Page 22 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

“Yes, well...” She cleared her throat, feeling suddenly warm despite the frigid breeze that had swept in.

“You have been generous with Mama’s allowance, but as you can see, it has not gone to waste.

We didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends by appearing quite as poor as we are.

They are gathering by the second, if my ears do not deceive me. ”

“That is precisely why I was returning indoors.” Alexander smiled politely and moved past her.

She stopped him, not thinking as she grabbed his wrist. “I just wanted to...”

Her breath hitched when she realized what she had done. Her hand tingled pleasantly where she touched him, prickles traveling up her arm, to her neck, the back of her head. She dropped his hand like a hot poker, but Alexander did not react badly to her impropriety.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Augusta arrived this morning. Eliza said that you were responsible for returning her to me... I only wanted to thank you.”

Alexander quirked a brow, as if her gratitude was strange. “It was a small thing.”

“Not small to me. I did not even know that you had spoken to Eliza in that way.”

“I believe she had been lying in wait for me.” A slight smirk tugged at Alexander’s mouth, and Margaret found herself smiling too. “She is an exceedingly persuasive person, your sister. You have that in common.”

Margaret looked toward the door, her stomach suddenly tightening at what her exit would entail. A lonely aisle. All the ton are waiting for her to trip.

“Are you nervous about walking alone?”

“Is it so very obvious? I had not given it a second thought until this moment.” She put a hand over her stomach.

Her father was not present to walk her down the aisle, and Margaret had no other man in her life whom she wished to ask, as he would have been suitable in the eyes of the ton .

“I must be the first duchess in history to walk the aisle all by herself. I’m worried they will laugh at me. ”

“Then perhaps you should not walk alone.”

Margaret stared at him.

“Allow me to walk the aisle with you,” Alexander continued. “It is not usual, but nothing about this situation is usual.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Margaret took a step toward him, forgetting herself. “It would look quite strange, and you are so...” Precisian, came to mind. “No, Your Grace. It is too much to ask.”

“And yet I have already granted you my answer,” he said. Alexander walked toward the outside door, opened it, and let in the cold air again. “Come with me, Margaret. And while we are at it, stop calling me Your Grace. From this moment forward, I shall be no stranger to you.”

"Carlisle. Allow me to introduce...” Alexander paused, as if suddenly debating how to present Margaret now that they were married. He settled on, “Margaret, my wife,” and smiled modestly to the man who had approached.

Margaret offered a polite greeting, a little weary from the events of the wedding breakfast that morning.

The ceremony had passed without a hitch, and in the moments since at Langley House, there had barely been time to breathe.

She clutched a flute of Champagne close to her chest as Carlisle assessed her with an appraising look that reminded her of Alexander.

He bowed gallantly for her, and the resemblance between him and Alexander struck her.

Carlisle must have been thirty years older than her new husband at least, but the structure of their faces was almost identical—the same sharp nose and wide mouth, the same enviable tapered jaw.

“A pleasure to meet you again, my dear. I am surprised but not disappointed to see that you have reacquainted yourself quite thoroughly with my nephew.” Carlisle shot a playful look at Alexander “How long has it been since last we met? A year or two?”

“One of the two,” Margaret said with a little nervous laugh.

“Of course, you have met before,” Alexander murmured, seemingly distracted by the activity all around them. “Forgive me. It had slipped my mind.”

“No bother,” Carlisle replied. “It gladdens me to see that you are no worse for wear despite the adversity of the last few years, Margaret. It is as I always say, ‘Fire tests gold, as suffering tests brave men.’”

Alexander scowled. “Excepting Margaret is a woman, not a man. And it was not you who came up with that, but Seneca.”

“Yes, well...” Carlisle cleared his throat, sending a disapproving look Alexander’s way.

Margaret held in a laugh, swaying a little closer to Alexander now that the wine had absorbed.

Alexander had shifted closer to her, too, a hand hovering low on her back.

It seemed unlike him, as though he had forgotten himself, and when she looked up to check whether she was imagining things, he was staring across the room with a concerned expression.

A liveried man was approaching. He begged their pardons and whispered something to Alexander, whose brow furrowed in response.

“You’ll have to excuse me for a moment. It seems there is a matter that requires my immediate attention,” he said to Margaret, before leaving with the servant. “Carlisle will keep you good company in my stead.”

Margaret nodded as she watched him depart, wondering what had happened.

“You will be coming to Somerstead with us, I hear,” Carlisle continued, taking Margaret’s free hand and tapping it. “Are you excited, my dear?”

