Margaret did not know what to say. Her mind rushed to different possibilities. One of them, of course, was that Cole was merely making it all up.
"As we speak, the League believes I killed Osmond Trilby."
Margaret swallowed hard. "What makes you believe so?"
"I was with the man before he died and our meeting did not end cordially. The only reason I have not yet been arrested is because they may not have enough proof."
"But you didn't do it, did you?"
A wry smile curled his lips. "Anyone with enough power can make anything possible. Putting the blame on me shall make things convenient for these men because by prosecuting me, they shall also be putting a stop to the investigation on their illegal trade." He smiled when she merely kept quiet. "Do you think I did it?"
Margaret opened her mouth to speak, but it took a moment before she managed to say, "I believe you would not intentionally cause anyone harm, Cole. And I cannot judge you now. My head is still reeling with everything you've just shared."
Her answer must have satisfied him because he nodded and apologized. "I do not mean to lobby for your support. I only told you everything because I know you would want to have reasons to keep this a secret."
"Of course."
"No one can know about Fiona, Meg."
She nodded.
Bloody tarnation. What was she supposed to do now? Margaret was not merely feeling guilty. She was feeling quite miserable because of it as well.
How would she ever tell him? How would he take it?
He doesn't have to know, a part of her said. This was a League matter. She was bound to her oath.
Then what would she tell Calan Haverston?
"How long did you tell your family you would be in Standbury?"
Cole's question drew her from her thoughts. "A fortnight," she replied.
He slowly nodded in that way of his that indicated he was thinking things through and that a plan was being formed. "If you wish to stay—"
"Yes," she eagerly interjected. Then she blinked. "I mean... I mean if you do not mind."
The smile he gave her told her he definitely had a plan in mind. She thought he would reveal it now, but instead he said, "Then you may want a proper introduction."
"To Fiona?"
Cole shrugged. "There is no use keeping her sequestered away from you now that you know of her presence. She had not been around anyone else but the household staff and I since her arrival and it has been making her a little restless. I believe you would be a breath of fresh air for the child."
She searched his face for a sign of a hidden agenda. She found none. "You do not know how to handle her, do you?"
Cole's face grimly nodded. "I have to admit it has been quite challenging. She is merely three but can be quite manipulative. And I'm afraid I do not have the experience to deal with it all."
Her eyes widened. "And you think I do?"
"You have the twins," he pointed out.
"Yes, but this child is a different matter. She is like a delicate vase I would loathe to break."
"The very mere fact that you are aware of her delicate situation makes you a perfect companion."
She sighed. "This was not what I had in mind when I came here." As he laughed, Margaret reached for her drink and emptied her cup. "I have one question. Why does Edmund Trilby care so much for this girl?"
"Because she is a child, Meg."
"Yes, I understand that. But why go to great lengths to protect her?"
"He has his reasons." His gaze seemed distant as he considered his thoughts. "We do not choose the family we are born into, Meg. For some of us like Edmund Trilby, we learn to tolerate things in our families." When his eyes locked with hers, they were clear, almost angry. "Until we realize we have limitations."
"Do you trust him?"
"I do."
"Truly? Or do you just want progress on your case?" When he just sighed, she added, "It could be a ruse to frame you further. He is, after all, his father's son."
"You might be right," he said, "Which is why I keep records of all our correspondence."
Margaret nodded, biting her lips. "I'm sorry. I'm merely concerned."
"You need not. I know what I'm doing. I'm being thoroughly careful."
Not enough, she thought. Because you just invited me to extend my stay. And you shouldn't have.
***
Margaret stared at the black-haired girl before her. Her deep blue eyes looking at her with utter curiosity.
"Hello," Margaret said with a smile.
Fiona seemed lost as she turned her head to look at Cole. He gave the child a nod. Encouraged, Fiona waved at her shyly.
