Regency Surrender: Scandal And Deception. Marguerite Kaye
she had not thought a broom a particularly complicated tool. But it was clear that he had never used one in his life. Or perhaps he had only been trying to make her laugh. She kissed him on the cheek. ‘It is enough that you paid for the new glass and the curtains.’
‘And the painters and woodworkers,’ he reminded her.
She shrugged. ‘Since so much work needed to be done, I felt it was time for a few changes to the rest.’
‘I consider it an investment in our shop,’ he said, smiling at her.
‘Our shop,’ she repeated. At times, she still found his change of heart to be rather amazing. But he had returned from talking with his father that day and informed her that the shop was to remain open with the full support of his family. While she suspected that was an exaggeration, she’d had no further visits from the duke.
‘You will rest tomorrow, in the coach to Derbyshire,’ he said, kissing her hand. ‘I know you are not looking forward to the trip. But I assure you, you will enjoy the place, once we have arrived.’
She smiled and nodded. It was plain from his expression, when he spoke of it, that the pleasure of the summer holiday was wearing thin for him. She must learn to be as supportive of his interests as he was of hers.
‘But you say you are tired. Do you wish refreshments?’ He gave a shallow bow to indicate that it was his pleasure to serve her.
‘It would be nice,’ Margot admitted, for the heat from the crush of bodies in the room was oppressive.
‘Stand here and wait for me. I shall return in a moment.’
‘Or I could accompany you,’ she said. The spot he had chosen for her was out of the common path, near a back wall of the assembly room. If she remained there, she would not see a single person of her acquaintance.
‘Wait,’ he insisted.
‘I will be over there, by Louisa.’ She pointed across the room to where her sister-in-law was surrounded by a flock of gentleman eager to procure a last dance before summer ended.
‘Later, there will be time to speak to her,’ Stephen said. ‘For now, you must stay here.’ He pushed her even deeper into the shadow of a potted palm.
‘Are you trying to hide me from view?’ Margot said, hands on hips. ‘Because I cannot think of a reason you would wish me to stay here.’
‘I am trying to surprise you,’ he said with exaggerated impatience. ‘And you are making it damned difficult.’
‘Then I will hide behind the palm tree, just as you wish, Lord Fanworth,’ she said, blowing him a kiss as he walked away.
It took only a moment for her to realise why he had been so particular on her exact location. From the other side of the plant that hid her, a voice called out, ‘Larchmont!’ It was the Duke of Bellston, greeting the other peer in the room.
Another duke, perhaps, but not an equal. The Bellston title was one generation older than Larchmont’s. Despite all the family pride he professed, her husband’s father ranked beneath the younger, and far more pleasant, Bellston.
Although she doubted he would make a scene in front of the other peer, as Larchmont approached Margot shrank even further into her concealment. Stephen had sworn that she never need see the man again. He had also assured her, if they did meet, the duke would behave as a gentleman. And that seemed almost as unlikely as her husband using a broom.
‘Bellston.’ The answering greeting was delivered with the minimum of courtesy. If this was the way Larchmont behaved in public, it explained why her husband was thought rude, when he did not speak.
‘So good to see you this evening,’ Bellston said, sounding positively gleeful. ‘I was just saying to Penny that it has been too long since we’ve seen you.’
‘Yes, dear.’ Her Grace, the duchess, was not nearly so convincing a liar as her husband.
In response, Larchmont said nothing.
‘I trust the waters have helped with your foot,’ Bellston continued.
‘There is nothing the matter with my foot,’ Larchmont announced.
‘Of course not,’ soothed Bellston. ‘So I assume you carry that handsome stick as an ornament. May I examine it?’
Margot put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. It had surprised her when Stephen had made this very specific request for a gift for his father. Then he remarked that the old cane had met with an accident. She suspected the accident was similar to the one that had happened to Arthur’s nose.
A moment passed as Larchmont relinquished his cane to the younger man.
‘Do not worry,’ Bellston drawled. ‘I will return it to you, if you feel unsteady. I only wished to see the markings on the head. That is your family crest, set in the mahogany, is it not?’
Larchmont grunted in acknowledgement.
‘And a wolf at the head, pewter or silver?’
‘Silver, of course,’ snapped Larchmont, as if no lesser metal would dare contact his skin.
If he was so sensitive to base metals, it was a good thing he did not know about the lead shot she had hidden at uneven intervals down the length of the wood. Though Stephen had remarked that the old ebony cane handled like a rapier, this new one was fit for nothing more than support. It would prove horribly balanced, should one attempt to wave it about, or strike out with it.
‘Are those rubies for the wolf’s eyes?’ asked the Duchess of Bellston. ‘How very clever. They are set inside the mouth as well. The beast looks quite savage, does it not, Adam?’
‘Ravenous, my dear,’ her husband agreed. ‘Tell me Larchmont, where did you purchase such a marvellous stick?’
‘It was a gift,’ the man admitted, sounding rather like he was going to choke upon this act of kindness.
‘From de Bryun’s, I suppose,’ Bellston said. ‘We buy all our jewellery there, because of the family connection.’
‘Margot is very talented,’ agreed the duchess. ‘She has redone the hideous Bellston ring for me so that I almost enjoy wearing it.’
Almost? Margot shrugged. But it was exceptional praise from the duchess who had simple tastes for such a great lady.
The conversation continued in a similar vein, with the younger couple extolling her talent until she was quite embarrassed to be eavesdropping and Larchmont became frustrated enough to leave.
‘Did you like your surprise?’ Stephen had arrived and was holding a glass of lemonade out to her.
She nodded, taking a sip.
‘I doubt if he will ever admit it aloud, but he is quite enamoured of the cane,’ Stephen said.
‘However can you tell?’ He had not said two words about it, just now.
‘I have seen the care he takes that the crest is visible, when he walks with it. Family pride, you know.’ Stephen looked across the room at the retreating back of his father. ‘And now we must go to your next surprise.’
‘Two in one night,’ she said. Although she was relieved to see that he was leading her in the opposite direction from the one the duke had taken.
They worked their way through the crowd to a quiet terrace at the back where several invalids in Bath chairs were enjoying the music. Seated amongst them, on a low couch, was a pale woman in her middle years. She was obviously beautiful and just as obviously frail. Around her neck were the rubies that had been the cause of Margot’s greatest trouble and her greatest joy as well.
‘Mother.’ Stephen bowed and then bent forward to kiss the woman on both cheeks. ‘May I present my wife?’
Margot swallowed nervously, propelled forward by her husband’s