Page 25 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

D inner was winding down. Margaret stared absently out of the windows of the dining room, watching the stars appear one by one in the sky as the clouds finally lifted.

The gentle din of the Langley House dining room provided a pleasant distraction from her thoughts of Alexander, of Isadore Bell, and the secret they all now shared.

With a sharp inhale, she returned her attentions to the dining table.

Most of the guests from the wedding celebrations had been dismissed after the breakfast, with only Margaret and Alexander’s closest relations staying for the wedding dinner.

Only a fraction of those remained at the dining table, with most already retired elsewhere, or in the case of the gentlemen, gone to the games’ room.

Margaret’s friends sat to her right, with Helena arguing fiercely with Lucy about a serial they had been reading in the papers.

“Oh, Helena. You’re so tiresome. Not every story needs to end sadly for it to mean something,” Lucy said, scraping angrily at the sides of the dessert cup. “They were destined to be together, and they always knew it. No one would be satisfied with the ending you’re suggesting.”

“How can someone who reads so much be so literarily-challenged? Monsieur Le Moyne only proposed to Amélie because he felt he had to. They both would have been better off going their separate ways. She will never be happy with him.” Helena clicked her tongue against her palate in disapproval.

“That cursed writer doesn’t know the first thing about women’s hearts and desires. ”

“And obviously neither do you,” Sophia cut in, gracefully finishing her second serving of blancmange. “Not every woman wants to be single forever. For some women, a lifetime of solitude is the most miserable prospect of all. Good on this Amélie, whoever she is, for accepting Le Moyne’s proposal.”

Helena’s expression curdled. “You haven’t even read the story! Le Moyne killed Amélie’s brother, leaving her with no one to depend on. Theirs wasn’t a love match. He married her to absolve himself of his own guilt.”

“Why can’t both things be true?” Lucy asked. “He married Amélie because he felt that was his duty, but then they genuinely fell in love in the end. I may not be the greatest literary critic, but you, Helena, are a cynic, and that’s much worse.”

“Ladies, please.” Lady Jane sighed and took an angry sip of her wine. “I’m developing a megrim, and you are all to blame. This is not conversation suited to the dinner table, especially not at your preferred volume.”

“We’re the only ones here,” Helena protested, glancing down the mostly empty table. “The other women retired to the parlor, and the duke took all the gentlemen to play cards.”

“No, he did not. They withdrew without him,” Margaret said, lifting her head from where it had been resting on her hand. Alexander had excused himself once the meal had come to an end, disappearing in the opposite direction of the games’ room. "I have no idea where he is now.”

“Oh,” Helena said. She paused a moment, and then mischief sparked in her eye. “Well, I’m certain you’ll be reunited soon enough. That’s the way these things go, isn’t it? Are you quite nervous for tonight, Margaret?”

“Helena,” Sophia said through a laugh. “That’s no business of yours... Although we did all note your mutual disappearance earlier, Margaret. Though I shall say nothing more on that subject. Unlike some others, I know not to test the limits of my decorum.”

Margaret blushed, likely giving them the wrong idea. They hadn’t snuck away from a rendezvous – not the second time at least – but to confront Isadore. Lady Jane came to her rescue, sliding Margaret’s wine glass closer toward her.

“You look a little parched, dear.”

“I am perfectly parched, thank you,” Margaret replied, pinching the stem of the wine glass. “But I would be lying if I said today had not been exhausting. Was your own wedding day quite so taxing as mine, Lady Jane?”

A smile graced Lady Jane’s face. “Sir Nelson was a dramatic fellow in what little life he lived. So yes, my wedding day was a test, to be certain, and every day before and after.”

“You have spoken so little of him,” Sophia said, leaning forward in interest. “Was Sir Nelson anything like Margaret’s new husband?”

“Heavens, not in the slightest. Not nearly as good-looking, for one. He was an odd fellow, charming in a strange way. He always had a story to tell. To a young, impressionable girl like me, it seemed that he had lived a hundred lives. But he was honest, and honest with me in his affections. We did not have time for love, but perhaps, if he had lived long enough, ours would have been a happy life.”

“Your life is happy,” Helena said. “You have everything you could ever want.”

“Not everything.” Lady Jane pressed her lips together, visibly holding back a thought.

“And that is why your debate about Monsieur Whomever and his little French bride is ultimately flawed. You young ladies think only of love, or the absence of love. But there is companionship to consider, too.” She leaned over and brushed a strand of hair behind Margaret’s ear.

“I can tell from the way you look at him that you and His Grace will be the happiest of companions. That is what matters above all—that your souls align even when your hearts do not.”

Margaret warmed at Jane’s words. She recalled Alexander’s almost-kiss, nibbling lightly on her bottom lip, and trying not to think too deeply about Helena’s predictions for the night ahead. After what had been revealed that day, she suspected Alexander would want his privacy to think.

She remembered suddenly that she still had Lucy’s handkerchief, tucked beneath her stays all day. She retrieved it and handed it to her with a smile.

“You dropped this when last we saw one another,” Margaret said.

