With no one left to disturb her, Maggie was able to enjoy her breakfast fully. After the meal concluded, she retreated to her bed chamber, where a maid helped to redress her feet wound.
Despite her great effort, the resulting bandage was a far cry from the Marquess's masterful handiwork. It resembled more a lopsided caterpillar than a neat compress. The maid's brow furrowed in distress.
"This servant is deeply sorry, my Lady," the maid helplessly said as she watched the pathetic end result.
"It's fine, I wouldn't be able to do it better myself," Maggie soothed the maid. "You have done a great job. No need to worry about the rest."
The butler kindly provided her with a wooden cane so that she could support herself whenever she chose to move around the manor.
After breakfast, Maggie chose to venture into the garden and soak up some of the gentle morning sun.
Her arrival the previous day had been shrouded in darkness, offering only faint glimpses of the grounds. Now, bathed in sunlight, the garden unfolded before her like a meticulously crafted tapestry.
Gravel paths meandered past overflowing flowerbeds, their borders trimmed with precision. Vibrant blooms, chosen for their color and texture, created a dazzling display.
Scarlet roses clambered up trellises, their intoxicating fragrance mingling with the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Delicate lilies swayed in the gentle breeze, their pristine white petals contrasting with the deep purple of irises. Lush ferns unfurled in shady corners, while towering dahlias, their blooms the size of dinner plates, completed the splendid arrangement.
The air buzzed with the contented hum of bees, flitting from blossom to blossom in a tireless dance.
And sitting on the outdoor patio, with one leg crossed over the other and several documents sprawled on his lap, was none other than the Marquess of Canterbury.
Maggie's heart skipped a beat.
As she stood there, contemplating whether her presence might disturb the Marquess or not, the gentleman in question already noticed her.
"My Lady," he rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. "You should not be walking around for too long. Do accompany me for a little rest under the shade."
He gallantly took Maggie's hand and led her onto the patio.
Maggie swallowed hard.
Was this really the same person whom she met in the Great Library? Somehow, other than their similar appearance, the two personas had nothing in common.
"I didn't want to disturb you," she softly said.
"You are not," the Marquess quipped, picking the documents up and redirecting his focus on them again. "I plan to leave soon, anyway."
"Oh, I see."
Maggie tried to hide the disappointment from her voice.
Wait, disappointment?
She blinked rapidly in disbelief. Why would she be disappointed over his departure? Besides, someone as busy as the Marquess of Canterbury did not have a lot of free time. Even if he did, he would not spend it catering to a stranger.
The Marquess's eyes, previously lingering on a document, suddenly shifted to Maggie's bandaged feet.
"Your feet," he spoke.
"My feet? Oh."
The bandages had come undone during Maggie's walk around the garden.
"Oh, my."
Maggie instinctively reached out to straighten the dangling bandage ends. But before her fingers brushed the fabric, the Marquess sank to one knee before her and reached for the unfurled ties.
"Oh, Your Grace, you don't have to... Um..."
The Marquess decisively ignored her and began to rewrap her feet. Each subtle brush of his gloved fingers against her skin sent a jolt of electricity sparking up her feet, a sensation both unwelcome and strangely thrilling.
Maggie couldn't tear her gaze from the Marquess's face. At that moment, his usual air of nonchalance vanished, replaced by a deeply serious expression that sparked a flicker of curiosity within her.
It almost seemed as if the Marquess required his undivided focus to wrap her feet.
"All done," he announced after a while, pulling Maggie out of his reverie. "I hope you saw how I did it just now. Unfortunately, I will not be around too often to help you rewrap your feet."
"..."
She was too busy looking at the Marquess to pay the slightest attention!
But of course, she was not going to confess to her blunder.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said.
The Marquess looked up at her, still on one knee in front of her.
"There is no need to thank me again and again," he said. "As a gentleman, it is my obligation to help a lady in need."
"..."
Basically, his actions were cloaked by societal obligation. She was a fool to read too much into his attentiveness. A familiar wave of self-criticism washed over her, the bitter taste of disappointment coating her tongue. Again, she was overcome with the deep urge to leap into a ditch and stay there for indefinite time.
"Have you thought about what you want to do from this point on?" the Marquess rose to his feet and settled on his original seat.
Maggie nodded.
"Yes. Your Grace, you mentioned that the heir to the Earldom of Huntington has yet to be appointed. I would like to challenge my unc... I mean, Mr. Lloyd Cunningham's claim and recommend myself to the Crown Office to inherit the Countess of Huntington's title."
Seeing that Lloyd Cunningham was cruel enough to attempt taking her life, there was no longer a need to refer to him as an uncle. Given his statement that Maggie was not her father's blood daughter, they were not blood-related at all.
"Hmm."
The Marquess narrowed his eyes at Maggie, prompting the latter to swallow several times in anxiety. Was she not good enough after all?
"There are several considerable factors before someone is appointed as the heir to an earldom, given that the previous Earl does not leave a male heir behind," the Marquess began before counting them off his fingers one by one. "Birth, upbringing, connections, marriage alliances, competence, and social conduct."
Maggie understood all of them save for the last.
"What does social conduct comprise, in my case?"
"Well," the Marquess arched a brow at her. "For an unwed lady such as yourself, it's about presenting a flawless image, a paragon of propriety with not a single misstep to blemish your reputation as the epitome of an English lady. It is, for example, not acceptable for an unwed lady to sleep with any man on the same bed for any reason whatsoever."
Upon hearing the Marquess's words, Maggie instantly broke into a wail.