Page 6 of Her Summer Duke

Chapter Three

Hugh took his leave from the club quite quickly after his conversation with Captain Halstone. He had to go to Bradbury Crescent immediately, for his mind was in a turmoil, caused by both Halstone and Harrington’s words.

Surely, Lady Margaret would allow him to see her. He pulled his watch from his waistcoat - it was late afternoon. Perhaps if he was lucky, she would even invite him to stay for dinner. That would give him adequate time to speak with her about all of the matters which were bothering him.

Yes, he was sure that she would console him, and tell him that his mind was just filling with worries which were unwarranted. He smiled to himself as he thought of her emerald eyes and her soft cheeks. All of this fretting would be for naught. Yet, he still wanted to hear the words from her lips. He needed to know that she loved him above all others, no matter who might come on their bended knee, seeking her attention and affections.

Perhaps he would ask her to expedite their wedding plans, to allow it to become a formal, announced betrothal, with a wedding date set. When she agreed, that alone would be enough to ease his mind and soul. The question still plagued him, ‘would Lady Margaret still love him, if she had met him at another time, and he had not saved her from the Avon?’.

~~~~~

Margaret did not willingly accept His Grace of Saltonbury at her dinner table. Lady Mantrell, her great aunt and guardian, had argued with her that she must, that the man was her intended, and as he had arrived to call upon her so late in the day, it was only polite to invite him to dine – for they took dinner early during summer in Bath. Phoebe, who had spent the morning with her, embroidering – or at least pretending to, also had warned her quite sternly that Saltonbury and she were all but betrothed, and should, after all, be marrying soon.

She could hardly send him away after tea, when it was so close to dinnertime. Margaret had argued quite fiercely that he was unannounced and uninvited and to show up on her doorstep at such a time was ill-mannered, to say the very least. In the end, Margaret gave in to the others’ pressure, and the Duke of Saltonbury sat next to her at the head of the table.

She wondered just why he had come, and why he was looking so pleased with himself. It grated on her nerves. Which thought made her pause – should she be thinking such a thing about the man to whom she was promised, the man she should love? She did not really know, and that grated on her even more.

~~~~~

Hugh was quite pleased with himself. He knew that this seating arrangement would provide him the opportunity for speaking quietly with Lady Margaret, so that the others at the table would not be privy to their conversation, so long as he kept his voice very low. Although, Lady Phoebe was close on his left – she might well hear.

He smiled politely at the lovely girl, thinking that Captain Halstone had been correct. Lady Phoebe was quite pleasing to the eye. Well, if Lady Margaret did not give him any indication which might sooth his concerns, then he might, indeed, consider quietly pursuing Lady Phoebe, to make Lady Margaret jealous. It was not the sort of idea that he had ever considered before, but now that he had begun to question things, he found himself questioning all of his decisions, about love, marriage, and life.

He glanced at his intended and his heart felt like it might leap out of his chest. Her beauty was beyond description – as she had grown, she had become more and more beautiful, it seemed. He reached out and took the opportunity to gently touch Lady Margaret’s bare hand, where it rested on the tablecloth. The action, it seemed, took her quite by surprise. Previously when he had touched her hand, she had always had her gloves on, but at the dinner table, of course, she did not.

Her head jerked toward him, “Your Grace, I…”

He whispered, “My sweet, you look absolutely ravishing.” He squeezed her hand and watched as her soft creamy cheeks turned deep pink. He withdrew his hand and placed it unobtrusively in his lap, well satisfied with her reaction.

Hugh leaned over so that his words would fall closely into Lady Margaret’s ear.

“Do you still love me my darling?”

~~~~~

Out of the corner of her eye, Lady Phoebe watched the Duke of Saltonbury’s face. He certainly was not an ugly man, by any standard she applied. He was older and therefore, yes, his face had the beginnings of the signs of age, yet that simply made him look more distinguished. She had not failed to notice how Lady Margaret had flinched from his touch. Phoebe began to wonder - if he had snatched at her hand, would she have been so quick to withdraw? She placed her bare hand casually on the table top, allowing her imagination to play.

Margaret smiled sweetly.

“Dear Saltonbury, I dare say I find that, as the days go by, I am less certain of my love for you. I am ever so grateful for you saving my life, but I have come to a place where I dare to say - I am not sure that I am in love. I mean, how can I know? I am drawn to your looks, yes, you are ruggedly handsome, however…”

Phoebe schooled her face with difficulty, rather shocked by her cousin’s words – what was Margaret doing! But there was nothing that Phoebe could do but eat, and continue to listen. She would quiz Margaret about it all later.

~~~~~

He was sure that, undoubtedly, Lady Phoebe had heard Lady Margaret’s brazen answer. His own words came out rather sharply, despite his best intentions, for Lady Margaret’s declaration had left him feeling a little wounded.

“Oh, then should I wish that I was deformed in some manner, so that you could be sure? If I were horrendously ugly and you still loved me, then I would know that your love was true, dear Lady Margaret.”

“Well, in truth, you are handsome, Your Grace, but there are men who are much more handsome than you. I do not know that a mere appealing visage is enough to make me love a man. His character seems, to me, to be of at least equal importance. But in the end, I suppose I do love you, in my way. Yes, I do.”

“What? You believe that there is another man more handsome than I? Surely that is an inappropriate thought, for the woman promised to me?”

His voice was uneven, much to his dismay. He did not enjoy having his pride diminished so.

“Oh, Your Grace, if you are so discomposed by my words, go ahead, break off our promised betrothal, and I believe that I will be sad, but surely will find another.”

She flipped her bare hand in the air dismissively, then lifted her fork and took a bite off her plate and began to chew thoughtfully.