Chapter Five #2
There was nothing for it. He drafted a note, handed it to the footman and asked him to deliver it immediately. It looked as if he was about to become a respectable man courting a respectable young lady, whether he liked it or not.
‘You must change your dress immediately and get Molly to do something about your hair!’ her mother cried out, rushing into the parlour and causing her paintbrush to slide across the canvas, leaving an annoying line of red paint.
‘Why?’ Margaret asked, dabbing at the damage with a damp rag.
‘The Duke has sent a card, inviting you to take a ride in his carriage this afternoon. In Hyde Park.’
‘I’ve already made plans for later this afternoon. I intend to visit Alice and Primrose to inform them of my…’ she took in a breath ‘…engagement.’
‘Those wallflowers can read all about it in the newspaper like everyone else,’ her mother said, pulling the paintbrush out of Margaret’s hand.
She swallowed her annoyance. ‘Neither is a wallflower.’
Not any more. That was another reason why she’d been dreading the Season. She’d be all alone in the wallflower corner, without her two friends providing support and good company. ‘Primrose is now a young lady of independent means and Alice is a countess.’
‘A countess?’ her mother said, adopting a facetious tone as if such a title was something to be sniffed at. ‘Not as good as a duchess. But you’re not a duchess yet, and until you’re married you must do nothing to upset the Duke. So, get ready. Now.’
Her mother tossed the brush onto the table, took hold of Margaret by the shoulders and pushed her towards the door. ‘And I hope you weren’t wearing that dreadful paint-splattered smock when he came to ask your father for your hand?’
‘No, I was wearing—’
‘Why your father chose that time to meet the Duke, when I was attending my Ladies Benevolent Society meeting, I’ll never know. I should have been present,’ she added, as Margaret was pushed down the hallway towards the stairs.
Margaret could say her father knew exactly what he was doing when he chose that time, but for the sake of family harmony said nothing and walked up the stairs as commanded.
Molly was waiting for her in her bedchamber, heated curling tongs at the ready, presumably already having received instructions from her mother.
‘He said he’ll be here at three o’clock, so that gives you plenty of time to get ready. Molly, you know what to do.’ With that, her mother thankfully departed.
‘Right, miss, let’s make you beautiful,’ Molly said, gesturing towards the seat in front of the dressing table.
Margaret admired her lady’s maid’s optimism but said nothing and sat down so she could attempt the impossible.
Once she’d been curled, backcombed, plaited and heaven knew what else, Margaret changed from her sensible grey skirt and dark blue blouse into a cream linen skirt and jacket and a lacy white blouse.
She stood up so Molly could perform an inspection and, once deemed acceptable, her lady’s maid handed her a cream parasol and white gloves.
At least her mother had not insisted she be tortured by the strong-handed Gertrude, but it was still a lot of entirely unnecessary fuss. It mattered not how much effort went into her appearance; she was nothing to the Duke. She had heard him say so with her own ears.
Nothing, she reminded herself as she walked down the stairs, trying to fight off those annoying and irrational nerves making her stomach churn.
This drive in his carriage was simply a continuation of the pretence they’d started while at the Earl of Northwood’s Kent estate.
It was no reason to get flustered. She just needed to keep in mind at all times what the Duke had said to his friend.
She means nothing to me. All the ornate hairstyles in the world would not change that.
She entered the drawing room and momentarily halted in the doorway, her heart doing another of those vexing flips, just as it had continually done while the Duke was going through the motions of asking her father for her hand.
She lifted her head higher, determined that at all times she would retain an outward appearance of composure, regardless of what was happening inside her traitorous body.
He stood up and smiled at her. A smile she refused to return, lest she revealed how unsettled his blue eyes could make her feel, and how easily he could undermine the defences she had built up around herself.
She bobbed a quick curtsey, then turned her full attention to putting on her gloves and doing up the small buttons at the wrist, as if such a task demanded her utmost concentration.
Once each button was secure, she looked up to see her mother smiling at her in an exaggerated manner, like the Cheshire cat, presumably as an instruction as to how she was supposed to comport herself in the Duke’s company.
