Page 36 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

T he first thing Margaret thought once she awoke was that this was by far the worst headache she had ever suffered.

It only occurred to her after the fact that the last thing she remembered was being on a horse, and now she was lying in a bed with the sheets tucked tightly around her, a strangely bitter taste in her mouth, in nightclothes she could not remember putting on.

Pain rang like a gong in her skull as she tried sitting up.

She looked around, clutching her forehead, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

Yes, these were her chambers. Yes, this was her bruised and battered body.

An empty chair had been positioned at her bedside.

The curtains were mostly drawn, except for a sliver of exposed window that allowed daylight into the room.

A strange sound caught her attention—the ticking of a watch.

Alexander’s pocket watch had been left on her bedside table. It read two o’clock. But two o’clock of which day? she wondered. And why is it even here?

She turned too quickly, and a wave of nausea spread through her.

Then came the sudden sound of Thalia squealing, the sharp pain in her ribs, the face of Isadore, calling her a hypocrite before riding into the woods without her—not real thoughts and feelings like the qualms wracking her body, but memories.

“I fell,” Margaret whispered, looking down at her body. “Someone found me...”

She heard someone gasp behind the partition. Footsteps hurried toward her until Augusta appeared, immediately dropping the clothes she had been folding and rushing to Margaret’s bedside. Augusta fell to her knees and grabbed Margaret’s hand.

“Oh, thank heavens. Thank the Lord,” she said, squeezing Margaret’s fingers. “You’re awake, Your Grace. How do you feel? No, you mustn't answer too quickly. Take your time. I must find the duke at once. He will be so relieved?—”

“A moment, Augusta. I..." Margaret said, licking her lips. “Let me get my bearings...”

“But His Grace said to fetch him as soon as you awoke."

“As of yet, I am not sure I am awake.” She sighed.

Margaret mustered a smile, fingers aching as Augusta released her. She bid her maid to rise and remain a while, leaning back in the bed as Augusta adjusted the pillows behind her. She was still not comfortable—restless and aching—but she leaned back and closed her eyes.

“I feel tired,” Margaret said, licking her lips. “And admittedly rather confused...”

“You had a fall, Your Grace.”

“I assumed as much.” Margaret tried looking around again. “Is Miss Bell safe? She was in the woods with me. Did anything happen to her?”

“Miss Bell is... Yes, she returned unscathed.”

“Good.” Margaret smiled, and that hurt too. “I am so glad.”

Augusta soon left to tell the house that Margaret had awoken. Margaret had just summoned the strength to reach for a glass of water when Alexander strode into the room, pausing when he saw her.

“A most maudlin part of me doubted you would ever wake again,” he said, looking solemn. He had discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His usually tidy hair was tousled, and his face was drawn from a lack of sleep. “Margaret, I... Pray, you must forgive me.”

“You have done nothing wrong, in your maudlin state or otherwise,” she murmured as Alexander approached, coughing at the dryness in her throat. Her heart quickened at the sight of him, happiness sweeping over her. “I believe it must be my own fault that I find myself in this bed-bound condition.”

“No, it is not your fault—none of it your fault.” Alexander’s brow creased with worry. Margaret leaned forward, silently begging him to come closer, relaxing when he did, his footfall gentle yet purposeful. “Do you remember what happened on the day of the accident?”

She recited her brief memories of the fall, omitting her argument with Isadore.

“Margaret...” Alexander began. “It appears someone tampered with your saddle. I have questioned the stable hands and the grooms, but they all claim innocence. I do not believe them, and there can be no other recourse but to dismiss them all if the culprit does not come forward. Your fall was no accident, but the evil designs of another.”

“How can that be?” She gulped, eyes falling to her limp form beneath the coverlet, her heart clenching with injustice. “Why would someone want to hurt me? I have done nothing wrong to anyone.”

“That is but one of the many questions I have tried to answer since we found you. The workers themselves had no reason to harm you, but perhaps they were paid by someone else to orchestrate this attempt on your life. I do not know the truth. How I wish I did...”

Alexander pulled up the chair. She reasoned he must have been the one sitting beside her all this time.

Hazy memories of his voice returned to her through what she now realized had been a laudanum-induced state of delirium.

