To this, her father’s reply was indignant. “Are you suggesting that I’m old in years?”
“No.” Margaret shook her head feverishly. “I was merely stating that… he is older than I! Certainly, there must be someone closer to my own age.”
The viscount was in a huff, and Margaret quickly dropped this topic for fear that her father might pursue the Lord Darkmoor idea merely because Margaret protested against it.
Margaret stared down at her sandwich, unable to consume it. That knot reappeared in her stomach, and Margaret excused herself, saying that she felt unwell.
“May I be of assistance?” Jane asked.
“That shall be unnecessary, Jane. I’m merely in need of a nap.”
Margaret felt some measure of relief as she exited the tearoom. Yes, she would retire to her chambers and spend the rest of the afternoon contemplating her fate. With all luck, her father might be too drunk when suppertime came, and then, Margaret could enjoy the peace and quiet. Oh, she needed to tell Jane everything, but now was not the time to do so. Margaret needed solitude. She also needed to think about how she might escape if she were forced to marry Lord Darkmoor.