by Jenna Brandt
He glared at her. “So, it is ‘my lord’ again?”
Pulling her hand away from his grasp, she replied, “I am afraid so, Your Grace. I have decided to accept my situation. I have realized that I can be happy with the way things are and, even in some cases, enjoy it.” She pleaded with him, “I beg you, move on and forget about me.”
“What about the connection between us?”
She licked her lips. “It no longer exists.”
Grabbing her by her forearms, he pulled her towards himself. “You are wrong. There still is something between us, and I will show you.”
Richard slammed his mouth against hers with an overwhelming amount of suppressed anger. She shook her head back and forth, not wanting to compromise herself.
Pulling her mouth away, she gasped, “No! Stop!” Angry that he did not seem to listen to her pleas, she spit out in a whisper, “You need to stop behaving in this manner with me.”
Jumping up from the bench, she started to move away, but before she could escape, Richard grabbed her and pushed her against the nearby tree.
Margaret focused her strength. Putting her hands between them, she pushed him away. “No! I mean it. Take your hands off of me.”
Moving away from his penetrating stare, Margaret walked to the corner of the path. Pausing only for a moment’s hesitation, she turned back around and said, “Please respect my wishes and leave me be.”
“You know you want this as much as I do. You can try to deny it, but the attraction will always be there between us.” He grabbed her roughly by the arms and seared her with an overpowering kiss.
Something snapped inside Margaret, and she could no longer stand the duke’s relentless advancements. She realized that he was selfish and the feelings she once had for him were gone. Without thinking, Margaret yanked away, reached out, and slapped the duke soundly across the face.
She saw a look of astonishment and then rage cross his face.
“Whatever was between us, it is over! You might want to consider moving back to London since there is nothing here for you anymore. I never want to see you again!”
With those final words, she turned and ran from the garden.
Still shaking from her confrontation with the duke, Margaret slipped in through the side veranda doors and discreetly made her way to her chambers. Once in her room, she sat at her vanity and felt herself go limp.
Who was that man who attacked her in the garden just now? She had no idea who the duke truly was or why he continued to be so obsessed with her. Any normal man would accept that she was a married woman and there was no future for them. But the duke continued to pursue her even against her protests. Was he still trying to seduce her to get at Henry? Had that been his plan all along as Henry had insisted?
She had to pull herself together and get back downstairs before someone noticed she was gone. Margaret turned to look at herself in the mirror and quickly fixed what was out of place, not wanting to give anyone a reason to gossip about her appearance.
Once composed and looking like her dignified self, Margaret returned to the ballroom and searched for her husband. He was talking to her father and gestured for her to come over.
“Margaret, your father was just telling me how pleasantly surprised he was to meet my sister, Catherine, for the first time.”
“Do you mind dancing with your father one time?”
“Not at all, Father.”
The earl took Margaret by the arm and brought her out onto the dance floor. As they glided to the music, he smiled and said, “You know, Henry’s father and I had many private conversations, and I remember him mentioning Catherine. We only spoke of it once, and he told me I was the only person with whom he ever discussed the matter.”
Margaret felt her mouth go dry as she realized that her father might be getting ready to discredit their charade.
“Is that so? I was under the impression no one knew about Lady Catherine.”
He chuckled and said, “Indeed, no one ever knew of ‘Lady’ Catherine, but I know that Melody, his servant, gave him a daughter and that he loved both of them very much. It troubled him greatly that he could not openly claim them as his family, and we talked in length about his guilt over the entire situation.”
Margaret asked in a scared whisper, “Are you going to reveal the truth to everyone?”
“I cannot say I completely approve of what you two have done regarding the girl, but I will stand by you and keep your secret.” The earl winked at his daughter and added, “After all, that is what family does. We protect our own, and Catherine is Henry’s family in every way that matters.”
“Thank you. I am glad that I have you on my side.”
The earl stumbled a bit and said, “It seems that I am a bit winded. I am, after all, an old man.”
“You are not that old, but if you feel you need to rest, I understand.”
Margaret took her father over to some of the chairs surrounding the dance floor and helped him sit.
“I need to make sure I talk with all of my guests.”
“Of course, daughter. Do what you need to do.”
After the ball was over and all their guests had left, Margaret and Henry went upstairs to their rooms and prepared for bed.
“The evening went well. I was surprised that no one really questioned her claim—well, except my father, who promised to keep our secret as he already knew the truth.”
Henry looked at her with raised eyebrows as he undid his bow tie and replied, “Well, I am glad that your father is on our side. Regarding everyone else and their lack of observation, we both know that the ton is like a herd of cattle: you only have to usher it in a direction and it will continue to go that way until something changes its course.”
She smiled and agreed as she pulled off her shoes. “That is true, so we had better make sure the herd continues to go the way we have prodded them.” Margaret rubbed her feet as she asked, “What were all those young men talking to you about?”
