Page 39 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

William’s neck bobbed above his cravat. “They are not lies. I told you why I had to keep my distance.”

“How long have you been returned to London?” Margaret asked.

“No longer than two weeks. I have been staying at the house with your mother, but none have seen me.” He took a step toward his daughter, then retraced it. “I swear it to you, Margaret. None know that I have returned.”

“I do not doubt it. Why announce yourself without first ensuring you have the support of your son-in-law—the only one with the power to facilitate your return to society?”

“Now, you are speaking nonsense.” He looked pleadingly at Alexander. “My heart broke to be away from my family. I could not remain there for all time, though I knew I should have. For your sake, the sake of Eliza, I should have.”

“Yes, you should have. Do you think I am a fool? No word from you in over half a year, but the moment I become a duchess, you decide to begin planning your return? If you were hoping my marriage to His Grace will be enough to shield you from scandal?—”

“You are right to think poorly of me, but you are mistaken in this. I waited until such a time as your life was stable, that is all?—”

“Oh, spare me.” Margaret laughed, and she clutched her ribs.

Alexander marched to her, holding her steady.

“You are much changed from when I last saw you, and I am much changed too. I love you, but I will not help you rebuild your life if that is what you are thinking. That’s certainly what Mother wants, isn’t it?

How easy was it for you to convince her to take you back in like a runaway hound? What did you say to win her over?”

“Your mother is a sensible woman,” William said. “She understood the necessity of my disappearance from the first, encouraged it, even. She has accepted my return with her whole heart. I do not expect the same of you, but in time, I hope you will forgive me.”

Alexander could see Margaret’s mind turning.

“She understood your disappearance from the first?” Alexander repeated.

Margaret’s eyes shined with tears. “How long has she known you were alive?”

“Oh, Meg...” William looked ashamed. “She has always known.”

“This whole time... She knew where you were...” Margaret placed a hand over her mouth, the other clutching onto Alexander. “And yet she said nothing to me , let me believe you were dead!”

“It was for your own good, Meg, I swear!” The viscount held a hand over his heart.

“At the beginning of it all, so much was uncertain. She thought you would abandon London if you knew I lived there, and would come to me in the North. But that would never have been the right life for you or Eliza. And look at what you have achieved. We were right to keep the truth from you!”

“You were not right. You lied .” Margaret’s voice rose. A sob escaped him as she leaned on him for support. She looked up at him, face crumpled. “I don’t...” She panted. “I can’t...”

“Margaret, please,” said the viscount. “If you will only listen?—”

“She has listened,” Alexander said, cutting him off. “And you can see with your own eyes what it has done to her. Leave this place and do not return.”

William started. “Your Grace?”

“No,” Margaret said. “I will not hear another word from you.”

With a reluctant nod, William made for the door. Tears were streaming down Margaret’s face as she watched her father go. She slackened in his arms, and he recalled the silent message from earlier, sent from Margaret beside her sister, knowing what had to be done.

“Miss Eliza must remain here,” Alexander said.

“What?” William gasped.

“Evidently you cannot be trusted to ensure that young girl’s safety.

Until such a time as your life has returned to order, I would have Miss Eliza reside here with her sister.

You will agree with me, I hope, that this is the best course of action regarding the joint happiness and security of your daughters. ”

The door remained half-open as William considered his demand. It was a generous offer, and more than that, a tie between their side of the family’s and Alexander’s—means for more negotiations down the line.

“If you would have Eliza for a time, so be it,” William replied. “But I will come to reclaim her one day soon. And by then, Margaret, I hope you will have forgiven me.”

Alexander looked up from the fire, a snifter of brandy halfway to his lips.

Margaret had crept up on him quietly. She looked healthier than earlier that evening, her cheeks flushed with color.

He had retired to the parlor again after dinner when Margaret had said she wanted an early night.

Her parents had promised to remain in the area, seeking residence nearby under aliases so as not to draw attention.

“For the good of my daughters,” the viscount had told Mr. Collins upon leaving, though Alexander was reluctant to believe him.

