With a formal farewell, Katherine turned on her heel as the butler appeared from outside. He held the door open for Alexander as he departed, glancing back at the house only once he reached the road.
He expected to see Margaret staring daggers at him from the downstairs window. But it was the face of her sister upstairs, a little wave, that bid him farewell instead.
CHAPTER 10
“Amostirregular rendezvous,that’s what my dame said,” Simon laughed a few days later, inspecting his cards with a cigar hanging halfway out of his mouth. He took the cigar between his fingers and turned to Alexander. “And you know it’s bad if that’s what the demi-reps are dubbing it.”
Alexander leaned back in his chair, one boot crossed over his knee, only half listening to Simon, Bastian, and the others as they discussed the latest absurdity printed in the rags. The papers were still investigating the scandal between him and Margaret. Nowhere in London was safe from stares and gossiping.
The smoke in White’s hung low, curling around them, quick to choke. Alexander’s mouth twitched for an entirely different reason as he brought his brandy to his lips.
“You didn’t think it would pass so quickly, did you?” Simon continued, calling over a footman and placing an order for morehock. The game had barely begun, but he was already deep in his cups, encouraging Bastian to keep up since Alexander wouldn’t be persuaded. “It’s not even been a week. Why not get Bastian to do something embarrassing and detract some of the attention from you and your mistress?”
“You know I would,” Bastian said, face red from drink. He sorted clumsily through his cards, exposing most of them to the table. “But I can’t risk myself so soon. Miss Diana Dawson-Duff has not yet turned her nose up at me.”
“Miss Diana Dawson-Duff?” Simon guffawed, clapping Bastian on the shoulder, probably trying to get another look at his cards. “You cannot honestly have designs on a woman with a name like that.”
“Why should her name factor? She is perfectly charming and bright – a far cry from your usual prospects, Stockton.” It was Bastian’s turn to play, throwing another guinea into the pile before the round started. “But until such a time as her affections become clear – or the lack thereof – I cannot make a fool of myself. Not even for you, old friend.”
“You will recall, if you can, that I was not the one who asked,” Alexander reminded him, scowling as he followed suit. “I need no assistance, have asked for none.”
But my patience is wearing thinner by the day. There has been no progress that I have heard of on Miss Pembroke’s end – meaning I am still waiting to contact Isadore.
“How assured you are,” Simon taunted. “This impresses me.”
“Most things do.” Alexander straightened, casting his gaze away from the table. The men snickered at Simon’s expense as the game continued.
“You will not be laughing when I tell you what next my lady said.” Simon wiggled his brows, waiting just long enough to make Alexander suffer. He leaned in close, the acrid smell of smoke filling the air around them. “Because from what I heard, Miss Pembroke’s betrothal to old Faversham has unknotted itself rather inconveniently...”
“What?” Alexander reeled back. “You’re lying.”
Simon shook his head. “A recent development, not yet common knowledge. But my lady’s friends know more than most – know Baron Faversham too, when he comes into town.”
The cards in Alexander’s hand went limp. He settled them face down on the table, the game mostly forgotten. Around him, the laughter from the other gentleman faded until it couldn’t be heard as his mind churned.
“You might ask her yourself,” Simon said, drawing back. “Then of course, that would mean visiting your little miss in person. Have you the courage for that?”
It was not a question of courage, and Alexander bristled at the underhanded slight. He had counted on the betrothal holding.What did Baron Faversham have to lose in retaining Margaret as his betrothed? It was a question that wasn’t worth answering.
Margaret was now free, a duke’s dalliance and a baron’s castoff, and it was Alexander’s fault.
Alexander stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The movement drew a few curious glances, but no one questioned him – not even Simon.
His hand went instinctively into his pocket, fingers finding the familiar weight of his watch. He muttered a curse as he left the club, leaving the game behind for good.
"How lucky you are, Margaret,” Sophia said in her usual deadpan tone. “A month ago, you had zero suitors and no prospects of ever securing one, and today you find yourself with two. A fortunate turn of events, all things considered.”
Margaret looked up from her shoes. “How do you figure that?”
“Baron Faversham has not yet rescinded his offer – that makes one, even if it does make my stomach turn to look at him overlong. And yet if he does dissolve your betrothal, the duke will be all but forced to marry you, which makes another.”
Sophia rose from the wrought-iron bench where they had been sitting that afternoon and ambled toward the edge of the lake.She pulled her hooded cape more tightly around her as the wind increased.
“You are forgetting one important fact,” Lucy chimed in, swinging her legs back and forth, the soles of her boots sweeping over the grass beneath them. “The Duke of Langley has no obligation to marry anyone. Men often find themselves in trouble like this and always seem to come out unscathed. Why would he bother marrying Margaret? She has no father to force the match.” She scrunched her nose and looked Margaret’s way. “No offense, of course.”
“No, no,” Margaret said, staring absently at the lake. “You are only speaking the truth.”
Margaret, however, was not.
