His uncle walked a few paces ahead, leading Alexander to the terrace doors. He pushed them open with his shoulder, then shivered at the outdoor temperature. Alexander followed him out.
“In that case, I wish you the best of luck. And I apologize for interrupting.”
“No, no.” Carlisle chuckled. “I am grateful for the chance to give my ears a rest. What’s the matter? You look concerned.”
“Something has happened this afternoon of which I feel you should be made aware.” He looked out over the gardens,thinking of Margaret. “I believe I have become betrothed. I will be marrying shortly.”
Carlisle blinked once. “You believe you’ve become...what?”
“Betrothed,” Alexander repeated, clasping his hands behind his back. “To Miss Margaret Pembroke.”
“To Miss Pembroke.” Carlisle stared at his nephew as though seeing him for the first time. His brows rose slowly as he processed the news. “Naturally, I had wondered whether there was any merit to the story circulating about the two of you. Yes... News of your indiscretion reached Bath soon enough. I had planned to interrogate you on the matter this evening, but it now seems unnecessary. I must express some relief over it being Miss Pembroke and not some other woman you are marrying – but it surprises me that you have accepted her, considering the actions of her father.”
“I was left with little choice. But that does not mean I regret my decision. I wrongly held her accountable for her father’s misdeeds when first I reacquainted with her. She will become a strong duchess.”
“I agree. Miss Pembroke is a lovely woman. I remember her as a sharp if reticent girl?—”
Alexander laughed. “She was far from reticent now, but still sharp. You are not cross with me?”
“Certainly not.” His uncle’s expression softened. It was an unusual look for Carlisle, but it ratified Alexander’s decision. “I had, of course, hoped you would secure a wife someday. The circumstances, perhaps, are not ideal. But I will work with you to ensure a smooth transition for Miss Pembroke into her new and uncertain life. And if I am remembering correctly, she was fascinated with Somerstead Hall. That alone would have secured my approval.”
“Thank you.”
Alexander stood in quiet contemplation with his uncle for a while, looking over the grounds behind Langley House. Carlisle placed a hand cautiously on his back, patting it twice before he returned inside to the London Society members.
Carlisle may be pleased with my decision to marry Margaret, but he does not yet know what our marriage will facilitate... Will he accept Isadore with so much good faith?
And not just Carlisle.
Would Margaret?
CHAPTER 12
Margaret sat at the toilette table in her chambers, fingers tapping against her knees. In the last two weeks, the family house on Grosvenor Square had been restored to its former glory. Her bedchamber had been cleaned and redecorated, ready to accommodate Eliza once Margaret moved out. A pale green wedding gown, so light it was almost white, had been hung from the top of the armoire behind her, already perfumed with her favorite scent for the day ahead. Somewhere in the distance, the bell tolled the hour. It would not be long until she left for the ceremony, riding with her mother and Eliza to St. George’s Church on Hanover Square – the same church where her mother and father had married decades ago. Then Margaret would become a married woman.
More than a married woman. I will be a duchess. This all feels too good to be true.
Margaret gripped the sides of her stool as the door creaked open. They had hired a temporary maid for the day to assist Margaretin her preparations. But the woman who presented herself was familiar.
Margaret wiped her eyes, squinting as Augusta closed the door behind her.
“What are you doing here?” Margaret asked, her voice catching.
Augusta beamed, setting a stack of laundered clothes on Margaret’s bed. Her warm brown eyes were an instant relief. Margaret couldn’t contain herself, rising out of her stool and grabbing her beloved maid in an embrace.
“Come now, Miss Pembroke,” Augusta said, stroking Margaret’s shoulders as she released her. “You didn’t think I would miss your wedding day, did you?”
“I feel as though I am dreaming,” Margaret said, allowing herself to be guided back to her stool. “How did you get here?”
“His Grace arranged it all,” Augusta explained with a smile. She stepped aside to start sorting the linens, stacking them neatly. They were the rest of Margaret’s traveling clothes, the finishing touch to her trousseau. “I received a letter from the Langley estate last week stating that His Grace wished to hire me for his new wife. I could not believe my eyes when I read your name. My old mistress was sad to see me go, but I could not countenance rejecting His Grace's offer.” She sighed happily. “Even if His Grace had not been so generous, I would have accepted the post in a heartbeat. We were both girls when your father first hired me. I am so happy for you, and so happy to be home.”
Margaret placed a hand over her heart. “I never told His Grace of you. That he found you and sent for you… How very kind of him.”
She wondered whether Katherine had said something to Alexander. He had been a frequent visitor to the house over the last few weeks, making preparations for the wedding and sorting their special marriage license, which had been no easy feat with the absence of Margaret’s father. But Alexander hadn’t lingered long after his calls. He had refused invitations to dinner, had barely said two words to Margaret about the realities of their upcoming nuptials. They would go to Somerstead Hall once the wedding was completed. Would she be happy there? Washehappy? These questions and more remained unanswered.
Everything she knew about Alexander suggested that he was not an impulsive man. Every word was carefully measured; every sidelong glance had a purpose. He was always calculating in his mind, planning, solving problems as they arose. And something about that itched beneath her skin.
Perhaps because, even though I am relieved to finally have a husband, it irks me that he is marrying me only because it is the most logical thing to do.
