The next few days passed quickly, filled with preparations for the mill's reopening as well as the wedding. Operations were set to start the next week, and Margaret was eagerly anticipating finally getting to see the mill in action. There were still so many small details to arrange, but Margaret found that every task became much more enjoyable when interspersed with quick, furtive kisses from her betrothed.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Thornton had not given any strong objections to a small wedding, at least to Margaret's knowledge. John's mother was too pleased about the reopening of the mill and, Margaret suspected, the fact that John was getting married at all. She had even expressed to Margaret the hope that they would make no delay with grandchildren, although not, to Margaret's embarrassed relief, in John's hearing.

John had insisted that Margaret not come to the mill on the day of Watsons' dinner party. He had acquired Becky's giggling assurance that her mistress would spend the day being properly primped and pampered as she deserved. "Miss Margaret has been working too hard, Becky. She must take some time off, and we must see that she is suitably spoiled." Margaret had acquiesced with a shake of her head and an amused grin.

Becky was true to her word, and Margaret spent several hours relaxing and preparing for the evening's event. Surprisingly, she found the time rather enjoyable. She reveled in a long, hot bath, and then lost herself in a novel while drying her hair by the fire. Becky took extra time arranging Margaret's hair in an elaborate and flattering style, her chestnut curls falling in elegant rings down her neck. The maid had proved herself quite skilled and Margaret was well pleased with the end results.

She was glad she had thought to bring an evening gown with her from London. She almost had not, being so limited in what she could carry in her traveling bag, and with no notion that she would ever have the need for such a thing. The low-cut, pale green gown was one she had not yet had the chance to wear, having spent so long in mourning.

Margaret had never paid a great deal of attention to her appearance. Edith had always been considered the beauty, and Mr. Hale had always emphasized that a person's inner character was what mattered. But gazing into the mirror, Margaret felt a secret delight in believing that she looked pretty, and knowing that John would take pleasure from her appearance. Her heart began to race when she considered what form that pleasure would take very soon.

When John arrived to escort her, Margaret was still in her bedroom. Becky rushed down to get the door, and Margaret took a few moments to finish her last minute preparations. Descending the stairs, she was gratified by John's warmly ardent expression as his eyes ravenously took her in.

"Good evening, John."

He seemed too stunned to speak for a moment. "Good evening, Margaret. You look…"

"Well?" She raised an eyebrow teasingly.

He shook his head slightly and let out a labored breath. "Margaret, you are breathtaking."

Heat flooded her cheeks at his passionate words. "You also look splendid, John." She allowed her admiration to shine in her eyes. "Quite the most handsome man in Milton."

John's eyes flashed. For a moment they held each other's gaze, lost in the heat that quickly rose between them. They both seemed to recall they were not alone at the same moment. Margaret turned back to Becky, who stood ready to assist with her shawl and gloves.

John took Margaret's arm, assisting her into the carriage that waited outside. She waved goodbye to Becky who smiled broadly at them from the front steps.

Margaret looked over at John, sitting next to her in the carriage. He was admiring her with an unmistakably hungry look in his eyes. She suddenly felt rather shy.

"This is the first time we have ridden in a carriage together."

"Indeed." John did not seem inclined to carry a conversation. His eyes were gliding down the length of her form, evidently enamored of the view. He bent his head and began placing delicate kisses behind her ear.

"John–" Her half-hearted objection broke off as he slowly moved his way down to her neck. She placed her hand on his chest, telling herself she ought to push him back.

The feeling of John's lips on her skin was intoxicating. In the back of her mind, she knew their carriage ride would be short, and they should not get carried away. But she couldn't seem to find it within her to resist him.

John's lips trailed further down her shoulder, gently pushing her shawl out of the way. Margaret's breathing became shallow and ragged. She could sense they were rapidly approaching a dangerous threshold, but she felt helpless to stop it.

Rather abruptly, the carriage slowed and came to a stop. John pulled back from her quickly. Margaret found herself feeling both relieved and annoyed at the interruption.

