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“Yes, Father. We shall… tell Lord Darkmoor all about it,” she replied, covering her disgust with a little smile.
“Very well. But take pains, Margaret, to not stay out long and wear your bonnet. You remember what I told you about freckles.”
“I shall wear my bonnet, Father.”
With that, Margaret exited the study and could not conceal the smile upon her lips. She was to spend time with John again! She could not wait to hear about his evening at the inn and how he was getting on. Her thoughts returned to the evening when he slept under her roof and the titillation that caused!
Margaret positively rushed out to the field, and when she got there, she looked from side to side, trying to locate them. She momentarily felt her heart sink at the thought that they had gone somewhere without her. Margaret had told Jane that she would do her best to come out.
Just then, John’s voice called out from under the tree. “Margaret!”
She turned, and sure enough, there he sat, as handsome as ever, even from a distance.
“Hello!” Margaret called out, slowing her pace so as not to appear overly anxious.
“Come sit with us, Margaret,” Jane said.
Margaret continued her approach, and once she had reached them, she sat, feeling perfectly content. Oh, she could feel John’s eyes upon her, but she daren’t glance his way just yet, for fear that she would blush from ear to ear.
“I’m surprised that you came,” Jane said.
“Father said it was all right.” Margaret would not disclose the reason why, for it was too ghastly for words.
There was a gentle silence between them, and the breeze could be heard in the trees. Then, finally, Margaret glanced John’s way, and yes, she blushed. But she beheld such admiration and care in his blue eyes that she thought it perhaps did not matter.
“How is the inn?” Margaret asked.
“It is most favorable. Do you know of Westerly House?”
“I have heard of the establishment.”
“It’s rather cozy, I must say. They serve a fine supper, and last night, I attended a tavern.”
There was a bit of mischief in John’s eyes as he said this, and momentarily, Margaret feared that he might be like her father.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Margaret asked.
“Most certainly. I delight in a pint of ale now and again, especially when I come to a new town.”
Margaret heaved a sigh of relief. “I have never been to a tavern in Farthington, but I hear they are very accommodating. The people are so kind.”
“I experienced that for myself.”
Margaret turned towards Jane, who remained mum. Yes, her maidservant did not care for the fact that Margaret conversed so freely with John, but what else was Margaret to do? If her father allowed her this one freedom, then Margaret was going to seize it.
“We should have planned another picnic,” Margaret said gayly.
“Now, now, Margaret. We have much to do to prepare for this evening.”
Margaret’s airy spirit plummeted. She gazed down towards the grass.
“What is happening this evening?” John asked.
“Lord Darkmoor is coming for supper. Margaret must look her best.”
“Were I her maid,” John went on humorously, “I would make her look as ghastly as possible. But, sadly, that wouldn’t be possible at all.”
Margaret quickly looked up, catching that sparkle in John’s eyes. Jane scowled, but Margaret laughed a bit at John’s humor and his flirtation.
