Page 23 of His Highland Duchess
Lysander’s daughters did not know he meant to send Margaret home once the Season was over, and he appreciated her not telling them. Again, that she was so polite and kind to them, possessed of complete control and awareness, was a surprise to him. The version of his wife he knew was the opposite of the woman who sat across from him, which had Lysander wondering who the true Margaret was.
Not that it matters. And not that I can convince myself that it does. Regardless of anything that does or doesn’t happen, she is to leave at the Season’s end. It is the only outcome possible…
Lysander said little during the dinner, happy to watch Margaret and his daughters interact. Also, he wanted to get a better view of his wife. This did not help, however, and when the dinner wound to an end, he felt as unsure as he had at its beginning.
“Time for bed,” he told his daughters.
“But Father –”
“Now, Aurelia.” He looked at her warningly. “I will be up shortly to say goodnight.”
The two girls did not argue. Solemnly, they rose from their chairs. “Good night, Margaret,” they said together. He winced to hear them call her that, not certain if he should correct them and tell them to call her by her title, Her Grace.
“Good night, girls, it was so much fun talking to you. Perhaps in the next day or two, we can spend an entire day together.”
“Can we, Father?” Aurelia looked pleadingly at her father.
“We will see,” was all he was willing to say.
The girls left soon after, leaving Lysander and Margaret alone. The table was being cleared around them, and he felt glad for the company, as being alone with Margaret was not a good idea. He needed to control himself. To behave.Ironic, as she is the one I would have thought needed to be told as much.
“They are sweet girls,” she said once they were alone.
“You should not be so kind to them,” he said before he could stop himself.
“Excuse me?”
He sighed. “My meaning is, you will be leaving us soon, and it would not do to grow so close. You understand.”
She frowned as she studied him, the implication that she didn’t understand at all. “You are… I da nae understand you.”
“How so?”
She sighed with frustration. “First, ye insist that I avoid them. Then, ye insist that I join ye for dinner. Ye tell me that this marriage is a convenience and should be treated as one, and then ye tell me we will be attending balls together. I da nae ken what ye are wanting.”
“I have told you what I want,” he said. “To convince the ton that we are happy and that this marriage is proper.”
“Convince them or yourself?” she shot back.
Lysander felt a pang in his stomach at her heightened temper. He felt his pulse rise. The urge to stand and go to her, to lift her from her seat and pull her into him as he reminded her that he was not to be spoken to that way…I can hardly control it!
But she was also right, and he had needed the reminder. He had been giving her mixed signals this entire time. Not on purpose, but that did not change the fact. It was time, he decided, that he set her straight. And himself, also.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
She blinked. “That is unexpec –”
“I have not been clear with you. Worse, my actions have been confusing.” He swallowed with nerves at what he was about to say. “Earlier, when I kissed you…” It was subtle, but he saw her blush. “That was a mistake.”
“It… it was?” Her voice cracked.
“It should not have happened. And most importantly…” He forced himself to look at her, embodying calm, even if his stomach was turning. “It will not happen again. This marriage is for appearance’s sake only, and it is important that we keep it this way.”
“That is…” She considered where he might have imagined it, and he swore he saw disappointment in her eyes. “That is smart. A good idea, I think.”
“I am glad you think so.”
“It is nae as if I wished to be kissed,” she then said sharply. “Nor did I enjoy it.”
