Page 29 of Her Summer Duke

“But my Lady,” Lucy shook her head. “What of Lady Mantrell? What of all her plans? What will she think?”

“I cannot bother myself with what she will think. This is how it must be. Now I must leave.”

“Well, at the very least, allow me to attend the ceremony.” She did not wait for Margaret to answer, but added firmly, “I will send to the stables, and have the carriage brought around to the front of the house.”

“No, no, to the kitchen entrance, please, Lucy. Discretion is called for. I do not even know if we can trust a coachman at this point.” As Margaret walked out the door, and to the stairs, she turned to look at her maid, “Come if you must, but just know that absolutely nothing will change my mind. Nothing. I am eternally indebted to Saltonbury and that is that. This is what I should do, I must do.”

Lucy hurried after her and took the bag from her hand.

“Let me help with this. We will all three go together. The wedding shall be a very intimate ceremony,” she smiled, “truth be told, dear Lady Margaret, I could not be happier. His Grace has waited so patiently for you, and he is a very good man.”

Margaret smiled at her maid; Lucy was the one person who had been with her through most of the trials and tribulations of her life.

“Thank you, Lucy.”

By the time they arrived at the church it was almost ten. The Duke of Saltonbury was standing at the front of the building, with his hat in hand. He smiled at them, as he helped them out of the carriage.

“You have all come?” he asked with a quiver in his voice. “I did not expect that…”

Margaret nodded.

“They insisted that they could not miss my nuptials, no matter how meager those nuptials were to be. Is the minister here?”

Saltonbury cleared his throat and then he reached for his intended’s hand. “There is something that I must confess first, my dearest Lady Margaret. A small matter, uh, er, a small insignificant deception. I am sure that your love for me is so durable and resilient, now and in the past, that there was no obvious need for my deception, however, that very deception has been the trigger which has finally brought you to the chapel to marry me. Therefore, I cannot see my small deception as so very despicable.”

Margaret became very still, and she felt her face take on a look of total puzzlement. What was he talking about? Deception? She was so very much past being tolerant about deception!

Why the very fact of Captain Halstone’s deception of her had been the thing which had finally precipitated her to this moment – for prior to now, Saltonbury had always seemed the soul of reliability and honesty. Was that not a true perception? And if it was not… did she wish to actually go through with this, when, if she was honest with herself, her heart still yearned for Captain Halstone, even if he had given her a false name.

She took a step away from him.

“Deception? Duplicity? Whatever are you saying, Saltonbury?”

His choice of words spun around in her thoughts, leaving her torn between anger and fear.

“Not truly deception, for I love you with all of my heart. I have loved you from the moment that I pulled you from the River Avon and you stood before me, your hair dripping, your clothes clinging to that fragile child’s body. No, deception is too harsh a word. I have indeed arranged for the minister to marry us immediately, but…”

“But? What are you trying to tell me Saltonbury, for you are doing such a poor job of it that I do not know? Would you please speak clearly?”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed, and she felt unaccountably cold, even though the summer morning was warm. Lucy put her hand softly on her mistress’s back for support and reassurance.

“The deception is that there was no immediacy. That was a ruse. I do not have to leave England. I did nothing to warrant such a move. I staged the deception because I wanted you to prove that you love me, that your love is not a shallow and dutiful thing, borne of no more than gratitude for me saving you from death. I needed to know that you love me, too.”

The air gushed out of Margaret’s mouth, expelled from deep within her. She staggered back a few steps, and might have fallen had Lucy not steadied her with a firm hand.

“No immediacy? You STAGED this whole drama!”

Her voice rose and hit notes that were near a shriek.

“But the good news, dearest, is that your love rang true. You passed the test, you do love me.”

“Love! Love?” Margaret’s voice rose to a crescendo, “I despise you! I totally unequivocally abhor you! That you saw fit to think that you should trick me, test me, speaks volumes for your inability to trust, for the weakness of your own love, of your utter lack of respect for me. I will never marry you Saltonbury. Never! Do you understand me? Never! Ever! I do not care if you save me one hundred times from an angry tempest, I will NEVER marry you! You disgust me!”

She turned on her heel and got back into the carriage. Lucy and Lady Phoebe followed her, like ducks in a line behind their mother, both of them speechless.

Saltonbury attempted to lean into the carriage, pleading.

“Lady Margaret! Oh dear, Lady Margaret, I meant no harm in my deception, can you not see that? Please, do forgive me!”

Margaret ignored him completely.

“Driver, to Bradbury Crescent, immediately!”

The coachman swiftly turned the carriage back towards Bradbury Crescent. Silence surrounded them, as each woman fell into thought, accompanied only by the sound of the wheels. Lucy and Lady Phoebe kept their eyes solidly focused on Margaret. Margaret did not cry. She did not even sniffle into her handkerchief. She clenched her teeth together.

“Lord Saltonbury thought that he had purchased my love merely because he had saved my life twice. In seeking to test my love for him, he has proven the falsity of his so-called love for me. No one owns me. No one.” She almost added, and my father be damned, but she swallowed the words as soon as they were thought, for she did not truly mean them.

~~~~~

Phoebe heard Margaret’s words, and wanted to echo them about herself, but thought better of it. In truth, she doubted if Lord Montpelier would stoop to such antics as had Saltonbury. In that respect, Lord Montpelier was much more honourable than Saltonbury, there was no doubt in her mind. As Margaret closed her eyes to shut out the world, Phoebe pondered deeply. She thought of Lord Montpelier’s piercing eyes and his smile. Both were desirable qualities. She tried desperately to forget about his icy hands. She was fortunate. The comparison between Saltonbury and Lord Montpelier was weighted heavily in her intended’s favour, of that she was certain. She began to readjust, perhaps she could learn to accept those icy hands and overlook his French heritage? The thought made her shiver.