Page 8 of His Highland Duchess
“But it is neither here nor there,” he said sharply, adding a warning to his stare. “I will not let this ruin my reputation. I will not let your drunken mistakes –”
“I da nae –”
“—sully my name and the name of my daughters. We are to marry as soon as is possible, and where it might sound a little harsh to your northern ears, I am afraid there is little that you can do to stop it.”
Margaret blinked in surprise.Daughters? Did he just say…
It was all happening so quickly. So unexpectedly. And not at all following a method which Margaret had any means to justify herself by. Did she wish to marry? One day, of course she did. Having come from a large family and with no mother to speak of, she had always been possessed of a natural motherly instinct, wishing to one day raise a family of her own.
But she also wished to do it at her own discretion, with a man who she liked, possibly even loved. Margaret hated being told what to do, having no control, being pulled along as if she was but a pawn in a larger game.
And she was about to voice this concern, when she met her sister’s eyes and saw the worry in them. This reminded her of her younger brother and sister, Graham and Isobel, reminding her further of the warning Catherine had given her and why she had to do this. This was not for her, but for them. For her family, there was little Margaret would not do.
“Braw…” She sighed, her shoulders sagging, the fight leaving her. “Just… just tell me what I need ta da.”
“For now, nothing.” The duke reset his composure, turning again to face Sampson. “I will handle the license, and I shall let you know as soon as it is procured. A small wedding, although I doubt that needs to be said. I want this over and done with quickly.”
How romantic…
There was nothing left to say after that. Sampson shook the duke by the hand, the duke thanked Catherine for her understanding, and then he left. Not before making sure to offer a final word to Margaret, one which surprised her because she had resigned herself by that point to a loveless, even painful marriage to a man who she was beginning to suspect despised her.
“This will not be the prison which you are picturing, Miss Lennox. Nor is it something to fear.” He smiled then, a most surprising sight, as she had not seen him do it once. The truth was, it looked good on him, and it gave Margaret hope. “I promise too that I will do everything in my power to make the transition to married life as easy for you as can be.”
“Oh…” She blinked, not sure how to answer. “Thank ye.”
He nodded once and then left, gone like the wind, leaving behind a noticeable space that only he seemed capable of filling. The man was a force of nature: controlled, composed, possessed of determined will and an indomitable presence the likes of whichMargaret had never seen before.And soon I’ll be married to him.
She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Somehow, considering that circumstances, both felt appropriate.
CHAPTER THREE
“Welcome to your new life,” the duke said as he opened the door to his manor and ushered Margaret inside.
She did not walk right in. Rather, she teetered on the edge, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness within, her stomach fluttering and turning at the same time because she was nervous, she was worried, she was unsure, and to step over the threshold and simply walk inside would be to signal that indeed her life had changed forever.Not that there is any goin’ back either. It is ta late for that.
“Is something wrong?” the duke asked from behind her.
“Shuid there be?”
“I am not the one refusing to enter my new home,” he said. “So, you tell me…”
She turned about and glared at him, which had him raising an eyebrow back at her. The man was the calm in a storm, and he seemed immune to her rancor. If anything, she got the sense that he enjoyed it, as if he found joy in seeing her riled up. Again, she found herself questioning everything she knew about the man who she had married… or rather, everything she did not know.A long list, ta be sure.
The past two weeks had happened in a blur and as was the case so much of late, Margaret felt like a boat left adrift in a thrashing sea. She had no control. No power. Pulled and led about as if her life was not her own.
She did not see the duke once during those two weeks. Nor was she privy to any of the wedding arrangements. She was simply told what day it was and what she was to wear – she didn’t even get to pick her own dress! Which explained why she was draped in a horrid pale green gown that she felt clashed horribly with her auburn hair and light skin. And that wasn’t to mention the less than flattering cut as she was tall and lithe and liked to dress in slim fitted garments as they pronounced her curves rather than hid them.
But who cared for such things! The duke didn’t seem to. She had appeared at the end of the aisle to find him wearing a look of resignation on his face. The ceremony was a small one, and even her father and brother and sister were not there, as they had not had time to make the trip. The whole thing was done in whispers, hasty and rushed, and before she knew it she was announced as the Duchess of Windermoor and was being ushered into a carriage.
And so it was that she loitered by the entrance to her new home. She’d had so little control of late that she felt a need to do this without being told to. A small victory, but a needed one.
“It occurs ta me suddenly that I know so little about ye,” she said.
He frowned down at her. “This only just occurs to you now?”
“My meanin’…” She shook her head at him. “This marriage. Us. I find I have na idea what ta expect. What ye want from such a thing.”
The duke considered her for a moment. As always, he was calm as he did so, no sense that he was frustrated by her refusal to walk inside or her questioning of him. “That is fair.”