John straightened his cravat, trying to regain his composure. "Forgive me, Margaret." His cheeks were flushed, the desire still evident in his eyes. "You look altogether too alluring." He gave her a rather sheepish smile, before exiting the carriage and helping her down.


The Watsons lived in a large, impressive home in the most prestigious part of town. Margaret was a bit nervous to finally be meeting John's sister. She hoped she would make a favorable impression. As they were shown into the front parlor, Margaret felt a small jolt of anxiety, taking in the room full of fashionably dressed men and women.

A young, blonde woman in an elaborately styled gown approached them. "John! I'm so glad you're here. So many people have been asking about you! You are the man of the hour, I must say!" Her wide smile dimmed as she turned to Margaret. "And you must be Miss Hale. You have certainly been making quite the stir."

"Margaret, this is my sister, Fanny Watson. Fanny, this is my betrothed, Miss Margaret Hale." John placed his hand protectively on Margaret's back. "I know you will wish to warmly welcome her to Milton society, Fanny." He gave his sister a look of warning. She flicked her eyes in an annoyed expression.

"Of course, Miss Hale. Do come, let me introduce you to some of the other masters' wives. They are all here tonight, and all are dying to meet you. The mysterious woman who suddenly captured the most eligible man in Milton! They are desperate to know how you did it."

"Oh, well…" Margaret had no idea how to respond to such a statement, but found she was not given the chance anyway.

"Miss Hale, meet Mrs. Slickson and Mrs. Hamper. This is Miss Hale, John's intended."

"Ah yes, Miss Hale." Mrs. Slickson was a large woman with a rather prunish expression. "Mr. Bell's heiress, I understand?"

"Well, yes–"

"Of course." Mrs. Slickson nodded dismissively, sharing a knowing glance with Mrs. Hamper.

Fanny introduced Margaret to several other ladies, assuring her they were the elite of Milton. They all greeted her with unconvincing smiles and less than effusive welcomes. Margaret felt her spirits falling. She had never cared to fit in with high society. However, now she had John's reputation to consider. She longed to be a credit to him. She had also forlornly hoped she might find at least one friend among the ladies of Milton. Sadly, she thought, glancing at the woman who would soon be her sister, that was not appearing likely.

"And this is Miss Latimer. Ann, this is Miss Hale." Fanny led Margaret to a very pretty young woman. Her dark blonde hair was elegantly styled and her dress, while tasteful, was of the very latest fashion.

Ann grasped the hand that Margaret extended in greeting in both of her own. "Oh, Miss Hale. I am so glad to meet you. I have heard so much about you, of course. And you are just as lovely as I imagined." She gave Margaret a dazzlingly beautiful smile, though somehow she gave the impression she was putting on a brave front. "I do hope we will become good friends, despite everything."

Margaret was unable to ask what 'everything' Ann referred to, as John approached just then to escort her into dinner. He nodded briefly at Ann, without making eye contact, Margaret noticed. Ann looked down, and gave a small sigh.

In the dining room, Margaret was disappointed to find she and John would not be seated together. Instead she was placed between Mr. Slickson and Mrs. Macpherson. The latter mostly ignored her, which Margaret would not have greatly minded, except that Mr. Slickson's roving gaze never seemed to lift higher than her neckline. Margaret found herself silent through most of dinner.

John was seated at the other end of the table, next to Ann Latimer. Margaret had thought he appeared uncomfortable at first, but soon Ann had drawn him into conversation. Ann was speaking and laughing animatedly, and John was nodding politely, even smiling slightly at her. Margaret felt a strange tension in her stomach as she watched Ann touch John's forearm. Ann said something earnestly to him, her other hand placed delicately over her heart, as if she were assuring him of the sincerity of her words.

John listened, his head down, and then nodded, giving her a small smile. Ann lay her hand on his for a moment, before returning her eyes and hands to her lap. She glanced down the table and met Margaret's eyes, giving her a sad, wistful smile.

Margaret immediately looked away, bewildered and shaken by the interaction she had observed. What did it mean? Was there some kind of connection between John and Ann Latimer? Suddenly it occurred to Margaret that Becky had been Ann's maid. Why had John gone to Ann to find a maid for Margaret?

