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CHAPTER THREE

“ W elcome to your new life,” the duke said as he opened the door to his manor and ushered Margaret inside.

She did not walk right in. Rather, she teetered on the edge, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness within, her stomach fluttering and turning at the same time because she was nervous, she was worried, she was unsure, and to step over the threshold and simply walk inside would be to signal that indeed her life had changed forever.

Not that there is any goin’ back either. It is ta late for that.

“Is something wrong?” the duke asked from behind her.

“Shuid there be?”

“I am not the one refusing to enter my new home,” he said. “So, you tell me…”

She turned about and glared at him, which had him raising an eyebrow back at her.

The man was the calm in a storm, and he seemed immune to her rancor.

If anything, she got the sense that he enjoyed it, as if he found joy in seeing her riled up.

Again, she found herself questioning everything she knew about the man who she had married…

or rather, everything she did not know. A long list, ta be sure.

The past two weeks had happened in a blur and as was the case so much of late, Margaret felt like a boat left adrift in a thrashing sea. She had no control. No power. Pulled and led about as if her life was not her own.

She did not see the duke once during those two weeks.

Nor was she privy to any of the wedding arrangements.

She was simply told what day it was and what she was to wear – she didn’t even get to pick her own dress!

Which explained why she was draped in a horrid pale green gown that she felt clashed horribly with her auburn hair and light skin.

And that wasn’t to mention the less than flattering cut as she was tall and lithe and liked to dress in slim fitted garments as they pronounced her curves rather than hid them.

But who cared for such things! The duke didn’t seem to.

She had appeared at the end of the aisle to find him wearing a look of resignation on his face.

The ceremony was a small one, and even her father and brother and sister were not there, as they had not had time to make the trip.

The whole thing was done in whispers, hasty and rushed, and before she knew it she was announced as the Duchess of Windermoor and was being ushered into a carriage.

And so it was that she loitered by the entrance to her new home. She’d had so little control of late that she felt a need to do this without being told to. A small victory, but a needed one.

“It occurs ta me suddenly that I know so little about ye,” she said.

He frowned down at her. “This only just occurs to you now?”

“My meanin’…” She shook her head at him. “This marriage. Us. I find I have na idea what ta expect. What ye want from such a thing.”

The duke considered her for a moment. As always, he was calm as he did so, no sense that he was frustrated by her refusal to walk inside or her questioning of him. “That is fair.”

She snorted. “I am glad ye think so.”

“Personally, I am surprised that you care to ask. After all…” He smirked. “You were not so concerned for my needs when you snuck into my room and –”

“I told ye already!” she cried over him. “I da nae sneak into yer room! And I wish ye would stop saying that I did.”

“I am simply glad that I escaped with my innocence intact,” he continued, a smirk now on his lips. “Asleep as I was, who knows what you might have done were you so inclined.”

“That is nae funny.” She furrowed her brow at him, making certain she was showing no humor.

“If anything, I am the one who shuid be wary of ye. For all I ken, this is what ye wished for all along. And now that ye have me…” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Who kens what is going on inside that head. Ye certainly haven’t been very forthcoming. ”

“Is that what you think?”

“Ye have given me no reason nae to.” She turned fully to face him, pointing up her chin in an act of defiance.

He said nothing. Studying her. Watching her.

Taking note of her outrage and efforts at asserting her position.

The duke was tall, but he seemed to stand over her as if he were a giant.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes probing.

His emotions were hidden behind them as if done so on purpose, and where he was not angry, he wasn’t amused either.

The silence between them grew, and Margaret found herself faltering. He was just so assured of himself. So confident. A presence that might suggest mountains would move out of the way to accommodate him.

Handsome too, Margaret could not deny that.

Standing as close to her as he was, the sharp lines of his face seemed more pronounced than usual.

As the silence grew, she felt powerless, completely at his mercy, much as had been the case since they first met.

She wanted to fight it. She wanted to rebel, as was her way.

