Page 2 of His Highland Duchess
“That accent,” he scoffed. “You are from the Highlands, here visiting your sister, if my memory serves. Yes, I remember Sampson telling me of you. Although he failed to warn me, which he ought to have.”
“Warn ye?” she blurted, no idea who this man was or how he knew of her. “Warn ye of what?”
His expression turned dark. “Do not play me for a fool, Miss. Your histrionics might serve you well where you are from, but I will not be a party to them. Nor do I intend to fall victim to them, despite your valiant efforts.”
Margaret’s head was beginning to hurt.Surely, I did nae dream that muckle last night?A tumbler or two at most. Apparently nae…Although she was certain she did not drink very much at all. She had been careful not to! Not used to this part of the world or the people in it, she had not wished to drink too much and make a fool of herself. It must have been the wine itself.T’was awfully sweet, which was why I only sampled a tumbler or two.
The strange man had his eyes narrowed, wary of her, as if he were the one who should have been concerned for this most precarious situation. Indeed, he even took a step back, a quick glance at the closed door as if he meant to escape.
“What are ye on about?” she demanded. “All I know is that I woke up to find ye in me bed.”
“My bed.”
She glared at him. “Explain yerself. Who are ye? And what are ye doin’ here?”
“Still playing the fool,” he scoffed. “As if you do not know that I am the Duke of Windermoor.”
“The Duke of…” Margaret’s face dropped, and she could feel the color drain from it as all the pieces fell into place.Oh no.
“And you, Miss Lennox, have seen fit to sneak into my bedroom as I slept, for reasons that I can only assume to be malevolent.” He fixed her in a stare that spoke of warning and mistrust. “Youwish to trap me in a scandal, be found out, force my hand and drag me into a marriage of which I will have no choice but to accept, lest my name and title and reputation be permanently marred. Admit it.”
“Oh no…” Margaret’s stomach flipped, and she thought she might be sick; a sickness which had nothing to do with the excess wine she had drunk the previous evening.Some days one simply shouldn’t git out of the kip.
None of what the duke said was true, and that needed to be stated and then repeated. Margaret had most certainly not snuck in here like a thief in the night with the intent of trapping the man in a scandal. Of course she hadn’t! Unfortunately, that was where her confidence in the situation and how she had gotten here ended.
There was a good reason that Margaret hadn’t recognized the duke, and it had everything to do with her not being from here. Here being London, or England for that matter. She was from Scotland, her father a well-renowned laird, but also a baron, making her a technical member of the ton, even if she had little to do with it.
Her older sister, Catherine, was the reason she was here. Last year, Catherine had married the Duke of Rosehall, had fallen pregnant, given birth, and then insisted that Margaret pay her and her husband a visit to see her newborn nephew. A visit that Margaret was more than happy to pay them, as she loved children and wanted very much for her nephew to know her.
She had only been in town for a week when her sister and brother-in-law told her of a house party they had been invited to, dragging Margaret along as she was technically a member of the peerage and should thus get to know those who were her equals. She had come begrudgingly, drunk too much sweet wine early, and then retired to what she had thought to be her bedroom and passed out within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.
All that was to say that her waking up in the same room as the duke had been an honest mistake, assuming he was telling the truth! Somehow, to look at the sternness of his character, she doubted he was the type who would believe her story.
“Oh no, indeed,” the duke said.
“This is all a terrible misunderstanding,” she sighed, even laughed a little to try and break the tension. “I assure ye, I am not tryin’ ta trap ye in a scandal. Surely, ye da nae think I would do such a thing?”
“On the contrary,” he scoffed. “As I see it, you are following in your sister’s footsteps. She managed to escape the north by marrying a duke, and you thought you would do the same. But rather than taking a more traditional route…” He scoffed again. “You opted for a shortcut.”
“What? No!” Margaret felt herself getting angry. “I was dru – tired,” she corrected quickly. “I thought this was my room.”
“Were you not tipped off by the fact that someone else was sleeping in here? Do you make a habit of climbing into bed with random men?”
“It was mirk,” she cried loudly. “I did nae see ye.”
“That seems unlikely.”
The anger was building inside of her. Fury at having her word questioned.And so rudely!Margaret had little experience with dukes, or members of the ton, but she knew enough to know that they did not like being snapped and snarled at. Being from the Highlands as she was, Margaret was not as accustomed to the expectations of how a lady might act in this situation, but she knew enough to know that she should have apologized, asked for forgiveness, and quickly exited the room before she did or said anything foolish.
But Margaret had always been hot-headed. And rarely did she think first and act later. It was a mode of operation that had gotten her into trouble often, but that she was a slow learner was yet another reason that this wasn’t about to change anytime soon.
“And what of ye?” she accused him hotly.
“What of me?”
“How do I ken that ye did nae slip into the room after I was already asleep?” She widened her eyes at him. “That you did naesee an innocent woman alone in bed and thought you’d have some fun with it!”
The duke’s dark eyes glimmered as if a fire had been lit behind them. His jaw clenched. His body turned rigid. “How dare you accuse me of such things?”
