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CHAPTER FIVE

“ A re the two of you quite done?” Lysander muttered into his tankard of ale.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” his close friend, Julian, the Duke of Morland, chuckled. “But we are not even close.”

“Careful now,” Sampson joined in, his cheeks pink from having too much to drink. “I think we are hurting the duke’s feelings.”

“Not even close,” Lysander assured them both. “Julian, I can handle, for he knows I care little about his opinion.” He cocked an eyebrow at Julian, who burst into laughter. “But you, Sampson, I would have thought to have more shame than that. Mocking your sister-in-law. What would your wife say?”

“I am not mocking Margaret,” Sampson said rightly. “It is you who has found himself getting beaten left and right by my wit.”

“Wit? Is that what you call it?”

“Oh, come now…” Julian slapped Lysander on the back. “It is all in good fun. I mean,” he laughed and shook his head. “Of all the people I might have guessed to have been caught sneaking into a young lady’s bedroom –”

“Which was not what happened.”

“—and then forced into marriage to keep this most sinister act a secret, it would not have been you, Lysander. Anyone but you.”

“It was merely a set of unavoidable circumstances,” Lysander pointed out. “And all I did was what I had to.”

“You did the right thing,” Sampson agreed with a firm nod, only to burst into laughter. “Even if it is hilarious. Objectionably speaking.”

To that, Lysander said nothing. I will not rise to the bait they have laid for me, because to do so will only see them continue in this game they have started: punching me while I am down and exposed.

Not that Lysander cared, of course. At least not about his own thick skin.

He might have been a known introvert, calm in presence, careful not to let his emotions get the better of him.

But he knew how to take a joke. And he rather enjoyed it when his friends included him like this.

A known recluse, he sometimes feared that he would simply be forgotten, having to force himself at times to join his friends and remind himself that he had what it took to be social.

Truly, he needed it. The company. The drinks!

A chance to put some distance between himself and his marriage so he might clear his head and consider how on earth this had happened and what he was going to do about it.

What can I even say about it, for it is done.

Best to accept it and try to make the best of a bad situation.

It was just he and his two friends today, sequestered into a corner booth at their local gentleman’s club. An establishment that was empty at the moment, as it was rather early to be drinking. But that just spoke to how needed the occasion was.

“All jokes aside,” Sampson began, “How goes the marriage so far?”

“It has only been a day,” Lysander pointed out. “Not even that.”

“Ah, so that bad.”

“I did not say that.”

“It can’t be good,” Julian pointed out. “Otherwise, you would be home with your wife, rather than committing sins of the drink with us. What’s the matter, old boy, scared of your wife?”

Sampson snorted.

“Of course not,” Lysander snapped. “I am merely… giving her space to settle. That is all.”

“How gallant,” Sampson grinned.

Lysander eyed him warningly. Jokes were all in good fun, but they were getting dangerously close to personal.

And to be clear, Lysander was not hiding from his wife. She did not scare him. Nor did the idea of marriage, for that matter. As unexpected as this was, he knew in his heart that he had done the right thing, the only thing. Not that this made the circumstances any more palatable.

It was for his daughters that he had done it. The two apples of his eye. Oh, how he loved them, wanting only the best, and he had known immediately that if this scandal was left to grow legs, it might ruin them. Marriage was the only answer, and he just hoped his daughters understood that.

Truly, Lysander had never considered marrying again.

His first wife, the mother of his daughters, had been a kind woman, and he had enjoyed her company as any husband ought to.

But he had not loved her, reasoning that at the very least she had been a good mother to Aurelia before dying during the birth of Lenora.

It was the formality of his first marriage that had tarnished his views toward the entire concept, instilling in him a belief that marriage was not about falling in love and being happy as much as it was about the children it bore, and then how they were raised because of it.

I suppose that having Margaret around for a few months might not be the worst thing for the girls…

or it would not be, were Margaret not so… well, her.

She was different, of that there was no argument. Outspoken. Hostile. Immature. She was unlike any lady he had ever met, which Lysander had yet to decide if it was a good thing or not. Better to be safe and keep his distance. Better yet, considering the other thing…

“At least she is pretty,” Julian spoke suddenly, as if he could read Lysander’s mind.

“What was that?”

“Your wife,” Julian said earnestly. “She is quite lovely on the eyes. If you were to be forced into a marriage, better it be with a beauty, no?”

“I hardly think it makes a difference,” Lysander said.

Julian scoffed. “It makes all the difference.”

“This is my sister-in-law you are speaking of,” Sampson added with warning.

“What did I say!” Julian held up his hands.

He was a large man, a boxer in fact, although that was a past life which he didn’t give any sway to, now that he was a duke.

Friendly, also. A gentle giant, who could rip the arms off another man without blinking if he dared but would likely vomit right after.

