Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

“ W e meet again, Lord Broughton,” Anna said, her voice as dry as the champagne they’d served earlier. Her hand was extended for him to kiss, though her tone suggested she’d rather it not be.

It was the evening of the dinner arrived, and Peggy could scarcely contain her excitement as they all gathered in the drawing room to await dinner. Time spent with her sisters was always a balm to her spirits, and tonight she felt it more keenly than ever.

“It is always a pleasure, Lady Anna,” Broughton responded smoothly, bowing over her hand. His dark eyes sparkled with unmistakable mischief.

“I wish I could say the same,” Anna returned, though the corner of her mouth quirked as she pulled her hand back.

Broughton’s smile deepened as his gaze flicked past her, searching the room as though for an escape—or perhaps a diversion. “You did not bring your thimble, Lady Anna?”

Anna’s brows drew together in confusion before realization dawned. “If you are referring to Titan again, Lord Broughton, I shall have you know he is not a thimble but a most dignified companion.”

Broughton tilted his head, his expression all but impish. “A most diminutive companion,” he corrected.

Peggy stifled a laugh, her gloved hand brushing against her lips to hide her smile. Elizabeth, standing nearby, failed to suppress her snicker entirely. Anna’s head whipped toward them, and the identical scowls she directed at her sisters were enough to set Peggy’s laugh free entirely.

Before Anna could retort, dinner was announced, and Broughton offered his arm to her with a mockingly deferential bow. “Shall we, Lady Anna?”

Anna hesitated but relented with a sigh, her movements as reluctant as if she were heading to the gallows. Yet, as the meal progressed and conversation ebbed and flowed, her irritation with Broughton seemed to melt away. The lively discussions, punctuated by the clink of fine silverware, soon turned the atmosphere convivial.

It was during one such lull that Broughton turned his attention to Peggy and Morgan. “And how do you both find the country? Surely it has offered some respite from the bustle of town?”

Peggy opened her mouth to respond, but Morgan spoke first. “It is quiet,” he said simply, his tone even but without warmth. “Perfect for solitude.”

Peggy paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “It is lively, in its way,” she said, glancing at her husband. “Though perhaps I have found it more so.”

Morgan’s gaze met hers, his dark brows furrowing ever so slightly. There was no malice in his look, only a faint surprise, as if he had not expected their answers to differ so. Peggy smiled softly, determined to smooth over the disharmony before anyone could remark upon it.

“I have met the most charming ladies,” she continued, setting down her fork. “Lady Aleshire, Mrs. Pattons, and several others have been most welcoming. And I’ve discovered a delightful little bookstore in the village—a treasure trove of novels and history, tucked into the quaintest corner. Truly, I believe there is no end to the surprises the country has to offer.”

Her sisters listened with indulgent smiles, and even Broughton appeared momentarily charmed, though his wry grin returned quickly enough. Morgan gave her an almost imperceptible nod, as though in acknowledgment of her deft handling of the moment.

After dinner, the party dispersed to the drawing room. Morgan and Alexander found themselves deep in conversation about county properties, the discussion lively and punctuated by the occasional gesture toward maps and ledgers. Meanwhile, Anna and Elizabeth busied themselves examining a collection of Turkish glass ornaments displayed in one of the cabinets, their debate over the craftsmanship growing increasingly spirited.

Amid the hum of conversation and activity, Peggy wandered toward the far end of the room, drawn by a rare moment of solitude. She was inspecting a delicate porcelain figurine when a voice sounded softly beside her.

“Are you always this skilled at smoothing over disagreements, Your Grace?”

She turned to find Broughton, a sly smile playing on his lips as he studied her. His sudden appearance startled her slightly, though she quickly regained her composure.

“Only when the company makes it necessary, Lord Broughton.”

“I must thank you for the pleasant evening, Your Grace,” Colin said jovially, a gleam of warmth in his eyes as he gave her a friendly nod.

“Oh, do call me Margaret,” she responded, her voice light and welcoming. “A good friend of my husband’s is my friend as well,” she added with a warm smile, encouraging the familiar intimacy.

“Indeed,” Colin agreed with a playful grin, his manner easy and animated. “And I must ask you to do the same, then. Colin, at your service, Margaret.”

She chuckled, her shoulders relaxing at his easygoing nature. “Colin, how charming,” she replied, her smile growing a little brighter.

