous gesture he had seen only once in Milton — unsettled him more than anything else.
He forced himself to sit in the chair indicated, keeping his posture iron-straight, the breath tight in his chest.
The solicitor — Harcourt — took his place behind the desk once more and folded his hands with an air of businesslike satisfaction. “Ah, I see you are already acquainted. That will make matters easier,” Harcourt said. “Now that all parties are present, we may address the final provision of Mr. Bell’s testament concerning Marlborough Mills.”
Thornton’s stomach contracted. He had expected a lease notice. A demand for updated accounts. Perhaps even a formal termination of his tenancy. But the solemnity in Harcourt’s tone was different —thicker.
Margaret sat very still. He noticed the delicate tremor at her throat, the careful way she held her shoulders, as though bracing herself for a blow.
He knew too well what that felt like.
Harcourt opened a leather folio and scanned the page. “Mr. Bell expressed a particular concern that his Milton properties be managed with the balance and conscientiousness he felt they had enjoyed during his lifetime. To that end, he established a provision requiring… joint concurrence.”
Thornton blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Margaret’s gaze snapped toward the solicitor.
Harcourt continued smoothly. “Miss Hale, as principal heir, the property becomes undoubtedly yours. However, Mr. Bellstipulated that Mr. Thornton is to be offered first right of continuance as master of the mill.”
Thornton stiffened. “Sir—”
But Margaret’s voice interrupted him. “I should have thought that a foregone conclusion.” She sent him a swift glance. “Mr. Thornton already has a lease, does he not? Why should I contest that?”
“Allow me to elaborate, if you please.” Harcourt lifted a hand gently. “This provision is somewhat more… detailed… than a simple continuation of the lease. Mr. Bell further required that any decision regarding the future of the mill — including its sale, reorganization, or discontinuance — be undertaken withbothyour consents.”
Margaret inhaled sharply.
Thornton stared straight ahead.
