Page 31 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"Tomorrow?" Margaret repeated, looking up at last. "So soon?"

Bernard recovered first. "Well, at least you are out of Harrowby's grasp. Is that not good news?"

"It is," Margaret replied automatically. Then she looked back at the letter. "I think."

Iris leaned forward, her brows drawn together. "Tomorrow is very fast."

"Extremely fast," Blais agreed. "For a wedding, I should think a little more notice would be considered courteous."

Camelia stared at the letter. "Does the duke truly expect you to be ready to marry tomorrow?"

Margaret looked at her helplessly. "Apparently."

Raph gave a low whistle. "That is remarkably short notice."

Bernard seemed torn between relief and concern. "Perhaps the Duke believes that since the legal difficulty has been resolved, there is no reason to delay."

Iris shook her head. "There is every reason to delay. Margaret needs time to prepare."

Margaret barely heard them.

The voices around her began to blend together as everyone offered an opinion. Camelia questioned whether a wedding could be arranged so quickly. Raph wondered whether the duke had already secured the church. Blais muttered something about the absurdity of expecting a bride to prepare her wedding gown overnight. Bernard attempted to defend Pierce's efficiency, insisting that the man had probably made all necessary arrangements in advance.

Margaret heard almost none of it. Her eyes remained fixed upon the letter in her hands.

Tomorrow.

The word seemed to grow larger with every passing second.

Tomorrow she would wake in this house for the last time as Margaret Wilmore. Tomorrow she would leave Lempster House and become the Duchess of Ravenfield. Tomorrow she would stand beside Pierce Sterling and promise to remain his wife.

Her heart gave an alarming little flutter. She remembered the library.

His eyes. His hands upon her waist. The kiss.

Margaret immediately pushed the memory away.

This was ridiculous. She had agreed to a practical arrangement. Nothing more. She was not supposed to be thinking about his mouth, his voice, or the way he had looked at her when he told her she would be his.

And yet, beneath the nervousness, something else stirred.

Anticipation.

She would live at Ravenfield. She would become mistress of a duke's household. She would help care for Hugh. She would sleep under the same roof as Pierce.

Margaret swallowed. That last thought was considerably less practical than the others.

"Margaret?" Camelia said gently.

Margaret looked up. Her family had fallen quiet again, all of them watching her.

"I am fine," she assured them, offering a smile that felt less convincing than she intended. "Truly."

Iris reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You do not have to pretend with us."

"I know."

And that was precisely why Margaret loved them.