Chapter Twenty
It was done, Margaret told herself as she climbed into the hansom cab. She should be proud of herself for taking control of the situation. She had ended things quickly and cleanly before she lost herself even further in the illusion of a shared love between herself and Jacob.
Yes, it would hurt to hear that he had taken another lover. The stabbing sensation in the centre of her chest was sure to plunge in even deeper. But the pain would be far greater if she delayed their parting.
She had done the right thing, even if right now what she wanted more than anything else was to ignore everything she knew to be true, to run back to him and surrender herself once more to the delusion that they shared something deep and meaningful.
‘Where to, miss?’ the cab driver asked, alerting her to the fact that she had been sitting for some time in the stationary carriage, unsure what she was supposed to do now.
‘Um…’
She hadn’t thought beyond getting away from Jacob.
Where to go and what she should do once she was away from him was something she had not considered.
She couldn’t go to her parents’ house. She suspected they would send her straight back to her husband.
Perhaps she’d do what she’d told Jacob she intended.
Visit her friends. They were sure to give her refuge until she had time to get her thoughts straight and work out how she was to live her life.
To that end, she gave the cab driver Alice’s address.
The driver waited as she rushed up the path and knocked on her friend’s door, only to be told by the footman that the Countess was paying a visit to her friend, Miss Primrose Fairburn.
Margaret climbed back into the cab and gave the driver instructions to take her to Primrose’s Kensington home.
The closer she got to her friend’s house, the more despondent she felt.
Just this morning she had actually thought she was special.
She had thought their lovemaking meant as much to him as it did to her, that the way they gave their bodies to each other was an expression of their love.
She had convinced herself that when they made love he was showing her with his body how he felt about her, even if he hadn’t said it in words. But she’d been wrong.
All she had experienced was the lovemaking of a man well versed in giving a woman pleasure, a man who’d learnt those skills by having many, many lovers before her. There was nothing special about her, and nothing special about what had happened between her and Jacob.
She was still just that wallflower Jacob had been forced to marry because she had kissed him.
Their lovemaking had meant nothing. She had been the one to instigate it, and even though he had made her feel desired and beautiful, as unlike a wallflower as it was possible to feel, he did that with every woman he took to his bed.
The Baroness had opened her eyes to what deep down she’d known to be true but had been trying to deny. She meant nothing to Jacob, just as he had told the Earl after that weekend party. Or, rather, she now meant no more than any of his other lovers, possibly less than some.
She really was a delusional fool. She had tried to ignore the way he’d ensured they would never have children, but that was surely proof that he saw her as just another woman in the long line of women he had no commitment to.
And if she needed even further proof that their time together in Northumberland meant nothing to him, the way he’d changed the moment he was back with his friends had provided it.
He had closed down, become withdrawn. She knew he was not a bad man, far from it, so he was probably trying to think of the kindest way of reminding her of their arrangement, so he could return to the way he preferred to live his life, unencumbered by his wife.
Well, thank goodness she’d got in first and was able to retain a shred of dignity.
‘Miss, we’re here,’ the driver said, breaking in on her thoughts.
Her mind still awhirl, she gave the man some coins, his delighted expression making it clear she had overpaid him, and walked up to Primrose’s front door.
A footman opened the door, followed by her friend, so she waved the cab driver off.
‘Maggie, dear, what a delightful surprise!’ Primrose said.
Her friend was carrying a hedgehog wrapped in a towel. With anyone else that would raise questions, but not with Primrose.
‘Do you have room for another waif and stray?’ she asked, tears pricking at her eyes.
‘Always. Come in, come in.’
Primrose led her down the hallway towards the drawing room, followed by the footman. ‘Gloriana is unwell and off her food. That’s why she’s getting special attention tonight.’
Margaret nodded and was saved from having to make any comment on the state of the hedgehog’s health when Alice came walking down the hallway, her arms outstretched.
‘I thought I heard your voice!’ she said. ‘It’s so lovely to see you.’
Her expression quickly changed from one of welcome to concern and she rushed towards Margaret. ‘What’s wrong? You look so stricken. Come in and tell us all about it.’
