Scoundrel With A Noble Heart (sequel of Disgraceful)

Chapter 107

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A pair of vacant eyes stared back at Marguerite from the mirror of her dressing table. Mary, combing the silky strands that cascaded down Marguerite's shoulders like waves of spun gold, cast a worried glance at her mistress' reflection.

"Cheer up, Miss," Mary chirped, her voice laced with forced cheer. "Tomorrow is your big day!" She leaned over and placed her hands on Marguerite's arms, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
"Aren't you anxious about the wedding night? Since nobody else can tell you the specifics of what happens between a husband and wife, perhaps I can enlighten you with my own wicked story."

Mary's sincere effort, though well-meaning, was lost on Marguerite. Mustering a smile proved a herculean effort. It wavered for a moment, then faltered completely, leaving her lips trembling.

To bear Jacob's permanent absence was a burden heavy enough. The loss of Chester was another crushing blow. A flicker of sympathy crossed Mary's face at Marguerite's obvious misery. The maid patted her gently on the shoulder before turning to collect the discarded clothes. The door to her suite clicked open, and Cook slipped inside with a tray of tea. The china cups clinked against the silver tray as she crossed the room to the low table.

"I brought you some chamomile tea, Miss," the older woman offered, her gentle smile failing to reach the worry in her eyes.

Marguerite muttered a barely audible "Thank you" in response. Pausing for a moment, Cook exchanged a worried glance with Mary before the younger maid discreetly left with the laundry basket.

Reaching over, Cook knelt beside Marguerite at the dressing table. Her worn hands settled gently on Marguerite's shoulders.

"Don't fret, Miss," Cook soothed, her voice warm with experience. "Though little Chester may be small, he's a tough one. He's likely faced worse before." A thoughtful crease appeared between Cook's brows. "Perhaps fate hasn't spoken its last. My neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, a dear old soul, once lost her dog. But lo and behold, the creature reappeared at her door a fortnight later. Who knows, maybe tomorrow, or the day after, Chester will be back at our doorstep."

Cook meant for the words to brighten Marguerite's mood, but the unlikely possibility, the 'too good to be true' scenario, plunged her back into despair. A single tear escaped, blurring her reflection in the mirror.

"There, there, dear child," Cook murmured, concern lacing her voice. "Your mother wouldn't want to see you cry, especially on your wedding eve."

A weak shake of her head preceded her answer, her voice barely a whisper, "It wouldn't matter, Cook. She can't see me. Not anymore."

"Though she may have passed on, Miss," Cook replied gently, "her spirit is with you. She watches over you from up above, a guardian angel."

A humorless smile touched the corner of Marguerite's lips, "Do you truly believe such things, Cook?"

Cook's gaze softened, and she patted Marguerite's hand gently. "Indeed, Miss," she replied in a soothing tone. "Consider this: why did you stumble upon your dear mother's diary just a couple of days before your wedding? Perhaps it's a sign, a message from beyond the veil. It could be that your mother wishes to communicate something important."

Marguerite's brow furrowed in thought. "Well, that may be true," she conceded. "Now I know
my father's identity and where he might be found, but what purpose does it serve to reveal this on the cusp of my wedding? Matthew would never allow me to seek him out."