He chuckled. “Most of them were asking me if Catherine was betrothed.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“I told them that we had not been able to find anyone good enough for her yet.”
They both laughed and Henry lifted Margaret into his arms. “You make me so happy. I am a fortunate man to have you as my wife.”
Bending her head back in great gasps of pure laughter, she asserted, “You? You must be joking. It is the other way around.”
She kissed him on the lips and nuzzled in the crook of his neck. “I am so content when I am with you.”
He put her down on one of sofas in the sitting room. He got down on his knees before her and looked her in the eyes.
“I want to do more than make you content. I want you to want me. Do you?”
She sat completely still for several seconds before saying with obvious fake disdain, “No, I do not! As a matter of fact, I hate your very touch.” She crinkled her nose and continued, “But perhaps you could change my mind.”
Catching on to her game, he replied, “Whatever it takes, I am willing to try.”
“Well, I think you will just have to have a go at it.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Agreed. I will make my best attempt to make you want me.”
“All right, when are you going to start trying to persuade me?”
He pulled her towards him and whispered, “Now.”
Chapter 16
Three weeks had passed since the ball. Margaret, Henry, and Catherine had begun to fall into a normal family routine. They spent their mornings apart pursuing their own personal itineraries. Then they usually spent their afternoons together riding, going on picnics, or playing croquet in the garden, and they always had supper together each evening. Margaret finally felt at home with her new husband and sister. She immensely enjoyed the time she spent with them.
She was also beginning to realize that she was having stirrings of wanting children soon, a fact that she had not yet
discussed with Henry. But she was thinking, maybe by the end of the year, they could put serious effort into the pursuit. She had even found time to work with the horses, researching the breeding patterns and techniques as well as deciding which stock she wanted to make her trademark. She was so happy now and wondered how she ever thought she would want another life.
Margaret was reading one of her books about horses in the parlor when she looked up to see Henry approaching her. She stood up from the windowsill bench with a puzzled look on her face, as she could tell something was dreadfully wrong by the deeply sullen look on her husband’s face.
“What… what is it?”
He gently touched the side of her face, then said, “I think you should sit down.”
Obediently, she followed Henry over to the sofa and sat. Looking at him anxiously, she said, “Tell me.”
Walking over to the bar, he poured two glasses, one of brandy for her and one of scotch for himself. He leaned on the counter for a moment, then turned around and made his way back to Margaret, giving her one of the glasses and sitting beside her. “I think you should take a drink.”
Ignoring his request, she held the drink in her hand without taking a sip. “What is it, Henry? You are scaring me.”
“It is your father.” He paused for a moment, taking a strong swig of his scotch, and then continued, “I am so sorry, Margaret, but he passed away last night.”
She sat there for several seconds with no reaction except the blinking of her eyes. Without saying a word, she stood up, placed her undrunk glass of brandy on a nearby table, and walked over to the window. She sat on the windowsill bench again and stared out in the direction of her family home.
“How did it happen?” she asked in a monotone voice.
“It was in his sleep. The doctor said he went quickly.”
“Do they know what caused it?”
“Apparently, he had been suffering from consumption for some time. The doctor said he had known for at least six months, but your father never told anyone. He had been fighting it on his own and was doing well, but the last few weeks it had been getting worse again. Last night, he went to bed early and no one thought anything of it. His butler found him in the morning.”
“Why did he not say anything to me about his condition? He was sick for over six months and never told me,” she asked, her voice raw with hurt. Then she remembered that, while at the ball she hosted three weeks prior, her father had gotten sick while they danced and had blamed it on his age. He must have chosen to use that excuse rather than tell her the truth of his condition.
Henry stood and walked over to stand behind her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he said, “I suppose he did not want to worry you.”
She rested her hand on the window and said quietly, “I did not even get to say goodbye.”
He turned her around and forced her to look him in the eyes. “He knew that you loved him. You did not have to tell him goodbye. He knew everything he needed to know when he was alive.” He wrapped his arms around her as she tried to hold back the tears. “Be reassured that he died knowing you loved him.”
Margaret felt ill. She knew she had to attend her father’s funeral, as everyone expected her to go, but all she wanted to do was sit by the windowsill and think about nothing.
She looked in the mirror and noticed how pale she was. Margaret had looked that way on her wedding day but for a very different reason. How silly she felt over how she had acted back then. She now realized that her father had been sick at the time of her wedding and done what he did because he wanted to make sure she was securely married in case he died. He had said that Henry would make a good husband for her, and he had been right. Her father had always looked out for her best interest, and she had treated his caring actions with defiance.
Her black dress was subdued, with long sleeves and a full skirt. In her hand, she had a black bonnet with black feathers and a mesh veil that she would wear at the graveside. The only touch of color was her mother’s cameo that she wore at the top of her collar.
