Page 21 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

M argaret sat at the toilette table in her chambers, fingers tapping against her knees.

In the last two weeks, the family house on Grosvenor Square had been restored to its former glory.

Her bedchamber had been cleaned and redecorated, ready to accommodate Eliza once Margaret moved out.

A pale green wedding gown, so light it was almost white, had been hung from the top of the armoire behind her, already perfumed with her favorite scent for the day ahead.

Somewhere in the distance, the bell tolled the hour.

It would not be long until she left for the ceremony, riding with her mother and Eliza to St. George’s Church on Hanover Square – the same church where her mother and father had married decades ago.

Then Margaret would become a married woman.

More than a married woman. I will be a duchess. This all feels too good to be true.

Margaret gripped the sides of her stool as the door creaked open. They had hired a temporary maid for the day to assist Margaret in her preparations. But the woman who presented herself was familiar.

Margaret wiped her eyes, squinting as Augusta closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Margaret asked, her voice catching.

Augusta beamed, setting a stack of laundered clothes on Margaret’s bed. Her warm brown eyes were an instant relief. Margaret couldn’t contain herself, rising out of her stool and grabbing her beloved maid in an embrace.

“Come now, Miss Pembroke,” Augusta said, stroking Margaret’s shoulders as she released her. “You didn’t think I would miss your wedding day, did you?”

“I feel as though I am dreaming,” Margaret said, allowing herself to be guided back to her stool. “How did you get here?”

“His Grace arranged it all,” Augusta explained with a smile.

She stepped aside to start sorting the linens, stacking them neatly.

They were the rest of Margaret’s traveling clothes, the finishing touch to her trousseau.

“I received a letter from the Langley estate last week stating that His Grace wished to hire me for his new wife.

I could not believe my eyes when I read your name.

My old mistress was sad to see me go, but I could not countenance rejecting His Grace's offer.” She sighed happily.

“Even if His Grace had not been so generous, I would have accepted the post in a heartbeat. We were both girls when your father first hired me. I am so happy for you, and so happy to be home.”

Margaret placed a hand over her heart. “I never told His Grace of you. That he found you and sent for you… How very kind of him.”

She wondered whether Katherine had said something to Alexander.

He had been a frequent visitor to the house over the last few weeks, making preparations for the wedding and sorting their special marriage license, which had been no easy feat with the absence of Margaret’s father.

But Alexander hadn’t lingered long after his calls.

He had refused invitations to dinner, had barely said two words to Margaret about the realities of their upcoming nuptials.

They would go to Somerstead Hall once the wedding was completed.

Would she be happy there? Was he happy? These questions and more remained unanswered.

Everything she knew about Alexander suggested that he was not an impulsive man. Every word was carefully measured; every sidelong glance had a purpose. He was always calculating in his mind, planning, solving problems as they arose. And something about that itched beneath her skin.

Perhaps because, even though I am relieved to finally have a husband, it irks me that he is marrying me only because it is the most logical thing to do.

Moments later, Margaret fixed herself in the mirror as Augusta worked pins through her dark waves. The slow yet methodical tug of her hair eased some of her nerves – until a knock interrupted them and the door creaked open once more.

Eliza’s cherub face peered through the crack, two green eyes in the dark, wanting to be let into the room. “May I come in, Margaret?”

Margaret turned to wave her inside, her cheeks aching with a smile as Eliza rushed over to her. She grabbed Margaret in a side-hug, squeezing her around the middle.

“You must be careful, Miss Eliza,” Augusta warned, a pin in her mouth. She inspected Margaret’s hair, applying the final touches. “There won’t be time to fix Miss Pembroke’s hair if you ruin it.”

“I won’t,” Eliza protested, stepping back to look at her sister.

Eliza giggled as Augusta patted her head, sending Margaret a fortifying look as she stepped back and left the room.

“Where is Augusta going? She has only just arrived,” Eliza said, taking a bottle of perfume from Margaret’s vanity and studying it.

“She went to get my wedding slippers.” Margaret took the perfume from Eliza and put it back, then seized her sister’s hands. There was an ink stain on her pointer finger, and Margaret wiped it off. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course.” Eliza nodded, her blonde ringlets bobbing around her face.

