Page 47 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

“You are without debt in a house where food is being paid for the whole year and servants too. You are a lot better off than when I lived with you.”

“You seem to forget how the world works. Before he comes, I need to establish myself, so he doesn’t kick me out of the house. I need to show him I am not destitute and that I haven’t depleted the family’s fortune.”

“And yet that is precisely what you’ve done.”

“Silence!” Claire demanded. “What I need from you is not empty words. I need something tangible.”

Marigold knew exactly what that was. It was as if the whole of Claire’s existence boiled down to one thing, simple and almost irresistible. Money. Coming into her house, seeing her in this opulent lifestyle did not make her happy, and it didn’t even make her jealous. Claire was simply greedy.

“I need you to secure some funds for me,” Claire said, barely drinking her tea as if nothing had happened.

“I do not have such funds.”

“You are lying.”

“This is not my money. This is His Grace’s money. I do have some allowance regarding the house, but that is it.”

“So, you mean to tell me you will leave me impoverished?”

“I am telling you, I do not have any money to give you.”

“You are so selfish, Marigold.”

Marigold was inclined to explain to her mother the exact definition of the word, and then, perhaps, she would understand the irony of that statement, but Marigold decided to drink her tea instead.

“You are sitting here in this luxurious home, drinking tea from porcelain cups that cost more than my entire month’s expenses, and you will not spare any of that money to save your mother?”

“Are you sick, then, Mother?”

“Do not mock me and do not speak back at me,” Claire hissed. “I am still your mother. I carried and gave birth to you, and I raised you in the most terrible and difficult of situations, and you do not have the right to talk back to me like that.”

Marigold recognized her mother’s strategy. It was the same as before, the same old drill to get something out of her, to think only of herself.

“I am sure you will find a way to secure me the funds I want,” Claire demanded. “Unless you want me to keep circulating rumors about you that would ruin this perfectly idyllic life you have built for yourself.”

Marigold shouldn’t be surprised. It was, after all, her mother, and she knew well what she was capable of. But it was a totally new thing to see her own mother threatening her daughter’s happiness in exchange for money.

“I will give you some time to find a way to gather the funds before your cousin gets here.”

That is all Claire said, and she excused herself, leaving the house. Marigold stood there, cup still in her hands, mid-air, suspended between anger and sorrow. She felt her hands shake, so she put the cup down and pressed them against her skirts. The room suddenly felt smaller, as if her mother had sucked the very air out of it.

Duck, as if sensing her distress, rested her heavy head on Marigold’s lap. Marigold was grateful for that small gesture and pet the dog’s head. She still struggled to tackle all her mother burdened her with and most of all, the threat.

Marigold didn’t care so much about herself. She was used to being pointed at, to having whispers follow her, and insults casually murmured as she walked by. But back then, she had only herself to worry about. But now such a rumor would affect the Duke.

“What am I to do, Duck?” she asked the dog.

She knew very well that her mother would come back for the money, that she would make good on her threats, that she would always ask for more. Even if she managed to give her some from the allowance that the Duke gave her for the house, that would just whet her appetite.

* * *

Marigold was on her bed, knees to her chest, that night. She still couldn’t get what her mother had said and demanded out of her head. And on top of it, the Duke hadn’t been back for dinner as he had promised.

Despite all her turbulence and her anxiety, it was the one thing that she was looking forward to that day. For some strange reason, her body kept holding on till he came back, and she told herself that when he did, everything would be better.

Just looking at him would make her feel better. And she could always ask for the money for herself. He had told her that if she talked to him, he would listen, and now, she really needed to talk to him.

That’s when she heard the carriage outside their house. Finally, he was back. She grabbed her robe quickly and put her feet into her slippers. She knew it was not very appropriate to meet him at this hour of the night, and she would hate for him to think that she was interrogating him, but she really needed to put this behind her.