Page 18 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)
“It was an oversight, the consequences of which I own in full. I have come here today to ensure that Miss Pembroke is not treated unfairly.” The duke looked at Margaret out of the corner of his eye.
“What little I have come to learn of Miss Pembroke suggests that there is no young woman in England more deserving of a second chance.”
The room stilled. Margaret blushed over the duke’s praise, wondering whether he was being sincere. He had given her no reason to doubt him so far that morning. Maybe he deserved a second chance as well.
“Second chance, second chance,” Lord Faversham parroted with more energy than Margaret had even seen in him. “You hosted her unchaperoned. There is, in that very fact, an impropriety that should not be forgiven.”
“And it is your decision to forgive Margaret or not,” Katherine said, coming to place a hand on Margaret’s shoulder.
“But with all due respect, My Lord, arguing back and forth will not help matters... I am grateful beyond words for your visit this morning, Your Grace. As you have suggested, this is a delicate situation and should be treated as such.”
The feeling of her mother’s hand on her, pressing her down into the sofa, made Margaret wary. It was a silent command, begging her to be quiet and let the two men reveal their intentions first. But Margaret had more questions for the duke than her mother was willing to ask.
“What do you intend to do?” Margaret felt her mother’s hand slip away as she rose to her feet. “I mean no disrespect, Your Grace. You have helped tremendously by coming here, but we cannot dispel a scandal simply by forming a united front.”
The duke observed her for a moment, the side of his mouth twitching before he corrected his expression. He angled toward her – away from Baron Faversham and her mother.
“As I said, knowing what little I do of your situation, I called upon you to ensure your safety. That is to say,” he paused, “that this unforeseen complication did not interrupt your betrothal to Lord Faversham.”
A surprised laugh shot out of Margaret before she could thwart it.
She clapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, trying to compose herself before she laughed again – or burst into tears.
The duke’s gracious half-smile immediately disappeared.
And Margaret bet that if she turned around and looked at her mother, Katherine would have been frowning too.
“I am so sorry, Your Grace.” Margaret shook her head. “I do not know what overcame me. It is only... that was so very thoughtful... and entirely to be expected. I suppose Baron Faversham alone may put your concerns for my well-being to rest.”
It occurred to her, in that moment of discomfort, that she wanted the baron to call off the engagement just to see the duke squirm. That was, after all, why the duke had come: not to set the record straight, but to confirm he wouldn’t be forced to marry Margaret.
“My Lord?” Katherine asked, clearing her throat. “Might you have an answer for His Grace?”
The baron was quiet, staring at the remnants of their breakfast as the room turned to him.
“I will need time to reconsider.” His wrinkled mouth pursed. “I can provide Miss Pembroke with no other assurances today after what has been revealed.”
Katherine stepped forward. “My Lord, are you quite certain?—”
“Do not press me, Lady Pembroke.”
What looked like terror swept over the duke’s features. Margaret glowed with victory – until the implications of Lord Faversham’s reply dawned on her.
Silence descended in the aftermath until Katherine clasped her hands with finality and approached the baron, who grumbled something about wanting to leave.
“Of course, My Lord,” Katherine said to him, fetching his cane from where he had left it. He tore it from her hands. “All will become clear with time. Let us have them ready for your driver...”
She escorted him out, leaving the door ajar behind her, casting a damning look back at Margaret, who had now been left alone with the duke.
He sighed, letting his head hang forward, then began collecting his coat. He had one arm in the garment when Margaret stopped him.
“Not the results you were hoping for?” she asked.
The duke laughed mirthlessly under his breath, then finished dressing.
“What a shame that you will not be rewarded for your most gallant efforts,” Margaret continued, moving over to the breakfast table to finish clearing away the tableware. “For what it is worth, I was convinced by your arguments, body and soul."
“Only one of which is compromised, despite public opinion,” the duke said, watching her. He shifted his attention to the broadsheet, examining the article. “You should not have laughed, Miss Pembroke. You should have fought for Faversham’s support.”
“I beg your pardon?” Margaret had just finished stacking saucers, pausing as she reached for the teapot. “In Wiltshire, you were very much counseling me against marrying him. Now you are suggesting I fall on my hands and knees and beg to become his bride.”
He fixed her with a dark look, and despite herself, it made Margaret weak at the knees. She grew hot again and resumed her task, reaching over for the butter dish.
“That was before your appearance in the papers. Your family might not survive more tumult. Faversham is a weasel, but the ton has already recognized you as his bride. It should not be a difficult sale,” the duke murmured, focused on the open broadsheet.
“By the looks of things, you are very serviceable...”
She set the butter dish on top of the saucers with force, causing the duke to look up at her as the tableware clattered. She heaved a sigh, jaw clenched.
“I knew it. It was all an act. You are not genuinely concerned for me at all,” she protested, keeping her voice low in case her mother or Baron Faversham returned.
She stormed around the table and snatched the newspapers from under him, tidying them up too.
“You only came out of interest for yourself.”
The duke glanced heavenward and sank into the nearest armchair, evidently making himself at home.
“I would have been a fool not to come.” He pointed at her.
“But nothing I said was a lie. I take no joy in seeing you like this, Miss Pembroke. And I do hope, for your own sake, that Baron Faversham remains true to your family.”
