Page 13 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

A s soon as Mrs. Cooper led her inside the London house, Margaret was greeted by a near tropical burst of heat.

The foyer was much warmer than outside – and much warmer than Margaret remembered leaving it.

She fanned herself and looked around, heat rising to her cheeks, making her nauseous, and she immediately cast off her Spencer coat.

“Thank you,” Margaret said as the housekeeper took the jacket from her, sweeping it over her arm. “You can leave those here," she told the butler, Mr. Rathbone, who had been sent for Margaret’s things and was carrying her trunks indoors.

Rolling up her sleeves, Margaret looked around in confusion. The house was oddly quiet.

“Where is my mother? And where is Liz?”

“Miss Eliza will be upstairs,” Mrs. Cooper replied, smoothing Margaret’s jacket as she spoke.

Her forehead was glistening with sweat. Margaret definitely hadn’t imagined the heat.

“The little miss will be beside herself with joy to see you home, Miss Pembroke. She has been waiting so very patiently for days for your return, asking every morning when you would come back.”

“Poor thing. In that case, it is a good thing I left much earlier than planned,” Margaret said, marching toward the drawing room where she expected to find her mother. But once inside, the room was empty. “Mrs. Cooper?”

“Lady Pembroke...” The housekeeper hesitated, focused on Margaret’s jacket. Her grey brows drew together. “She has retired to her solar.”

“What?” Margaret frowned, immediately charting a new course through the house. “But that room has not been occupied for months. Was it not almost empty? What could Mother possibly have to do in there?”

As Margaret approached the solar, the answer soon became clear.

The room was boiling hot, a fire roaring in the hearth as light streamed through the windows, illuminating her mother’s lounging form on the sofa as she pored over a magazine.

The furniture that had been moved out of the solar for safekeeping had been restored to its usual place, along with her mother’s precious plants.

What exactly had her mother been up to in Margaret’s absence?

“You’ve returned,” Katherine said as Margaret knocked on the door.

She sat up and set down what looked to be the latest edition of The Lady’s Monthly Museum, though Margaret could have sworn they had canceled their subscription months ago.

“And look how full of life you seem, my dear. Wiltshire has restored your spirits, just like I hoped.”

Either Katherine was being purposefully dissembling, or Margaret looked much better than she felt.

Lady Jane hadn’t taken kindly to Margaret’s request to leave early, convinced that something untoward had happened at Somerstead Hall.

She had threatened to ride to the manor herself to discover what the duke had done, but stopped only when Margaret begged her to leave the matter be.

Margaret had walked nothing but a trail of pain and embarrassment between Salisbury and London, and now Lady Jane was cross with her, too.

But Lady Jane will forgive me with time, she thought. And hopefully the duke will be spared her wrath. I swore to him that Lady Jane would keep my stay at Somerstead Hall a secret. He is a strange and complicated man, but he did save me after all. Now I fear the worst for him.

Whether he deserved her fear was another matter entirely – hardly mattered at all, since she would likely never see him again.

But that didn’t mean Margaret had stopped thinking about him.

She could still feel his breath ghosting her lips, wishing despite knowing it was wrong that he had kissed her that night.

One moment of folly to hold onto, before she resigned herself to becoming Baron Faversham’s wife.

Now Margaret was feeling hot for an entirely different reason. She cleared her throat and redirected her attention to her mother.

“I certainly am delighted to see you, and of course, excited to reunite with Liz,” Margaret said, stepping tentatively into the room.

“But I cannot say I feel nearly as energized as you proclaim me to be...” She waited a moment, but her mother didn’t try to fill the silence.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”

Her mother looked around, then shrugged. “I cannot think of anything, Little Meg.”

“No? Not a thing?” Margaret scoffed and pushed up her sleeves. “Mother, I could cook an egg on Mrs. Cooper’s forehead it is so hot in here. I thought we agreed to keep the fires to a minimum.”

“We had... a sudden influx of wood,” Katherine said, like that was in any way credible.

“Wood from where? I scarcely imagine you went out with an axe and procured some yourself.”

