Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

P eggy sat in the drawing room, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the delicate embroidery on the armrest of her chair.

“Your Grace.”

Peggy started slightly, her hand pausing mid-trace. She looked up to see the butler. “Oh, Barrow,” she said, regaining her composure. “What is it?”

“Lady Aleshire has called, Your Grace,” he replied with a slight bow. “Shall I send her in?”

Peggy hesitated only for a moment before nodding. “Yes, please do.”

Moments later, Lady Aleshire entered the room with her usual energy. “My dear,” the Baronet’s wife began, her eyes searching Peggy’s face with a concerned warmth, “I could not stay away. I did not like the way we parted after the inspection.”

Peggy rose from her seat, managing a faint smile. “You needn’t have troubled yourself.”

“Trouble? Nonsense,” Lady Aleshire said firmly, waving her hand dismissively. “You were far too quiet, and it is entirely unlike you. I thought some fresh air might do you good. Come, let us walk in the gardens.”

Peggy hesitated but found herself nodding. “Very well,” she agreed, and they made their way outside.

The crisp air was invigorating, and the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet filled the silence as they strolled through the manicured paths. Lady Aleshire led her toward the rosebeds, her tone light as she began to chatter about the colors and arrangements.

“Your roses are truly flourishing,” Lady Aleshire said, brushing her gloved fingers lightly over a deep crimson bloom. “It is clear this garden benefits from your touch.”

Peggy offered a faint smile. “Thank you. I suppose the roses have taken to the fresh attention.”

“Much like the rest of this castle, I imagine,” Lady Aleshire replied, glancing at her with a warm smile. “Everything feels lighter these days, and that is entirely to your credit.”

“I have only just begun,” Peggy said softly, keeping her gaze ahead. “There is still so much to do.”

“And you will do it splendidly,” Lady Aleshire said, her tone encouraging. They walked a few more paces in companionable silence before she added, “But the renovations do not seem to be what troubles you. ”

Peggy hesitated, her steps slowing slightly. She glanced at the neatly trimmed path before them, her thoughts swirling. “It is nothing,” she said at last, though her voice lacked conviction.

Lady Aleshire chuckled gently. “Nothing? Come now, Margaret, I am no stranger to that tone. Something is weighing on you.”

Peggy exhaled, her shoulders sinking slightly as she gave in. “I suppose it is... a squabble,” she admitted, her words slow and hesitant. “A matter between my husband and me.”

“Ah,” Lady Aleshire said knowingly, her expression softening. “Marriage.”

Peggy glanced at her, her brow lifting slightly in question.

Lady Aleshire smiled, folding her hands lightly before her. “No union is without its trials, my dear. Even the happiest of couples will disagree from time to time. My husband and I have had our share of spats over the years, I assure you.”

Peggy gave a small laugh, though it was tinged with disbelief. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is far from simple,” Lady Aleshire conceded. “But it is also not insurmountable. Strong wills often clash, but they also have the power to build something unshakable.”

Peggy offered a faint smile, though her thoughts remained conflicted. She opened her mouth to respond, but Lady Aleshire pressed on, her tone turning playful.

“Do you know what I find to be a most effective distraction?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Peggy tilted her head, intrigued. “What is that?”

“Novels,” Lady Aleshire declared. “I recently came across a set of the most delightful tales. There is one in particular about a rather feisty heroine and the trouble she causes in society. It is both scandalous and wildly entertaining.”

Peggy’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time that day. “You must tell me the title.”

“I shall do better than that,” Lady Aleshire replied with a mock conspiratorial tone. “I will bring it to you. You must read it. I insist.”

Peggy laughed softly, a sense of warmth creeping into her chest. “I look forward to it.”

“In fact,” Lady Aleshire continued, her expression brightening, “you must come with me to the bookstore in the village one day. It is a treasure trove of stories, and I daresay it will lift your spirits.”

Peggy hesitated briefly before nodding. “That does sound rather lovely.”

“Good,” Lady Aleshire said with satisfaction. “Consider it a promise. A visit to the bookstore, and a world of distractions to keep your mind occupied.”

As they continued their walk, Peggy found herself looking forward to the promise of books and lighthearted conversation.

