To that end she placed her arm through the Duke’s and leant in towards him, letting it be known they were indeed a couple, while ignoring the way being so close to him was causing her skittering heart to behave.
Her mother’s smile grew even wider and she turned towards the group of watching mamas. ‘Ladies, in case you have not already heard, the Duke of Rosedale is to marry my daughter.’
The mamas all nodded with matching expressions of pique, while Margaret’s mother delighted in them getting their comeuppance.
‘This is all rather sudden, is it not, Your Grace?’ Lady Tilsbury said. ‘Haven’t the two of you just met?’
‘Well, when Cupid’s arrow strikes, we mortals are powerless to resist,’ the Duke said. ‘It was love at first sight and I knew immediately I had found my Duchess.’
Margaret gritted her teeth so she would not grimace at such a blatant lie, especially as the dubious expressions on the assembled mamas’ faces proved he was fooling no one, apart from her mother.
‘When will you be marrying?’ Lady Chedmore asked with a disbelieving frown.
‘We plan a long engagement,’ Margaret answered before the Duke made any other outrageous statements. ‘Even though it was…’ she paused to clear her throat ‘…love at first sight, we thought it would be good to have a proper courtship before we marry and not rush into something so important.’
‘They’re to wed at the beginning of next Season,’ her mother announced. ‘It will be simply wonderful and so romantic to start the Season with a grand society wedding. And I’m sure once my daughter is a duchess she will become one of the leading lights of London society, hosting balls, soirees, salons. Oh, it is the life she was born to.’
Margaret struggled not to look pained as these lies continued to swirl around her. She had not been born to such a life, nor was she the type to fall in love at first sight. She could see trouble ahead when the life her mother hoped for her did not come to fruition, but she’d deal with that when the time came. First, she had to get through that expected long courtship with the Duke.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I would like to dance with my future mother-in-law,’ the Duke said, and reached out his hand towards Margaret’s mother, who instantly blushed and adopted the behaviour of a coy debutante.
Margaret sent him a silent thank you. Most men would do anything to avoid her mother’s incessant chatter, even, she suspected, those who really had been struck by Cupid’s arrow, and dancing with the Duke would please her mother immensely.
The moment they left, the other ladies crowded around her and Margaret knew she was about to be on the receiving end of a barrage of questions, questions for which she would have no honest answers, so she quickly excused herself to make a hasty retreat towards her usual place in the corner of the ballroom.
Baron Edgeware halted her progress and bowed in front of her. ‘Miss Whitmore, may I have this dance?’
For a moment she stared at the young man, certain she had not heard correctly, but his hand was extended, so she placed hers on top of his and still in a state of bafflement allowed him to lead her onto the floor for the polka.
Two dances in one night, this was all but unprecedented.
Was this the result of her being betrothed to a duke? It had to be. Nothing else about her had changed. They moved off to the lively tune and, despite herself, Margaret realised she was enjoying herself. She loved dancing but rarely got the opportunity.
Once the dance was over, Baron Edgware led her back to her mother, who was twittering away to the Duke, while he listened with commendable patience.
When her mother paused to get her breath, the Duke turned to Margaret. ‘May I have the next dance?’ he asked with a bow.
Dancing twice with the same man would not usually be acceptable, but as the guests believed they were engaged there was no harm. That was, no harm to her reputation; her nervous system was another matter.
‘Thank you,’ she said as they took their places for the galop.
‘No, thank you. Dancing with you is a pleasure,’ he replied.
‘I mean thank you for dancing with my mother. I know she can be a bit, well…’
‘Not at all, and it gave me a chance to find out all about you.’
Margaret’s breath caught in her throat. ‘What? Me? What?’ She hated to think what her mother had said.
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure all your deepest, darkest secrets are still safe.’
Margaret could assure him she had no secrets, deep or dark. Well, apart from one unfortunate incident in her first Season, but her mother knew little of the real details of what had happened with the Earl of Covington and, even if she did, was unlikely to have mentioned it to the Duke.
‘So, what did she say?’
The Duke tapped the side of his nose. ‘That, I’m afraid, is between your mother and myself.’
Before she had a chance to question him further, the music started, and they moved off at a pace even more energetic than that of the polka.
