Page 17 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

“ W hat do you mean, the Duke of Langley is here? The same Duke of Langley who... who has...” Katherine choked on her own question, putting a hand over her mouth as she fell back into a dining chair. “Impossible...”

Margaret digested the news painfully. When she dared another look at her mother, she couldn’t tell whether Katherine was smiling or frowning behind her hand.

The uncertainty made her want to faint. She relished the thought of slipping into that dark and unconscious place, where she wouldn’t have to come face to face with the duke again, where she wouldn’t be subjected to her mother’s Machiavellian scheming. ..

Scheming which was unavoidable now that a duke was in play.

“How can he be here?” Margaret asked, her head swimming. “He was in Wiltshire not days ago and made no mention of coming to Lon?—”

She cut herself off too late. Baron Faversham and her mother gawked at her, having just been given proof that at least some of Margaret’s protestations had been lies. Her mother sighed quietly at her indiscretion, rubbing her temples.

“Just send the man away,” Lord Faversham said, using the table for support. “You will not speak to him, Miss Pembroke. That is an order. You have cast shame on me once. You will not shame me twice by accepting him into this house!”

“My Lord, please,” Katherine said.

“Viscountess, I will not be persuaded otherwise. Command your daughter to obey me.”

Margaret scowled, turning slowly to meet Lord Faversham’s demanding face. What right did he have to order her to do anything? They weren’t married yet, and after what had been revealed, it became less certain that they ever would.

“It would be more shameful to turn His Grace away. He will already have been seen coming,” Margaret said to her mother, ignoring Baron Faversham.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried far enough.

“Mama, please. He will not have come here out of malice. He is a victim of the press as much as I am. We must hear what he has to say.”

“Miss Pembroke, I told you no. You will not speak to the duke on this day, or ever,” Baron Faversham snapped, rising further out of his chair before his body gave way.

He wheezed from the exertion, face red with his anger, a withered hand curling around the tablecloth.

“Tread carefully, Miss Pembroke. Your actions betray your partiality to the scoundrel. Defend him again, and I will know what you are.”

Margaret glanced at her mother, pleading for her support. Katherine gave a long, knowing look, colored with indignation. Regardless of Katherine’s feelings, she would not stand for Baron Faversham accusing her daughter of misconduct.

“My daughter is right, My Lord. It will do us no good to ignore the Duke of Langley now that he has come. If Margaret claims that she is innocent, we should believe her and admit the duke. A guilty man would not present himself so readily at the house of his accomplice.” She rose with determination.

“All parties must work together in this trying time. Pray, forgive such dissent, My Lord. On this matter, I stand with my daughter.”

“You are a foolish woman. Both of you, fools." Baron Faversham pointed a finger at Margaret. “But I will not be cast out for the fact of reeling him in.”

“Certainly not,” Katherine said. “You are within your right to remain and let your thoughts be known, My Lord.”

Margaret chose not to question her mother’s motives. By that time, the baron looked too weary to argue. He may not have valued Margaret past her womb, but he obviously still retained a modicum of respect for Katherine – or else he intended to remain to protect his pride.

“We will accord His Grace five minutes. Please see him in, Mr. Rathbone,” Katherine told the butler. “After which, you will ensure that Eliza remains upstairs.”

The butler gave a modest nod as he retraced his steps.

Margaret’s heart pounded like a drum. Five minutes of conversation with the duke may well strike her dead.

Her mother pulled her to the sofas while Mrs. Cooper swept in and out of the room to clear away some of the breakfast items. Margaret fell into her seat, being positioned like a doll now that Katherine had tamed the room into submission.

Faversham remained at the table, silent and waiting.

“I do not know what happened between you and the duke, if anything,” Katherine whispered, pinching some color into Margaret’s cheeks. “But for the next five minutes, your comportment must be irreproachable. Do not disappoint me further.”

“It would help if I knew what you wished me to do.”

Katherine sighed as she twirled a ringlet of Margaret’s hair. “What a woman in your situation must do. Appeal to whoever seems more inclined to save you.”

The heavy ticking of the grandfather clock punctuated the seconds before the Duke of Langley’s arrival.