"How did you know?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

Margaret smiled, circling his seat. “When the butler announced my father earlier, you acted as though you had expected his homecoming. I am wondering how that can be, given that he arrived without warning.”

Alexander raised his glass to take a sip, but Margaret caught it. He admired her, even as a thief, holding his drink captive until he answered her.

“The night you told me of Bastian and Isadore’s rendezvous, someone slipped a letter from your father under my door. I assume there is no use describing the letter in question.”

“No.” Margaret stared into the fire. “I thought perhaps you had found the letter yourself, but it seems that I have once again been the target of someone else’s schemes.”

“You may say her name.”

“It seems a waste of breath, since she is so far gone. And I do not want to cause you any more trouble while we know nothing for certain.” She returned the snifter. “I am sorry that I kept the letter a secret from you. I worried what you would say when you learned of his intentions.”

“Why were you afraid?”

She sat so close on the arm of the chair that he could smell her perfume. He looked at her lovingly, wanting her to move even closer, perhaps into his arms, if she wanted to be there.

“I thought you might send me away," she said. “You did not agree to become the son-in-law of a fugitive when we married.”

“But I did.” Alexander reached over her to set down his glass. “I knew precisely what I was agreeing to when I took you as my wife.”

“You augured his return, did you?” Her voice was playful, soft, making him ache in the darkness of the night. “My fall from that horse? And now my sister’s stay here?”

“Not quite all that,” he replied, smiling. “But I knew that I would not regret marrying you. The rest has become as it was meant to be.”

Margaret’s brow twitched as she looked down at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, swaying forward slightly. “For this and for so much more...”

Alexander wasn’t sure, at first, whether he had kissed her or she had kissed him.

His hand wound gently into her hair, encouraging her to come closer as his lips met hers.

She tasted as he thought she would—sweet and soothing.

He sought her even after she had pulled away with a smile, warmth spreading over his face, not from the drink.

He thumbed her cheek as they parted, her laughing softly, and felt a tear slip into the crook between his thumb and forefinger.

“You needn’t thank me so long as you are happy,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “I mean it, Margaret. I took a vow to protect you.”

“I know.” She nodded softly, pausing long enough for him to kiss her jaw. “I am happy, even when so much is undecided, so long as I am yours. But are you?”

“You make me happy,” he said.

But the rest of it, those uncontrollable other things, were still fresh in his mind: Bastian and Isadore, the viscount and viscountess, the tension between him and Carlisle. It seemed needless to mention his worries on a night as sweet as theirs.

So Alexander answered her with another kiss, grateful when Margaret responded in kind.

They came apart quickly as someone rapped on the door. Margaret hopped out of his lap, turned toward the hearth, and cleared her throat. Alexander rose out of his chair, finding Carlisle in the doorway. His uncle entered in his traveling clothes, staring intently at his nephew.

“I am just returned,” Carlisle said, stepping inside. “And you will forgive me for the intrusion, but I bring news that cannot wait till morning.”

Alexander waited silently, hearing Margaret creep closer.

“I was in Salisbury today,” Carlisle continued, closing the door behind him. “And against my better judgement, against your council, I visited the Countess of Salisbury at her home in Laverstock.”

“The countess?” Alexander asked, outraged. She was Bastian’s mother, long estranged from Bastian’s father. “I forbade you from interfering. We agreed to say nothing to his relations until we had located Bastian ourselves.”

“Which we failed to do.” Carlisle shook his head, adamant. “I will not apologize for my action, especially not once I tell you what I have learned.”

“Which is?” Margaret asked, glancing at her husband.

“The countess, while reluctant at first to speak with me, ultimately revealed that her son and Miss Bell had called upon her one week ago.”

“Mere days after they left here,” Margaret said in shock.

“And after their call?” Alexander asked.

“She does not know. Mr. Hawthorne mentioned marriage to Miss Bell. The countess was furious, knowing nothing of the woman. Bastian seemed uncertain in the face of her cold reception of the idea. They left again without warning, as is becoming their habit. Who can say to where? Though the countess has an idea...”

Alexander glanced at Margaret.

“To Gretna Greene,” Carlisle said.

Where dejected lovers went to marry.