Once Lady Aleshire had gone, Peggy returned to the drawing room. A short while later, Barrow appeared with a letter. “Your Grace,” he said, presenting it on a silver tray.

Her heart leapt, her mind immediately flashing to the mysterious note she had received before. But when her eyes fell on the handwriting, she exhaled in relief. “It’s from my sister,” she said, her voice soft with reassurance more for herself than Barrow.

She opened the letter carefully, sinking onto the settee as she began to read.

Dearest Peggy,

I trust this letter finds you well. How is country life treating you? I imagine the renovations are keeping you busy, as are the charity projects. How fortunate the village is to have you to brighten it.

Sterlin and I are quite well. The days seem to pass quickly here, and we are kept entertained by a constant stream of visitors. But despite the busyness, I think of you often, dear sister. How are you? Truly? I hope Morgan is treating you as you deserve, and that you are settling into life together. You know I am always here, should you need me.

Write soon,

Lizzy

Peggy’s chest tightened as she folded the letter with trembling hands. Lizzy’s warm words filled her with both comfort and longing. How are you? Truly? The question lingered in her mind, tugging at her heartstrings.

For a moment, she was tempted to reply, to confide in her sister about the growing distance between herself and Morgan, about the confusion and pain that plagued her. But she hesitated. Lizzy and Sterlin were so happy, their life together full of ease and joy. Could she bring herself to burden her sister with her troubles?

Sighing, Peggy set the letter aside and leaned back against the cushions. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the fading sunlight painted the garden in soft hues. She wondered if happiness—the kind Lizzy had—would ever find its way to her.

Peggy sat at her desk, her gaze fixed on the flickering candle as it cast long, wavering shadows across the surface of her papers. The room was silent save for the soft scratch of her pen, though even that sound faded as she paused, her thoughts too heavy to focus.

She leaned back with a sigh, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the desk. Sleep would evade her tonight, as it had the previous nights, her worry and unease gnawing at her with relentless persistence. How did everything go wrong so quickly? she wondered, her mind inevitably drifting back to Morgan’s anger and the cold wall he had erected between them.

A soft knock at the door startled her from her reverie. “Come in,” she called, her voice quiet but steady.

To her surprise, it was Mrs. Hallewell who entered, carrying a tray with a small cup of steaming milk. The housekeeper’s expression was as impassive as ever, but there was a faint gentleness in her movements that Peggy had not expected.

“I thought this might help you rest, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hallewell said, placing the tray carefully on the desk.

Peggy blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Mrs. Hallewell,” she began, her voice soft with gratitude, “you didn’t have to trouble yourself.”

“It was no trouble,” the housekeeper replied briskly, folding her hands before her. But there was a warmth in her eyes that belied her stoic tone.

Peggy hesitated before picking up the cup, the warmth of the milk spreading through her fingers. She offered a small smile. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, though the knot in her chest remained. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

Mrs. Hallewell tilted her head slightly. “And why is that, Your Grace?”

“For causing such an uproar,” Peggy replied, her tone laden with guilt. “Morgan—His Grace—went positively mad because of me. He was furious with the servants. With you.”

Mrs. Hallewell’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but not wholly disapproving either. “His Grace’s temper is his own, not yours to carry. And though it was a difficult day, it is clear that he…” She hesitated briefly, choosing her words carefully. “That he cares, in his own way.”

Peggy let out a soft, rueful laugh. “He cares by avoiding me entirely?”

“Give him time,” Mrs. Hallewell said gently, her gaze steady. “The Duke does not show his hand easily, but that does not mean he has none to play.”

Peggy’s smile wavered slightly as she lowered the cup, the warmth of the milk doing little to ease the ache in her heart. “Thank you, Mrs. Hallewell,” she said at last, her voice quiet.

The housekeeper inclined her head before retreating, leaving Peggy alone once more. The silence felt heavier now, filled with words unsaid and fears she could not quell.

Time, Peggy thought bitterly, setting the cup down with a faint clink. Time is the one thing I do not have. He’s going to send me away.

She knew it in her bones, and the thought hollowed her out, leaving an ache that refused to subside.