Chapter 10 #2
"Just as the duke observes you?"
Margaret gave her a warning look. "Iris."
Her sisters laughed, and Margaret attempted to return her attention to the conversation around them.
Unfortunately, she found herself looking towards Pierce again.
He was listening to Nathaniel with one brow slightly raised, looking entirely too handsome in his formal attire. Lady Samson was still watching him.
Margaret looked away. She did not like this new sensation at all.
I have never been jealous of anyone, and I refuse to be now. It is childish.
Before she could dwell upon it, Camelia reached over and touched her arm. "Duchess of Ravenfield."
Margaret winced. "Please do not call me that yet."
Iris smiled. "Why not?"
"It will take time to get used to it," Margaret said.
"Duchess," Camelia repeated deliberately.
Margaret laughed. "You are both impossible."
"You are a duchess now," Iris reminded her. "You must become accustomed to people reminding you."
Margaret glanced towards Pierce. "I suppose I must."
A moment later, Camelia leaned closer and lowered her voice. "How did he manage it?"
"Manage what?" Margaret furrowed her brows in confusion.
"Harrowby," Camelia responded.
Margaret's expression sobered. "I have no idea."
"You mean the duke never told you?" Iris added.
"No." Margaret shook her head. "He simply told me that it was settled. When I asked, he said that he could handle it, and apparently he could."
Iris's expression softened. "Then you owe him your thanks."
"I know." Margaret glanced towards Pierce again. "Whatever else happens between us, that is the right thing to acknowledge."
Camelia studied her carefully. "Which brings us to another question."
Margaret sighed. "Why do I feel that I shall dislike this question?"
"Because you know us too well," Iris said with a smile. "You could have refused him, could you not? Since he took care of Harrowby for good, you could have denied marriage to the Duke."
Margaret went still.
I had not considered that.
The realization arrived slowly, almost painfully. Pierce had destroyed Harrowby's claim, and once he had done so, Margaret had technically been free to walk away from him.
I could have stayed at Lempster House, remained unmarried, and refused every proposal that followed.
But she had never thought of doing it.
"He released me from Harrowby so that I would be free to marry him," she said quietly. "Walking away now would make me a coward."
Her sisters exchanged a look.
"And besides," Margaret continued, her voice softening, "there is Hugh."
She told them about her visit to Ravenfield the previous night, about the quiet nursery and the sleeping child, and how she had brushed his cheek while promising that the two of them would get along.
As she spoke, something inside her settled.
Whatever doubts she had about Pierce, she could not doubt the child.
"He needs me," Margaret finished.
Iris reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Then I am proud of you."
"So am I," Camelia added, her eyes shining. "If anyone can bring out the best in a difficult man, it is you."
Margaret laughed softly. "I am not certain Pierce Sterling possesses a best side."
"Oh, he does," Iris said. "We have seen the way he looks at you."
Margaret immediately glanced towards him.
Pierce was already looking at her.
Their eyes met, and his expression shifted into that faint, knowing smile that always made her heart behave foolishly.
Margaret quickly looked away.
Maybe bringing out the best in the Duke of Ravenfield was going to be rather more complicated than my sisters imagined.
* * *
Margaret spent the next quarter of an hour doing what was expected of a new duchess, though she privately suspected that no amount of practice would ever make her feel entirely natural at it.
She rose from the table when the last course had been cleared and moved among the guests with the appropriate smile, accepting congratulations from people whose names she struggled to remember and responding gracefully to compliments about her wedding.
The ton seemed fascinated by her, which was hardly surprising considering the speed with which she had gone from a woman destined for Lord Harrowby to the Duchess of Ravenfield. Margaret could almost hear the questions forming behind every polite smile.
Lady Richards approached first, her elegant gown rustling as she extended both hands towards Margaret. "Your Grace, allow me to congratulate you properly. I confess, your marriage has been the most unexpected event of the Season."
Margaret smiled politely. "I am beginning to think my life has become the most unexpected event of the Season."
Lady Richards laughed, clearly pleased by the answer. "You must forgive us. Everyone has been speaking of nothing else."
"I shall forgive you," Margaret replied, "provided you promise not to repeat anything I have said."
The older woman laughed again, and Margaret found herself relaxing. Maybe this was not as dreadful as she had imagined. She could speak to these people, smile when necessary, and even make them laugh. If they wished to gossip, they would do so whether she participated or not.
She moved on to greet several other guests, including Lady Samson, who regarded her with a smile that was perfectly pleasant and eyes that were considerably less so. "Your Grace," Lady Samson said, dipping into a graceful curtsey. "How fortunate we are to have a new Duchess of Ravenfield."
"How kind of you," Margaret replied, returning the smile.
Lady Samson glanced towards Pierce, who was speaking with Nathaniel near the fireplace. "His Grace has always been rather difficult to persuade into society."
Margaret's smile remained fixed. "Has he?"
"Oh, yes. One might almost think he preferred solitude."
Margaret glanced at her husband and found him looking in their direction. His mismatched eyes settled upon Margaret first, then shifted briefly to Lady Samson before returning to her. Something about the look made Margaret's stomach flutter.
"I imagine he has his reasons," Margaret said.
"I am certain he does," Lady Samson replied, though her tone suggested she intended to discover them herself.
Margaret excused herself before she could say anything impolite and crossed the room towards her sisters. She was halfway there when Nathaniel intercepted her, wearing the expression of a man who had just discovered an opportunity for mischief.
"Your Grace," he said with an exaggerated bow, "I feel obliged to inform you that you have already survived your first wedding breakfast."
"Is that considered an accomplishment?"
"With this crowd?" Nathaniel glanced around the room. "Absolutely."
Margaret laughed. "Then I shall have to celebrate."
"Careful," he warned. "You are beginning to sound like Pierce."
Margaret's smile faded into something warmer as she glanced towards the duke. "I certainly hope not."
Nathaniel followed her gaze and grinned. "Oh, I suspect you have more in common than either of you realizes."
Before Margaret could demand an explanation, Pierce approached, his expression unreadable.
"Lord Brydges," he said.
"Your Grace," Nathaniel replied innocently. "I was just telling your wife how fortunate she is."
Pierce's eyebrow rose. "Were you?"
"I was."
"Then I shall be certain to ask what precisely you told her."
Nathaniel laughed and escaped before Pierce could question him further.
Margaret watched him go before turning to her husband. "Your friend is… interesting."
Pierce looked down at her. "You noticed."
"I am beginning to suspect it is a requirement for being your friend."
A faint smile touched his mouth. "Perhaps."
For one brief moment, surrounded by the laughter and glitter of the ton, Margaret forgot that she had married a stranger.
Then Pierce offered her his arm, and she placed her hand upon it.
And somehow, that simple gesture felt far more intimate than it ought.
"Let us make the rounds as husband and wife," he said.
Husband and wife?
The thought had her spinning as the truth of the matter shook her to the core.