Chapter 1
MARGUERITE WAS SUMMONED to the drawing room to find a gentleman standing with her parents: a tall, lean man with broad shoulders, a strong, aquiline nose and straight black brows above deep-set dark eyes. His coat was somber but of superb cut, his waistcoat plain, but he had no fobs, seals, or eyeglasses about his person. No rings on his fingers.
Lady Lennox said, ‘Ma chérie, I think you know the Duke of Argyle.’ She was a small and elegant Frenchwoman, of slightly faded beauty.
‘Yes, we have met before, on several occasions.’ Marguerite did not smile, only curtsied, deeply and gracefully. ‘Your Grace.’
The duke bowed and said, ‘Mademoiselle.’ He did not smile either, and his face was a little harsh in repose.
Marguerite recalled those occasions well—he had asked her to dance as if he was conferring a great honour upon her, then he had been stiff and expressionless, mostly silent. Each time the dance ended, she had left him without a backward glance; and when their eyes had happened to meet across a room, she had let hers drift off indifferently. She was surrounded by young menwho were handsome as well as amusing to talk to, and was enjoying her first London season immensely—she had only accepted to dance with him when it would have been impossible to refuse.
Lord Lennox, Marguerite’s father, said, ‘His Grace has made an offer for your hand, Marguerite.’
Marguerite lifted her expressive eyebrows. ‘Oh? And why is that?’ She looked the duke in the eye.
‘I—have been captivated by your charm, Lady Marguerite. I would like you to be my wife.’ He spoke gravely.
She looked at him for a moment, then said, ‘You must pardon me, Your Grace, but I am in no great hurry to be married. I have only been in London for a short while, and find I am greatly enjoying myself. But thank you for the offer, sir. You do me a great honour.’
Her father said, in his mild voice, ‘My dear, you will do well to consider.’
‘I already have, Papa.Maman, Your Grace … Pray excuse me.’ She swept them all another deep, graceful curtsy and went out.
Lady Lennox clasped her fan with nervous hands. ‘I must apologise, Your Grace. My daughter can be a little opinionated, but she is still young. She did not mean to offend—I believe you took her by surprise. I am sure when she has had time to think, she must consider your offer.’
The duke did not appear disconcerted. ‘I am sure she must.’ His manner was polite but haughty—he soon took his leave, refusing offers of refreshment.
When the door closed behind him, Lady Lennox, letting herself sink into a chair, fanned her face. ‘Mon Dieu, I fear our daughter is sadly lacking in manners. And common sense. The duke is one of the great catches of the marriage market. There are many who would be delighted to be in her place.’ Her fair complexion was flushed.
Lord Lennox, a man of genial countenance and greying hair, had a twinkle in his eye and his lips twitched a little. ‘Well, I have tried to bring her up to have an opinion about matters. I do confess that I am proud she is not a mere follower of fashion.’
‘Pourtant, mon cher, it is a brilliant match. She would be a duchess, with a great position in society. And he is very wealthy.’
Her husband said, ‘Be that as it may, it will be her own decision to make.’
‘She is nineteen!’
‘Old enough. I do not wish her to be unhappy.’
His wife gave a small smile. ‘Enfin,you mean you do not wish to lose her to a husband so soon. Admit it.’
Her husband shrugged and returned her smile, a wicked glint in his eyes.
The door opened and Marguerite came back in with a flounce of her muslin skirts. She was a pretty girl, but her heartshaped face tended towards liveliness of expression rather than classical beauty: she had a small straight nose, a wide smiling mouth and intelligent hazel eyes. Her dark blonde hair was too straight by nature to be fashionable and when, as was the case this day, she could not be bothered to have it curled, it was bundled on top of her head in a knot from which strands kept escaping.
‘Is he gone?’
Her father grinned at her—an only child, she was the apple of his eye. Since setting eyes on her, he had never once regretted not having a son. ‘My sweet, he did you a great honour. Every girl in town would like to be in your place.
Her upper lip curled in a sarcastic smile. ‘Yes, and I am sure he is very conscious of it. I have never met anyone more arrogant. When he danced with me, he barely looked at me, and never said a single word.’
Her mother, sitting up in her chair, said, ‘Ma chérie, you could have made more of an effort to be polite.’
Marguerite distractedly noticed her mother’s fading blond hair exactly matched the straw-coloured satin of the chair back. ‘He is detestable. And why would he want to marry me? There are any number of dukes’s daughters available— why make amésalliance?’
Lady Lennox said, her voice unusually sharp, ‘Mon coeur,you could never be amésalliance.’
Marguerite smiled at her. ‘Thank you,Maman chérie, but still, as Papa said, every girl in town would be delighted by a proposal— whereas I would not marry him if he were the last man on earth. I have never given him the slightest encouragement.’ She paused, then gave her mother a piercing glance and said, ‘Doyoulike him,Maman?’
