by Kate Pearce
“Mr. Pritchard.” Margaret signaled for Eileen to fall in behind them as they took a path down toward the water. “Are there likely to be many people out walking here today?”
He glanced down at her. “Are you worried about being seen with me?”
“Hardly. I doubt more than half a dozen people in London know who I am,” Margaret said serenely. “I was concerned on your behalf.”
“Don’t worry about me, your grace. I’m fairly certain that my reputation will stand it.”
Margaret focused her attention on the pleasing vista opening up in front of her. There were several majestic swans and ducks floating on the pond, which was surrounded by large trees and pleasant paths.
“You said that you had information about my husband.” Margaret had no wish to spend more time than necessary alone with the obnoxious Mr. Pritchard. “Obviously, I am concerned about his reputation and wish to hear more.”
Her companion sighed heavily. “I fear you will be shocked, duchess, shocked at the depravity and dishonesty of the man you have married.”
“How so?” Before he could answer her, Margaret instantly regretted her direct question, and tried to imagine how her sister Lottie would’ve answered it. “I mean, I cannot imagine that my beloved husband has done anything wrong; he is a true gentleman.”
“Alas, you are mistaken, your grace.” Mr. Pritchard paused dramatically. “On the night in question, your husband and his accomplice, Francis Grafton, deliberately attempted to lure me and my companion away from the study so that they had Farrell alone and in their power!”
Margaret gasped and pressed her gloved hand to her lips. “I cannot believe such a thing!”
“Believe it, your grace. Unfortunately for them, I returned too quickly and saw what happened through the half-open door. Your husband attacked Farrell with the poker, bashed his head in, and then ran crying to the doctor that his dear cousin had fallen and banged his head on the fireplace.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” Margaret let her voice quiver.
“Because he wanted to be a duke, your grace, why else?”
“Did you instantly report this matter to the coroner and the local magistrate, sir?”
Mr. Pritchard spread his hands wide. “How could I, when they were all in the dukedom’s pocket? Who would’ve believed me, an innocent bystander?”
Margaret halted beside the lake and looked up at Mr. Pritchard, who was enjoying his role far too much for her liking.
“Which is why you have come to me, because the authorities will believe me, and justice will be served.” She gazed worshipfully up at him. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for offering me this opportunity to right a terrible wrong.”
“Ah, I wouldn’t recommend you doing that, your grace,” her companion said hurriedly.
“Why ever not?”
“Because, firstly, no court will allow evidence from a man’s wife, and secondly, legally your husband would still be the heir, and, as he has been confirmed by his peers, it is too late to take the title away from him.”
Despite everything, Margaret could not help but admire his quick thinking.
“But I wouldn’t care if I was no longer a duchess if that meant justice was served. I do believe you can still charge a duke of a crime?”
“Yes, he can be tried by a court of his peers in the House of Lords, but I still doubt they would convict him.” Pritchard sighed. “And in the meantime, I live in fear that the current duke will destroy me.”
“Why?” Margaret asked.
“Because he can,” Mr. Pritchard said bitterly. “He has already spread rumors that I am in debt, and he’s filled my father’s ears with poisonous untruths, which have led to him cutting my allowance.” He fixed his gaze on Margaret. “In fact, I don’t know how I will be able to survive if my finances are not bolstered.”
Margaret allowed a long pause to develop and for Mr. Pritchard to start to sweat before she answered him.
“I have lots of money. I could help you with that.”
“Why on earth would you help me, your grace?” He stared at her. “I am the man who could bring your husband down?”
“Perhaps we could come to some mutually agreeable arrangement about that?” Margaret asked.
“Are you offering me a bribe, duchess?” He took a hasty step away from her. “Do I look like the kind of dishonorable man who would take money from a woman?”
She desperately wanted to say yes, and had to admit that she was quite enjoying herself at this point.
“Of course not!” She placed a hand over her heart. “It was so brave of you to come forward with this information at such risk to yourself. I believe you should be rewarded.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” He nodded. “I can quite see the advantages to both sides.”
Margaret smiled warmly at him. “Then will you consider how much money you would require to clear your name and your debts and let me know the total?”
“If I must.” He sighed again. “You are very kind.” He indicated the path ahead. “Would you like to walk on with me? It is such a fine afternoon and we are quite alone.”
“That would be delightful.” Margaret placed her hand on his arm.
After they had toured that particular area, he led her back up the slope toward the main carriageway, where she hoped the new Thorsway coachman would be awaiting her. It was far busier than when they had arrived. Margaret noticed several riders on horseback and fashionable conveyances driving slowly along the promenade.
When they reached her carriage, she inclined her head to Mr. Pritchard. “I will expect to hear from you, then, sir.”
“Indeed, duchess.” He bent to kiss her fingertips, and she barely repressed a shudder. “You have been most understanding.”
As she turned to get into the carriage, another vehicle slowed to go around them, and Margaret caught sight of the unmistakable face of Lady Hellion. The door was shut behind her, and she took her seat.
