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CHAPTER SEVEN

I t would be no exaggeration to say that Lysander’s breath left his body when Margaret appeared in the dining room that evening.

She was dressed in a green pelisse that darkened in color the further down her body his eyes drifted.

The frills that adorned the skirt were purple.

Cinched at the waist, it exemplified her curves in all the right ways.

And the neckline, while not plunging, showed just the right amount of skin so that Lysander could not help but gawk.

“Margaret!” Aurelia cried and jumped to her feet. That she had used Margaret’s proper name was a problem, and something he would usually reprimand his daughter for. But he did not have the breath to do so.

“Guid evening,” she said with a shy smile as she waded into the dining room. “I hope I am nae late.”

Lysander’s pulse was rising. Still, he found he could not stop staring at her.

Her hair was auburn in color, worn loosely and curled, shimmering in the candlelight.

Green eyes that were piercing and mischievous.

A dusting of freckles across her button nose.

And those full lips… kissing her was a mistake. But one I would like to make again.

A shake of the head brought Lysander back into the room, and he forced himself to concentrate.

The kiss had certainly been a mistake, not something he had planned on doing, but an impulse that had come upon him because he was beginning to find that where Margaret was concerned, and that sharp tongue of hers too, he struggled to control his most base instincts. Which was a serious problem.

“You are right on time,” he assured her as he rose and gestured to the seat at his right. “Please.”

She continued to smile shyly as she made for the seat. On the way, she touched Aurelia on the shoulder, and his daughter beamed.

“And ye must be Lenora,” she said next to his youngest daughter. “I have so been looking forward to meeting ye properly.”

“Your accent,” Lenora giggled. “Aurelia told me — I wanted to hear it.”

“I hope I da nae disappoint,” she laughed as she sat down.

“I am sure you won’t,” Lysander said, clearing his throat and finding his composure. “That is a lovely dress. I take it to be one of Miss Pinpoint’s?”

“One of the less audacious ones,” she said. “I thought for tonight, it was best to err on the side of caution.”

“A good idea, I think. I know Miss Pinpoint has an…” He chuckled. “Interesting style. But if the rest are nearly half as entrancing as that, then I made the right choice hiring her.”

“Indeed.”

Margaret eyed him curiously. And with great caution.

She could not bring herself to look at him directly, but he caught her glancing every few seconds before looking away.

No doubt she was still thinking about that kiss and what it meant.

As I have been, too, for I am not even certain how it happened.

Lysander was caught in two worlds, and he could see them colliding before his very eyes.

On the one hand, he wished to keep Margaret as separate from his life and world as was possible.

She would be gone from here soon enough, at which point he could get back to the way that things had been.

That was the safe option. The right option, he knew. On the other hand…

He also wanted her to enjoy herself while she was here.

He needed this marriage to appear natural, for the sake of the ton and his reputation, if nothing else.

He could not keep her hidden away. He could not pretend as if she did not exist. It was a fine line that he needed to tread. One fraught with danger.

On top of all of that, his daughters were already taking a liking to her.

“What is Miss Pinpoint like?” Aurelia asked once they were seated. The members of staff were busy pouring them drinks, and soon food would be served.

“She is strange,” Margaret laughed. “A personality that matches her style.”

“Her dresses are so pretty.”

“I love them,” Lenora agreed.

“Perhaps when ye are of the right age, yer father will commission her to make ye some.”

Aurelia and Lenora’s eyes widened, and they turned to Lysander. “Can you, Father? Please!”

“We will see,” he said simply. “That is some years off.”

Their faces dropped, but they did not argue. He had taught them better than that.

Before long, food was served; roasted duck was the main course, cooked in fennel and other herbs of which Lysander did not know the names. Roasted and sautéed vegetables also. Gravy. And many a side dish, all sweetened and smelling delicious in ways that had his mouth salivating.

“Do you miss home?” Aurelia asked Margaret as she cut into the duck served on her plate. “I would.”

Margaret chuckled. “A little. But I have nae been gone for so long yet that I have noticed.”

“But you miss your family?”

“The same answer,” she said with a smile.

“Will they come visit?” Lenora asked hopefully. “Or perhaps we will visit them?”

“How many siblings do you have?” Aurelia asked.

“Are you close?” Lenora followed up.

“Why were they not at the –”

“Girls,” Lysander spoke over them. “Margaret does not wish to be bombarded with questions. Let her eat.”

“It is perfectly fine,” she laughed. “I da nae mind. In fact, it might be nice to talk of them – me family, I mean. If for nae other reason than to remind meself.”

Lysander frowned at the comment. And at how polite and well-spoken Margaret was being. This was a side of her he had not seen before, and it heartened him to see how well she treated his daughters, how proper she was being, and how they seemed to like her. Although that is also a problem.

To keep her away from his daughters was impossible.

He knew that now. But he also worried about what might happen if his daughters grew to like her, how they would react when she left at the end of the Season.

He did not want to hurt them, but he did not want to deny them either.

Again, it was a dangerous line that he walked, one which he had no idea how he should tread.

“I have a brother and two sisters,” she explained to Aurelia and Lenora. Although as she spoke, she would glance at Lysander as if to make sure he was paying attention. “One sister ye ken surely, for she is married to the Duke of Rosehall.”

“Oh!” Lenora cried. “Her Grace is your sister?”