For a moment, Margaret thought that the child reminded her of someone but she could not point out who. "I see Lord Ashmore has finally allowed us both to meet," she brightly said.
The child nodded, biting off a smile. And then, without warning, Fiona asked, "Are you also friends with Edmund?"
"I know of him," she said, "But I cannot honestly say we are friends."
"We play games together."
"Would you like to play then?" When Fiona just blinked at her with reservation, she chuckled. "I assure you, dear, that I know how to play." She bent on her knees and added, "I have many siblings and we all played a lot."
Fiona's eyes turned bright and a small smile curled at the corner of her lips. "Hide and seek?"
"I'm a master at it," she said. "What say you to a game of hide and seek this afternoon while Lord Ashmore bores himself in his study?"
Fiona's face revealed a true beauty as she finally broke into a smile and nodded. Then, she stopped, looking over her shoulder at Cole.
"You do not have to ask for my permission every single time, Fiona," he gently said.
"That's settled then." Margaret straightened and held out her hand to the child. "Now, we have a ton to talk about the many strategies of hide and seek."
With an excited giggle, Fiona eagerly took her hand and never ceased talking until it was time for the game.
That afternoon, Margaret tired herself in the garden playing with a three-year-old, even went on a slight panic when she could not find the girl. The gardener later found her behind the bushes sleeping.
When evening came and the lights outside the Ashmore estate dimmed, Cole visited her bedchamber.
Their lovemaking was slow and gentle, almost reverent. But the passion was just the same. They explored it with delicious and agonizing patience. While whispered words of desire echoed in the room, there was no talk of the future. Or of what would happen next.
Hours later they faced each other in the tub, sated and soaking in silence.
He was mindlessly rubbing her knee with a small smile, running his thumb over a small white scar. He knew the story behind it—how she stumbled and fell on a potted plant while running away from the frogs Nicholas wanted her to see.
"I remember Nicholas was banned to stay in the same room as you for days," he said with a grin.
Her shoulders shook with a silent chuckle. "Yes. Father was quite angry."
He leaned over the scar and kissed it, his hand sliding down her thigh. His lips stayed there for a while. When her hand came to rest on the back of his neck, he lifted his head. Her brow furrowed at the look in his eyes. He looked like he was trying to tell her something, but was afraid to.
"What is it?" she asked.
He did not reply and proceeded to rinse them both with fresh water. "Come," he said, pulling her out of the tub to wrap a bath towel around her. He led her back to her bed. They went to sleep without him giving her an answer.
Hours later, Margaret opened her eyes. Making sure he was asleep, she slipped out of bed and wrapped herself in a robe.
She sneaked into his study for the third time since she arrived. And like before, she found the same things. Papers and more papers. It would take her months to make sense of it all, but Cole's notes in his notebook gave her a grasp of everything. Even after looking through it for the third time, it was clear that he was working on nothing but the slave trade.
Of course, she had searched other parts of the manor. She looked into all drawers in his study, the library, and even his bedchamber. Unless he, too, had a secret study, Margaret regretfully found nothing that would prove he was Osmond Trilby's murderer.
She should just go home, she thought much later as she quietly returned to bed. There was nothing here to discover other than the fact that Osmond Trilby's death was more complicated than the League suspected.
She studied Cole's sleeping face as she waited for slumber. If he was telling the truth, the League could help him. But knowing Cole, he would not easily trust the League.
***
"Fiona?"
Margaret's concerned voice stirred Cole from his sleep. He rose to his elbow in alarm when he saw the child huddled against Margaret, her entire body shaking.
Margaret threw him a worried look as she whispered soothing words in Fiona's ears. The girl was in her nightdress and had found her way to Margaret's bedchamber.
"What is it, dear?" Margaret asked, signaling for Cole for her robe. In his haste, he nearly trampled to the floor, his bare leg caught in a tangle of blankets. Margaret shot his groin a murderous look and it was only then that he realized he was naked. Wrapping the top cover around his waist, he strained his entire form to reach for Margaret's robe hanging on the side of the bed. Finally, he managed to get a hold of it and he immediately returned to her side to wrap it around her shoulders. She momentarily let go of Fiona to slip her arms into the sleeves and cover herself.