“Damn and blast it!” Margaret said in a very unladylike way. “Why on earth did she have to see me now?”
Chapter 16
“Are you ready, Margaret?” Alistair went through the dressing room into the bedchamber, his cloak over his arm and his hat in his hand. “Aunt Lavinia hates unpunctuality.”
“I am well aware of that.”
He stopped in the doorway as she stood up, shook out her skirts and turned shyly toward him.
“What do you think?”
“You look beautiful.”
She fixed him with a patient look. “We have had this discussion before, sir, and we agreed that beauty is beyond me and that I should strive for elegant.”
Her gown was a dark green, with black embroidery and lace, and bared her shoulders and made her waist look tiny.
He walked forward and slowly circled her. “It suits you very well.” He leaned in and kissed her throat. “Very well, indeed.”
She shivered slightly and went to pick up her fan, shawl, and reticule that lay on the bed.
He watched her carefully, aware that she was quieter than usual.
“Are you worried about tonight?”
“Yes.” She turned back to him. “Lady Thule believes I should try not to speak too much because I sound like a millhand. Do you agree with her?”
“What a stupid question!” Alistair said. “Of course not.”
She gave a small, satisfied smile. “I told her you would say that.”
“Well, thank God.” He frowned at her. “I expect you to be my very own opinionated duchess who will not be cowed by anyone.”
“I will do my best.”
He took her shawl and placed it around her shoulders. “I wish I could bedeck you in jewels, but I fear our current financial situation will not allow for such luxuries.”
She touched the delicate emerald necklace around her throat. “This is perfectly appropriate for this particular dress and occasion. In truth, Lady Thule warned me not to display my wealth li
ke a vulgarian.”
“She would.” A laugh shook through him and then he thought better of it. “Is she upsetting you?”
“Not at all.” She raised an eyebrow. “It is refreshing to meet someone who speaks the truth to one’s face.”
“Indeed.” He held her gaze, noted the hint of defiance in it, and decided to proceed with caution. “Shall we go?”
Although his cousin and wife were the official hostesses of the gathering, Lady Thule had placed herself at the center of the proceedings and was the first to greet them when they arrived.
“Hmmph.” She looked Margaret up and down. “You look quite acceptable.”
“Thank you.” Margaret curtsied.
“I have invited a carefully selected group of my friends to view you here in the privacy of my home, and I expect you to behave accordingly.”
Alistair frowned. “My duchess is not a prize pig being judged at the county fair. Your guests will keep their opinions to themselves, or, if they truly wish to comment, I suggest you send them to speak to me.”
“For goodness sake, Alistair.” Aunt Lavinia tapped him on the arm with her fan. “You know nothing about the complexities of our current society, and I do. Now go and introduce your wife to the guests who are assembled in the drawing room, and leave the rest to me.”
Alistair offered his great-aunt a glare that was returned in full measure, placed Margaret’s gloved hand on his sleeve, and moved away. He immediately became aware that his duchess was shaking and drew her back into the shadows of the entrance hall.
“Don’t let her upset you. If you wish to leave—”
She pressed her hand to his chest and raised her face. “You… you likened me to a prize-winning pig at a county fair.”
He slowly grinned back at her. “I did, didn’t I? I do apologize.”
She was laughing so hard that he had to kiss her. The kiss turned wild until they were both breathless, and he was pressed fully against her. He eased away and she patted her hair.
“We should go in,” she said unsteadily.
“Yes.” He stayed where he was until she raised her eyebrows.
“What’s wrong?”
He glanced down at his trousers. “Give me a moment, unless you wish to shock all the guests?”
“Oh.” She blushed and bit her lip. “I see.”
He took her hand again. “I’ll just hide behind your skirts, which seems appropriate anyway.”
They entered the drawing room and were immediately the center of attention. Alistair made sure he had a firm grip on Margaret’s hand and turned to the first couple on his left.
“Duchess, may I present you to Lord and Lady Cooperdale? The family has long been friends of the Thules and the Haralsons.”
He proceeded around the room until his aunt joined them and supplied some of the missing names. From what he could see, she had gone to an immense amount of trouble to introduce his wife to people who would help her fit into society with as little fuss as possible. Despite their differences, he was grateful to her.
When dinner was announced, he reluctantly released Margaret’s hand, and she was borne away to the opposite end of the long table by her dining partner. He couldn’t hear what she was saying through all the chatter around him and also had to pay attention to his own companions.
The ladies left the room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, and talk turned to politics and horse racing. Lord Cooperdale nudged Alistair’s elbow.
“Thank you for selling Farrell’s racing stable. I acquired some excellent horses.”
“You’re welcome.” Alistair liked Cooperdale, who was only about five years older than him. “I have no interest in racing and couldn’t afford to keep them eating their heads off for no purpose.”
“Farrell will be turning in his grave,” Cooperdale said. “Are things really that dire with the dukedom?”
“Not now. It’s more a question of priorities,” Alistair explained. “For example, I’d rather have a sound roof over my head than a win at Newmarket.”
