Page 4

“No!” Margaret cried before she could help herself. She grimaced to see Sampson scowl at her, softening her expression into one of apology. “I am sorry, but as it concerns me, I think it best if I am present.”

“That is not a good idea.”

“Me too.” Her sister came in beside her. “The duke needs to know that we believe what Margaret has told us, that this entire thing was just a misunderstanding.”

“It will not make a difference.”

“Be that as it may,” her sister took her by the hand in support. “There is safety in numbers.” She cocked an eyebrow at her husband. “And if you think I am going to stand by and do nothing, well…” She scoffed. “I thought you would know me better by now.”

Surprisingly, Sampson chuckled at that. Then he reached up and cupped his wife under the chin, looking at her with love and admiration.

Margaret eyed the gesture, aware of the love that the two held for one another, aware also of how trepidatious their marriage was when it first began.

To see that they were so happy might have made her heart swell, as she loved her family and wanted only the best for them.

Sadly, I have bigger things to worry about for now.

“As you wish,” Sampson sighed before turning to look at Margaret. “But I will do the speaking. Is that understood?”

Margaret nodded her agreement, even if she doubted his orders would be followed.

“Good.” He nodded once and took a deep breath. “Follow me.”

Together, the three made their way through the manor and toward the drawing room down the main hall. The door was closed, and before opening it, Sampson made sure to turn around again and address Margaret.

“Lysander is kinder than he seems,” he told her.

“There is a reason that we are friends. But he is a man of honor, the type to defend said honor no matter the cost. And if he senses that you are mocking him or bringing his reputation into dispute…” He looked at her warningly.

“He is kind, but he has the potential to be as cold as ice, should he be pushed. Is that understood?”

Margaret pictured the man she had met this morning. There was a kindness there, she had seen. And he certainly wasn’t scary. Far too handsome for that . But he had been commanding and serious, and she had no doubt he was not the type who would take kindly to being made to look foolish.

“I da – I mean, it is.” She swallowed. “I will try ta behave.”

Beside her, Catherine snorted. “It would be the first time.”

With nothing else to say or do, Sampson sighed and turned to open the door.

The room was dark, the curtains drawn closed, the hearth unlit, shadows clinging to the walls and stretching across the floor.

But through it all, Margaret saw the man whom they had come to see. Or rather, who had come to see her.

He was dressed in a suit, his thick hair was combed, his expression was steeled and composed at the same time.

There was none of the confusion or panic she had seen in him earlier.

His dark eyes drank them in, a quick glance at her, a look of regret…

or was that anger? But he did not bark or rise to immediate temper, choosing calmness over fury. At least for now.

“Lysander,” Sampson crossed the room and extended his arm. “I wish I could say it was good to see you.”

“As do I.” I took Sampson’s arm and shook it once. “Just as I wish I could say that this was a friendly visit.” He glanced over Sampson’s shoulder. “Catherine, you look well.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a warm smile. “As do you.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” he chuckled bitterly, which matched his expression as he turned his gaze onto Margaret. “And how could I forget, Miss Lennox. I wish I could say it was lovely to see you again, but lies do not become us.”

“I…” Margaret swallowed nervously. “Your Grace.”

She wasn’t as panicked as she had been the last time she saw him.

In her panic, Margaret had spoken with freedom, caring little for what the duke looked like because she’d been so flustered and confused.

Now that she had more control of herself, she tried to meet the duke’s eyes, to assert herself because she did not want to come across as meek.

Frustratingly, that’s exactly what happened.

There was a presence to him that she had not noticed before.

A power that he radiated, as if the world might move at his command.

This was not the first time she had met a duke, as she knew Sampson well.

But there was a difference between the two men, and it had everything to do with how they made her feel.

She found herself looking away, unable to meet his eyes without blushing.

Sampson began. “What happened earlier –”

“Needs not to be spoken of,” the duke cut him off. “What is done is done, and to relive it will make no difference. What must be decided is what we are going to do about it. Or rather…” She could feel the duke watching her. “What I am going to do about it.”

“I take it you have already given this some thought?” Sampson prompted.

“A scandal is imminent,” he sighed. “Of that, there is no doubt. At best, I might be able to keep it hushed for a week or two – and you also, Sampson. I would appreciate any help you might give.”

“Of course.”

“When asked, you are to confirm that Miss Lennox and I are not strangers, and what we were found doing was not the result of a drunken tryst – Lady Marlow will be a problem, for you know how she gossips. But I trust our word will outweigh her own.”

“For a time,” Sampson agreed. “But then what? A week or two, maybe, but word will spread. It cannot be stopped.”

Margaret was still unable to look the duke directly in the eyes, so she did not see his reaction. But whatever it was, it had Catherine gasping. “Surely, you are na serious?”

“I am,” the duke said as Margaret snapped her head up to see what he spoke of. His brow was furrowed—serious, no nonsense —because this was not a situation to be made light of. “It is the only way.”

“There must be another,” Sampson said.

“Can you think of one?”

“It is too hasty,” Catherine argued. “As soon as it is announced, everyone will know the reason.”

“By which point it will make no difference,” the duke countered. “And that is the entire point. The rumors and the gossip will die like grapes on the vine, no point, no purpose, because we will control the narrative. It is the only way.”