Margaret stifled a sigh. This outing was going to be stressful enough without her mother’s relentless and not so subtle hints as to how she should behave so the Duke did not slip through her fingers.
‘I thought I’d take Molly with me as my chaperone, Mama,’ she said, just as her mother picked up her own gloves. ‘She’s been so busy lately.’ Trying to turn me into something I’m not. ‘And I’m sure she would appreciate being out in the fresh air.’
‘Oh, well…yes, I suppose that would be acceptable,’ her mother said.
She hated disappointing her mother, but being with the Duke again was going to be enough of a strain. She did not need her mother adding to her discomfort.
‘But do come and see me the moment you return and tell me all that you saw and everything you did.’
‘Yes, Mama, I will,’ Margaret said, giving her mother’s cheek a kiss.
The Duke bowed to her mother and she performed a low curtsey, almost reaching the ground, as if being presented to Queen Victoria herself.
Once her mother was upright, the Duke offered Margaret his arm and led her out the house and towards the open-topped carriage waiting for them at the end of the garden path.
‘Have you timed this so as many people as possible will see you courting your intended?’ she said as he helped her into the carriage.
He smiled, and she’d rather he didn’t. He was handsome enough when his face was in repose.
When he smiled he became devastating. And devastated was how her nervous system was starting to feel.
Why, oh, why did her pulse have to skip at the sight of his eyes crinkling at the edges?
And life would be so much easier if her stomach didn’t do that ridiculous flip as she watched his high cheekbones lifting and those cheeky brackets appearing on either side of his lips.
He’d said he appreciated her sense of humour, but she could see it would be advantageous to say or do nothing to make him smile or laugh.
‘Well, I thought a ride in Hyde Park would be pleasant, and yes, at this time of day almost all of London Society will be present, so there is a good chance we will be seen behaving like a terribly respectable courting couple.’
He took her hand and helped her into the open-topped carriage, and she said a silent thanks to her gloves for keeping his warm skin from touching hers.
To the accompaniment of the horses’ hooves clattering on the cobblestones, they left her family’s Kensington townhouse, down the tree-lined streets, the soft breeze lightly touching Margaret’s cheeks and going some way to cooling them.
They turned into Hyde Park and through the ornate wrought iron gates, the carriage crunching over the gravel. Margaret breathed in deeply, loving the scent of the newly cut grass which had driven out all lingering smells of the crowded city, and hoping it would soothe her frazzled nerves.
She had to admit that it really was a pleasant day to be in the park.
And the Duke was correct when he said all of London Society would be present.
It certainly appeared that way. Men were exercising their horses, groups of young ladies in fashionable attire, accompanied by their lady’s maids or mamas, were walking and giggling together, and couples were strolling arm in arm.
Over at the Serpentine she could see young boys floating toy boats, little girls were rolling hoops or playing with their dolls, and nannies, walking large black perambulators, appeared to be everywhere.
‘I know you want us to be seen by as many people as possible,’ Margaret said, turning to face him. ‘And that would best be achieved by remaining in the carriage, but I really would like to walk.’
‘Then walk we shall,’ he said, leaning forward to tap the driver’s shoulder.
The carriage rolled to a halt. The Duke helped her down then took her arm and they joined the line of people strolling along the path, Molly following at a discreet distance.
It appeared that Margaret was wrong. They did not need to be in a carriage to draw attention. Almost everyone they passed looked at them with interest. Quite a few women smiled at the Duke, and she was certain several even winked.
She told herself not to be surprised and not to react. That was what this was all about. He needed her to provide him with a respectable veneer. That was what she was doing and the only reason she was here.
‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Father has already sent off the notice to The Times so all of Society will know by tomorrow that we are to marry,’ she said.
‘Excellent,’ he replied as he nodded a greeting to a passing couple. Margaret attempted to ignore the way the lady looked her slowly up and down with a curious expression, as if to say, Why her?
That was a look and a question she suspected she was going to have to get used to. Even her father had asked it, and nobody would think her more deserving of capturing the heart of a duke and becoming a duchess than him.
‘I must say I was surprised that you told your father what we were up to,’ he said, breaking in on her disconsolate thoughts.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, it isn’t every father who would accept his daughter becoming involved in such a ruse.’