Page 38 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

“ O f all the times for this to happen...” Margaret whispered to her maid, who stood nearby. “Who knows if they will need rooms, Augusta? Stop asking me. Go this instant and fetch some tea. Leave now, before they arrive.”

Alexander watched Margaret pace by the parlor fire as her maid left, her eyes fixed on the ground.

He was acutely aware of the sounds coming from the hallway—a susurrus of mixed voices, the sound of coats being taken, and pleasant welcomes being bid.

His wife looked so frail in the firelight, still not completely recuperated from her fall.

And now this , he thought, clicking his pocket-watch open and shut again.

Would that I had had the good sense to send another letter down to the viscountess and reschedule their visit.

Though I could not have predicted, in my darkest dreams, the arrival of the viscount—even with his letter to Margaret.

“I am so sorry,” Margaret said to Alexander, catching him by surprise. “I never imagined he would come here .. . The audacity of him. I... You needn’t remain with me.”

Alexander sighed, pushing his watch into his pocket. “You are mistaken,” he said. “He is as much my responsibility as he is yours, and I will not see you crushed by him.”

“Yes, but to be seen with him, even by the staff... Who knows how much time we have before word spreads to Salisbury? And between this and the disappearance of Isadore and Bastian... What if they should return tonight, or even Carlisle?”

“None of that will come to pass.” He crossed over to her. “Calm yourself, Margaret.”

“Would that I could... I thought he was dead, and now...”

She paused, likely entertaining the same thoughts as Alexander. That it was foolish to argue while her father’s footsteps were fast approaching.

When Margaret’s family finally appeared at the doors, the mother entered first, clutching her daughter’s hand.

Miss Eliza looked awestruck to be there.

Katherine sheepishly directed her to sit in a chair and be still while she greeted Alexander and Margaret.

The father came in afterward, waiting in the doorway to be admitted.

He looked much thinner and older than Alexander remembered him – he had the same coloring as his daughter but none of her beauty or vigor.

Alexander shot a cautious look at Margaret, who walked over to her sister and took her hand. “My darling Liz,” she said, bending over to place a kiss on her cheek. “Such a long journey for you... You must be so tired, dear.”

Eliza shook her head, staring at Alexander.

Margaret noticed and smiled, stroking her sister’s hair.

Alexander was briefly distracted by the maids coming inside with refreshments, overhearing Margaret dodge her mother’s questions when she tried to speak with her.

Margaret dared a look at her withering father, still hesitating by the doors, and he swore he could see her heart shatter at the sight of him.

She took a step back, lip quivering, composing herself for her sister’s sake.

“Inside with you,” Alexander said privately, gesturing the viscount forward. “It is much warmer within than without.”

Nodding, William moved to sit by the fire. For a time, he spoke to no one while tea and coffee were served, until Alexander heard the viscount whisper, “Margaret? Margaret, I am sorry. Please, look at me.”

She pointedly ignored her father, focused on Eliza. Katherine settled beside her husband, smiling up at Alexander despite the thick tension in the room.

“Somerstead Hall is most magnificent this time of year,” Katherine said.

She looked warmly around the parlor. “Early spring in Wiltshire... How grateful we are for your invitation, Your Grace. It is so encouraging to see my daughter blossoming in her new station, and so soon after the wedding. Yes, it is most wonderful indeed.”

If Margaret heard her mother’s praise, she said nothing, interrogating Eliza about her journey like they were the only two people in the room. When she glanced at Alexander, he nodded—a message passing between them.

“Certainly,” Alexander said. He paused, wondering how best to proceed, then lowered his voice to allow Margaret a moment of peace with her sister.

“The arrival of Miss Eliza seems to have heartened her. Anything that should please the duchess pleases me... But I will not remain silent about that which displeases me,” he directed at the viscount.

Katherine provided him with a nervous, innocent smile. “Oh?”

“You forwarded no warning of your arrival—and you will agree with me that a warning would have been warranted. For many months, your daughter was led to believe, as we all were, that you were gone for good. The least you might do is explain yourself.”

The teacup trembled slightly in William’s hand. Katherine glanced at him encouragingly.