“Excuse me.” Margaret scowled as the other three occupants of the room looked at her, each to the last acting as if they had forgotten that she was there. “What are ye talking ‘bout? What will make na difference? What narrative?”

“I thought that was obvious,” the duke said. “You and I are to marry at once.”

It was no exaggeration to say that the announcement struck Margaret like a hammer smashing into the side of a gong.

The world seemed to shake. The walls of the room seemed to vibrate.

Her stomach flipped and then rose through her mouth.

And she might have collapsed, had she not had the good sense to try to maintain some sense of composure.

Marriage… to the duke? Surely, this was a joke? It had to be!

“N – na,” she stammered and shook her head. “That is nae –”

“We have no choice,” the duke spoke over her. “And do not fear, I will make all the arrangements. Applying for the license will be tricky, and in such a short time. But I think in two weeks, we should see this done.”

“So soon?” Catherine grimaced. “My father –”

“We will send word at once,” Sampson assured her. “Today, my fastest horse. Hopefully, that should give him, your mother, your brother, and your sister more than enough time to attend. It will be tight, but –”

“Nae!” Margaret cried out, cutting through the room. “I am sorry, but have ye all lost your minds?” She looked about the three with exasperation, and they looked at her as if she was the crazy one. “I cannae marry the duke! I… he… this is nae an option.”

“It is the only option,” the duke said stiffly, no emotion, resigned to this decision. “You have left us with no choice.”

“Me!” She widened her eyes at him, feeling that anger come upon her. “Ye are the one who –”

“Was asleep in his bedroom.”

“As ye say,” she snapped. “I still da nae believe it. I still think ye snuck in after I went to kip.”

He scoffed. “And why would I do such a thing?”

“Ye tell me.” She put her hands on her hips and glared fury. “Perhaps this is what ye wished for this whole time. Perhaps a scandal is exactly what ye are after.”

“Margaret….” Her sister warned her with a hiss.

“Na, Catherine.” She scowled at her sister and then went back to the duke. “I am sick of being treated like an imposition. Like a fool. He –” She pointed a finger at him. “ – accused me already of doing this on purpose. When it seems ta me that he is the one who has orchestrated this whole thing!”

She was expecting the duke to rise to temper.

In truth, a part of her almost wanted him to.

It was frustrating how calm and reasoned he was behaving, with no sense at all that what he was suggesting wasn’t the height of absurdity.

It made her feel like she was losing her mind, for how could she not be?

Why am I the only one who is panicked here?

“I understand that you are upset,” the duke began calmly. “And…” He clicked his tongue, grimacing. “And I apologize for what I accused you of earlier. I see now that there is little chance that you behaved on purpose.”

“Nae chance!”

“But it is neither here nor there,” he said sharply, adding a warning to his stare. “I will not let this ruin my reputation. I will not let your drunken mistakes –”

“I da nae –”

“—sully my name and the name of my daughters. We are to marry as soon as is possible, and where it might sound a little harsh to your northern ears, I am afraid there is little that you can do to stop it.”

Margaret blinked in surprise. Daughters? Did he just say…

It was all happening so quickly. So unexpectedly.

And not at all following a method which Margaret had any means to justify herself by.

Did she wish to marry? One day, of course she did.

Having come from a large family and with no mother to speak of, she had always been possessed of a natural motherly instinct, wishing to one day raise a family of her own.

But she also wished to do it at her own discretion, with a man who she liked, possibly even loved. Margaret hated being told what to do, having no control, being pulled along as if she was but a pawn in a larger game.

And she was about to voice this concern, when she met her sister’s eyes and saw the worry in them.

This reminded her of her younger brother and sister, Graham and Isobel, reminding her further of the warning Catherine had given her and why she had to do this.

This was not for her, but for them. For her family, there was little Margaret would not do.

“Braw…” She sighed, her shoulders sagging, the fight leaving her. “Just… just tell me what I need ta da.”

“For now, nothing.” The duke reset his composure, turning again to face Sampson. “I will handle the license, and I shall let you know as soon as it is procured. A small wedding, although I doubt that needs to be said. I want this over and done with quickly.”

How romantic…

There was nothing left to say after that.

Sampson shook the duke by the hand, the duke thanked Catherine for her understanding, and then he left.

Not before making sure to offer a final word to Margaret, one which surprised her because she had resigned herself by that point to a loveless, even painful marriage to a man who she was beginning to suspect despised her.

“This will not be the prison which you are picturing, Miss Lennox. Nor is it something to fear.” He smiled then, a most surprising sight, as she had not seen him do it once.

The truth was, it looked good on him, and it gave Margaret hope.

“I promise too that I will do everything in my power to make the transition to married life as easy for you as can be.”

“Oh…” She blinked, not sure how to answer. “Thank ye.”

He nodded once and then left, gone like the wind, leaving behind a noticeable space that only he seemed capable of filling.

The man was a force of nature: controlled, composed, possessed of determined will and an indomitable presence the likes of which Margaret had never seen before. And soon I’ll be married to him.

She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Somehow, considering that circumstances, both felt appropriate.