Margaret was too scared at first to look at him, allowing her mother to greet him first. When she checked, he was there, standing beside the butler with a copy of The Morning Post tucked beneath his arm.

The morning sunlight enrobed him as he stepped inside.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined the Duke of Langley would be standing in her drawing room.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and then another when his gaze fell upon her.

She sat a little taller, concealing a sudden rush of fear, of desire. ..

“Your Grace,” Katherine greeted with a curtsey, the orange satin of her gown rustling with the movement. “How kind of you to have called upon us on this most... eventful morning.”

The duke bowed his head, counting Katherine, then Baron Faversham, before he settled his attentions on Margaret. She hoped he could read the apology in her eyes. He gave no indication that he had, greeting her with silence.

“Thank you for admitting me.” The duke’s voice was low and familiar, and it ripped through Margaret like a bullet. His eyes darted to the table where he saw the broadsheet Katherine had accosted her with. “You are aware of what has been written. That is why I have come.”

Katherine nodded. “It was not a pleasant read.”

“For neither of us.” The duke shrugged off his greatcoat and hung it over a chair, placing his newspaper beside their own. “Let me first assure you that the article is in its essence a fabrication. Nothing occurred between your daughter and me that compromised her integrity in any manner.”

“That is what one would say, in your position,” Baron Faversham murmured. “Do you deny, then, that she was with you in Wiltshire?”

“No. I do not deny it.” The duke’s distaste for Baron Faversham was clear.

He focused on Katherine. “Lady Pembroke, your daughter did spend the night at Somerstead Hall. But she remained in the chambers assigned to her, and we scarcely spoke. A storm came through the county on the night we both attended a ball at the Salisbury Assembly Rooms. As I was returning home, I discovered Miss Pembroke stranded on the roadside with a wounded driver; the violence of the weather had overturned their carriage.”

Her mother gasped, eyes wide as she turned to Margaret. “Is this true? I cannot believe it. Margaret, why would you not tell us of such a thing?”

“Because no one would have believed me,” she replied.

Baron Faversham grunted. “Or because it is a lie.”

“It is only a lie insofar as I did not tell you,” Margaret bit back. “We truly did have an accident on the road. You need only write Lady Jane and her driver, and they will confirm what I am saying.”

“Miss Pembroke’s deception must not be held against her,” the duke said.

“Your daughter would have died if she had not been found. I will not apologize for saving her life. There had been no choice but to escort her to Somerstead Hall. Once there, I implored her to conceal the truth of her stay, as I feared I knew exactly what would become of it.”

“Your Grace, we are in your debt,” Katherine said.

“I do not agree.” He looked down at the newspapers. “It seems I asked her to lie needlessly. For that, I am in yours.”

Margaret pressed her lips together, eyes burning with the threat of tears. Most men in the duke’s position would have lied to protect themselves and blamed Margaret without a second thought.

Either he is much less selfish than I thought him to be, or he has some other reason for wanting to set the story straight .

Katherine grasped her coral beads, smiling sadly down at Margaret. Her mother believed her at last. And it had only taken the word of one man.

Baron Faversham was not so easily convinced.

“A fanciful tale, and you have presented no proof in its defense,” he rasped, jowls trembling. “Is it not in your joint interest to pretend the events of the night, if they did occur as you describe them, were entirely innocent? No. It suffices that Miss Pembroke was seen with you.”

The duke gripped the back of a dining chair. His eyes were trained on Baron Faversham across the table.

“You had no proof that I was at Somerstead Hall before His Grace confirmed that I was, and yet you still believed it,” Margaret said, unable to remain quiet. “You only want evidence when you are faced with an uncertainty you wish to refute.”

“Miss Pembroke speaks truly. You do not know me in earnest, as I do not know you. But you must agree that we have nothing but the truth on which to depend.” The duke gestured at the newspaper.

“Layering this gross mischaracterization with more lies would not avail me. And let us be clear – the Pembroke name had been besmirched long before this day. Would I implicate myself needlessly, with a lie, when I could simply allow this scandal to run its course? It defies all reason that I would.”

He gave a compelling argument, and even the baron looked lost for words.