“Tremendously,” Margaret replied, turning to him. “There was not enough time to properly enjoy the manor when last I was there – not for the reasons they claimed, of course.”

She had meant it as a joke and was glad when Carlisle laughed softly.

“I will personally give you a tour once we arrive,” Carlisle said.

“In fact, I recall your grandfather also had an interest in Somerstead Hall. He was a little older than I was. A dithery fellow, wasn’t he?

And back then, I spent more time in Oxfordshire than Wilshire, so we did not have the opportunity to forge what I believe would have been a successful friendship. But that isn’t to say...”

Margaret nodded politely as Carlisle continued, but the bulk of her attention was elsewhere. Alexander’s sudden disappearance had unnerved her.

Once Carlisle had finished his tirade, he invited Margaret to come and meet some of his friends.

“That is very kind of you, My Lord. But I’m afraid our introductions will have to wait.” She looked eagerly at the door.

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Carlisle responded, clearing the way for her. “Enjoy the rest of your morning.”

Alone in the quiet of the hallway, Margaret placed her hands on her hips and sucked in a deep breath.

The press of the guests was now safely concealed in the other room, and she titled her head back, letting fresh air settle over her flushed face.

She had spoken with her mother and Eliza once or twice at breakfast, and they seemed to be having an excellent time.

Margaret’s new post as the Duchess of Langley – heavens, how strange it was to think that – had shielded Katherine that morning from any potential critique.

She had been restored to her rightful place, her husband’s disgrace and disappearance forgotten for the day.

Margaret entered a small parlor beside the main dining hall. She looked lovingly at the decor, at the wall lined with bookshelves. This must have been a reading room of some sort. She pictured Alexander with a book by the fire.

“You’ve escaped already,” came a voice from behind her.

Alexander stood in the doorway, his cravat loosened slightly.

“I needed air,” Margaret replied, running a hand over the back of a leather armchair. “I am not used to all this attention... positive attention.”

He leaned a shoulder against the frame, watching her. They were mere meters from the horde of their guests, but the room was quiet and intimate.

“What did your butler want with you?”

“Nothing to worry about. There was a late arrival among the guests, and the butler couldn’t find her name among the invitations. I assumed she was an acquaintance of yours or Carlisle’s. I did not inspect her myself – wanted to return to you as quickly as I could.”

“Were you worried I would embarrass you while you were gone?”

“No.” He laughed softly, entering the room. “I was worried Carlisle would say something to embarrass me instead.”

She leaned against the armchair. “Not at all. I believe he thinks exceedingly highly of you, as he should.” She cleared her throat. “But there is nothing he seems to value quite so much as your ancestral seat.”

“Quite right you are. It is a good thing we married. Carlisle would never have allowed Somerstead Hall to live with the taint of an unrepentant affair.” He scowled. “ Another unrepentant affair.”

“Except ours was not an affair.”

“No. It was not.”

“Do you think it would have made matters easier if it had been?”

She surprised herself with the question. It was flirtatious, dangerous. How strong had that Champagne been? It seemed more likely Alexander was having a dizzying, emboldening effect on her, stuck alone in the room together, looking as handsome as he did...

And legally mine.

“Your question is a trap,” he replied, stepping closer. The door had closed party behind him, and Margaret tensed. “I could not possibly answer it while remaining a gentleman in your eyes.”

The space between them closed. His hand hovered beside her elbow, hesitating to touch her, perhaps waiting for her to pull away.

“Do you wish I had kissed you that night?” he asked.

Margaret felt like she was on fire from head to toe. Her lips formed a hard line as she nodded. They were man and wife, and that meant being honest. And right then, in that moment, she honestly wanted to know all parts of him.

“I want you to kiss me now,” she whispered.

He laughed softly.

“How maddening you are,” Alexander murmured, leaning in to oblige her...

Just as someone knocked on the door.

Alexander’s eyes flashed open, and Margaret’s heart almost burst out of her chest. They quickly separated themselves, Margaret turning to hide her shock. She glanced over her shoulder as Alexander walked to the door.

It was Carlisle, searching for them. Alexander blocked his view of Margaret, and she crept over to the door out of sight, listening to their conversation.

“There you are... She says she must see you...” Margaret managed to hear from beyond the door. Carlisle sounded panicked, breathless. “I do not know who she is, but she will not be sent away. She is adamant, Alexander, that she must speak with you at once.”

“And she will not be forced out? It is the day of our wedding,” Alexander hissed, looking back at Margaret. “Who the devil is she?”

She, she, she . Margaret froze, pressing herself against the wall. Who are they talking about?

Carlisle said a name.

“Isadore.”

And a shadow crossed her husband’s face.