“I did not mean to bring any undue stress upon my daughter—and certainly not upon His Grace,” William said quietly, setting down his teacup. “But I feared you would not have accepted me had I announced my coming too.”

“You would have been right. We are sitting here politely, but it is for the sake of my wife alone that I have not cast you out. Your duplicity will not be quickly forgotten.”

“No, I expect you will be angry with me for a time, but if that is the price I pay for reconciling with my daughter, so be it.” He looked over at his daughters and frowned. “Though reconciliation seems a faraway dream... First, I must ask, do you understand the necessities of my exile, Your Grace?”

Alexander laughed under his breath. The viscount was asking if Alexander knew about his debts and gambling—direct to business.

“I married your daughter. Those necessities have become mine to bear. What I do not understand, what I do not know , are the events which succeeded your departure.”

“A shame on me,” William said, casting his eyes to the floor.

“To answer your question, I found sanctuary in Northumberland, staying there with a friend of mine until such a time as I could return to London. I did not know, frankly, when that time would be. When I had amassed enough wealth to cover my debts? When society chose another poor family to torment? It was a short-sighted plan, yet a most necessary one. I was the arbiter of my family’s misfortune, a thorn in their side, and by removing myself from sight, I hoped the wound would be allowed to heal. ”

Nonsense. His escape was necessary only for his self-preservation, Alexander thought. He flicked his eyes toward Margaret, surprised to find her only half-listening to Eliza. The other half of her concentrated on her father’s story, eyes moving toward him.

“I kept myself abreast of the events of the South, dismayed by the stories they wrote about my disappearance. When I heard of Margaret’s impending marriage, I began to envision my return, knowing that she had found her way in the world despite the long shadow I cast over her.”

“Impending marriage to whom?” Alexander asked, raising a brow. “Do you mean the first or second of her betrothals?”

The guilt in William’s eyes was obvious. “The former... Though naturally, I was delighted when I learned that you had accepted her instead. The Baron was never deserving of her.”

Margaret had turned completely from Eliza, and her gentle face was contorted in anger—for good reason.

For many torturous months, her father had been biding his time, waiting until Margaret married Baron Faversham, or another affluent old boor, so he could use his new son-in-law's wealth to return to society.

Alexander twitched in anger. The disappearance of the viscount had never been about saving Margaret’s future, no matter how William twisted the story in his mind. He had waited in the shadows, letting his family believe he was dead, until they saved him.

“I am most grateful for your tolerance, Your Grace,” William continued, oblivious to Alexander’s mounting impatience. “Tolerance, regarding my presence here today, but also your marriage to Margaret. It moves me that you have taken on my daughter with so much charity?—”

“I have not taken her on, as one takes on a burden, as you are suggesting,” Alexander argued. “Our marriage was no act of charity. Margaret is a fitting duchess, despite the many mistakes of her forebearers, and she is highest in my esteem.”

“A blessing, given those mistakes, yes.” William turned to Margaret. “To see that you have risen like this makes me so proud, Margaret. My little Meg, a duchess...”

Margaret was silent, staring at the floor. Her face was fixed in anger—had been the whole time William was speaking. She sat squeezed next to Eliza, her fingers clawing the arm of the chair. Finally, she looked up, eyes on fire.

“Mama, you must take Eliza outside, into the gardens, anywhere far enough away so she cannot hear us.”

Katherine laughed. “What? Come now, Margaret. It is almost dark?—”

“You will take Eliza outside and remain there, or you will all leave at once. I need to speak to Father alone.” She glared at Katherine. “Go. I will not ask you again.”

Raising her brows in shock, Katherine nodded and gestured for Eliza to follow. Eliza could be heard asking what was happening as they left, turning back to look at her sister while her mother dragged her out of sight.

Margaret rose immediately, hurrying to the door and closing it. She waited a moment, turned from Alexander and William. Her shoulders trembled, and both men lifted out of their chairs as she began to speak.

“Unbelievable...” Margaret turned, fists clenched at her sides.

“What were you thinking, coming here? Oh, no. I did not expect an answer. I know precisely why you came—forcing us to host you while using Eliza as bait. It is as you said. You knew I would never agree to see you otherwise, so you disgraced us instead. Selfish, selfish man... I would not have Eliza hear more of your lies.”