"Fiona, dear, what is it? Tell me," Margaret said one more time, gathering Fiona closer in her arms, tucking the child's face in her chest to give Cole time to cover himself. He found his own robe and quickly returned under the covers.
Finally, both of them decent, Margaret lay the child between them in bed. "Bad dream," Fiona murmured with a shudder. "Bad, bad."
Cole's jaw tightened as he looked at the child.
"Bad, bad...," Fiona whimpered, turning to Margaret, burying her face in her bosom. "Bad man."
Cole shared a surprised look with Margaret.
"What bad man, darling?" Margaret whispered.
"Hurting him. Bad man... He's hurting him."
"Hush, Fiona," Margaret whispered in her ear, caressing her dark hair. "It was only a dream. Sleep now. You're safe."
"I want Eddie," Fiona choked.
Margaret met Cole's eyes, both of them speechless.
"Shh... Edmund will come soon," Margaret soothed.
Cole lay motionless as they waited for Fiona to drift into sleep. He slowly slipped out of bed when Margaret pulled the covers over herself and Fiona. Circling to her side, he bent over her to whisper in her ear, "I shall return to my chamber."
She nodded, tightening her arms around the child.
***
Three days later, Fiona seemed better.
The child started to open up more, telling them memories with her mother and other women she lived with, many of them Trilby servants. But most of her stories centered on Edmund.
"He built toys!" Fiona was telling Margaret, her small arms moving over her head and around. "And he built 'em big! Big!"
"He did, didn't he?"
The girl's face fell as she remembered something else. "But he stopped."
"Why is that so?"
"He had to go to school. I hate school."
"You were sad when he left."
"I also cried a lot before I met Eddie," she said instead. "Many times. I was lonely. I only stopped when Mama said we'll drown."
Margaret smiled. "You must have been very sad, then. I haven't seen anyone cry so much that they'll drown in their own tears."
"I did! I cried as much as the sea!"
Margaret stiffened. "The sea?"
Fiona nodded. "Mama says a goddess cried so much and her tears turned to sea. It drowned people and animals. She only stopped because her tears can't reach the manor."
Cold washed over Margaret. "Why?" she asked, barely a whisper.
Fiona was quiet for a long time and she thought maybe the child would never answer. But she leaned closer and whispered in Margaret's ear. "No one can cry in the manor." As a shiver ran through Margaret, Fiona turned away and picked up a picture book and began talking about it as if nothing happened.
"Eddie said I should learn to read." Without an answer from Margaret, she smiled. "If I'm smart enough, the bad man won't find me anymore."
Margaret looked around the schoolroom and forced a smile. "If you become truly smart, Fiona, you will be able to protect yourself from any bad man." She gave Fiona's forehead a kiss. "How does it feel to be away from the manor, Fiona?"
Fiona shrugged. "Scary."
"Ashmore is scary?"
Fiona giggled. "Silly, Maggie. No. Eddie's house is scary."
Margaret nodded. "Oh, silly of me indeed. I forgot that's where you went first after you left the manor."
Again, the child giggled. "Yes. That's where I met Eddie and we became friends! And he built me toys!" Her face fell and she sighed. "But Eddie left me for school. And he took me here."
Restless now, Margaret smoothed the child's hair. "You will see him again."
Fiona's smile returned. "I know. Eddie keeps his promise."
Giving Fiona another kiss, Margaret stood and wiped her palms on her skirts. "I'll be back," she absently said to the maid sitting in one corner.
She rushed down the corridor, mind reeling. When she was far enough from the schoolroom, she stopped and took a deep, shaky breath. "Oh God," she whispered in disbelief. "Bloody hell."