“I know this marriage is not what you wished for, Lysander, but see the positives.” He looked between the two men and rolled his eyes when neither seemed to understand.

“An heir, man. Surely, you will wish to produce an heir.”

“Oh…” Lysander blinked. “I… I had not considered it.”

“Liar.”

“I have not,” Lysander said rightly. “And to be honest, that is the last thing on my mind. My daughters are what matters to me, and they are who my mind and all my decisions are focused upon.”

Julian eyed him skeptically, a big grin on his larger face. “As you say…”

Lysander felt his face warm as his two friends looked at him. Again, that sense that they could read his mind.

Even though it was not the point of the marriage, Lysander was not such a liar that he could not admit to the attraction he felt for Margaret.

It was unexpected, however. And it caught him by complete surprise.

Ever the stalwart of propriety and self-control, there was just something about her that…

she undoes me. Plays with me. Toys with me as if it were on purpose.

It was the way that she stood up to him that did it.

How quick she was to denounce him, argue with him, try to rebuke his commands as if she had the power and he had none.

He had found, too, that he enjoyed frustrating her, teasing and testing her, and seeing how far he could push her before she became completely undone.

He sensed too that she enjoyed it as much as he did, that perhaps she spoke to him as she did for the same purpose.

His mind drifted before he could help it.

Beyond the way she spoke to him. Further than the way he overpowered her.

He imagined what might have been. Pushing her against the doorway.

Pressing his body to hers. His hands moving down and lifting her dress, squeezing her soft thighs just to hear her moan.

And then, if she was to have used her own hands on him, reaching for his breeches, undoing them and releasing his throbbing –

No! Control yourself, Lysander! He gave his head a shake, forcing those thoughts away, and had a drink to calm himself..

This marriage was never going to be a simple thing.

Not with a wife like that. Not with the scandal that followed them.

But considering how he felt around her, how easily he lost control, it would be made all the more difficult.

I will have to learn to control myself. So long as she learns the same.

It was later that evening, after returning home, that Lysander made his way to his daughters’ bedroom. He was always sure to see them before they went to sleep, wishing to tuck them in and wish them a good night’s sleep, for no other reason than he loved them dearly.

“Time to sleep,” he said as he checked that they were both tucked firmly under their sheets. “And do not let me hear you two talking once I close the door.”

“We won’t, Father,” Aurelia promised.

Lenora, the youngest, giggled. “I won’t. Aurelia always does.”

“Liar!”

“Girls,” he chuckled. “None of that.” He walked to the open door and turned back to look at them one last time. “I will see you both –”

“Father,” Aurelia spoke out. “Might I ask you something?”

“Anything. You know that.”

“Mar – Her Grace,” she fixed quickly. “She is… she is very pretty.”

Lysander frowned. “And when did you see her to make this assessment?”

Even in the dark, he could see her eyes widen. “I did not mean it,” she said. “I was… I saw her by accident. And we only spoke for a second! I swear it.”

Lysander sighed, unable to get upset. Although he had wanted Margaret to avoid his daughters, he had also sensed it was a fool’s errand to even try.

In a house like this, and for the entire Season, there was little chance of them avoiding one another.

Additionally, he was unsure whether it was a good idea to command them to stay away.

What would that say about me? What would they think if they could not speak to my wife?

“What did she say?” he asked.

“She is very nice,” Aurelia said. “I liked her.”

“You… you did?”

She nodded. “Very much. I was hoping we might see her more often. If that is fine with you?”

“Yes please,” Lenora spoke up. “I want to see her too!”

He laughed at their enthusiasm, for it was rare to see them both so happy and excited. He liked to think that he was a good father, but he was also strict, and the girls were often careful to act that way around him. Perhaps in that way, Margaret might be a better influence than he had thought.

“We will see,” he agreed.

“Tomorrow?” Aurelia said. “Please, Father. Please.”

“Please,” Lenora joined in. “Please.”

He sighed. “I will invite her to supper. How is that?”

“What of breakfast?”

He opened his mouth to agree, as breakfast made more sense.

Only then did an idea come to mind. One he had been toying with all day but had not settled on because he did not wish to give the wrong impression.

Now, however, he realized that this marriage wasn’t going to be a flash in the pan that he could ignore.

And where it would be short-lived, the least he could do was make it bearable for both parties involved.

“Supper,” he said. “Her Grace will be busy in the morning.”

“Doing what?”

“Good night, girls,” he laughed, stepping out of the room and closing the door.

Once the door was shut, he turned and strode toward his office. The hour was still early, but if he wished for tomorrow morning to go as he now envisioned, he would need to write his summons quickly and send it at once.

And as he walked, a rare smile crossed his face at the thought of seeing Margaret tomorrow, surprised and possibly even happy. A small thing, but it gave him hope. Hope that this marriage might not be the calamity he had assumed it would be.