by Kate Pearce
“Margaret, he’s not due here for another quarter of an hour at least,” Lottie reminded her as she tidied up the brushes and ribbons.
“If he comes.” Margaret turned to her sister. “I have no way of knowing exactly what terms Adam settled on and whether his grace will appear here merely to throw them back in my brother’s face.”
“Adam did seem quite confident that he would get his way,” Lottie said doubtfully. “But I think your duke has rather more backbone than Adam imagines.”
“I wish he’d bothered to speak to me about everything.” Margaret gathered her shawl. “He’s been staying with the Graftons for a week and hasn’t deigned to visit me here at all.”
“Probably because he’s been busy negotiating with our brother and his solicitors and didn’t want to be distracted.”
“I could’ve helped him,” Margaret insisted.
Lottie chuckled. “I doubt he considered that, and he is a duke, Margaret. He probably has a whole retinue of solicitors and lawyers to advise him about what is best for the estate.” She turned to the door. “Are you ready to come down? Adam and Emily will probably be in the drawing room by now.”
“I’ll come.” Margaret touched Lottie’s shoulder. “Thank you for doing my hair.”
“You are most welcome.” Lottie kissed her cheek. “Your duke will be beside himself at your great beauty and instantly agree to even the most ridiculous of Adam’s terms.”
“I do hope not,” Margaret retorted, which set her sister off chuckling again. By the time she reached the drawing room, she was smiling herself and quite unprepared for the sight of the duke, resplendent in a dove-grey coat and silver waistcoat talking to her sister-in-law.
He looked up as she entered and held her gaze, a slow smile warming his expression until it reached his dancing blue eyes.
“Miss Blackthorn. How delightful.”
She went to him, drawn by that invisible thread that had tied them together since the first day they’d met, and he’d taken her hand in his.
“Your grace. I didn’t realize you were coming alone.”
“Francis took the carriage and went back to pick up Caroline and her mother while I made my way here on horseback.” He paused. “You look rather worried. Is everything all right?”
“You tell me.” She met his amused gaze.
He shrugged. “I’m here, am I not?”
Her smile faltered, and she attempted to ease out of his grasp. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be.”
“Good Lord, not this again.” His grip tightened, and he drew her away from the rest of her family and into the hallway beyond. “Please excuse us, everyone.”
“Where are you taking me—?” Margaret protested as he opened the nearest door and brought her into the darkened room. “What are you doing—?”
“This.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. “It seems that I have to regularly remind you just how desperately I want to kiss you before you immediately assume the worst.”
“I do not—”
He kissed her again, and this time she returned his efforts until she was pressed against him from knee to shoulder. He eventually drew back and cupped her chin.
“Now, where were we?”
“I merely asked how you were,” Margaret said stiffly.
“And made assumptions about my willingness to be here.” He smoothed his thumb along her lower lip. “When I have spent the last week battling your overbearing brother and his obsequious solicitors for the right to marry you.”
“Does that mean you have won?” Margaret asked suspiciously.
He grimaced. “Perhaps it would be fairer to say that both sides have suffered grievous wounds, but that we have declared a truce in order to placate our fair lady.” He leaned in and kissed her gently. “Will you marry me, Margaret Blackthorn?”
She pressed her palm against his chest and held him at bay. “Will marrying me help or hinder your current financial situation?”
“As your brother might say, you’re a canny lass.” He grinned at her. “I should’ve asked you to negotiate the marriage settlement alongside me.”
“I would’ve done so if you’d asked.”
“And set you against your brother?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to either of you. All is well. You are more than welcome to read through the settlement before you accept my proposal.”
“I will do so,” Margaret stated.
“I knew you’d say that.” He slid a hand inside his coat and brought out some rolled up paperwork. “Be my guest.”
He set about lighting the lamp and rekindling the fire while Margaret sat down to read through the documents. As she’d already seen the originals and her intended’s response, she was quick to note where things had changed once more. Eventually, she sat back to find him regarding her from his perch on the edge of the desk. He’d somehow found Adam’s brandy and helped himself to a glass.
“My brother has been…” She hesitated.
“Remarkably fair, has he not?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “He loves me very much.”
“So he told me when he threatened to rip my ballocks off if I ever caused you the slightest pain.” He glanced down at his torso. “I did tell him that procuring an heir for the dukedom would be remarkably difficult if he followed through with his threat, and that you might not wish to be married to a eunuch.”
“I’m beginning to understand why you did not want me involved in these negotiations.” Margaret rolled the papers up and tied the ribbon around them again, her fingers trembling. “Then we can marry?”
“Yes, my little doubting Thomas, if we both wish to do so.”
She bit her lip. “There is one more thing.”
He sighed. “Of course there is—out with it, then.”
“Your cousin Lilly seems to think you are going to marry her.”
He stowed the papers away and came around the desk to draw her to her feet.
“I can assure you that the thought never crossed my mind,” he said firmly. “I have always liked her, but I’ve never seen her as a potential bride.”