But also… why dae my knees shoogle and me thighs tingle when I think of how effortlessly he kin overpower me? And why will me heart nae stop racing…

“I want three things from you,” he spoke suddenly, cutting through the tension as if with a knife. She breathed finally and almost stepped back into the house. “The first is a simple request, so I trust it will not be an issue.” He waited for her to ask.

“Wh – what is it?”

“I expect you to behave.” A raised eyebrow as if to warn her off a rebuke. “I have done some asking around about you these past two weeks, so I know what I am dealing with.”

“And what is that exactly?”

He scoffed. “You are trouble, Duchess–and do not say otherwise,” he was quick to warn her. “We have not spent much time together, but it has been enough for me to notice your tendency for speaking without thinking and acting without considering the consequences.”

She found herself smirking. “Well, I would hate ta argue.”

“That would be a first.

Her eyes widened. “How dare–”

“I arranged this marriage precisely to avoid controversy, and I do not wish it all to be for naught. So, as long as you are living under my roof, I expect obedience. Is that understood?”

“If ye think I am going ta be treated like a… like a puppy that is in need of training, ye have another thing coming.”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I just expect you to act the part. We both have a role to play, at least until the rumor of how this marriage came to be dies down. Which brings me to the second thing.” Again, he waited for her to ask the question.

“Which is?” she asked with a sigh as if bored. Her hope was that it might annoy him, as she found she liked when he was frustrated. Although why that is…

“When the Season is over, I do not expect you to remain here. I know this is not the marriage you expected, and nor is it one I wished for. Therefore, should we make it through the Season without incident, you will be free to return to Scotland where, if you are lucky, you might never see or hear from me again.”

“Ye… ye want me ta leave?” She blinked in surprise, completely off guard by this announcement.

“Do you not wish to?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Of course I da.”

“Then, there is no problem.”

There shouldn’t have been. And when Margaret forced herself to meet the duke’s gaze, she could see in his eyes that he was not making light of this situation. He meant every word.

Margaret felt a stirring in her stomach.

Was that hope? If so, why did she feel so ill?

This is what she wanted, or what she should have been begging for.

A short marriage, no expectations, a chance for her life to continue, should nothing go wrong.

Yet despite herself, she felt unsure, as if something was wrong, although she could not say what that was…

“I would have thought you would be happy,” the duke said, seeming to sense her reservations.

“I am,” she said quickly, but not with confidence.

“Where I was not expecting you to cry out with glee, I would have thought you might have…” He shrugged. “I am not sure. Perhaps a smile might have been nice.”

She scoffed. “And ye care what I think?”

He frowned down at her with concern. “It occurs to me suddenly, you asked what I want from this marriage, but I have no idea what you want. In all the rush, I never thought to ask.”

“Oh…” She blinked back her surprise for a second time. “I…”

“Well?”

What did Margaret want? It should have been a simple enough answer.

She did not want this marriage. She did not want to be tied to a man whom she felt nothing for.

She did not want to be pulled along as if her life did not matter, no control or agency in a world where she had so little of it to begin with. But it wasn’t nearly that simple.

What Margaret wanted was a family of her own.

She was raised with two sisters and a brother, and with no mother, she was used to caring for them as if she were their mother.

And she had loved it. She had loved the sense of purpose it had given her.

Knowing that it would not last, she had always imagined that one day she would have a family of her own, and with a man who wanted to raise it with her because he loved her as she loved him.

That, it looked like, wasn’t going to become a reality. But did that mean she wanted to return home and live alone for the rest of her days? Was there not another option buried in their somewhere? A chance at a happy ending… does such a thing even exist?

“I want exactly what ye have said,” she said instead, forcing herself to sound as if she meant it. “The end of the Season, ta leave here and never look back.”

The duke looked at her with curiosity, and she was certain he did not believe a word of it. “As you say,” he said.

There was no love here. Likely, there never would be. So, it was best to come to terms with that and resolve herself to what lay ahead, what she had control of.

“You said there was a third thing?”