Chapter 8 : A Gentleman's Assistance and A Fluttering Heart

The carriage arrived in no time, waiting to take Maggie to her temporary dwelling. The problem soon presented itself when the lady was unable to move even an inch from the chaise lounge.

Marquess of Canterbury cleared his throat awkwardly.

"If you do not mind," he started, "I will be more than happy to assist you."

"Yes," Maggie answered, her cheek flushing pink, "I fear I do require some assistance to stand up and walk."

The Marquess wordlessly fetched his own cloak and draped it around Maggie's shoulder, tactfully hiding her unsightly appearance.

"Excuse me," he then said before lifting Maggie to his arms with ease, as if the latter barely weighed anything.

The young lady let out a startled gasp when she was carried off the ground, the Marquess's hands strategically placed at her back and beneath the crooks of her knees. Although their skins did not touch directly, an unexpected surge of warmth bloomed in Maggie's chest, like a butterfly taking flight.

"There's no need to be frightened," the Marquess's deep, husky voice rumbled in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. His warm breath danced across her earlobe, making her heart hammer like a frantic hummingbird, trapped in her chest.

"Y-yes," Maggie stammered, turning a shade redder in the face.

Never before had a man invaded her personal space like this. Not even Nicholas, the one she'd once envisioned as her future husband, had ever managed to evoke such a potent mixture of nervousness and exhilaration within her.

Maggie gathered her courage and stole a glance at the Marquess's profile. Under the soft glow of the candlelight, she was able to appreciate the full effect of his handsomeness.

His dark hair, the color of midnight, curled perfectly around his forehead, almost as if it was sculpted into place. Luxuriously thick lashes, like a perfect fringe, framed his bright eyes. Their color shifted with the light, appearing greener in the day and revealing a warm amber with a hint of richness in the evening.

But the change did nothing to diminish their brilliance; if anything, it added a touch of mesmerizing depth. Their intensity was only amplified by the strong brow ridge that shadowed them.

His cheekbones, high and sharp, carved a clean line down to a chiseled jaw, a perfect counterpoint to the taut lips below.

As Maggie took a deep, steadying breath, a captivating scent reached her senses. It was a potent blend of pipe tobacco, layered with a hint of leather.

The walk from the inner chamber of the Crown Office, down the tall flight of staircase to the carriage, must have taken at least fifteen minutes, but it felt like a mere minute for Maggie.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she did not forget to say once the Marquess deposited her safely into the carriage.

She thought that she might have some time to calm her nerves, to steady her rapidly beating heart, when the Marquess entered the same carriage from the other side.

"…"

Maggie's lips fell open in confusion.

"I need to introduce you to the house staff," the gentleman pointed out, clear as the day. "Otherwise they might be confused about your sudden arrival."

"Oh."

Right. She was so stupid.

Maggie would love to jump out of the carriage and hide in a ditch.

The temporary residence the Marquess picked out for her was a relatively sizeable Locksworth Manor. Perched atop a grassy hill, it loomed over the sprawl of the nearest town below like a watchful giant in the night.

A wrought-iron gate, adorned with the imposing Locksworth family crest, marked the entrance to the gravel driveway. This path snaked its way through meticulously kept gardens, their flowers now shrouded in darkness and the sweet scent of slumbering blooms.

Constructed from a warm, honey-colored sandstone, the manor boasted a symmetrical, two-story structure. Climbing ivy, like a ghostly hand, traced elegant patterns across sections of the facade, softening the stark lines of the building in the moonlight.

Large, arched windows with diamond-shaped panes emitted a warm, inviting glow from within, a beacon against the cool night air. A solitary chimney, taking the form of a square tower topped with a low, red-tiled roof, disrupted the manor's symmetry, adding a touch of intrigue to its otherwise dignified facade.

"Lady Blanchard is going to spend several days in this manor," the Marquess informed the manor staff upon their arrival. "She shall be treated with utmost respect owed to the family's most honorable guests."

"Yes, Your Grace," the manor staff answered in a chorus.

The Marquess, bless his heart, wanted to carry Maggie out of the carriage into one of the guest bedrooms in the manor, but Maggie chose to refuse his kindness this time around. She did not want the manor staff to mistake their relationship with each other.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I feel a lot better now," she lied. "I am sure that the maids can assist me just fine."

"Of course," the Marquess replied in curt words. "Well then, I wish you a restful and peaceful stay in this manor. If ever you need to reach me, the butler will happily inform you of my whereabouts."

"Yes, Your Grace. Again, thank you very much."

The Marquess of Canterbury left, and Maggie was left in the good hands of the manor staff.

Maggie was not sure how many guests and visitors the manor staff had had to tend to for the last ten years, but they treated her with a deference more befitting a princess than an Earl's daughter.

Maggie felt a lot better after she was rid of her tattered dress and was allowed to settle inside a tub overflowing with bath water. Luckily, she left her luggage from Cavendish Academy at the Crown Office when she first arrived. Otherwise, she might have nothing to change into for the night.

The day had been utterly draining, both physically and mentally. Maggie's mind was a blank slate, incapable of conjuring even the simplest thought about what to tackle next. The looming reality of another day only intensified her exhaustion. In a desperate bid for rest, she requested a sleeping potion, hoping it would grant her a night of deep, restorative sleep.

She was pretty sure that she fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. It was unclear how long she slept, but when she opened her eyes in the morning, an unknown man was lying next to her.