Margot scoffed. “He is not.”
“Oh?” She turned and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at Margot.
“It is perception…” Margot glanced again at the duke, who was now speaking with a bunch of fellow lords. He was the center of attention, and they hung on every word he said. “The way he holds himself. His confidence. That is what attracts.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Whatever it is, it is working.”
Margot narrowed her eyes at the duke as if she despised him. Truthfully, she merely despised what he stood for. It reminded her too much of her own misfortunes, for she had once found herself drawn to a man of similar style and allure… and had been ruined because of it.
“Say…” She gave her head a shake and looked about, only just now realizing something. “Where is Arabella?”
“Oh.” Elizabeth blinked, only just then realizing that her younger sister was missing. “She told me she needed fresh air…”
“The balcony?”
“There is none,” Elizabeth said, and then she laughed. “As it is, Arabella, I would say she has fled the ballroom and found a library somewhere. You know how she is.”
“Yes, well…” Margot spared a final glance for the duke before stepping back from Elizabeth. “I might go and find her. Just in case something is wrong.”
“As you say,” Elizabeth said. “But tell her to hurry back – there is no point in coming tonight if she spends the evening hiding.”
“Even if I have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her,” Margot joked as she stepped back and then turned.
With that said, she made her way through the ballroom, finding the way easy to navigate as most who saw her coming were glad to step out of the way.
One mistake made and a lifetime is spent paying for it. A lesson learned the hard way… a shame that it was the type of lesson that doesn’t allow for second chances.
Two
“Arabella!” Margot called as she gingerly walked through the twisted expanse of the library. “Arabella! Are you here!”
The library was one of the biggest private collections that she had ever seen, and the moment that Margot came upon its doorways and peered inside, she knew that finding her cousin here was as likely as it would be difficult to do. Almost the size of the ballroom, it was a maze of shelves that stood three stories tall, and as only the hearth by the entrance was lit, darkness consumed those shelves and aisles so she could not see further than a few feet deep.
“Arabella!” she cried again. “Where are you!”
She was hesitant to walk too far into the darkness, hoping her cry was heard. What was more, although she predicted her cousin would indeed be here, she also predicted that she wouldnot come unless found.She is hiding, and for good reason. Not that I agree with it.
Arabella’s sordid history was almost as rotten as Margot’s own. When Arabella had been just seventeen, she’d fallen in love with a scholar who was most certainly not a man of the peerage and thus not one worthy of her name or her love. But Arabella had been idealistic, thinking that her feelings might outweigh the expectations on her shoulders, even going so far as to confront her mother and demand that they be allowed to be together.
Typically, Arabella’s mother had denied this request, banishing the scholar while announcing her daughter as a harlot who had betrayed her. Worse still, word of what had happened was quick to spread around the ton, forcing Arabella’s mother to send her into hiding – to live on the same estate where Margot soon escaped to. But Arabella was not made of the same strong stuff as Margot, and the effect of this scandal had seen her withdraw into herself so that she became nervous at even the hint of crowds and attention. Thus, her hiding.
“Arabella!”
“You best be careful,” a deep voice spoke from behind her. “You’ll wake the dead if you cry out any louder.”
“Oh!” Margot’s heart seized inside her chest, and she spun about, very nearly screaming in fright from the surprise of the intruder. When she saw who it was, her alarm only increased. “You!”
The Duke of Eastmoor was leaning casually against the doorframe of the library, arms folded over his chest, a wicked smile painted across his lips. And in his eyes, Margot saw unabashed amusement as if he was laughing at a joke that only he knew.
“Me,” he said with a chuckle. “I confess, I do not know what this Arabella looks like. But I suppose that mistaking the two of us is unlikely.”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
He pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered into the library. She was at least twenty feet back from the door, but she took a few quick steps away as he came closer. “Looking for the washroom,” he said with a casual shrug, coming to a stop less than fifteen feet away. “Then I heard you screaming and thought I’d best investigate.”
“There is nothing to investigate,” she snapped. “I am merely looking for my cousin.” Margot glanced about them, nerves spiking as this was a man of such reprehensible character that being alone with him was not a good idea. “You need to leave,” she said. “Now.”
“Is that right?”