“She is,” Margaret chuckled. “I also have a younger brother, Graham, who is a little older than ye are, Aurelia. He is…” Lysander saw her eyes glimmer with love as she remembered her brother.

“Mischievous ta say the least. A real troublemaker.” She winked, and the girls giggled.

“But he is kind and caring, and when he is of age, I ken he will make a young lady very happy.”

“What of your other sister?” Aurelia blurted.

“Aurelia,” Lysander warned her. “We do not shout.”

“Sorry, Father…” She looked away, embarrassed.

“It is fine,” Margaret laughed. “Her name is Isobel, and she is but four.” Behind her eyes now, Lysander saw pain, for he could tell that she truly missed her youngest of sisters.

“I miss her the most, I think but…” She smiled.

“I will see her again shortly. And I cannae wait to see her grow into a young woman before me eyes.”

“She is visiting?” Lenora squeaked. “When!”

“Lenora…” Lysander sighed.

“Oh…” Margaret’s eyes widened, and she looked caught in a lie. “I just mean… in general.” An awkward laugh. “I will see her again one day I am sure. Just as I will see her grow.”

Lysander’s daughters did not know he meant to send Margaret home once the Season was over, and he appreciated her not telling them.

Again, that she was so polite and kind to them, possessed of complete control and awareness, was a surprise to him.

The version of his wife he knew was the opposite of the woman who sat across from him, which had Lysander wondering who the true Margaret was.

Not that it matters. And not that I can convince myself that it does. Regardless of anything that does or doesn’t happen, she is to leave at the Season’s end. It is the only outcome possible…

Lysander said little during the dinner, happy to watch Margaret and his daughters interact. Also, he wanted to get a better view of his wife. This did not help, however, and when the dinner wound to an end, he felt as unsure as he had at its beginning.

“Time for bed,” he told his daughters.

“But Father –”

“Now, Aurelia.” He looked at her warningly. “I will be up shortly to say goodnight.”

The two girls did not argue. Solemnly, they rose from their chairs. “Good night, Margaret,” they said together. He winced to hear them call her that, not certain if he should correct them and tell them to call her by her title, Her Grace.

“Good night, girls, it was so much fun talking to you. Perhaps in the next day or two, we can spend an entire day together.”

“Can we, Father?” Aurelia looked pleadingly at her father.

“We will see,” was all he was willing to say.

The girls left soon after, leaving Lysander and Margaret alone.

The table was being cleared around them, and he felt glad for the company, as being alone with Margaret was not a good idea.

He needed to control himself. To behave.

Ironic, as she is the one I would have thought needed to be told as much.

“They are sweet girls,” she said once they were alone.

“You should not be so kind to them,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Excuse me?”

He sighed. “My meaning is, you will be leaving us soon, and it would not do to grow so close. You understand.”

She frowned as she studied him, the implication that she didn’t understand at all. “You are… I da nae understand you.”

“How so?”

She sighed with frustration. “First, ye insist that I avoid them. Then, ye insist that I join ye for dinner. Ye tell me that this marriage is a convenience and should be treated as one, and then ye tell me we will be attending balls together. I da nae ken what ye are wanting.”

“I have told you what I want,” he said. “To convince the ton that we are happy and that this marriage is proper.”

“Convince them or yourself?” she shot back.

Lysander felt a pang in his stomach at her heightened temper. He felt his pulse rise. The urge to stand and go to her, to lift her from her seat and pull her into him as he reminded her that he was not to be spoken to that way… I can hardly control it!

But she was also right, and he had needed the reminder. He had been giving her mixed signals this entire time. Not on purpose, but that did not change the fact. It was time, he decided, that he set her straight. And himself, also.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

She blinked. “That is unexpec –”

“I have not been clear with you. Worse, my actions have been confusing.” He swallowed with nerves at what he was about to say. “Earlier, when I kissed you…” It was subtle, but he saw her blush. “That was a mistake.”

“It… it was?” Her voice cracked.

“It should not have happened. And most importantly…” He forced himself to look at her, embodying calm, even if his stomach was turning. “It will not happen again. This marriage is for appearance’s sake only, and it is important that we keep it this way.”

“That is…” She considered where he might have imagined it, and he swore he saw disappointment in her eyes. “That is smart. A good idea, I think.”

“I am glad you think so.”

“It is nae as if I wished to be kissed,” she then said sharply. “Nor did I enjoy it.”

He could not help but smirk. “Are you sure about that?”

“Very,” she said with acid on her tongue and a warning look in her green eyes. “Try it again and ye might see just how sure.”

He scoffed, forcing the smile down. “At least we are in agreement on that.”

The mood had shifted toward anger. He could feel it coming from her. What was more, he could see her visibly trying to keep herself from saying something she might regret. “If that is all, I think it is time that I retire.”

“For the best, I believe.”

“Guid.” She pushed back her chair and rose. “Guid night, Your Grace. Thank ye for supper.” And then, without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed from the room, leaving the duke alone.

He watched her go, wishing to feel a sense of relief, as he knew that what was said between them, what was agreed, was the right thing.

And yet he could not help but feel that a mistake had been made.

What was more, despite how controlled he so often was, he also got the impression that where Margaret was concerned, it would not be enough.

Words and promises are one thing, but actions… let us hope I am as strong as I pretend to be.