Page 62 of Taken By the Dangerous Duke

“They say that they were traveling close to my residence in their coach when they stopped for a stroll. When they returned, their money purse was gone, and I was seen taking an interest in the coach. They claim there were bonds and all sorts of things in the bag. But, I was nowhere near there at the time. I have people who saw me elsewhere, but they have people too, people they must have bribed.”

“It is all a lie and a ruse,” spat Margaret. “My father does not have any sort of riches to lose. They did this to get back and me and the duke, and as soon as I go and visit them, I know they are going to want money from me.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Cynthia.

“I am going to do whatever gets you out of here in the quickest time.”

“I don’t want you to have to give them money when they are lying about this, Margaret. But, I do not want to stay in here any longer.”

“I will talk with them,” said Margaret. “Can you be strong until then? If I could take you out of here right now, I would, but I can’t. I need to visit my parents first, and Arthur will be looking at other ways to get you out should this fail. Don’t worry, Cynthia. We are going to fight to get you out of there.”

“Thank you, Margaret. I really did not know what to do. You are my only hope now.”

“Stay strong, and I will come back as soon as I can to get you out of this rotten place.”

Margaret chanced pushing her hand through the bars and grasping onto Cynthia’s. The guard moved toward them, and Margaret withdrew her hand quickly. She watched as her friend was taken away, still in disbelief that Cynthia was behind bars.

She was not relishing the next place she was to visit—her childhood home. But, there was no way she was going to let her parents get away with this. She did not want to give them anything. They did not deserve anything. But, she was willing to do whatever it took to free her friend and be done with her mother and father for good.

CHAPTER30

A Visit To Margaret’s Parents

Margaret knocked on the door and waited. When there was no answer, she knocked again. She expected to hear her father shouting from within, but there was silence.

There were vivid memories of her time in the house. It had not been that long ago when she had still lived here, but, at the same time, it felt like an eternity ago. She did not know what to expect on her return, but thinking about it as she stood at the front door, she realized that she only had bad memories of the house, and of her childhood.

She was about to give up and leave when the door swung open. Her mother’s expression turned from one of mild shock to feigned happiness.

“My dear, it is good to see you. Have you finally returned home? Come in, come in.”

“You know exactly why I am here, Mother. Where is Father?”

“He is out for the evening. Won’t you come in and have some tea? I can make the bed up for you if you are going to stay for the night.”

“Mother, stop it! We both know why I am here, so let’s not beat around the bush.”

“I am only trying to welcome you home, my dear.”

“I am never coming back here, Mother. I would rather die than live back here again. You know, I always pitied you for having to marry Father, but I know now that you are as bad as he is. Did you ever love me, Mother?”

“Now, why do you have to attack me like that?” asked Eleanor. She retreated back into the house, and Margaret had no option but to follow her in and close the door.

“Are you still having problems with the duke?” asked her mother from through in the kitchen.

Margaret shook her head, walking slowly through to where her mother was. She scanned the walls, the rooms, the decoration. It had been home, but it had never really been home. She wished now that she had never said anything about her problems with the duke. At least, she now knew what had caused the problems.

“The duke and I are doing just fine,” said Margaret when she reached the kitchen. “We will have a long and happy life together.” She did not mention that they would separate as soon as she had given him a son.

“So, you must be pregnant then?” asked her mother.

“What?”

“You must be pregnant. Yet, you don’t look it.” Eleanor scanned her daughter up and down.

“What business is it of yours?” asked Margaret.

“I only want to know if I am to be a grandmother,” she replied. “Is that too much to ask? I do wish you well, Margaret. I wish for once, that you would accept that. You are not pregnant, are you?”

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