Page 60 of Taken By the Dangerous Duke

There was a shuffling of feet as a maid came in with more tea. It was Victoria, and she looked away quickly when Margaret looked at her. She had still not told the duke that she had absolved the maid of her lady’s maid duties. Perhaps she would tell him this afternoon.

“Would you like some tea?” Victoria asked Margaret, adding quickly, “It is Earl Grey.”

“No, thank you,” said Margaret snippily.

The duke looked up again from his newspaper, catching Margaret’s eye and raising his eyebrow, but Margaret did not give an explanation, going back to her crumpet instead. Victoria quickly left the room, and a deep tension was left in her place. Margaret could feel it weigh on her, and she wanted to come out with it right there at the breakfast table, and tell the duke everything, but she did not.

She did not know when she would tell the duke of if she would tell him, and she could feel the concern and worry coming from every member of the staff. They did not know if they still had jobs at the Garriot residence.

“Arthur,” said Margaret.

He looked up from his newspaper, but she did not get a chance to say what she was going to say next. The housekeeper came in with the mail—giving most of it to Arthur, but taking one piece to Margaret.

She recognized the writing straight away. She and Cynthia had gone through a stage of writing each other letters. She was about to open it when Jester hopped up on the table. He was never normally allowed into the dining room, and he must have snuck in through a different entrance to the main door.

“Jester, where have you been?” asked Margaret.

The butler moved toward them to remove the cat, but Margaret shot him a glance, and he did not know what to do. He decided to stay where he was and not disturb Margaret and her cat.

“You are a naughty cat,” said Margaret, rubbing the back of his neck.

Arthur looked across at the two of them with a frown on his face, but he had a smile too, and he went back to his newspaper.

“I don’t see you for weeks, and then you come back just as I get a letter from my friend. I think it is fate—there must be good news contained within.”

When Jester had arrived at the mansion, he had gotten straight to work hunting down the mice that lived there. The staff had commented that the traps had never been so empty. When the cat was not chasing mice, he was often found on the roof or stalking through the gardens, sometimes sunning itself on the lawn.

Margaret was happy that the cat had made a home here too. She rubbed the back of his neck and thought about that. The two of them had been displaced from their homes, but both of them had decided to undertake the journey. They had not been forced to go, and they both had new lives now. Good lives.

“Well, let’s see what Cynthia has been up to,” said Margaret. She opened the letter and read through it. “I don’t…! What the hell!”

“My dear,” said Arthur, startled by the outburst. “Whatever is the matter.”

“I don’t believe it. I simply don’t. They have done this, the rotters.”

“Who has done what?” asked the duke. “And what don’t you believe? What is going on, Margaret?”

“My parents,” said Margaret. “I don’t know what their game is, but they have either done this to get money out of me or to spite me, and I don’t know what is worse.”

“What has happened?” asked the duke.

Margaret read out the letter.

Dearest Margaret,

They said that I could write to you, and you alone. I do not know what is going on, but I am scared. They have arrested me, and they have told me that I am accused of stealing money from Mr. and Mrs. Wellington. They think I took money from your parents.

I would never do that, and I have not seen them for months. I tried to contact them, but they have not responded to me, and the constable said that I should write you a letter. But what can you do? I believe he thinks you can help, but I have no idea how.

I am scared, Margaret. They have already told me that I am going to be locked away for this. I have told them I am innocent, but they will not believe me. And, the worst part is—I believe your parents want me to be convicted. How can they believe I did this when we are good friends, Margaret?

I need your help even though I fear I am beyond help now. Please come and see me, Margaret. They will not let anyone else come but you. I cannot understand any of it. Please, Margaret. Please. I beg of you. Please help me.

Cynthia.

“They have gone too far now,” stated Margaret.

“You think your parents orchestrated this?” asked the duke.

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