“Poor Lilly,” Margaret murmured as her duke took her in his arms again. “I was worried that you might have been formally betrothed at some point.”
“No.” He kissed her. “Never. Now can we go and have dinner with your family and the Graftons? Much as it pains me to have to look at your brother’s face, I cannot deny the fact that I wish to get on with our engagement.” He paused. “I almost forgot.”
He rummaged in his coat pocket and produced a faded velvet box. “The Thorsway betrothal ring.” He opened the box to reveal a diamond and ruby ring that in Margaret’s eyes was rather ugly, and in desperate need of cleaning. “Luckily for us, my cousin hated rubies and old-fashioned settings and neglected to sell this off to pay his gambling debts. It’s been in the family for about two hundred years.”
He slid it onto her third finger, his expression for once, quite serious. “I know that it is hideous, but it will have to do until I can afford something better, or we can have the jewels reset.”
“It’s lovely.” Margaret gazed at the enormous ruby, which was surrounded by diamonds and seed pearls. She’d never seen or worn anything of such antiquity before. “Thank you.”
“There is a tiara and a necklace in the set as well. I couldn’t fit them into my pocket.”
“A tiara?”
He kissed her hand and urged her toward the door. “Indeed, which will look very well on you when you are presented at court.”
“Wait…” She dug her heels in as he opened the door. “You are jesting, yes?”
“No. We’ll both have to be presented at some point. It’s a damn nuisance.” He raised a taunting eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that the bravest woman of my acquaintance is afraid?”
“Of course not!” Margaret rallied and moved toward him. “Perhaps we should start with dinner and announcing our engagement, and wo
rry about everything else on another occasion.”
As soon as they stepped into the drawing room, all eyes fell on their joined hands. Adam Blackthorn didn’t look very happy, but Alistair wasn’t in the mood to tease the man. He had, after all, accepted most of Alistair’s revised terms, which had been a complete surprise. With the money he received from Margaret’s dowry, which was far more extensive than he could possibly have imagined, and the new structure to his debts, he would at least have a chance of restoring the dukedom to solvency.
He went straight over to Adam and bowed elaborately. “Thank you for inviting me to your house this evening.”
“You’re most welcome.” Adam’s gaze fell to Margaret’s left hand. “I assume you have something to share with us?”
“Yes, indeed.” Alistair turned to face the other guests. “Miss Blackthorn has agreed to marry me.”
Lottie clapped her hands and ran over to hug her sister. “Good lord, my sister is going to be a duchess!”
Margaret, who was still slightly flushed from their kisses, glanced uncertainly up at Alistair. “I keep forgetting about that.”
“Trust me, you will do fine. If there is anyone less qualified to be a duke than I am, I have yet to meet him, but we’ll muddle through.”
Lottie went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Welcome to the family, your grace.”
“Thank you.” Alistair turned to Adam, who was regarding him with rather less enthusiasm. “I owe it all to your brother.”
“Wait until Mrs. Wells hears about this, Margaret. She’ll probably swoon away on a fit of jealous rage!” Lottie chuckled. “Just think, you will never have to put up with her or her saintly daughter again.”
Francis, who had just arrived, came over with Caroline at his side, and held out his hand. “Congratulations my friend.”
“Thank you.” Alistair shook Francis’s hand, and then turned to kiss Caroline’s gloved fingers. “And thank you for lending me your mother to act as a chaperone when Miss Blackthorn came for a visit.”
“My mother is a romantic and she enjoyed every minute of it,” Caroline said. “Apart from the smoking chimneys, the moth-eaten bed linen, and the food, of course.”
“I intend to put all those things to rights,” Alistair assured her. “Tell her that next time she visits us, things should have improved greatly.”
Caroline linked her arm with his and drew him farther down the room, away from the gathering around the fireplace. “You do realize that this will be difficult for Miss Blackthorn, don’t you?”
“In what way?”
“That, as your wife, she will be entering the aristocracy after growing up in a millhouse?”
“Don’t tell me you share my cousin Lilly’s views that Margaret can never be considered good enough?” He met her gaze. “I’m surprised at you.”
Caroline frowned. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I’m merely concerned that there will be a lot of… opposition from your family, and that you should be on your guard for it.”
“I am already aware of it. I was hoping that a gentle reminder that if I do not bring some money into the family, they will all be out on their ears might work.”
Caroline didn’t seem convinced. “Their disapproval will be more subtle than that—I’ve been on both sides of that divide, and I don’t envy her.” She touched his sleeve. “I hope you don’t mind me speaking frankly to you about this matter?”
“Not at all. I value your opinion.”
Alistair looked over to where Margaret was conversing with her sister-in-law, her smile bright and her eyes full of amusement. He wanted to take her hand and run away from the lot of them.
“She’s stronger than she looks,” Alistair remarked. “I suspect that if there are battles to come, there will only be one victor.” He paused to consider his words and continued with a wry smile. “And it probably won’t be anyone from my side of the family who wins, and that includes me.”