“Mama said we are leaving soon, so I wanted to come and see you.” She twisted her mouth, fighting a smile, until she finally burst. “Do you like that Augusta is back? I asked His Grace to go and fetch her for you. It was me, Margaret. I did it.”

Margaret leaned back to look at Eliza. “You asked the duke? Don’t tell tales, Liz.”

“I’m not.” Eliza pouted. “When he came around for tea last week, I asked him to go and find Augusta because it would make you happy. And it did make you happy, so I was right.”

She was growing more confused by the second. It wasn’t like Eliza to lie, but Margaret had no memory of her sister ever speaking with Alexander. They had only been introduced once, when he had come to tell her mother about their betrothal.

“I don’t understand.” Margaret cocked her head to the side. “He spoke to you?”

“Yes, he did.” Eliza rolled her eyes, obviously dissatisfied with Margaret’s reaction.

“I was sitting on the stairs when he left. I only wanted to look at him, but he stopped and spoke with me for a little bit. He said he was marrying you, and I said I knew. Then he said that he would make things go well for us, and I said thank you, Your Grace, and if you want to make Margaret happy too, you should go and get Augusta back and then go and find Papa.”

“I see.” Margaret’s heart clenched. It sounded so unlike Alexander, but the evidence lay in Augusta’s return. “Eliza... The duke has done a kind thing by marrying me. It’s not polite to ask him for things, and certainly not fetching Papa.”

“But if the duke can make Augusta come back, then perhaps he can make Papa come back too.” Eliza’s face fell. A moment later, she shrugged and walked to the gown hanging from the armoire. “It’s a very pretty dress, Margaret. I like it very much. Mama says you will be the perfect bride.”

Margaret shook her head and extended a hand toward her sister. “Come here, you silly thing.”

Eliza returned to her and sat on Margaret’s knee.

“I am grateful that you asked His Grace to hire Augusta. To think of my happiness was a very nice thing to do.” She took her sister’s hand. Her fingers felt so small in her palm. “Thank you.”

“It was also Mama.”

“Oh?”

“She told me to wait on the stairs to speak with him.”

“Oh.”

Margaret let out a slow, bitter breath.

“Next time, when Mama asks you to do something, you should come and tell me.”

“But you won’t be here,” Eliza replied, cocking her head to the side. “You’re going to live far away.”

So, Eliza had also heard about the move to Somerstead Hall from Katherine.

“It’s only temporary. I will never be very far from you, not for anything in the world.” She pulled Eliza in close, clutching her. “And now, thanks to His Grace, I can finally protect you.”

Katherine was many things, but she was not an efficient timekeeper. They had arrived at the church too early, and Margaret had been subsequently stowed in a room with an opening outdoors, from which she could later re-enter the church without being seen.

She paced beneath a stained-glass window depicting the Virgin Mary.

Sounds from the nave slipped beneath the door.

Guests were piling into the church ahead of the ceremony.

It struck her that so many of them, just weeks before, had been watching her family with morbid curiosity.

Now they would smile for the Duke of Langley and his new duchess, lauding him as a hero for saving a woman whose own father had abandoned her.

Margaret would become the subject of envy and curiosity for at least a few months.

Only time would tell how history remembered her after that.

Alexander had been right about one thing: once word of their betrothal spread, the events at Somerstead Hall had been rewritten. The scandal had been turned into a story of true romance.

A more favorable interpretation, to be sure, but still far from the truth.

She gasped softly as the outside door creaked open, and Alexander appeared.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.

Margaret froze. The morning suited him, and the sight took her breath away. He sported a fine dark grey jacket and crisp white waistcoat. His dark hair had been neatly styled, his cheeks slightly ruddy from the cold outdoors.

“I am waiting for the wedding to begin,” Margaret answered once she found her voice. “The same as you, I suspect. Unless you have changed your mind about this marrying business and were looking instead for an exit.”

He shook his head, closing the door. “I never go back on my word. Margaret, you are...” He looked at her deeply, and heat rose to her cheeks in response. “How very lovely you look.”

Was that a compliment? It seemed genuine, and it warmed her nervous heart. She hadn’t thought she could be considered lovely by him. Lovely was not logical.