Lucy wiped her mouth and inspected it. “I thought as much. Did you have it with you all day?”

Margaret nodded.

“How wonderful!” Lucy beamed, taking the handkerchief from her and looking down at it lovingly. “Your something blue and your something borrowed came from me. And it’s quite old too.”

“Ah, yes,” Sophia chimed in. “Blue, borrowed, old, and covered in your snot. How very thoughtful, Lucy... But while we are at it, I have something for you, too.”

Sophia reached into her pockets and pulled out a small box with a ribbon. Margaret grinned, eagerly taking the gift and unwrapping it. Inside was a small tesserae brooch picturing two doves. It glittered prettily in the candlelight. The inscription on the back read ‘ Con amore’.

“Don’t thank me, Margaret. It’s a gift from Anna, included in her latest letter to me.

She said it could be your something new, direct from France, but I think the inscription is in Italian.

She wrote that it has something to do with music?

I do not really know. Admittedly, she had planned it as a gift for your wedding to Baron Faversham.

But I’m sure she will be relieved to learn you snagged a much better husband instead. ”

“I wonder what she will say when she does find out,” Margaret murmured, “when she learns that we are both duchesses now, expected to lead society side by side.”

Sophia tapped her chin. “Probably something in French. She’s been there long enough.”

“ Con amore ,” Margaret read, looking up at her friends. “I think it must mean with love .”

Margaret thumbed Anna’s brooch as Augusta prepared her for bed. The duchess’s chambers had been prepared for her, and she wistfully admired the room she would soon have to leave. In the morning, they would depart Langley House for Wiltshire.

With an additional charge, if Alexander decides to bring Isadore with us.

She placed the brooch on her chest over the creamy fabric of her night chemise, observing herself in the mirror.

A smile tugged at her lips as she imagined Anna picking it out with her husband by her side.

Anna and Philip, the Duke of Wells, had also married for convenience.

But they had grown to love one another against all odds.

Who was to say Margaret and Alexander would not be happy as well? Souls which met one another perfectly, just like Lady Jane had said?

Someone rapped on her door, and both Margaret and Augusta flinched. The maid quickly finished brushing Margaret’s hair, then slipped behind the dressing screen to see who had come. Margaret tended an ear, listening to the door open and close.

“Who was it?” she asked, stepping out from behind the partition.

Augusta had disappeared.

In her place stood Alexander.

He had discarded his jacket. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up to reveal taut forearms. They were husband and wife now. He did not always have to be entirely presentable around her. And in that moment, she was far from appropriately dressed before him, too.

The sight of her in bedclothes seemed to alarm him. He blinked rapidly, then took a step back. What had he expected, entering her bed chambers after dark?

“I hoped to check on you,” he said, adjusting his cravat. “And I hoped you would forgive me for abandoning you after our meal.”

“There is nothing to forgive. My friends kept me good company until we collectively grew weary and went to bed,” Margaret said. She instinctively moved to put her arms around herself, concealing her body from him. “I assumed you had gone to brood.”

“Brood?” He laughed gently. “You assumed correctly.”

He lingered by the door, not moving toward her.

“Though in truth, I initially removed myself in hopes of locating Carlisle,” he continued. “He could not be found. It seems he has left Langley House altogether and gone somewhere else. Perhaps Somerstead Hall, ahead of us. We will see on the morrow.”

Margaret nodded, walking slowly toward the bed. She sat down and softly kicked off her house slippers, acutely aware of every movement she made.

“You are decided, then? It is Somerstead Hall for us all?”

He knew what she was asking. “I would have her come, if you do not object.”

“It was I who suggested it. If you are content with your decision, then I am content.”

“I can assure you that nothing about this situation contents me. I am impossibly angry that she chose today of all days to present herself at Langley House. This day should not have been about her, but about you.”

“Miss Bell claimed that she did not know the wedding was underway. And yet she fought quite desperately to be admitted into the manor once she learned what was happening within, almost as though she wanted to be known.”

“Yes,” Alexander agreed. Margaret tensed as he approached, pausing at the foot of the bed. “But I swear to you, Margaret, that I will ensure that the chaos of this day never repeats itself.”

“Not everything is within your control. More surprises could present themselves before us, and we will be powerless to stop them.”

“And yet, for tonight...”

He came to stand before her, and she could not meet his eye as he gazed down, hoping he didn’t notice how tightly her fists were wound in the bedsheets.

Gently, he seized her chin, lifting her face so she would look at him.

He held her there, roving her flushed face, before he curled his finger against her jaw, moving it down her neck. ..

Margaret swallowed hard.

Could he feel how fast her heart was beating?

His fingers found the collar of her chemise, moved it aside slowly, by accident or on purpose, Margaret had no idea, could not think clearly.

She missed his touch as soon as it left her, confused as he fell softly into a crouch before her.

“You should rest before our journey tomorrow. Not everything is within our control, but this moment is within mine. This day had been blemished, but you are without blemish, and I...” He breathed shakily, then rose. “I will see you in the morning, Margaret.”