His companion looked horrified. “I’m not sure if I could choose between those two things at all! I assume that your recent marriage has… helped things?”
“Indeed, if it hadn’t been for my wife’s dowry, I’d be facing a debtor’s prison.”
“That bad, eh?”
“Yes, I have much to be thankful for.” Alistair nodded.
“Her grace was very pleasant. In truth, my wife was quite surprised by that, seeing as she had heard…” Cooperdale paused. “I wouldn’t normally pass on gossip, but I think you need to hear this.”
“What?” Alistair set his glass down on the table.
“That her grace was uncouth and badly spoken.”
“I wonder who said that?”
“I’m not sure.” Cooperdale finished his port. “I just thought you should know that it is being said.”
“I appreciate that. Would you object if I asked your wife for more details?”
“Not at all. She thinks your duchess is very nice, so don’t worry that she’d spread such a rumor.”
Alistair helped himself to more port as the decanter was passed around again. He didn’t have to think very hard to imagine who might be maligning his duchess, and he would make sure to address the matter as soon as possible.
“And did you attend school, your grace?”
Margaret turned toward the woman who had inserted her question into the cordial discussion about education she had been having with two of the older ladies by the fire.
“I was taught at home, ma’am.”
“You had a governess?” Lady Tillington arched a condescending eyebrow.
“No, my mother taught us.” Margaret smiled, but didn’t receive one in reply. “She was an excellent teacher.”
“She didn’t have to work in the mill?” Lady Tillington asked with a slight titter.
There was a sharp intake of breath behind Margaret, and she became aware of the avid stillness around her as everyone waited for her reply.
“My father owned the mill. My mother stayed at home to raise her children.”
“Oh! I suppose that does make a difference.” Lady Tillington nodded. “I must have mistaken what I heard about you.”
Margaret raised her chin. “What was that?”
“That you worked in the mill, yourself.”
“Isabelle…” One of the older women leaned forward. “This is hardly an appropriate conversation. You are bordering on being impolite.”
“When we were shorthanded, I worked, what of it?” Margaret asked. “Would you not have done the same?”
“Did you, indeed?” Lady Tillington’s smile was victorious. “How brave of you to admit something so damning.”
“Isabelle.” Mrs. Godson, the woman beside Margaret frowned. “This is quite uncalled for. What the duchess did before her marriage has nothing to do with you. Personally, I have nothing but respect for any woman who has supported her family in whatever way necessary.” She turned to Margaret, deliberately shielding her from Lady Tillington. “You were telling me about the schools you set up in your brother’s mills; do, pray, continue.”
Margaret started talking, aware that Lady Tillington had retreated to a corner with two of the other women and was now whispering and casting furtive glances back at the group still gathered around the fire.
“Please pay no attention to her, your grace. She does not represent the feelings of everyone here,” Mrs. Godson murmured. “In truth, I look forward to many future stimulating conversations with you about how we can reform education in this country. Now that you have married a duke, you have more influence than you might imagine, my dear.”
Later, on the way back in the carriage, Alistair took her hand in his.
“How did it go with the ladies?”
“Most of them were very pleasant.” Margaret debated how much she wanted to tell him. She had a fair idea who might have been spreading gossip about her, seeing as there was only on
e other female member of the ton who had met her. She was quite capable of fighting her own battles and was more than willing to deal with Lady Hellion herself.
“It was very kind of your aunt to organize the dinner for us. I received several assurances that I would be called on in the next few days.”
“That’s excellent.”
It occurred to her that he was looking quite distracted, too.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes, it was nice to be among my peers and not feel like a beggar.” He smiled and brought her hand to his lips. “Thank you for marrying me. Everyone thought you were delightful.”
The carriage drew to a stop, and he got up and opened the door to help her down before the footman reached it. For the first time in over a week, she enjoyed coming into the house, which was finally well-staffed and clean.
“There is a note for you, your grace.” The butler handed her a folded letter.
“Thank you.” She paused to look at the direction. “I’ll read this now.”
Alistair had already shed his hat and cloak and was heading for the stairs.
“Are you coming, duchess?”
“In a moment.” She smiled at him. “I have to attend to this matter and then make sure that Phoebe is well.”
He went off up the stair, and she returned to the back parlor where she had established her desk and sewing basket. She lit a candle and opened the note.
Your Grace, a thousand pounds should prove sufficient for my needs, yours respectfully, Garston Pritchard.
She ripped up the note and cast it onto the embers of the fire before sitting down at her desk and writing a reply, and one other letter to her brother. After sealing and addressing the letters, she carried them back out to the hall where the butler was shutting up the house.
“Can you have both of these delivered tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course, your grace.”
“Thank you.” Margaret went up the stairs, knocked softly on Phoebe’s door, and went in. Her sister-in-law was sitting up against the pillows reading a book. They had spent a lot of time together over the past weeks, and were well on the way to becoming good friends.
“Good evening, Phoebe.” Margaret smiled. “It is good to see you looking so much better.”
