My Maggie,

XV

The moonlight shone through Margaret's windows allowing her to see the small slip of paper that sat motionless on the silk of her nightgown. A lingering feeling in her palm from when he had placed the parchment in her hand, a glowing feeling on her knuckles from when he had kissed them goodbye. Glancing from her window to the familiar black door on the other side of the Governor's square where the family had been for dinner just ten minutes ago. 

They had left soon after dinner, of course after Angelica devoured some dessert, each Bridgerton had lined themselves up in order saying there farewells to the Nighthower clang. Margret had worn a gentle smile and offered a nod before moving on to the next Bridgerton, until she stopped in front of the only person who could make her feel nervous yet safe at the same time. 

"Maggie." He said in a tone that could make any girl swoon with a nod. 

"Its Margret."

"I hope to see you again," he had said as he bent down and kissed her hand, his eyes never disconnecting from Margrets. Both of their hearts simultaneously combusting at the tension. 

Margret simply nodded before trying to run to Anthony who was next in line, but as she went to move a cool square slip hit her palm followed by the delicate fingers of Colin Bridgerton, his finger lingering over the centre of her hand, a small pressure that made Margrets heart beat erratically, the tickling sensation making butterflies appear in Margrets stomach. Colin cupped her hand and shut her fingers tight. Just as quickly as they had come Colin proceeded to say his farewells to Gilbert and Margrets hand was gridlocked in a fist. 

The second the family walked through the sand blue door Margret had ran to her room on the top floor, slammed the door shut and layed the piece of parchment of the desk. It was small and folded many times into the square shape it is now. 

"Margret," Ophelia had said opening the door and stepping into the younger girls room. "Can you unbutton me." 

Without word Margret unbuttoned the gown. "What do you think of him?"

"Benedict?"

"Yes." She was oddly quiet, vulnerable. 

"He seems sweet."

"Quite clumsy isn't he."

"Alarmingly so." 

Ophelia let out a chuckle. "Yes." Concentration hit like a stone on Ophelias face. 

"Are you alright?" Margret asked her elder sibling. 

"Yes, yes of course I am. Now turn." 

Margret did as her sister told her and felt the gown that had bound and pinched her all evening become loose, and the feeling was astounding. 

"Goodnight sister." Ophelia had said before she practically ran from the room. 

And now Margret sat on her window chair, glancing at the paper on her lap, unsure whether to dispose of it or read it. With one last glance at the ominous black door across the square she picked the paper from her lap and began to unfold the paper. 

Dearest Maggie,

Bloody hell, Margret thought to herself, he can't even get my name right, this is ridiculous. She folded the parchment back up and placed it in a jewellery box before walking over to her bed. Yet before she could clamber into the warm cotton sheets she stopped herself and looked back at the wooden box. Fuck it she told herself before walking back. 

She slammed down onto the window chair and once again began to unfold the crevasses of the paper. 

Dearest Maggie, 

Has anyone called you that? I heard Ophelia call you Mar earlier, but no one called you Maggie. If not then I wish to claim ownership over that right, I think Maggie suits you more than Margret. Not that Margret isn't a lovely name. I just think that Margret is rather generic, you deserve a name that is rare, treasured, unique. 

I must agree with you by the way, most men are dicks. My brother being one of them of course, if you find yourself wondering which one don't bother they both are. You said you dreamed of adventure at the presentation, where would you go first?

The world is big Maggie, life is short, what are you waiting for?

Yours, Colin.