He mused on what she said. He did want to see her again, but he also knew that he couldn't tarry long at the port. The Fleet had their orders that if he didn't return within a six days, they were to assume he was captured or hanged, and they were to commence with the raid. It had taken them over a day to arrive in the port from the nearby archipelago where the rest of his ships had berthed. It would take close to the same time for him to return, and with one day already spent, he would have to leave on the morning, three days hence. For appearance's sake, he would have to spend one full day "trading", he had only one more day to see Maggie.
Leaving a message for her with the fort's staff would be even more suspect than seeing her again, the servants sure to spread rumors far and wide. He definitely did not want to become the talk of the town, though there would certainly be some talking about him since she talked to him privately right at the start of the ball.
Stroking his chin, another idea sprouted into his head. Walking over the doorway into the ballroom, he watched her dance a few more dances, just to be polite, then he watched carefully as she made her way away for the night. He saw the direction she went, noting that she resided upstairs. He couldn't get a more specific idea than that without attracting more undo attention. For appearance's sake, he took to the dance floor and danced with a few more ladies, mostly going through the motions before he excused himself.
He hurried back to the Gilded Wake, and changed out of those stuffy clothes and into something far more comfortable. A black pair of pants, soft soled boots, a black vest and long sleeved shirt, and he pulled a black bandanna around his hair. Previously quite the peacock with his various colors strutting his stuff, he now blended in to the darkness of the night much more easily. Generally he cared not for his skin tone, but occasionally it came in handy. Times like these when being pale would have made him more obvious as he snuck, his dark toned skin benefitted him greatly.
He spent the next few hours watching the Fort, seeing as the lights dimmed and the last people left, the ball finally winding down well past midnight. He began making his way through the town and up the hill to the Fort. At this time of night, he found the guards to be tired at best, and in many cases sleeping. He was able to scale the wall and sneak up to the mansion where Margaret lived.
Standing beneath the balcony where they had been talking mere hours before, he bent his legs beneath and launched himself up, his gloved fingertips gripping the edge. Muscles straining, he pulled himself up and over, rolling silently into a crouch. Glancing around, he saw no one out on the balcony, and he padded over to one of the large doors and experimentally tried it, finding it open. Peeking inside, he saw the ballroom emptied and no one inside, quite to his relief.
Sneaking through the large room, sticking to the walls, he eventually found himself at the stairway leading up. He tentatively stepped on each one, fearing that the squeak of a loose board would reveal his presence to anyone nearby. It wasn't until he found himself at the top of the stairs that he realized he'd been holding his breath.
Looking around the top floor, he saw six doors to various rooms. When she had gone up the stairs, she had taken a left, so he glanced in that direction, three rooms remained as viable options. He could see the light of a candle showing from underneath the doorway farthest from where he was and Alex reasoned that in that room was where the Governor resided and he was burning the midnight oil. Looking back and forth between the two remaining doors, he considered, and came to the conclusion that if he were a father with a beloved daughter, he'd want her as close to him as he could get. The second room on the left seemed like his best bet.
Creeping down the hallway, on one step the floor creaked loudly. Eyes going wide, he glanced around and saw a curtain hanging decoratively. Quickly ducked behind it, his heart thudding in his chest. Moments later from the first door he'd already passed there was a squeak as it was opened and he heard gruff voice, probably one of the aristocratic visitors to Nevis, mumbling. After this man saw there was nothing out there, the door shut.
Alex let out another breath he found himself holding and peaked out from his hiding place with a single eye. Finding the area all clear, he slipped out and continued sneaking down towards the second door, now more sure of his destination than before, this time avoiding the squeaky bit of ground. Arriving at the door, he tested it gently, and found it smoothly opened. Peeping inside, he easily found the large bed and saw Margaret laying in her lavish covers, sleeping soundly.
He crept across her room to where she slept, reaching into his belt pouch and drew out a small letter he had written for her, "Maggie" written across the front with no sign of who wrote it. Placing it on her bedside table, he took a moment to look at her as she slept. She was breathtaking when awake, but when she slept, she looked like an angel. He turned to find his way out.
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