Placing the hat on her head, she pinned it into place. She hated getting ready for her father’s funeral. His death brought back all the memories of losing Randall. When he was gone, all she had left was her father. He had become her whole world, and even though she was married and had a new sister, it did not lessen the pain in any way.
She had not let herself cry, partly because she was numb and partly because she was afraid that if she started crying, she would never stop.
“It is time to go to the funeral, Margaret.”
She gave him her hand as he helped her up from her vanity.
“I know this is difficult for you. When I lost my parents a year ago, it was devastating. It is hard to put one foot in front of the other, let alone think about trying to move on without someone you love, but you are strong and I am here for you. I am always here for you, my love.”
Margaret turned to her husband and said, “Let us just get through this funeral. I cannot think about anything else right now.”
On the carriage ride to the church, Margaret closed her eyes and tried to block out the pain she was feeling inside. She hurt so deeply that she was afraid the ache would never end.
She knew Henry wanted to be there for her, and she wanted to let him, but nothing seemed to help her. Why did everyone she love leave her?
“We are here, Margaret.”
Henry got out of the carriage and helped her out as well. Taking her hand and placing it on his arm, he said, “Lean on me if you need to.”
Margaret walked towards the church without saying a word. She looked up and realized that the last time she had been there was for their wedding. What she would not give to be able to go back and do that day over, knowing what she knew now. She hated the choices she had made and the damage they had done.
When she opened the doors, Margaret entered a room filled with everyone she knew, and they were all looking at her as they had on her wedding day. But instead of joy and excitement, they wore expressions of sorrow and pity.
Henry helped her to the front pew of the church and they sat down together. She saw the casket sitting closed in front of them.
After a few moments, she saw an older gentleman in an outfit that looked similar to what Reverend Portman would wear. He had carrot-red hair and friendly green eyes and gave her a sympathetic smile as he approached the front podium.
She thought it odd that Reverend Portman was not there but then remembered her father had mentioned that someone named Reverend Fisher had taken over the church. Margaret tried to focus on what he was saying, but her mind felt foggy and everything sounded as if she were underwater. In silence, she sat and waited for the funeral service to be over.
She was not sure how much time passed, but after a while, she felt Henry’s hand under her elbow and he was lifting her off the pew.
“We need to go out to the graveside now, Margaret.”
Nodding, she allowed herself to be escorted out. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her as they made their way into the graveyard outside the church. Once they reached the burial spot, they stood and waited for the pallbearers to bring the casket from the church.
She watched as it passed her by and was placed next to the hole they had already dug. She hated the idea of letting them put him in the ground. Her mind knew it had to happen, but she could not convince her heart to let him go.
As they started to lower the casket into the ground, Margaret wanted to grab the pallbearers and stop them or scream at the top of her lungs to take their hands off his casket, but she did neither. Instead, the sickening feeling returned and the ground beneath her feet felt as if it were going to swallow her whole. She began to shake and sway all at the same time, and before she knew what was happening, she was falling backwards into a blissful sea of nothingness.
It had been two weeks since Margaret had fainted at her father’s graveside. Henry was going crazy trying to figure out how to reach her. Margaret had
isolated herself into her own world. He wanted so badly to pull her out of her despair, but she just kept pushing him away.
Henry loved her so much, and it was killing him seeing her like this. It was as if the life had been sucked out of her. She was barely functioning, if you could even call it that. All she did all day was sit by the windowsill and stare outside. It was as if she were waiting for something and searching for something all at once, and he had no idea what.
While he pondered his next move, Catherine entered the room. After watching him for a few minutes, she approached her brother and interrupted his thoughts. “I think that we have been going about this all wrong. We have been trying to reach her separately, but I think we would have a better chance if we tried to reach her together.”
He glanced up at his sister and then back down at the floor. “Why should I even try anymore, Catherine? She has banished me from her world. She does not even acknowledge me when I am in the room.”
She sighed. “I know. She does the same thing to me, but I think it has to do with the fact that everyone she has ever loved in this world has died—first her mother, then her twin brother, and now her father. I think she is feeling so much pain inside right now that she just exists without allowing herself to feel or think. She is probably afraid that it will overwhelm her if she feels even a little bit.”
Catherine put her hand on his arm. “Henry, I think she is pushing us away right now because she is afraid that, if she lets us in, she will lose us too.”
“I understand that, but it feels as if it is hopeless. I have been trying to get through to her for the past two weeks and I cannot. She does not eat, she does not sleep, she does not even cry. All she does is sit by that window!”
She frowned. “Perhaps we need to understand better. Why does she sit by that window all day long?”
He looked up and raised his eyebrows in puzzlement. “I have not the foggiest idea.” He paused for a moment, and then a new thought occurred to him and he finished, “But I know who does.” He clasped his hands together in anticipation. “Now we are getting somewhere.” He looked at his sister. “I want you to go find Margaret’s companion, Sarah. If anyone would know, it would be her.”