“Oh, why should it matter? Is it not so nice to feel comfortable in one’s own home?”

“You and I have a much different idea of comfort.”

Margaret paused, looking toward the crackling hearth, when something else caught her eye. There was a fresh vase of flowers on the coffee table and what Margaret thought was a new potted plant in the corner. It seemed her mother’s frivolity hadn’t ended with the fires.

She marched over to the plant, taking a frond and inspecting it. “This is new. And the flowers, and... Where did those sweetmeats come from?”

A bowl of individually wrapped bomboons had been perched on an armrest. Lemon-flavored, by the looks of it. Eliza’s favorite treat.

None of this had appeared by accident. Margaret turned to her mother in horror.

“You purchased all of this while I was gone, took advantage of my absence to go on a spending spree,” Margaret shouted, a pit forming in her stomach. “How much did this all cost? Worse still, what other luxuries will I find elsewhere in the house?”

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Katherine said, pointing at Margaret.

“I am your mother, Margaret. Your budgeting has been too extreme. And I am sorry to say, but I will stand for it no longer, regardless of your good intentions. And these are not luxuries, as you so callously dub them. These are the necessities of life – the things that make one’s life worth living. ”

Margaret was so angry she could have screamed, doing quick calculations in her mind. Six months of economizing and careful planning had been dashed away in two weeks by her mother.

“No.” Margaret shook her head, clutching her stomach. “The necessities of life are sufficient food and heat. Not sweetmeats, and not roses. How do you expect us to finance the next months of our lives?”

She pressed her eyes shut, thinking. Suddenly, she was struck with clarity, eyes flashing back open.

“Has Baron Faversham been here?”

Katherine pursed her lips, then sighed as she straightened her skirts. “The Baron is in London, yes. And he has called upon us – that much I shall admit.”

“And evidently, something happened to prompt such frivolous spending from you. You have been led to believe that these treats are things we can afford, which means...” Margaret gasped. “You told him I would marry him, didn’t you? You signed me away while I was in Wiltshire.”

Her mother’s silence was all the answer she needed.

The pit in Margaret’s stomach closed in on itself, and she sank into the nearest seat.

Mrs. Cooper darted to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Was this as much of a shock to her as to Margaret?

It must have been. Her mother might have betrayed her, but never Cooper.

Katherine rose and walked toward her. “If you expect me to apologize?—”

“What good would that do? An apology from you will not undo what you have done.” Margaret snapped her head up, spooking Mrs. Cooper, who took her hand away.

The healed mark on her cheek prickled as if it were a fresh injury.

“But there is no use wasting my anger on this. My betrothal to Lord Faversham would have come about one way or another.”

“You mean...?”

“Yes. When I was in Wiltshire, I decided that accepting Baron Faversham’s proposal would be the most realistic course of action. I intended to write him the moment I returned, once I had told you the news.”

“Oh.” Katherine sounded surprised, then relieved.

All her manipulation had been for nothing.

“Oh, well... Then there is nothing to be cross with one another about, you’re right.

I merely nudged the situation forward in your stead to help you.

But it is clear to me now that I have done you a favor, merely saved you the ink and paper, that you and I were always on the same side. Oh, most joyous day...”

Margaret did not have the energy to argue. There was no use correcting her mother. She was still guilty of betraying her.

“It was nevertheless reckless to purchase all of this.” Margaret thought back to the Duke of Langley’s words.

They had been haunting her ever since she had left his estate.

“Baron Faversham may have promised you an easy life as his new mother-in-law, but words are cheap, and we should not forget it. It remains to be seen if he is as generous as he claims to be.”

“Meg, you have such a pessimistic outlook on people. This is not how I raised you.” Katherine crossed the room to stand before Margaret, smiling.

Had she forgotten about their rejection from society?

It was the truth that people were mostly awful.

“The Baron is a gentleman who will not go back on his word. He will marry you, and we will be saved. Everything will be exactly as it once was.”

Katherine laughed, causing Margaret to look up.

“What’s tickled you now?” Margaret asked flatly.