After an excellent dinner at which Adam toasted the engaged couple with champagne, Alistair decided to forgo the port and went to find Margaret in the drawing room. He accepted a cup of tea from his hostess and persuaded his betrothed to move away from the other women and speak to him privately.
She looked even more exhausted than he felt. For a second he doubted his confident assertion to Caroline that she would deal with her elevated status and responsibilities in her stride. He took her hand and stared down at the betrothal ring. It truly was hideous.
“Are you happy with your choice, Miss Blackthorn?”
Her chuckle surprised him. “Now who is the doubting Thomas? I am very content.”
“Good. Do you wish for a long engagement to gather your trousseau together and organize a grand and opulent wedding?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I would rather we just got on with it.”
“Which part of marriage in particular are you keen to… embrace?”
“All of you?”
He considered her for a long moment. “You have the most damnable way of answering me with your truth and making me want you.” He reached forward to touch one of her brown curls. “I’d like to see your hair down around your magnificent shoulders.” His finger traced a line down from her chin to her shoulder blades, making her shiver. “And the rest of you, of course.”
“I think I would like that.” She met his gaze without fear.
“Oh, you will,” he assured her. “I’ll make damned sure of it.”
Chapter 7
Five weeks later, as she awaited her new husband in bed, Margaret wasn’t quite so certain of anything anymore. Since their engagement had been announced, she’d hardly seen Alistair Frederick James St. John Haralson. He’d been dealing with financial matters concerned with the estate, and she had been busy organizing her wedding. She’d had a lot of help from her sister and Emily, but she was still exhausted.
They’d married in the Church of England because Methodists were not authorized to solemnize marriages or issue certificates. Apparently, if you were marrying a duke, such things mattered to your potential heirs. With Lottie’s help and immaculate style, Margaret had chosen a simple cream-colored gown and veil made from fabric produced in her brother’s mill and sewn by a local seamstress. Her new husband had appeared to approve of her choice as he’d kissed her more than once and complimented her extravagantly.
He hadn’t invited anyone to the ceremony.
Margaret bit her lip as she remembered the uneven nature of the congregation. Most of her guests had looked uncomfortable in the unfamiliar pews of the church, but at least they’d been present. On one of the rare occasions she’d seen Alistair before the wedding, she’d asked him for a list of his guests. He’d airily promised to send her one and never done so.
Had he even informed his own family that he was getting married? Her brother had put a notice in the local papers but not the London Times. He’d told her that was her new husband’s decision. Did Lilly even know she’d been ousted?
“Ah, there you are.”
Margaret jumped as he came in from the dressing room. They were spending their first night in the guest suite at Grafton Park, which had recently been renovated and was now very grand. He wore a threadbare silk dressing gown and nothing else. He paused to study her and then came to sit on the side of the bed.
“You look worried.”
She tried to find a smile. “It’s been a very long day.”
He grimaced as he took her hand. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been here very much to support your efforts, but I must say that it all went off very well.”
“I suppose it did.”
“What’s wrong?” He smoothed his thumb over hers in a regular pattern. “Are you regretting your decision?”
As usual his tone was light, as if everything was an amusing joke that she was the object of, making her response rather sharp.
“Even if I was, there is very little I can do about it now, is there?”
“Good Lord, I
expected to get a few good years out of you before you realized I was quite worthless.”
She tried to pull her hand free, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Margaret…” He leaned in closer. “Will you please look me in the eye and tell me exactly what is bothering you?”
She reluctantly raised her gaze to meet his. “I am just… tired.”
He cupped her cheek, his gaze searching. “You do look exhausted, but it’s more than that.” He paused. “Can we please start this marriage off as we mean to go on by being honest with each other?”
“I don’t know where to start,” Margaret blurted out.
“If that’s the case, I should probably make myself comfortable.” He walked around to the other side of the huge four-poster bed and got in. She stiffened as he sat beside her and dropped a casual arm around her shoulders. “Now, start at the beginning.”
She looked desperately down at her joined hands. She wasn’t used to feeling unsure of herself, and she didn’t like it at all.
“I’ve hardly seen you.”
“I know, and I can only apologize for that. The finances of the dukedom were in such a precarious state that I had to personally visit all my main creditors in London, and reassure them that they would eventually be paid.” He sighed. “Your brother and Francis offered themselves up as my guarantors, which helped tremendously, but I still felt like a beggar.”
Margaret recognized the thread of tiredness in his voice and the lines on his face and reminded herself that her brother was often absent from home because of his work commitments, and that she should not hold dedication to fixing his problems against the new duke.
“What else?” His fingers gently rubbed her shoulder.
“You didn’t invite anyone to the wedding.”
“Ah.” This time it was he who paused before finally answering her. “I decided not to do that.”
“Why?” She turned toward him and found herself nose to nose with him. “Are you ashamed of me?”
He blinked at her. “Of course not! I’m merely reluctant to introduce you to my awful family en masse. I did write to my father’s wife to inform her of my recent elevation to the dukedom and my upcoming marriage. I asked her if my sister Phoebe could come to the wedding. She didn’t bother to reply to me.”