“You still wish to try, don’t you? For their sake.” At his words, she nodded slowly.
“Very well.” Theodore picked up the pencil she had discarded on the gaming table. “Here is what you can send to him.” He wrote down a figure.
Margaret really did drop her playing cards this time.
“You would give him that?”
“I will. On this occasion, but it is a one-time thing, Maggie. Let us see if your father uses it for your sisters, or if he is as selfish with it as I fear he will be.”
He turned away, knocking back his brandy. His weakness came back to him though and as he walked toward the fire to poke it and stir it to life, his head angled around so he could stare at Margaret again.
She looked completely stunned, staring at the piece of paper.
Something must be done about, James. He will destroy her sisters’ future if not.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What is going on?” Theodore asked, putting down the book he had been reading on the dining table.
Mrs. Lancaster jumped in surprise as Betsy ran from the room. Yates looked calmly back at him.
“Something wrong, Your Grace?”
“Enough of your smiles, Yates,” Theodore pleaded, but Yates had known him too long to be put off by his sour moods. When Yates had first come to work at the house, he had indeed flinched at Theodore’s outbursts, but that was a long time ago. “Where is she?”
Theodore gestured to the empty space beside him at the dinner table.
“Two nights this week I have come to dinner, and where is my wife?”
“Ah, is this a new habit now, Your Grace?” Yates asked. “Are you to dine with your wife every day?”
“Yates!” Theodore muttered sharply. Mrs. Lancaster even tapped the footman on the arm in reprimand. “Where is she?” He gestured once more to the empty seat beside him.
“The duchess is enjoying her preparations for your ball, Your Grace,” Mrs. Lancaster answered kindly in a soft tone.
Theodore had not missed this tactic over the years. Clearly, Mrs. Lancaster thought the best way to deal with him was to placate him with gentle words.
“She is in the great hall and is enjoying putting together some decorations.”
“Is she?” Theodore fidgeted in thought. “Did she make luncheon? Because she was barely at breakfast before she ran off, the guest list in her hand.”
Most of their breakfasts he had enjoyed, though he had never admitted it aloud to Maggie. That morning though, he had sat down so they could look through the newspaper together again, as they so often did, when he noticed she was racing through her breakfast. In fact, she had barely touched anything on her plate before she had raced out of the room.
“She ate a little for luncheon,” Mrs. Lancaster said slowly.
“Does that mean anything or not?” Theodore asked, turning his attention to Yates.
“She ate a little,” Mrs. Lancaster insisted again as she topped up his wine. Behind her, Yates shook his head and mouthed the word,no.“She is a little distracted, is all,” Mrs. Lancaster went on. “I think she enjoys having something to preoccupy her time in this house.”
“Very well.” Theodore stood and threw down his napkin onto the table. He couldn’t explain why it angered him so much that Margaret was missing this meal. After all, they had only agreed to share one meal together each day, but he was now making the effort to come to the dining room, so why couldn’t she?
As he strode out and down the corridor, Betsy – who was hiding in the shadows – flinched again. Theodore gave her a wide berth, not wanting to frighten her anymore as he marched toward the great ballroom.
Opening the door wide, he jerked his head back and forth in search of her.
The ball was now three days away, but from the transformation, he surely would have been forgiven for believing it was going to be held the next day.
Just as autumn had firmly taken hold of the earth beyond the windows, it seemed to have taken hold within the room as well. The decorations were suitably autumnal, with dried flowers andboughs of autumnal leaves and evergreen boughs hanging from the ceilings and pillars.
