Page 83 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"How thoughtful of you," she replied, her voice smooth enough to make the words almost pleasant. "Though if I ever find myself in need of advice concerning the safety of my household, I assure you I shall seek it from someone whose knowledge of my husband extends beyond rumors exchanged over tea by old women."

Lady Darren's cheeks colored. Margaret was not finished.

"As for our child," she continued, folding her hands neatly in her lap, "he is a child who has been entrusted to my care, and I shall defend him as fiercely as I would defend any member of my family. I should therefore be grateful if you would refrain from discussing his parentage as though he were a scandalous debutante. He has done nothing to deserve the gossip of grown women, who should know better."

The silence that followed was exquisite. Margaret could practically hear the ladies searching their minds for a response that would not make them appear cruel, and she took a quiet sip of coffee while they struggled.

Lady Darren's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again before she finally managed a stiff little smile. "Well, I never…"

"I sincerely hope not," Margaret replied sweetly.

Camelia made a choking sound that she disguised as a cough, while Pamela suddenly became very interested in the contents of her coffee cup.

Lady Darren gave Margaret one last offended glance before turning away, and her companions followed her with the subdued obedience of a flock of startled birds.

Margaret watched them depart with their whispered murmurs and stiff backs, feeling her temper slowly settle.

Once they were safely gone, Iris stared at her across the table. Camelia stared too. Pamela looked between the sisters and Margaret as though she had just witnessed an unexpected military victory.

"What?" Margaret asked, reaching for another biscuit.

The ladies burst into laughter.

"Your Grace, that was absolute perfection," Pamela said.

"I have never been so proud," Camelia said.

"Indeed. I should hope to never cross you, dear," Iris laughed.

"I was merely defending myself." Margaret smiled.

Iris exchanged a glance with Camelia before looking back at her. "Were you?"

"Of course I was."

Camelia's lips twitched. "It sounded rather more like you weren’t defending yourself; you were defending your family."

Margaret frowned. "What is wrong with you two lately? Is it not perfectly normal for me to defend my family?"

Her sisters exchanged another look, and Margaret became increasingly suspicious. "Stop doing that," she demanded, pointing between them. "Whatever that look means, I do not like it."

"It means nothing," Iris said innocently.

"It means everything," Margaret muttered.

She leaned back in her chair and tried to understand why her sisters were behaving as though she had confessed to something extraordinary. Hugh was her husband's son, and therefore her family.

Was it truly so remarkable that I had wanted to defend him?

She thought again of his smile beneath the sunlight, the way he had settled in her arms, and the fierce affection that had appeared in her heart before she had even had time to question it.

Maybe she had been a duchess for only a short time, but somewhere along the way she had begun thinking like one.

More importantly, I have begun thinking like Hugh's mother.

The thought left her strangely warm.

Then she remembered Lady Darren's insinuations about Pierce, and the warmth vanished beneath a fresh flood of indignation. She did not know whether Pierce was cruel, misunderstood, impossible, or some maddening combination of all three, but she knew one thing with absolute certainty.