Margaret’s back was turned from him, now collecting the dishes on the opposite side of the table. She wondered if he was being purposefully subversive, not saying out loud what they both knew to be true – that in scandals like these, marriage was always the solution.
But not between the woman and another man.
“How lucky I am for your concern," she said.
“If you were truly lucky, your name would not have featured in the papers at all.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“That is my question as well as yours.” He cocked his head when she looked his way. “Did you write to them? Was it you?”
Margaret gawked at him, shaking her head slowly back and forth.
The air grew thick with tension as he waited for her answer.
Things had not been so dissimilar the night he had almost kissed her.
How could he stand to be so near to her, casually occupying her father’s favorite armchair, if he thought so little of her?
“I did not write to anyone.” Margaret crossed her arms, abandoning her chore. “And before you ask, I do not know who did. I told no one of my stay with you. The informant must have come from your own estate.”
The duke looked unimpressed. “You are forgetting Lady Jane, Mr. Plim?—”
Margaret could not believe what she was hearing. She stormed over to him, standing directly before him, so close he could have grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. She didn’t care about propriety – only about putting him in his place.
“They would never have betrayed me”, she said, staring down at him. “Do you trust everyone in your own life with that much assurance?”
Her hands trembled at her side. The duke looked like he had a thousand things to say, and not one of them would have been worth the breath. His eyes roved her form as she waited for an answer.
“No,” he said, rising suddenly. “I trust no one.”
It should not have stung, and yet Margaret felt it like a slap. Her chest heaved with her breaths, standing only inches from him. Her body tingled as he lingered there, watching her, waiting for her to... What?
To move .
She stepped aside, turning toward the fire so she didn’t have to look at him. He said nothing before he left, exiting through the door. Margaret stood in the quiet he had left behind, the uncomfortable warmth of his presence already fading, along with all assurances for her future.
Her mother had asked her to select the man most likely to rescue her.
But Margaret was no closer to believing that either of them would.
Alexander was grateful to find the entrance hall clear of Baron Faversham as he prepared to leave. Margaret had set him on fire with her questions and demands, sabotaging herself with the baron and expecting Alexander to pick up the pieces.
He hadn’t said the obvious: that if she couldn’t ensnare the baron, then Alexander would have to marry her instead. He hoped she did not see that as an alternative worth considering. They could not stand to be in the same room together without engaging in a fight – or worse.
Lady Pembroke emerged through the front door, and he started.
She was so unlike Margaret it was difficult to believe they were mother and daughter.
Appearances aside, Viscountess Pembroke struck him as a calculating and conventional woman.
It also struck him that she was likely the one who had matched Margaret with Baron Faversham, ignoring his many faults so long as their union saved her family.
“You are leaving, Your Grace?” she asked, standing in the doorway. A carriage was heard driving off outside. “But of course, you are. I will keep you no longer. I only hope that Margaret was accommodating while I saw Baron Faversham out.”
“Exceedingly so,” Alexander lied, stepping around the viscountess to leave.
“I know that she can be difficult.” Katherine’s emphatic tone made him pause, and he turned from the open doorway to look at her.
She stepped toward him with her hands steepled in a prayer.
“It has not been easy for her since her father left. She was not always this way, I assure you. And I would be remiss, as her mother, if I did not make it known to you.”
Alexander glanced over his shoulder, choosing to allot the viscountess a few more moments of his time. “No,” he replied. “She is quite changed from my scant memories of her.”
“I do not know what transpired in the country.” Katherine lowered her voice, glancing up the stairs behind them.
“And honestly, I do not want to know. But Margaret’s father is gone, and I alone must lead my two daughters through this life with what little wisdom I have.
So, I will do what he would have done, and ask whether you would not consider.
..” She wore the same expression as Margaret when discussing something that made her uncomfortable.
“Are you not looking to take a wife yourself, Your Grace?”
He didn’t owe Katherine an answer, but he was inclined to provide her with one, ending the business of the day once and for all.
Just as he started to speak, a shape moved at the top of the stairs.
A little girl had crept onto the top step, halfway hidden behind the guard railing on the landing.
She was a miniature version of the countess, with pale pink skin and blonde hair.
But she had a curious spark in her eyes that reminded him of Margaret, discernible even in the shadows where she hid.
Alexander did not remember the girl’s name. Maybe Margaret had never provided it. But the sight of her made him reconsider his answer to her mother.
“It is not out of callousness that I have avoided the topic,” Alexander said, carefully constructing his reply. “Your daughter deserves a chance to forge her own path. I will not force her into a marriage with me, as it would likely be miserable for us both. We are no match for each other.”
Like a flame to a flame, we only burn.
“I understand,” Katherine replied. “And I thank you for your honesty, Your Grace. I agree that Margaret should be given the chance to decide her own future. But I fear she no longer knows what future it is she desires.”
With a formal farewell, Katherine turned on her heel as the butler appeared from outside. He held the door open for Alexander as he departed, glancing back at the house only once he reached the road.
He expected to see Margaret staring daggers at him from the downstairs window. But it was the face of her sister upstairs, a little wave, that bid him farewell instead.