Page 6 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

“No...” Margaret sized him up, shaking her head. “How could I? You are, after all, unimpeachable yourself – you know nothing about familial scandal.”

The duke fell silent then, taking a step toward her.

The whole world closed in. She was terrified but enjoying this more than was right.

Embarrassing him, besting him in that moment was all that mattered.

She had no idea if anyone else was still watching.

But of course, they were. How could they look away?

“I would tread carefully, Miss Pembroke. If you believe I am alone in seeing your father for the failure he is, and judging you in the same light, then I have most terrible tidings to share with you.” His eyes roved her face, and a dark yearning swelled inside her.

“I should have known better than to give him the time of day years ago.”

Margaret snarled, fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her skin through the fabric of her gloves. She sucked in a breath and readied herself for more, just as a woman’s voice rang out nearby.

“What in heaven’s name is happening here?” she said as she pushed through the crowd.

Margaret blinked, stepping back from the Duke of Langley.

His eyes were trained on her, and she hated that she had backed down first. The room came back into focus.

Helena and Simon were waiting like seconds in a duel—a jovial little country song, playing at the other end of the assembly room.

Dancers twirling unaware of the chaos on the sidelines. ..

“Your Grace! What has happened to you?” The woman turned slowly toward Margaret, and she recognized her immediately. Mrs. Dudley, one of her mother’s former friends, who had cast her off like a tic once the scandal had erupted. “Ah, I should have known that you would be involved, Miss Pembroke.”

“Ah, indeed,” Margaret said, shirking from the duke’s gaze. “How wonderful it is to see you again, Mrs. Dudley.”

Mrs. Dudley shook her head, calling for a footman to come and clean up the mess they had made.

By that point, the duke had turned to speak in hushed tones with Simon and someone new, teeth grinding so hard Margaret swore she could hear his molars crack.

Jane was nowhere to be seen, but Helena approached.

She tugged discretely on Margaret’s arm, trying to get her to leave.

“I expect you have apologized,” Mrs. Dudley said before Helena was successful, standing between the two wounded parties. She lowered her voice and leaned in to Margaret. “Really, Miss Pembroke... You are not helping your case by acting quite so ill-mannered.”

“How can you claim to know how I have or have not acted?” Margaret bit back, shaking off Helena and drawing the duke’s attention once more.

“You were not even here. His Grace turned like a bull and bumped into me. It is his own fault that he spilled his drink. You will not lay the blame at my feet – like his wine lies at his.”

Margaret expected no less from Dudley, who looked at Margaret like she had lost her mind. Margaret hadn’t been a welcome sight before, and she certainly wasn’t welcome now.

“That’s enough, Mrs. Dudley,” the duke said. He sighed and took a step forward. “Antagonizing Miss Pembroke further will avail neither of us. Clearly, she is not used to being in society and has forgotten how to comport herself.”

Margaret was unsurprised. He was exactly the sort of gentleman to be so upset by a ruined waistcoat that he would put the final nail in the coffin of Margaret’s reputation.

After what she had said to him, she couldn’t blame him, even though he deserved it.

Her anger had abated just enough to let her mortification slip in, and her eyes pricked with tears as Helena retook her arm.

Salisbury wasn’t home anymore. It was no safer for her family than London.

She wouldn’t find her salvation anywhere familiar.

After that night’s theatrics, all hope of restoration was gone.

Mrs. Dudley looked toward her expectantly, a reminder of everything she had lost.

“Perhaps you are right, Your Grace.” Margaret steeled her nerves, prepared to leave.

“I have been gone too long from Salisbury and mistakenly thought I would be welcome here. But you are all...” Sycophants, gossips, liars , she wanted to say.

“Well, you are all wet, Your Grace. And I should be going.”

“Margaret...” Helena whispered sadly, following her as she turned on her heel and marched away. “I’m so sorry. If I had known this was how things would turn out, I would never have invited you here. This is all my fault. I’m so stupid.”

“It is not your fault,” Margaret said. “You are a cherished friend, and you only wanted to help me, but tonight has proven that there is nothing left to fix. There is only one recourse left to me.” The name Faversham rang in her ears. “Assuming he is still willing...”

Margaret, foolishly, glanced over her shoulder to look back at the duke. He was looking back at her, not victoriously, not... anything.

I am a bug he has squashed and nothing more, she thought, hastening toward the exit. The man does not know the word penance and will certainly do none for me. He has injured my pride twice now – and I will die before I let anyone injure me again. No matter what it takes, I will rise above this...

The glass of the carriage window was icy cold against her cheek.

Margaret stared through the darkness beyond.

Angry storm clouds blotted out most of the moonlight, and rain pattered against the glass like hail.

The downfall had worsened with every mile Lady Jane’s carriage had put between her and Salisbury, and the storm sounded like it was growing fiercer.

“The gall of that man,” Lady Jane had said a while earlier, when she had finally found Margaret preparing the leave.

The rain had only been a threat in the sky at that time, and Margaret had been inconsolable, sobbing outside the Assembly Rooms. “Our driver will return you to the house. Helena and I will remain a while to smooth things over and find another carriage back. Everything will be fine. A word to the right person and?—”

“Aunt Jane, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Helena had protested, clutching Margaret’s trembling form.

