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

“Far be it from me to question such a gift as your visit,” Lady Jane said, looping an arm around Margaret’s shoulders as she sat at Helena’s vanity table, “but Helena has said shockingly little about the reasons for your sudden arrival. This is, of course, most curious. We both know that my niece runs at the mouth, so...” She squeezed Margaret’s shoulder playfully, straightening behind her in the mirror.

“Have you come at the request of that bore Faversham and are using me as a hostel? Pray, do tell me you have not, or I will send you packing right back to London.”

Margaret gave a sheepish smile and set down her rouge.

The cut on her face had mostly healed in the week since the incident, and she looked at herself now, surprised by the power of Helena’s cosmetics.

It was like nothing had ever happened. She looked healthy, young again, far from the tormented ghoul who usually stared back at her— with the exception of her chapped lips, licked and bitten raw.

“What a thing to bring before me...” Margaret thought her communications with the baron were a well-kept secret. “Has there been talk here in Wiltshire?”

“No, no. Nothing you need worry about,” Lady Jane said, waving the issue away, ruffling the feathered sleeve of her dressing gown.

“My maid has a sister who works for The Honorable Miss Allsopp – the baron’s eldest – and she knew your name from Helena and made her inquiries with me.

I hoped I had heard wrong, that there was another Miss Pembroke whose family was in dire straits.

But I take it that I am right. You are, most seriously, considering his proposal? ”

Margaret thought carefully about her answer.

Jane had always been a positive figure in her life, an aunt to make up for her own lack of relatives.

She had no children of her own and lived life as a happy spinster after the death of her first husband, which had befallen them not long after their wedding.

Margaret didn’t know the details. It was one of the few things Jane didn’t like to talk about.

“I really did come to visit Helena,” Margaret said.

Jane did not look impressed. “You have always been the most diplomatic of Helena’s friends, the cleverest as far as I am concerned – though I hope you will not relay my opinion to Helena, for it would kill her to think there is someone whose wit outmatches hers.

I see what you have done here, and I do not blame you. But Margaret...”

Jane sighed as Helena entered through the door, sweeping into the room with the slippers she had gone to retrieve.

“What are you doing here? I told you not to disturb us,” Helena groaned at her aunt.

Margaret laughed softly as Helena hopped around, slipping into her shoes with one hand and holding a book open with the other.

“Are you not the one who always says a woman should never be disturbed in her boudoir? We are women, and we are disturbed.”

“Oh, the two of you could not possibly require that sort of privacy.” Jane patted Margaret comfortingly on the back before turning fully to her niece. “Are those my shoes? Helena!”

Helena grimaced, snapping her book shut. “This was a necessary theft. I wanted to wear red, but I already lent Margaret my Florentine slippers. And honestly, we both know you can’t fit your hooves in these anymore. I haven’t seen you wear them for years!”

Jane guffawed, tilting her head back as she laughed. “This is the thanks I get for hosting my ungrateful niece while her relations gallivant around the continent without her. Dare I say, I cannot blame them.”

Helena rolled her eyes. “You begged me to come and stay with you. Said you would become sick out of loneliness, and that if you died from heartbreak, I would only have myself to blame.”

“Hm.” Jane shook her head, ignoring her niece.

“Speaking of gallivanting around the continent...” Margaret knew what was coming before Jane said it.

“Has there been no word from your errant father? I have written to a few connections abroad inquiring about him, but alas, they are as clueless as we are here in England about his whereabouts.”

Margaret busied herself with rearranging Helena’s effects on the vanity, suppressing her anxious thoughts. “There has been no word at all. It seems Papa does not wish to be found...”

She left the second half of her sentence unspoken: That is, if he is still alive.

The truth was that no one knew what had happened to William Pembroke.

One moment, Margaret and her family had been sharing breakfast at Pembroke House.

The next, her father had gotten up to go riding and never returned.

Bailiffs came knocking the following morning, and it wasn’t long before the full catalogue of her father’s gambling debts was exposed – a mountain of sin that no one could overcome.

Not a week later, The Morning Post published a scandalizing article about the whole affair.

A rhyme based on the article’s title had been making its way through the ton ever since.

“ William Pembroke lost the game. Vanished, like a moth to a flame. Gone to France, Fleet, or the grave in shame? ”

Margaret didn’t know what to believe. There were rumors that her father had been seen in Dover a few days after his disappearance, where he boarded the first boat out of England, seemingly without regard for its destination.

The English were still active abroad following the war, and it stood to reason that if her father were alive on the continent, he would soon be seen and brought back.

The not-knowing was worse than his betrayal.

Despite everything that had happened, Margaret still loved her father.

She felt Jane take her hand, prying it away from her mouth. Margaret hadn’t realized she had been playing with her lips again, tearing away a piece of dry skin.

“Mutilating yourself like that won’t do.

Not at all,” Jane whispered. She crouched down beside Margaret and cupped her face.

“You are so lovely, Miss Pembroke, and still so young. There is hope left for you yet. We will go to the assembly rooms tonight as planned and see what we can fish. Even a silly young cod will be better for you than that rotten shark, Faversham.”

“Your comparisons paint such a vibrant picture,” Margaret joked half-heartedly. “I will cherish this evening no matter what occurs, sink or swim.”

She looked down at her dress, borrowed from Helena.

It was a little short on her and cut uncomfortably into her ribcage, just beneath her breast. The shade of red was too bright for her complexion – it would have been better suited to fiery Helena.

But she smiled anyway. She hadn’t looked so much like a gentleman’s daughter in months.

Maybe there was hope she could attract a wealthy country bachelor who just needed a young wife.

Someone, perish the thought, who could actually fall in love with her.

Jane guided her to her feet, making Margaret perform a little twirl. When she stopped, Margaret found Helena watching with a sour expression.

“What is it?” Margaret asked.

“I was just thinking about...” Helena trailed off and gave a dramatic sigh. “By my leave, you are relieved from The League of Untamed Hearts... for the evening, at least.”

It was the biggest blessing Margaret could hope for from rebellious Helena, who hated marriage and matchmaking more than anything else in the world.

Jane laughed behind her. “The League of what ?”

Margaret cringed, grateful when Helena launched into an explanation.

“That’s what we call ourselves,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Well, what we called ourselves before one of our ranks went and got herself married. And now Margaret is also speaking about marriage. Although I suppose, under such circumstances, her defection can be forgiven.”

“Now I am completely at a loss,” Jane said, looking back and forth between them like they had lost their minds. “What sort of operation are you conducting, Helena?”

“Nothing untoward. I swear it on the last shreds of my honor,” Margaret chimed in.

She smiled at the memories of her friends.

“The League of Untamed Hearts is Anna, Helena, Lucy, Sophia, and me. We founded it after that gentleman snubbed me in the summer of 1815. I can scarcely remember him now, but it felt like the last in a series of indignities we had faced as young debs. We vowed – quite stupidly, I fear now – never to take husbands, that our hearts would remain untamed for as long as we lived.”

“Ah.” Lady Jane nodded, still not looking like she understood. “Well... If I ever lay eyes on the gentleman who disillusioned my girls so, I shall have a strong word with him for leading you all astray.”

“You are more than welcome to try,” Margaret laughed, trying to recall the scoundrel’s serious face. “But what are the chances of that happening?”