‘He doesn’t love me,’ she blurted out and was instantly enfolded in her friend’s arms and led into the drawing room as if she were an invalid.
‘Didn’t you know that when you married him?’ Primrose asked, placing Gloriana into a box lined with a woollen shawl.
Alice sent a frown in Primrose’s direction as they took their seats.
‘Yes, I did know that,’ Margaret replied, still fighting back tears. ‘But I let myself forget that until tonight, when I received a painful reminder.’
Alice signalled to the footman as Primrose was still distracted by the hedgehog’s needs, and asked him to bring another pot of tea and an extra cup.
‘I think I might need something a bit stronger than that,’ Margaret said, looking towards the sideboard, which in most houses would hold decanters of brandy, cognac and whisky. It was empty. Primrose lived on her own and presumably did not drink.
‘Would you like an alcoholic drink?’ Primrose asked, following Margaret’s gaze.
‘I believe there is some brandy somewhere in the house. I had to buy a bottle when Lady Penelope was having trouble with her nerves. Mixing some alcohol in her food was the only thing that would calm her down. Jasper, please bring the brandy and three glasses.’
Margaret did not bother to ask who Lady Penelope was, assuming she was probably a pig, a pony, a goat or some other abandoned animal Primrose had taken in.
The footman promptly returned with the bottle and three glasses and placed them in front of Primrose. She frowned at the bottle, which was almost empty. ‘The servants must have been treating some of the other poor animals with the brandy. I am sure this bottle was almost full.’
Margaret and Alice exchanged looks but made no comment on how delightfully trusting their friend was.
‘So, tell us what happened,’ Alice said when the footman departed and Primrose had served the drinks.
‘Baroness Winterborne…’ she stated, barely able to say Jacob’s ex-lover’s name.
‘I wouldn’t listen to a thing that woman has to say,’ Alice said, anger rising in her voice. ‘She’ll just be troublemaking.’
‘She actually complimented me on my appearance and said I was obviously very happy.’
Alice frowned and waited for her to explain, while Margaret took a sip of her brandy, the burning down her throat a welcome distraction from the pain in her chest.
‘I assume the Baroness did more than compliment you,’ Alice went on when it was clear that Margaret was struggling to explain their strange encounter.
‘Yes. She told me how lucky I was to be…’ Margaret paused and looked at Primrose, unsure how to phrase this.
‘To be?’ Alice prompted.
‘To be the lover of such a talented man, who could make a woman feel things she did not know possible and make her think she is adored and beautiful,’ she said, the words coming out in an embarrassed rush.
‘Hmm, not exactly the most tactful thing for her to say, but hardly a reason to leave your husband.’
‘She also said I should enjoy it while it lasts because it won’t be long before some other young lady catches his eye.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Alice said, as if that settled the matter. ‘She is jealous, just as I said, and a troublemaker. I wouldn’t pay the slightest heed to anything she says.’
‘No…yes…maybe, but she was right. When Jacob and I agreed to our fake engagement, and when we entered into this unwanted marriage, we promised we would continue to live exactly as we did before we were married and give each other complete freedom. I haven’t kept my side of the bargain.’
‘What do you mean? Have you stopped him from doing what he wants? Have you restricted his freedom?’ Alice asked, her tone suggesting that she knew the answer to these questions would be no, which only went to show how she really did not understand.
‘No, not yet. But I’m in love with him. If I stay with him, I fear that is exactly what I will try to do.’ She looked at her friend in appeal, hoping she would say or do something, anything, to make the pain consuming her go away.
‘Have you told him how you feel?’
‘No, and I never will. We made a deal. I can’t go back on it now.’ How could her friend even make such a ridiculous suggestion?
‘But maybe he feels the same way.’
Margaret sighed and took another sip of her brandy. ‘That’s the problem. I was starting to think that maybe he did. He’s been so affectionate and attentive and he really did make me feel loved, as if we really were a married couple, committed to building a life together.’
‘Well, there you go then,’ Alice stated.
