Page 30 of Taken By the Dangerous Duke

“Don’t you find this all really weird?” asked Margaret.

The duke smiled. “Yes, I do. It is most unusual for an agreement like this, but I don’t see why more people can’t do something like this. It brings us both something we want, and it does not harm anyone. It does not, does it?”

Margaret looked the duke in the eye. “I am not hurt,” she said. “And, I don’t believe we are hurting anyone, so there is no harm done, right?”

“No harm done,” repeated the duke. He pulled the wicker basket out from under the seat between them and opened the two flaps. He pulled out an apple from near the top and bit into it. “Please help yourself.”

Margaret nodded. She was not hungry yet, but she would be. She watched the duke eat the apple, unaware that she was watching him. She had heard him laugh and saw him smile a lot over the past couple of weeks, but she had thought that normal. Yet, the help would disagree. She studied him as he ate, trying to determine whether he was a happy man or not.

“I have enjoyed spending time with your aunt,” said Margaret. “She is always so optimistic.”

The duke stopped mid-bite. Perhaps he got his happiness from his aunt, and it was genetic. Everything would be explained, and they could go back to their “normal” life.

“How much has she told you?” asked Arthur.

“What do you mean? I have not spent a lot of time with her, but she has a wonderful outlook on life even though she lost her husband.”

“Lost her husband?” asked the duke. “What did she tell you about that?”

“She did not say much. I mean… I only heard a little before the wedding. Her husband passed a while ago—I believe it was a while ago, or that is how it sounded. And, even after that, she still has joy in her heart.”

“Joy in her heart,” repeated Arthur. “Did she say her husband passed or did she say she lost him?”

“She said she lost him,” replied Margaret. “Why?”

“She can sometimes make it sound as if he died, but he is not dead. He has another family somewhere. Perhaps Birmingham, I can’t remember exactly the place. She did lose him, but not to death. I don’t know why he left, but he did leave. She often tells people that she lost him.”

“But why?” asked Margaret. “Why would she do that?”

“I think it helps her to cope,” replied the duke. “When he left her, it was perhaps fifteen years ago, it destroyed her. She was in love and he was not. I don’t know exactly what happened, and I will never know nor will I ask, but she was never the same.”

“I don’t understand. She is not happy? Or she is happy? Or is it how she copes?”

“It is most definitely coping. She is never as happy as she makes herself out to be now. If you are around her long enough, you will see it. There is sadness in her eyes, and there are the occasional cracks in her demeanor. And, when she thinks no one is watching her, she does not put on the act. I wish I could do something to help her, but I believe she is lost to us now.”

“That is so terrible,” admitted Margaret.

“I know,” said the duke. “I try to keep her close, to stay in touch with her, but it can be hard at times. The more she acts as if she is happy, the sadder she actually is, but she won’t admit it. I tried for a while to get her some help, but she would not admit that she needed it. If she had been able to talk with someone after her husband left, it might have helped, but she has always been a stubborn woman. Marriage changed her.”

“But she was in love too, right? There must have been some good in the marriage or they would not have gotten married in the first place.”

“Perhaps,” said the duke. “I was too young at the time to know about any of this. I saw her as a happy woman too, a woman who could make me laugh and smile, but it was only when she got older that I saw it—when I had become a man and was not a boy anymore. Sometimes, I think there is stillhope for her, but it is just out of my grasp.”

“I am sorry,” said Margaret. She did not want to believe that he was telling the truth, but she had no reason to doubt him.

“Are you sorry for me or sorry for her?” asked Arthur.

“Both,” admitted Margaret.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” said the duke. “I am not like them.”

“Them?” asked Margaret.

The duke glanced over at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. She wished she had not said anything. She wanted to go back in time and stop herself from asking any of the questions. This was supposed to be a nice day out, and she had ruined it. She thought back to what the maids had said. She had not believed that the duke had been an unhappy man, but she could see it now. It was not only how he looked or acted, but the mood surrounding him. It felt as if a dark cloud had descended over the boat.

“Would you like some cheese?” asked the duke, changing the subject.

“Please,” responded Margaret.

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