Page 5 of His Highland Duchess
“Agreed,” Sampson said. He took his wife’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “The next few days are going to be vital if we’re to navigate through this mess without finding ourselves on the wrong end of a scandal.”
“Might I suggest somethin’?” Margaret began. “What if we were to da nothing? By which I mean, send me home.” She looked between her sister and brother-in-law. “I da nae live here. I da nae care one way or another what people say of me. Let me return ta Scotland, at which point we can pretend that nae of this happened.”
Sampson grimaced. “Would that it were that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Margaret…” Catherine reached across the carriage and took Margaret’s hand. Her expression was pained and filled with remorse. “I am afraid that simply isn’t an option.”
“O’ course it is!”
“No, it isn’t.” She looked at Margaret, forcing her attention. “This isn’t about you – at least not in the way you might think. Even if you were to leave, what happened this morning will not just go away. People will talk. Rumors will grow. It is the type of scandal that will follow you, no matter where you run off to.”
“As I said, I da na care. Let them speak.”
“And what of Isobel? Or Graham?” Isobel and Graham were Margaret and Catherine’s younger siblings, both still in Scotland, both not entering Margaret’s frame of reasoning. Why would they?
“What of them?” Margaret said. “They have naught ta dae with this.”
Sampson laughed bitterly. “They will do, whether they like it or not. This scandal will attach itself to their names and their reputation, such that if either ever wishes to come to England and join the ton, to marry…” He shook his head and exhaled. “It might be next to impossible, for who would wish to marry into a family where it is believed the older sister tried to seduce a duke.”
“I did na such thing!”
“We know that,” Catherine eased her, giving her hand another squeeze. “But that is what rumor does. The truth is forgotten because a good story is infinitely more appealing.”
Margaret felt herself getting flustered. And angry!Was I pure so stupid? Ta think that I could simply run from this and it would have na consequences?It should have been that easy. In a just world, perhaps it would. But there was nothing just about any of this.
She thought to her brother and her sister, both of whom she loved. Her stomach twisted itself into a painful knot as she considered how her actions might affect them. She only everwanted the best for both, and that she might have ruined their lives without even trying pained her deeply.
“I… I did na think of that,” she said sullenly.
“Such is this world,” Sampson sighed.
“What do I dae?” She looked pleadingly between them both. “I want ta fix this. Tell me how I kin fix this.”
This right here was a perfect example of why Margaret had never desired to come south and join the ton. She was of the Highlands, a life that was far simpler and easier to navigate. People there did not judge as they did here. They certainly did not look down on others for simple mistakes.It is so pretentious. So utterly nauseatin’.Margaret did not understand how her sister could stand it.
The happy couple shared a look that had Margaret’s stomach twisting even further. A sense of hopelessness shared between them. A sense that there was no fixing this, because it was like the rising tide, not to be fought away but accepted and braced for. The worst was yet to come.
Indeed, the worst looked to have arrived at the Dukedom of Rosehall before even Margaret had, racing here ahead of her as if to remind her of how little control she had of the moment. Or her life, for that matter.
“Who is that?” Catherine asked, looking out the window as the carriage rolled down the drive and toward the manor, where a single horse had been left at the front of the drive.
Sampson shuffled in beside her, frowning at the sight of it. “I recognize that mount.” He swallowed. “It belongs to Lysander. He must have raced to beat us here.”
“The duke!” Margaret scrambled over her sister and brother-in-law to take a look for herself, seeing only the horse, but understanding well enough the significance. “He’s ‘ere? Why?”
“Why do you think?” Catherine said.
Margaret’s stomach dropped. “What… what will he want with me?”
Sampson clicked his tongue as he considered. “Let us find out, shall we?”
The journey to the manor’s entrance was a short one, but it felt as if it took hours. Margaret spent that time staring out the window, eyeing the horse, picturing the duke as she tried to reconcile what he was doing here and what he was sure to say.He is going ta be furious with me. But what does that mean? And what form will that fury take?She swallowed the lump in her throat, sensing that her day was about to get a whole lot worse.
Once inside, a butler found them at once.
“Your Grace,” he called for Sampson. “I must inform you, His Grace, the Duke –”
