Page 53 of Surrender Your Grace
“Certainly not,” Maggie insisted, tugging her back. “You can’t run from the woman. Always remember, you are a duchess, and therefore the victor in this.”She smiled, adding, “I guess that makes Andrew the spoils. He’d be appalled to hear that.”
“It’s not funny, Maggie.You cannot imagine how awkward it is knowing that woman has been intimate with my husband. To have to make small talk with her would be unbearable.”
“That’s all in the past.”
When she didn’t respond, her friend glanced her way. Then her eyes widened. “Andrew is an honorable man. You don’t think he’d…”
“I don’t want to,” Cici confessed. “He was most convincing last night, but—”
“But?” Maggie pressed.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There are things I can’t forget that give me doubts.”
“What doubts?” she asked, worry clouding her expression.
“He didn’t choose me. I was forced upon him,” Cici said, her eyes fixed on the widow’s approaching carriage. “And I’m not his style.”
Maggie turned toward her. “What does that mean?”
“Elizabeth and Lady Winslow are tall, elegant, and blonde. The sort men write sonnets about. I’m short, red-haired, freckled, and—”
“Enchanting. Vivid. Distinct,” Maggie interjected firmly. “Pale blondes fade like wallpaper in candlelight.”
Cici couldn’t help a small smile. Her friend was nothing if not loyal.
“He’s your brother, but you must know he has a past. A rake’s past. And he’s been seen with her twice since the wedding.”
“That was just Elizabeth talking.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t just her.” Cici’s gaze strayed to the blue-green waters of Round Pond. She blinked rapidly to hold back tears.
“Don’t cry!” Maggie hissed behind her fan. “If you’re seen weeping in the park, it will only fuel the gossip. Baxter,” she called to the driver, “take us home as fast as you can.”
“In this deadlock, quick is impossible, my lady. I will get us free and, on our way, as soon as I can.”
Unfortunately, they were already drawing closer to Lady Winslow’s carriage. The inevitable confrontation loomed.
Maggie’s fingers tightened around Cici’s gloved hand.“Chin up. She is a mere countess.Look down on her like the social climber she is.”
“Well, well,” Lady Winslow drawled, her false smile gleaming. “If it isn’t the duchess and her steadfast companion. Lady Maggie, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you children be in the schoolroom at this hour? Where are your governesses?”
She looked from side to side as if searching for them then laughed gaily at her own joke.
They both bristled, not least of all at her informal address, a deliberate breach in etiquette.
“We have escorts,” her friend replied smoothly. “Of course, if we were as ancient as you, they wouldn’t be necessary.”
The jab landed. Lady Winslow’s eyes narrowed as she glared daggers at Maggie.“You have always been a brash child who needs her mouth washed out with soap.”The line of carriages moved forward another few feet, bringing them even closer together.Her gaze locked on Cici. “I suppose being brash is better than being a mouse.Poor Andrew. He always preferred a little fire in the boudoir. No wonder he came crawling back to me so soon after the nuptials.”
Cici gasped. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” The widow’s lips curled. “Was your husband missing two nights ago, Duchess? Perhaps you should have checked my drawing room.”
“You’re making this up because Andrew rejected you,” Maggie snapped, just as the carriages began to move again.
Cici sat frozen, her pulse pounding. Lady Winslow’s laughter lingered like perfume—sickly sweet, impossible to shake.
Maggie gripped her hand, fuming quietly beside her, but neither spoke as the carriage cleared the congested park and traveled the few blocks home.