When Fanny eventually led the ladies to withdraw, the women gathered in small groups around the drawing room. With no one paying her attention, Margaret wandered to a window that looked down onto the dark street below. She wondered how long the men would be socializing with their port, and when she would finally be able to leave.

"I am sure you are accustomed to much more stimulating company than this, Miss Hale." The voice was soft and lilting, almost purring. Margaret turned to see Ann standing at her side. "You must be so bored. I am sure our poor Milton society cannot compare to London." Her expression seemed apologetic.

"Not at all." Margaret felt a bit flustered around this young woman. "I was not very fond of London society, actually. I am quite happy to be here in Milton."

Ann smiled charmingly. "Oh, naturally. Why wouldn't you be? You will of course be the toast of the town. Married to the most sought after man in the city. The envy of all Milton ladies." She blinked and looked away, her smile fading slightly. "At least one lady in particular…"

Ann bit her lip and looked slightly anguished for a moment. She flashed a sharp glance at Margaret and then smiled brightly again. "Oh, forgive me. You mustn't feel bad for me. What a wonderful time this is for you. You must be enjoying planning a magnificent wedding. You will be such a lovely bride. And don't worry, I wouldn't expect an invitation, naturally. It would be much too awkward. But be assured, I hold no grudges. I wish you and John all the happiness in the world."

Margaret's mind seemed to be enveloped in cotton. She could not understand what Ann seemed to be saying. Or perhaps she did not want to make sense of it. John, Ann had called him. "Pardon me – do you mean – you – and Mr. Thornton–"

"Oh, dear. He told you!" Ann's hands flew to her cheeks, the picture of contrite horror. "Oh, I told him not to. It is too cruel to you. You poor, poor dear." She placed a hand on Margaret's arm, her expression tragically sympathetic. "But I suppose John knows best. No doubt you would have heard it from someone else eventually."

Ann shook her head. "I am sorry all the ladies were so cold to you this evening. And dear Fanny. She was so hoping she and I would be sisters, you know. But don't worry, they will all come around. They understand, of course, and they don't truly blame either of you. John did what he had to do for the mill."

"For the mill?" Margaret could not seem to find any other words. The room was spinning. Had John formed an understanding with Ann? Did he have feelings for her?

"Well, certainly. As soon as I heard that Mr. Bell's heiress was a young, unmarried woman, I knew that was the end for John and I. He would naturally need to marry you for the security of the mill. Of course you understand that." She gave Margaret a sadly commiserating look. "John would do anything for Marlborough Mills. Even give up his true love."

Margaret could do nothing but stare at Ann. Her heart was racing. She was encased in ice, numb. The room was closing in on her.

She could not believe it. Was John marrying her for her money – for the mill? Did he truly love Ann? Was everything she knew about John, the man she loved, whom she trusted with her whole heart, a lie?

"No." She shook her head. "No, that cannot be true."

Ann's forehead furrowed in concern. "Oh, my dear Miss Hale, I do understand how very painful this must be for you. Oh, no, are you going to cry? You poor, poor thing." She pressed something into Margaret's hand. Margaret glanced down to see a handkerchief. The embroidered initials 'J.T.' stared back at her.

The world seemed to stop.

"Oh, forgive me, I know it is sentimental and foolish of me to still carry that. John gave it to me on the night when he told me he could not marry me. I could not stop crying. I did not think I would be able to go on."

Margaret was feeling severely ill. Her hands and legs were beginning to shake. She could not take her eyes off the initials resting on her palm.

"He wanted me to keep the handkerchief to remember him. And I gave him one of mine, dabbed with my perfume. He told me he would keep it with him always. But he had to do his duty by the mill. I understood, of course..."

Ann forlornly dabbed an eye with her little finger. "The fates were against us, sadly. John said that we were star-crossed, like Romeo and Juliet. But he will forever love me, and hold me in his heart."

Margaret's eyes slowly lifted to Ann's face. "Romeo and Juliet?"