As their conversation carried on, their gazes shifted toward the far side of the room where Morgan was deep in discussion with Alexander. Colin’s tone softened, taking on a more thoughtful quality. “I must thank you for the man he is becoming too,” he said, his voice tinged with a quiet affection.

Peggy followed his gaze, her heart tightening as she watched her husband, so composed in conversation, yet so distant from the man he had once been. “He wasn’t always so reclusive, you see,” Colin continued, his voice almost nostalgic, as though he were recalling a different time.

Peggy turned her attention back to Colin, her brow furrowing slightly as he spoke. “And I think it is to do with your influence. You are his friend now, before any of us,” he added, his gaze reflecting a sincere gratitude that made her pause. The warmth in his eyes was unmistakable, and for a moment, she felt a swell of emotion—a mix of pride and uncertainty—at the responsibility she seemed to carry in Morgan’s life.

“Oh, we may be married, but I cannot compare my short time with him to the long years of history you share,” Peggy said, her voice quiet and a little self-conscious. She shifted slightly, the words feeling heavier than she intended.

“As humble as you are full of grace,” Colin smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that made her feel the kindness in his words. “But he is a changed man for your presence in his life now. Or rather, a changing man,” he added, emphasizing the shift with a knowing nod.

“I only desire the best for him,” Peggy said softly, her eyes once more drawn to Morgan, who was still engrossed in conversation with Alexander. Her fingers lightly traced the edge of her glass as she observed them, her thoughts drifting to the man she had married.

In that moment, her mind turned inward, and she couldn’t help but recall the nightmares he had shared with her—fragments of his pain that she couldn’t fully understand. The hollow look in his eyes when he woke from those restless nights stayed with her, and her heart ached with the memory. How she wished he would open up to her, share the dark corners of his past, and trust her with those burdens. How she wished she could take away all his woes, ease the weight that so clearly pressed on him.

She cared about him—deeply, more than she had ever expected. And yet, a part of her feared how much it would cost her heart to indulge in such feelings.

Elizabeth’s words came to her then, steadying her thoughts: Give him time. Let him come to you in his own way, at his own pace. Do not rush him.

Peggy decided right then to follow her sister’s advice. She would not press him to reveal more than he was willing to share. She would give him the space he needed to find his way toward her, and in doing so, she would show him patience, something he had not been given for so long.

For now, she would wait—wait for him to trust her, wait for him to come to her when he was ready.

“He was a boy full of life once,” Colin said, his tone unusually soft, as though he were sifting through memories long buried. “It was not until her death that he changed. It broke him, you see. She was all he had. They were all each other had.”

Peggy’s breath caught, her fingers tightening imperceptibly on the folds of her dress. The weight of Colin’s words pressed heavily against her chest. There was a tenderness in his voice that suggested he had seen it all unfold, had been close enough to witness the fracture that had reshaped Morgan’s very being.

Her heart ached to ask— Who was she? What happened? But Peggy quelled the questions, swallowing her curiosity with deliberate restraint. Time and patience, she reminded herself. If Morgan was to share his grief, it must come from him and him alone. This was a truth she could not wrest from another.

And yet, the image Colin had painted lingered in her mind—a boy filled with light and vitality, transformed into the man who now carried himself with such heavy stoicism. She yearned to piece together the story of his pain, but only Morgan could give her those pieces.

“We will be returning to town tomorrow,” Elizabeth declared later that evening as she wrapped her arms around Peggy in a warm, sisterly embrace. The cool night air swirled around them, but Peggy scarcely felt it, cocooned in the comfort of her sister’s presence.

“Oh, I shall miss you dearly,” Peggy said, her voice tinged with regret as she clung to Elizabeth for a moment longer.

Elizabeth stepped back, her hands lingering on Peggy’s arms as she smiled. “Remember what I told you, Peggy,” she said, her gaze steady and meaningful.

Peggy nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, I’m certain I shan’t be needing to,” she replied, her tone light yet earnest.

“I hope so,” Anna interjected, her sharp eyes gleaming with both fondness and mischief. “And I hope you wouldn’t be needing Aunt Petunia’s gift either,” she added with a sly grin.

The three sisters dissolved into laughter, their mirth bright against the fading evening light. Peggy’s heart felt lighter in that moment. The gentlemen, standing a polite distance away, watched the scene with evident curiosity, exchanging bemused glances with each other.

As the carriage pulled away, Peggy glanced at her husband. What are you not telling me?