“In front of others, if that is what you wish to give the appearance of an intimate relationship, then I will do it, but I will not address you in private with any sort of affection or intimacy as you have made it perfectly clear you want none of it. Goodnight to you. Please lock the door as you leave.”
With a rather regal manner, she stepped away, moving toward the candle on the dress and blew out the candle.
Cast into darkness, Theodore stood in silence for a minute, listening as she clearly climbed into bed.
There was anger racing in his veins, his blood boiling, for she had irritated him so much, but what could he do?
She has agreed, hasn’t she? She has just given me what I wanted?
Baffled at his own anger, he left fast, opening the door and shutting it much louder than he had intended behind him.
Margaret blinked dry and irritated eyes open. Bright sunlight was streaming through the windows. The obviously hot and sunny day seemed to be mocking her, its cheery air a contrast to what she felt inside of her.
Slowly, she sat up in the bed, throwing off the covers as she looked out toward the window and the hot day.
The bright sun shining down on London had no knowledge that her new husband had broken her heart last night.
His coldness had not been a surprise, nor his harsh manner. In truth, she was not even startled that he had no intention of spending the night with her that particular night, but there was one thing he had said which had hurt her deeply. It was as if he had taken her heart and crushed it into the palm of his hand.
“I will not be fathering children with you.”
Slowly climbing out of the bed, Margaret stood and wiped her dry eyes. She had cried for about an hour before sleep had eventually claimed her, dulling the pain inside her for a few short hours.
“I shall never be a mother,” she whispered.
A light knock at the door disturbed her.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Besty, Your Grace. Would you like that bath?”
Rather eager to think of anything other than what had passed between her and Theodore the night before, she readily accepted. Some minutes later, she stood beside a steaming bath, wrapped up in her robe, as Betsy threw in the last of the steaming water.
“Well? How was it?” Betsy asked cautiously, blushing pink on the other side of the copper tub. “Are you sore? I hear so many ladies say they are sore.”
Confused, Margaret frowned. She was now quite certain that the maid knew much more about such things than she did.
“You have been crying.” Betsy chewed her lip. “I have heard that’s not unusual, too. I shall fetch you a cloth for your face. I shall not be long.” She hurried toward the door.
Somewhat touched by Betsy’s care and cheery manner, Margaret called after her.
“Betsy?”
“Yes?” She halted in the doorway.
“I have three younger sisters. I should like them to come here. Often, if possible.” Margaret wrung her hands together nervously. Her mind was working fast now, trying to seek out a way to be happy.
Even if I can never have children of my own, my life will not be wasted. I shall be aunt to Evelina’s future child, and I shall help Louisa, Alexandra, and Penelope escape my father so they can have lives of their own.
“Would that be all right, do you think? To have them visit often.”
“Yes, of course!” Betsy smiled eagerly. “I hear the current master’s grandmother was quite the hostess, always having her family around. The master’s mother… I do not think it was her way, but it would be lovely to have this house full of smiles and laughter again.”
Curious at the second mention of Theodore’s mother, Margaret frowned a little.
“Perhaps we could consider some improvements to the house?” Margaret mused aloud, looking around the room. “If I am to have my family to stay, I’d like them to be comfortable.”
“Even better! I know Mrs. Lancaster has wanted for years to improve the place. Would the Duke approve such changes, Your Grace?”
