My Maggie,

XXVIII

The garden looked beautiful. Blue and white streamers wrapped around the rustic oak of the tree trunks and candles scattered all over the garden, a table with a variety of different nibbles served on silver platters where in the corner and a string quartet played all of Margaret's favourite songs. Pairs of friends and family were dancing and swaying to the music on the dance floor. It looked perfect. Yet Margret still felt a sense of guilt. Since the moment she had said yes she felt a pang of guilt. When the wide smile broken out on James face her heart cracked a little. She felt it intensify when Tobias had been teasing James about him having feelings for me since we were children. Yet nothing felt worse then what was unfolding right now. The deep pain and frustration that Margret felt deep in her stomach. As she danced with her future husband, his arms wrapped around her, his scent consuming her, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispers how beautiful she looked tonight. Yet her attention was focused on the Bridgerton staring at her whilst he danced with his future wife. The guilt she felt when her conciseness betrayed her and she thought of how she wished that that was her. That this engagement party was there's, that its his arms around her, his lips pressed against her, she wished that Colin was the one telling her how beautiful she looked. The song soon needed and as the string quarters began to play another she politely excused herself from the Saint-Michel boy claiming she needed the lavatory. Yet instead of turning left as she entered the house she turned right and ran up the stairs. Straight past the upstairs toilet and straight into the comfort of her room. Carefully closing the door behind her she felt the tears welling up in her eyes, her vision becoming more and more blurry by the second. Sliding down the door she allowed her stain blue dress to pool around her. She wept on the floor as she thought of all the things she should have done differently. Glancing up she saw the small jewellery box where she had hidden his letters. Those stupid letters, Margret thought to herself, the lies he had told her, the sweet comments he had made which made her heart swell now seemed to be proving nothing but empty nothings. Carefully she stood from the cool hard wood floors and walked toward the chest of drawers. Carefully taking them out she went and sat in front of the lit fireplace and began to reread every beautiful word he had written her, every joke they shared, every moment they had, all the feelings she had felt. The feelings she believed he had reciprocated. With a sudden pain and anger burning into her chest she looked into the fire and felt a red mist wash over her. She needed to let him go, let go the feelings she felt. It's not that she didn't like James. He was lovely and funny and extremely handsome and made her feel safe and happy, she just didn't feel the butterflies she felt with Colin. She needed to let Colin go. So she did what she felt she must do, she began to burn the letters and washed as his cursive handwriting began to be crimped by the burning parchment. A gentle knock broke her gaze away from the beautiful dancing flames. Wiping her tear stained face she walked over the the door and opened it, instantly meeting the eyes of the one man she wished to avoid. Colin Bridgerton.

AN: Ok so I had a lil writers bloke but I'm back and I have a good plan now. Lol. The next chapter is going to be a bit spicy but dw if you don't want to read it you can skip.