She cleared her throat again. "So I did. I… well… you must know that I love my sister dearly."
"Your devotion to your family is clear in everything you do," Angus said quietly.
She picked up her napkin and twisted it. "I'm thrilled for Alicia. I wish her every happiness in the world."
Angus watched her closely. She wasn't lying, but neither was she telling the truth. "I know you're happy for your sister," he said softly. "You don't have it in you to feel anything else for her. But what do you feel for yourself?"
"I feel… I feel…" She let out a long, tired breath. "No one has ever asked me this before."
"Maybe it's time."
Margaret nodded. "I feel left behind. I spent so much time raising her. I've devoted my life to this moment, to this end, and somewhere along the way, I forgot about myself. And now it's too late."
Angus raised a dark brow. "You're hardly a toothless crone."
"I know, but to the men in Lancashire, I am firmly on the shelf. When they start thinking of potential brides, they don't think of me."
'Then they're stupid, and you shouldn't want anything to do with them."
She smiled sadly. "You are sweet, Angus Greene, no matter how hard you try to hide it. But the truth is, people see what they expect to see, and I've spent so much time chaperoning Alicia that I have been cast in an authoritative role. I sit with the mothers at country dances, and that, I fear, is where I'll stay."
She sighed. "Is it possible to be so happy for one person and at the same time be so sad for oneself?"
"Only the most generous in spirit can manage it. The rest of us don't know how to be happy for another when our own dreams have gone astray."
A single tear pricked Margaret's eye. "Thank you," she said.
"You're a fine woman, Margaret Pennypacker, and-"
"Pennypacker?" The innkeeper came scurrying over. "Did you just call her Margaret Pennypacker?"
Margaret felt her throat close up. She knew she'd get caught in this bloody lie. She'd never been good at fabrication, or even at playacting, for that matter…
But Angus just looked George calmly in the eye and said, "It's her maiden name. I use it as an endearment from time to time."
"Well, then, you must be recently married, because there's a messenger traveling from inn to inn, asking after her."
Margaret sat up very straight. "Is he still here? Do you know where he went?"
"He said he was going to try The Mad Rabbit." George jerked his head to the right before turning to walk away. "It's just down the street."
Margaret stood so quickly that she overturned her chair. "Let's go," she said to Angus. "We have to catch up with him. If he checks all the inns and doesn't find me, he might leave the village. And then I'll never get the message, and-"
Angus laid a heavy, comforting hand on her arm. "Who knows you're here?"
"Just my family," she whispered. "Oh, no, what if something dreadful has happened to one of them? I will never forgive myself. Angus, you don't understand. I'm responsible for them, and I could never forgive myself if-"
He squeezed her arm, and somehow the motion helped to settle her racing heart. "Why don't we see what this messenger has to say before we panic?"
Margaret couldn't believe how reassured she was by his use of the word "we." She nodded hurriedly. "Right. Let's be off, then."
He shook his head. "I want you to remain here."
"No. I couldn't possibly. I-"
"Margaret, you're a woman traveling alone, and-" He saw her open her mouth to protest and continued with, "No, don't tell me how capable you are. I've never met a more capable woman in my life, but that doesn't mean that men aren't going to try to take advantage of you. Who knows if this messenger really is a messenger?"
"But if he is a messenger, then he won't release the message into your hands. It's addressed to me."
Angus shrugged. "I'll bring him back here, then."
"No, I can't. I can't bear to feel useless. If I stay here-"
"It would make me feel better," he interrupted.
Margaret swallowed convulsively, trying not to pay attention to the warm concern in his voice. Why did the dratted man have to be so bloody nice? And why did she even care if her actions could make him "feel better"?
But she did, bugger her eyes.
"All right," she said slowly. "But if you don't return in five minutes, I'm coming after you."
He sighed. "Jesus, whiskey, and Robert the Bruce, do you think you might be able to grant me ten?"
Her lips wobbled into a smile. "Ten, then."
He pointed at her mouth with the jauntiest of fingers. "Caught you grinning. You can't be that angry with me."
"Just get me that message, and I'll love you forever."
"Och, good." He saluted her and walked out the door, pausing only to say, "Don't let George give my cranachan to anyone else."
Margaret blinked, then gasped. Good Lord, had she just told him she'd love him forever?
Angus reentered The Canny Man eight minutes later, message in hand. It hadn't been that difficult to convince the messenger to relinquish the envelope; Angus had merely said-with a certain level of firmness-that he was serving as Miss Pennypacker's protector, and he would see to it that she received the message.
It also didn't hurt that Angus towered over six feet by a good four inches-which gave him nearly a foot over the messenger.
Margaret was sitting where he had left her, tapping her fingers against the table and ignoring the two big bowls of cranachan that George must have set before her.
"Here you are, my lady," he said jovially, handing her the missive.
She must have been in a daze, because she jerked to attention and gave her head a little shake before taking it.
The message was indeed from her family. Angus had managed to obtain that information from the messenger. He wasn't worried about there being an emergency; the messenger-when asked, once again firmly-had told him the message was very important but that the woman who had given it to him hadn't seemed overly panicked.
He watched Margaret carefully as her shaking hands broke the seal. Her green eyes scanned the lines quickly, and when she reached the end, she blinked several times in rapid succession. A strangled, choking sort of sound emerged from her throat, followed by a gasp of "I can't believe he did this."
Angus decided he'd better tread carefully. From her reaction, he couldn't tell whether she was about to start screaming or crying. Men and horses were easy to predict, but God alone understood the workings of the female mind.
He said her name, and she thrust two sheets of paper toward him in reply.
"I'm going to kill him," she bit out. "If he isn't dead yet, I'm going to bloody well kill him."
Angus looked down at the papers in his hand.
"Read the bottom one first," Margaret said bitterly.
He switched the sheets and began to read.
Rutherford House Pendle, Lancashire
My dearest sister-
This note was delivered to us by Hugo Thrumpton. He said he was under strict orders not to bring it by until you had been departed a full day.
Please do not hate Edward.
Godspeed.
yr. loving sister, Alicia Pennypacker
Angus looked up with questioning eyes. "Who is Hugo Thrumpton?"
"My brother's best friend."
"Ah." He pulled out the second letter, which was written in a decidedly more masculine hand.
Thrumpton Hall
nr. Clitheroe, Lancashire
My dear Margaret-
It is with a heavy heart that I write these words. By now you have received my note advising you of my flight to Gretna Green. If you react as I know you will, you will be in Scotland as you read this.
But I am not in Scotland, and I never had any intention of eloping. Rather, I leave tomorrow for Liverpool to join the Royal Navy. I shall use my portion to purchase my commission.