Page 69 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

She had a lightness in her step that she had never felt before, and she didn’t fail to notice that couples and ladies that she met on the way tended to incline their heads to her in a very polite manner, the same ones that shunned her not so long ago. Marigold realized that there was another advantage of being the Duchess of Voss.

As she walked down the street, she passed the flower seller who was always on that corner of the street. In her past life, whenever she passed by, she noticed the beautiful bouquets, but back then, they were a frivolous expense. Right now, she did not care.

“The bouquet of daisies, please. Two of them.” She paid more than it was worth just to see the old woman smile kindly.

She turned onto a quieter street as she was heading to pick up Lily from her home, and that’s when she heard the voice.

“Marigold!”

Everything evaporated, the warmth that had soaked into her body, the joy that occupied her heart, even the sun seemed to darken. She knew that voice. Her mother.

“Marigold, there you are!”

She turned slowly and saw her mother emerging from a shop. She was accompanied by some friends and smiled at her, but that smile did not reach her eyes. She was dressed in a fine gown that Marigold had never seen before. She was either using some of the funds for the house for her personal expenses again, or she was borrowing on account that her daughter was now a duchess.

“What a great coincidence meeting you here.” Claire detached herself from her company and came closer.

Marigold almost flinched as she saw her mother with arms outstretched, ready to grab her into a hug. And before she had any time to react, Claire embraced her, tight and yet devoid of any resemblance to affection.

“Look at my beautiful daughter, how the title of Duchess suits you,” Claire said for everybody to hear.

Marigold forced herself to smile, even if it was modest. People were watching, and she would not make a scene. That was exactly what Claire wanted.

“Good morning to you, Mother,” Marigold said, making sure nobody mistook her tone for warmth. “I will not keep you from your company anymore, and I have a rendezvous myself.”

Claire’s face distorted for one moment, but she kept her light tone.

“That is splendid that you’re spending time outside that house.”

Marigold realized one undeniable truth. Claire hadn’t visited her in her home for quite a while, and she knew exactly why. Brandon was there. After Marigold had confided in him what happened the last time her mother visited, Brandon made sure he was at home most of the day. Marigold thought it was because of the injuries, but now…

“I am meeting a friend, so I really have to hurry up. I would love to catch up with you some other time.” Marigold tried to detach herself from her mother.

But Claire was determined not to let go that easily. She looped her arm through Marigold’s and began to steer her away from the onlookers, pulling her along. Marigold was reluctant to create a scene, so she allowed herself to be pulled in that direction.

She was ready to give her mother a piece of her mind and disengage from this unpleasant situation when her mother leaned closer, and her voice dropped to a venomous whisper.

“I believe I had made a request very clear, Marigold,” she hissed. “And I have yet to receive an answer.”

“I fail to see how I have an answer to your demands from the last time we met.”

“All you did was give me some weak excuse about you not having real money. I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I always knew you were naive, but I think that even you would have managed to pull some funds from your husband.”

“You’re assuming I would lie to and manipulate my husband.”

“All women do. It is the only power left to us.”

“It would benefit you greatly if you stopped judging others by your measures. Just because that’s what you think, it’s not what other people do.”

“I am in no mood for philosophical and sociological discussions, Marigold. I need money.”

“You always need money.”

“Charlie arrives in a fortnight. I need it by then.”

Marigold felt her stomach clench. It was that familiar grief that took over her every time her mother saw her as nothing but a means to an end. Her housekeeper. Her accountant. Her collateral. But never her daughter.

Something inside her, part of who she was and how she grew up, fumbled to either find an excuse or catalog the things that she could sell without Brandon noticing, so she could give the money to her mother.