“You didn’t hear the way Mrs. Dudley and the Duke of Langley spoke to Margaret, the way the other guests started speaking about her as we left.

Margaret’s right... Not even you can fix a situation like this. ”

Lady Jane turned quickly to her driver, Plimmy, instructing him to take Margaret home. “Be that as it may, I would rather become a pariah myself in defending the Pembrokes than abandon them to their fates.”

It was anyone’s guess how well that had gone.

Margaret doubted Lady Jane had been as successful as she hoped.

The best Margaret could hope for was that Baron Faversham would find the whole ordeal amusing.

He had never liked Mrs. Dudley or her husband due to some longstanding feud from their youth.

Margaret coming head-to-head with the Dudleys probably improved her chances with him.

After the events of the night, he was the only man in all of England who would accept her as his wife – the only chance she had of saving Eliza from total ruin.

“Bloody Salisbury politics...” Margaret muttered, prying herself away from the window. She was too tired to feel sad, and all she wanted was to return to Jane’s home and sleep. She tried closing her eyes, leaning back against the bench. A face flashed into her mind, and she sighed angrily.

The Duke of Langley was likely still at the Assembly Rooms, being lauded for putting Miss Pembroke in her place.

She recalled their first meeting, now so long ago, burning with shame over how excited she had been to meet him and discuss Somerstead Hall.

He had set her nerves on fire with a look, the most well-formed man she had ever seen.

And he even had the stamp of approval from her father, which at that time meant everything to her.

It quickly became clear that her family’s hope of a match had been one-sided.

The Duke of Langley had looked down miserably at her family even then.

He was a cold-blooded creature that no woman could ever sincerely?—

A sound sliced through her thoughts. Margaret hitched forward, gripping onto the bench.

Something shook under the carriage, making the whole contraption judder beneath her.

Lightning forked across the sky outside, momentarily blinding her as it filled the box.

She took in a deep breath, then another, then the carriage suddenly lurched.

Margaret screamed.

Thrown against the wall, she managed to brace just before the impact.

The storm roared outside, picking up in intensity until she couldn’t hear anything but the rain lashing against the vehicle.

Another lurch to the side sent her flying into the footwell.

She said a prayer out loud, tears streaming down her face, until eventually, everything stopped.

Margaret tried to calm herself, breaths coming in ragged as her heart raced.

She steadied herself, but the vehicle had tilted at an angle, half of it in midair.

They must have driven into a ditch at the edge of a farmer’s field.

She could hear nothing beyond the howling wind.

Had Plimmy been shaken off? Was he even still alive?

“Mr. Plim?” Margaret called, grunting as she pushed herself into a stand. It was a delicate operation, to say the least. One wrong move could turn the carriage on its head.

Gingerly, she crawled toward the door opposite her, balancing her weight on either side of the footwell.

With a cry, she forced the door open, emitting a gust of wind into the carriage.

Battered by the icy rain, she climbed out of the vehicle and collapsed onto the wet ground beneath her.

It was no wonder the carriage turned over.

The road had turned into a river of mud.

From her hands and knees, she pushed herself up, staggering toward the front of the carriage in hopes of finding the driver there.

The carriage lamps had all been snuffed out, but she could just about make out the shapes of the horses before her and hear their frantic whinnying.

“It’s alright. Hush, it’s alright,” she said, trying to soothe them as much as herself. When she inspected the box seat, Plimmy was nowhere to be found.

“No! No, no, no!” Margaret cried, sprinting toward the back of the vehicle. “Plimmy? Plimmy, where are you?!”

There was no response, and she could see nothing in the dark.

Fear gripped her, and Margaret started to shake, by that point immune to the onslaught of the rain.

She ran down the road, shouting for help against the vehemence of the wind.

The ground squelched beneath her, taking Helena’s slippers.

Margaret whipped her neck around, and her head pounded in response from the fall she had taken earlier, a burst of pain that almost knocked her to the ground.

She clutched her skull, staring miserably into the night, her mind filling with memories of warm houses, hot tea, easy, sweeter times. ..

I’m going to freeze to death.

The thought repeated over and over until Margaret couldn’t stand it. Resourceless, pitiable Margaret, who could do nothing to save herself, was going to die on the roadside alone, and Eliza and her mother would be doomed to the workhouse.

She wasn’t sure how long she spent crying, and at first thought she had imagined the sounds of an approaching vehicle.

Through the veil of her tears, her eyes flashed open.

She looked out into the vast, dark expanse before her, where a large, shadowy form appeared in the distance: horses, the shape of a man in pale light, driving a black carriage achingly slow toward her. ..

“Help!” Margaret screamed and waved her arms, getting out of the way so they wouldn't drive the horses into her. “Please stop! Help me!”

The carriage slowed to a crawl and then finally stopped. Margaret raced barefoot toward the vehicle as a soaked footman hopped down from the dicky seat. He marched toward her ahead of the driver, holding out his lantern. He shone it in Margaret’s face, blinding her.

“I am Miss Margaret Pembroke,” she said, shielding her face from the light as rain trickled into her open mouth. “We have had an accident, and my driver... I fear he is dead. Please, I am begging your master for help.”

Before the footman could reply, the passenger door creaked open behind them. Margaret held her breath. The footman turned, illuminating the approaching figure as he stepped into the storm: a dark wool coat, shining black boots, a face she had wished never to see again...