Betsy had also insisted on styling Margaret’s rich brown hair so that it was loose in soft curls down her back. At every turn, Margaret felt as if Betsy was preparing her for something. The maid had even left out an extra basin of water for Margaret, and a washcloth, if it was needed.
Margaret stared at her reflection, chewing on her lip, feeling her hands begin to shake.
Whatever was supposed to happen tonight between her and Theodore, she had a feeling the nightgown would not be staying in place for long. It made her tingle, both with nerves and excitement, then dwell for too long on thoughts of how he had kissed her hand the day he had offered to marry her.
Turning on the stool, she faced the door that adjoined their chambers. It remained firmly closed.
Frustrated to find herself still alone, Margaret looked around her chamber.
Just like every other part of the house, it felt faded. The bedhangings were no longer the rich ruby red they must have been once, but almost dusky pink. The bed covers were much the same. Some of the furniture was still beautiful, but other bits were a little worn, including her dressing table, which wobbled every time she leaned on it.
Standing from her seat, she turned to the window. Though darkness had fallen, the moon was shining brightly tonight,glowing white across the beautiful gardens and illuminating every nook in a silverish glow.
It seemed more money was spent on the gardens than on the house itself. There were flowers and pretty borders everywhere, along with well-pruned trees and shrubbery. She could even spy a little kitchen garden, with freshly growing vegetables and herbs.
“Then why is the house like this?” she whispered, turning to face the room again.
Had Theodore been short of money, then his garden would not be so grand, and he never would have offered up money to her father that night in the gambling hall.Thiswas strange though. She had a strong suspicion it wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to improve the décor of the house, simply that he was not fussed to.
The candle resting on her dresser was beginning to burn down. With increasingly less wax left, Margaret turned to the adjoining door.
He gave me a rule. I was not to use that door to access his room, but he said nothing about me not knocking?
Angered to be waiting for him for so long, she walked toward the door and raised her hand, about to knock when suddenly the lock clicked back. Margaret shuffled away as Theodore appeared in the doorway.
Unlike her, he was mostly still fully dressed, though he had shed his tailcoat, his cravat was undone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her.
“I…” Her mouth turned dry like paper. All the coldness, all the distance he had shown that day, suddenly seemed unimportant, for that look spoke volumes. It suggested a heat, hinted at a sort of liking that she had perhaps only hoped for in naïve romantic dreams. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
Then the look was gone, and the statue made of alabaster returned to her chamber.
Theodore’s heart was thundering so hard in his ribcage, he thought it might burst.
This is not the first time I have seen a pretty woman. Who cares if she is only in her nightgown?
Yet he vowed to not let his eyes sway from her face again. He would look at her face and nothing else, for he didn’t think his inner demons could bear it if he looked elsewhere.
“I had to come.” He found his voice.
Realizing they were standing too close, he walked away from her and around the room. It had originally been a guest chamber, but he had determinedly asked for this to be his duchess’ chamber.
There was no chance I was going to give my mother’s old bedchamber to Margaret.
He could remember well enough standing in his mother’s doorway as she shouted at him, hurling all sorts of abuse and insults.
“Demon! The devil’s spawn!”She had grabbed a candle once and flung it across the room.
He’d fled then, sprinting across the landing as quickly as he could, hearing the brass candle holder smash against the wall.
That room held darkness int it. Though he was no superstitious man, if a chamber could hold memories of the past, then that room certainly would.
“Do you like your chamber?” he asked, clearing his throat and moving to the window, looking out at the fine view it had of the garden.
“Very much. Thank you for it.” Margaret spoke with the same wooden tone he had employed.
“I came to check you were well looked after today by the staff. Of course, you can make any changes to the staff arrangements you wish to.”