‘And yes, I had been thinking I should talk to him about how I feel, but now I’m so relieved that I didn’t.’
Alice lifted her hands, palm upwards, to express that she did not understand.
‘Don’t you see? The Baroness felt exactly the same way I did, but she was never under any delusion that she was anything but just one woman in a very long line. The only difference between the two of us is that I’m deluded.’
‘You won’t know that until you tell him how you feel and ask him how he feels.’
What on earth was wrong with her friend? And why was she so stuck on this idea of telling Jacob? She was being no help whatsoever.
‘No, I’ll never do that,’ Margaret said, lifting her head and making it clear that was the end of the matter.
‘Maybe it would be worth the risk to swallow your pride and be honest with him,’ Alice said softly.
Margaret gave a loud sigh of frustration.
That was easy for Alice to say. She had a husband who loved her deeply.
She hadn’t thrown herself at a rake, forcing him to become a married man against his will.
Alice hadn’t acted like a silly, deluded wallflower who had fallen hopelessly in love with a man because he was a wonderful lover who made her weak with desire.
It was embarrassing enough to admit it to herself.
She certainly wasn’t going to admit it to Jacob.
‘No, we made an agreement and I will stick to it, no matter how painful. And if I did declare my love for him, it would only make him feel guilty. He might even pretend to love me out of pity or something, which would be intolerable. He might be a rake, but he’s still a good, kind man.
What he did for Baroness Winterborne proves that.
As she said, it was such a grand gesture, to marry in order to save his lover from the divorce courts. ’
‘I’m sure that was not the reason he married you.’
Margaret chose not to respond to that and took another sip of her drink, determined to think of the future not the past.
‘I think I’ll stay in London and start taking painting lessons,’ she said.
‘That’s something I’ll get out of this marriage.
Now that I’m a duchess, no art teacher is likely to turn me down because I’m a woman, or expect me to paint pretty watercolours of flowers and nothing else.
Or maybe I’ll go to France and study under one of the new Impressionists. Yes, perhaps that’s what I’ll do.’
She looked from Alice to Primrose and back again. Neither of them was looking convinced by her newly formulated plan.
‘If I’m away from England then I can give Jacob complete freedom,’ she added.
And while she was on the Continent she would avoid all English newspapers, so she never, ever had to read about what the Duke of Rosedale was up to or who his latest lover was or think about how he’d make that woman feel as if she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world.
She finished her brandy and reached out to refill her glass.
‘Do be careful, Maggie, dearest,’ Primrose said. ‘Lady Penelope developed quite a taste for the brandy even after her nerves had settled and we had to separate her from the other donkeys as her braying was keeping them up all night.’
Despite her misery, Margaret gave a small snort of laughter at her sweet, innocent friend’s warning. ‘I’m sure one more glass won’t hurt.’ She picked up the brandy bottle, then decided that perhaps her friend was correct.
‘I’m sorry for braying on about Jacob.’
‘No, no,’ Primrose said, her face contorted with worry. ‘I didn’t mean that. You’re nothing like Lady Penelope.’
Margaret smiled dolefully at her friend’s attempt to comfort her. ‘Well, I do feel like a bit of an ass.’
‘Unfortunately, love can make asses of us all,’ Alice said, once again rubbing her back. ‘It can make even the most sensible women forget themselves and fall prey to emotions they’d thought themselves immune to.’
Margaret released a loud, sad sigh. ‘That is so true. But fortunately, Baroness Winterborne saved me from making even more of an ass of myself and made me see things clearly. I now know what I have to do. You’re right, Alice, I do need to tell him how I feel.’
‘Good for you, Maggie. Honesty is always the best policy.’
‘I’ll make it completely clear to him that from now onwards we are to live separate lives. We will both begin our new lives, or go back to our old lives, or…well, a combination of the two, or our old lives, but in a new way or something…but whatever we do, we will live apart.’
Primrose and Alice looked at her with matching expressions of concern, as if she was making as much sense as Lady Penelope after a few brandies. But it mattered not what they thought. She had made up her mind.