Ann gave her another sad, pitying smile. "The Shakespeare tragedy. He compared us to the ill-fated couple, desperately in love but prevented by fate to be together. He said we must go on living, though our hearts would forever lie entwined together in the grave. Oh, he is really very poetic, you know." She sighed and gazed out the window sadly, then turned back to Margaret.

"Oh, forgive me, my dear, I suppose this must be painful for you to hear. But he is a good man, and I know he will grow to care for you too, even love you, as much as he is able." Her expression became rather melancholy. She placed her hand again on Margaret's. "But remember, men have… well… certain needs. I hope it will not distress you too much when…" She sighed and glanced around delicately. "Well, when he seeks his comforts elsewhere."

For several long moments Margaret stared at Ann silently. Then she pressed the handkerchief back onto Ann's palm, and closed Ann's fingers over it. Margaret held Ann's hand in both of hers. She spoke in a low voice. "A valiant effort, Miss Latimer."

Ann blinked, her expression faltering slightly in confusion. Margaret gave her a small, sympathetic smile, her eyes never wavering from Ann's. "But, Juliet… I'm afraid you overplayed your hand."

All the warmth dropped from Ann's face like a mask. She stared back at Margaret with icy contempt.

Just then, Margaret heard the men entering the drawing room. She turned and saw John approaching, his eyes warily glancing between herself and Ann.

"John," she smiled brightly, taking his arm. "Miss Latimer and I have been having a lovely chat. But I believe I am growing a little tired. Would it be all right if we made our excuses for the evening?"

"Of course, Margaret." With a small nod to a glowering Ann, they crossed the room to Fanny to take their leave.


John assisted Margaret into the carriage and followed her in. As soon as the carriage doors were closed, Margaret threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

A pleasantly surprised John eagerly returned the kiss. When Margaret finally broke away, she laid her head on his chest.

"What was that for, my darling?" He stroked her hair softly.

"Oh, John…" Margaret sighed contentedly. "That was for being the man I know you are, the man I love and trust completely." She pulled back and looked into his face. "Ann Latimer wanted to marry you, didn't she?"

John's mouth thinned into a grim line. "Yes, she did. I hope she was not making you uncomfortable this evening."

Margaret gave him a wry smile. "Well, she certainly did her best. I am curious as to how she managed to come by one of your handkerchiefs."

John glanced away, looking a bit embarrassed. "Margaret, I must admit something. Before I met you, Mr. Latimer approached me about investing in the mill. His offer was conditional – on my marrying Miss Latimer. I did not want to. I did not care for her. I scarcely knew her, as I would soon come to realize." John ran a hand through his hair. "It would have merely been a marriage of convenience. I gave him no assurances, or reason to believe I would accept. But I considered it, in order to reopen the mill. It was a mistake to even contemplate it. I – I do not believe I could have gone through with it."

He looked back at Margaret. "And as soon as you walked into Marlborough Mills, into my life – it became completely impossible. Whether you would have me or not, I could never marry any other woman once I met you."

John traced his fingers along her cheek. "Margaret, the night I met you, I told Latimer I could not accept his conditions. I turned him down before you ever offered to invest in the mill." His expression became rueful. "I had to tell Miss Latimer as well. I suppose her father had led her to believe… I certainly had not. But she was unhappy. I do not know if her heart was truly hurt. I hope it was not. But that is why she had my handkerchief."

He sighed heavily. "I know what people are saying, that I'm marrying you for the money, for the mill. It infuriates me. I hope you know that isn't the least bit true. I would happily marry you without a penny to your name. I am marrying you, Margaret Hale, because I love you with everything I am, and I want to spend the rest of my life doing all that I can to make you happy. Do you know that, my darling? Do you believe me?"

"Of course I do, John." Margaret beamed at him, tears glistening in her eyes. "I love you, John. And I do not care what people may say." She wrapped her arms around his neck again, and snuggled into his neck. He held her tightly, resting his head on hers. "Just try to be a little more careful with your handkerchiefs in the future, my love."