Page 55 of Much Ado About Margaret
Before Bridger could fully receive that, Bastian swung around and pulled open the door the rest of the way. And there, sure enough, stood a lady. And not just any lady, but Miss Regina Applethwaite, her hair a silvery halo above her blue silk ensemble. A coy smile tugged at her rosebud lips because she obviously could not contain herself. There was a woman fully submersed in the heady liquor of a successful coup.
Despite the shock, Bridger’s mind worked very fast.
“G. R. Neeve,” he muttered, dismissing poor, befuddled Bastian with a wave. “Revenge.”
Regina drifted forward, bringing with her the scent of watery flowers. There was a chair before his desk, and Bridger moved aside, allowing her to have it. She descended like a queen about to hold court, though the smile had vanished. “You worked that out rather quickly.”
“I didn’t work it out at all,” he said. But of course, he couldn’t go a single day, a single bloody hour, without Margaret Arden crashing into his thoughts. “Miss Arden pointed out the coincidence this summer, when we were all at Pressmore for the Richmond wedding.”
That pleased Regina immensely. She sat up straighter and beamed. “She is uncommonly clever. Even more so for having abandoned your acquaintance.”
Bridger strode to his side of the desk, took the worn chair, and refused to look at her, propping both hands under his chin. “Ah yes, which means the two of you must be the best of friends now.”
She made a soft, unoffended sound. “Not at all, actually. She has gone out of her way to snub me.”
At that, his head snapped around toward her. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. I tried to stop Miss Arden at the opera just last week. She was there with the Burtons, but I couldn’t squeeze more than three words out of her.”
Bridger grinned. “Then your triumph is not complete.”
“Complete enough.” She tossed her head. “You will publishSable Fallsto all the acclaim it deserves, and you and I will forever know that I am G. R. Neeve and the source of your publishing success. I have looked over your suggestions for the frontispiece and woodcut, and heartily approve, Mr. Darrow. You really were meant to do this work. I see great things ahead for Dockarty and Company.”
He had never heard a compliment presented thus, like a poisoned blade wrapped in velvet.
Putting his hands down, he shifted in his chair. Regina cast her gaze about the room, rearranging her shawl and reticule several times. The office was not the lavish surroundings she had become accustomed to.
“You are taking this better than I hoped,” she said finally. “It’s deflating.”
“A man who has lost everything is difficult to rob.”
Regina’s eyes widened. “Whatever do you mean by that, Mr. Darrow?”
“It is of no consequence, Miss Applethwaite,” he said. His toe nudged the drawer with all of Margaret’s things, and he swallowed hard. He hadn’t locked it back up, and, ajar, he saw the note from Regina peeking out from inside. “I hurt you terribly, didn’t I?”
Regina sat back, studying him. Her hand fluttered to her heart. “I beg your pardon?”
“I never took full responsibility for it, the depths of what I put you through.” Bridger laughed mirthlessly, then fell silent as Maria entered, bringing tea. It was laid out on his desk among the drifting dunes of contracts and marked-up pages. Neither of them touched the seedcakes, though Regina took a saucer of tea and politely held it. “I think we should publishSable Fallsunder your real name, Miss Applethwaite. You should take full credit for the work; it is an astonishing achievement. You could have given up after how much I discouraged you, but you persevered. I’m sorry for what I said to you allthose years ago. My father demanded it, but I should have had the courage to end things cleanly. I shouldn’t have listened to him, and I should have treated you better.”
Her mouth hung open briefly. Regina, always polished, always together, collected herself with a tiny sniff. “Thank you, Mr. Darrow.”
“Then, you will agree to put your name on the book?”
Regina sipped her tea twice, put the saucer on the desk, and stood. “Indeed. I think I would like that very much. After all, I am rich, beautiful, and strong enough to endure society’s scrutiny.” She sounded dazed. Stunned. Slowly, she glided like an apparition to the door. Bridger went forward to hold it open for her, a strange buzzing in his chest. She was almost gone, leaving nothing but the imprint of her elderflower perfume, before she cursed under her breath and spun. For a while, she simply regarded him, her expression changing rapidly, traveling from bemused to determined with several stops along the way.
“You have done me a good turn, Mr. Darrow, and so I will match the favor,” she said, then smirked. “Even if you are very naughty for ruining my clever joke on you.”
“A cleverer person than I realized the trick.”
Regina nodded, touching her lip thoughtfully. “This summer I was, well, politely minding my own thoughts when I happened to pass by the Sapphire Library and hear Miss Arden’s aunts unleashing upon her. Which—have you tried, sir, to make amends with the lady?”
“I have written her repeatedly, even gone to the Mayfair address for the Burtons, but I am rebuffed.”
She pressed her lips together tightly. “She has been forbidden from seeing you, speaking of you, and writing her books. It was a painful sentence levied, Mrs. Burton vowing to turn her family out of their cottage if Margaret disobeyed. I fear she ignores you not out of any malice, but for the love of her mother and sisters.”
Bridger stepped back as if struck.
“I…That…” He shook his head, heat burning across his chest and up his throat.Oh God.“Margaret.”