His pocket watch was there because he had been there.

All night, every night, since Margaret had been discovered wounded in the woods.

“The horse you rode was intended for Isadore—you remember this,” he continued, sitting down. “But do you remember anything at all about Isadore’s behavior that morning? Did she appear out of sorts to you?”

Margaret frowned. “She was a little agitated, but it was only because I gave her reason to be. I had wanted to discuss what I had seen between her and Mr. Hawthorne. But I was careless, and she grew anxious...” She shook her head softly.

“Miss Bell cannot be to blame. If Thalia was intended for her, then it seems that she was supposed to be injured rather than me.”

“Or she intentionally swapped horses with you. It’s impossible to say.”

“Have you not spoken with her?”

Alexander looked up from the ground. The pain in his eyes took Margaret’s breath away.

“Isadore is gone. She left Somerstead Hall with Bastian on the night of your accident.” He straightened in his seat. “They were last seen in Salisbury, and despite my efforts to locate them in the three days since, they cannot be found.”

Margaret leaned into the pillows, head pounding as she tried to make sense of what she had heard.

“What if they left because of me?” she asked, eyes burning with tears. “I made Isadore feel unwelcome. And you say Mr. Hawthorne is gone, too? This is all my fault...”

“You must not say such things.” Alexander looked at her thoughtfully.

“We know only that they have left—not why. Until that becomes clear, any number of things might have caused them to flee. They will be found eventually. I have sent riders around the county searching for a trail. And once they are found, we will have our answers.”

“How can you remain so calm?”

“Because nothing matters to me in this moment so much as your health and safety,” he said, jaw clenched. “And I forbid you from condemning yourself for their disappearance when you are the one who has been injured.”

“Well, if His Grace forbids it...” Margaret scowled at the order before her expression softened. “Forgive me. This is a lot to take in all at once.”

“It is. And yet I am full of relief at the sight of you.”

His eyes lingered on her for a moment. The intensity of his gaze made Margaret shiver. Alexander rose to a stand, and Margaret watched in disbelief as he reached a hand toward her face, cupping her cheek like he was afraid she would break under his touch.

Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

The feeling on his lips on her skin made her tingle pleasantly, and for a moment she forgot all about the pain in her ribs and the aches elsewhere in her body.

His breath was hot and soothing against her face as he drew back far enough to whisper, “For as long as we both live, you will not leave my sight again.” He laughed quietly. “Not long enough to get yourself in more trouble, at any rate.”

He released her, looking down at her. Could he tell what effect he had on her, how she didn’t want to leave his sight for a second anyway?

Margaret fought a smile. “A most ambitious statement, Your Grace. If the last few years have proven anything, it is that trouble is never far behind me.”

“Now more than ever, and yet...”

When Alexander grew quiet, she eyed him curiously.

“What is it? Is there something more you are not telling me?”

“It does not need discussing now.”

Margaret took his wrist, preventing him from leaving. Her grip on him was weak, but he didn’t shake her off. His skin was cool where she touched him, and she unconsciously measured his pulse with her thumb. She swore his heartbeat quickened. Out of fear, anger, or something more?

“Please,” she said, releasing him. “Whatever you must tell me will not hurt me further. Keeping a secret from me surely will. What has happened?”

Before Alexander could answer, someone new entered the room. Alexander stepped back from Margaret. Immediately, his demeanor changed once he saw who had come.

Carlisle entered with his arms crossed, looking warily at Margaret. Like Alexander, he looked more tired than Margaret had ever seen him. He glanced at his nephew, lips parting in surprise.

“I had not expected you to be here,” he told Alexander. “I merely came to check on the wellness of Her Grace. An impropriety, I know.” His face turned red. “I hope you will forgive this grave trespass.”

“After what has happened, it seems silly to be concerned about propriety of all things.” Margaret adjusted the coverlet to spare Carlisle further embarrassment. “Being seen in my bedclothes is the least of my concerns.”

“Quite. As you can see, Margaret is alive,” Alexander interrupted. “But despite her attempts at politeness, she is in no state for visitors for the time being.”

Margaret’s lips parted in surprise. There was something unusual in Alexander’s tone. Almost like... No. Margaret stopped herself from thinking it and offered a small smile instead.