Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

M argaret stepped out of the carriage in the middle of Covent Garden. The air was turning colder, prompting her to pull the pelisse tighter around her shoulders, only it was too thin and worn for this weather.

Walking past were two very finely dressed ladies indeed. They turned in unison, like pigeons with cricked necks, looking toward her. Their beady eyes trailed down her poor pelisse.

Margaret adjusted it, fussing a little before she let her gloved hands fall at her sides. She knew well enough that a little fussing would do very little.

“Tell me something.” Theodore’s voice was much closer than she had anticipated it being.

She turned to find him having dismissed the carriage. He stood beside her, the collar of his frock coat turned up, his breath clouding the air around them.

“What?” she whispered.

“You have spent all this money on improving the house, but as far as I can see, you have not spent a shilling of it on yourself. Why is that?” He frowned deeply. It was such a heavy-set expression that she shifted uncomfortably.

“It is our home,” she murmured, as if that was enough explanation. When Theodore just continued to look at her, she fidgeted a little more and continued. “We can both benefit from our home being made a bit more welcoming.”

He raised his eyebrows, apparently startled by the answer, then strode away.

Amazed, Margaret just stared after him for a beat. There were other couples wandering the streets. Most walked arm in arm, some with staff trailing behind them carrying boxes, but she and Theodore were the exception to the rule. No staff accompanied them, and he clearly had no intention of taking her arm.

He turned back a few strides away and looked back at her. Taking the cue, she hurried to follow him.

“Where are we going?” she asked for what felt like the fifth time already that morning.

“You’ll see, soon enough,” he assured her.

They turned through the center of Covent Garden and the big Palladian market structure. There were a few acquaintances whom Theodore must have known for he nodded at them in passing, though he didn’t once let up his quick pace to talk to them. At the far end of the building, he turned and opened a shop door, gesturing for Margaret to walk inside first.

She stepped up into the shop, then halted just two strides in.

“A modiste?” she whispered in surprise. Every surface was covered in bolts of sumptuous material. It was very different to the modistes that she had attended with her sisters in the past.

They attended poorer modiste’s shops in Cheapside. In those shops, the material wasn’t half so fine, nor so expensive, and neither were there such beautiful dresses on display in the windows and on stands.

“Ah, welcome, welcome, welcome,” an elderly lady bustled forward from a back room, sweeping aside a red velvet curtain. She had creases around her eyes and lips from where she had spent so many years smiling. “Good day to you both. Ah, what a beautiful young lady. A new gown, is it?”

“Anything she wishes for, ma’am,” Theodore said, gesturing to Margaret.

Unable to find words, Margaret’s jaw dropped as she stared at Theodore.

“Anything?” the lady said excitedly, clasping hands together that were worn from years of sewing. “How thrilling! And what would the young lady like?”

“I… erm…” Margaret struggled for words, looking between the lady and Theodore. “Theo? Are you certain of this?”

She could have sworn his lips tweaked up into a small smile.

Wait… does he like it when I call him that?

She had done it quite naturally, without even thinking about it.

“Absolutely.” He spoke without hesitation then turned to the modiste. “Duke and Duchess of Thornfield.” He introduced the two of them. The older lady was so quick to descend into a curtsy that Margaret feared she would fall.

“Your Grace.” She smiled in a delighted sort of way. “I am Mrs. Sinclair. I will be thrilled to help you in any way I can today. Now.” She clapped her hands together and turned to face Margaret. “I think a new pelisse, and perhaps some new gloves too, Your Grace. These have a few holes in them.”

Margaret clasped her hands together self-consciously.

“And for dresses, would we like both everyday dresses and evening dresses?”

“Surely, so much isn’t necessary –”

“Yes, she will need it all,” Theodore cut her off with ease, smiling when she looked at him with daggers. “What material do you like, Margaret?”

“I…” She trailed off. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had stood in a shop and pointed out a material she liked. When she purchased a dress in the past, it was usually amended from an existing dress in the modiste’s collection.

Theodore must have sensed her reticence, for he turned to a stack of bolts, looking up and down.

“You suit green,” he mused, gesturing to soft sage greens and bright Pomona.

“I do?” she whispered, moving to his side. He leaned toward her.

“They match your eyes.”

She flinched in surprise, both at him noticing such a thing, and the fact that his lips had come so close. For a change, it had felt as if there wasn’t some ridiculously tall wall between them. It had almost felt as if they were indeed husband and wife.

“Then let’s get some of the greens out.” The modiste ran forward and collected the bolts of the stand. “Come with me, Your Grace.” She beamed up at Margaret. “Before the day is out, you shall have an entirely new wardrobe!”

She bustled off behind the velvet curtain. Margaret smiled at her but waited until she disappeared before she took Theodore’s arm.

“Surely, this is too much,” she whispered hastily to Theodore. “I have no need of new clothes.”

“You do not need them, no. You have things you can stand up in.” He raised his eyebrows. “But is it not nice to have money spent on you for a change?”

Her mouth felt dry.

Yes. It is.

It was a feeling completely foreign to her. Unsure what else to say, she felt her lips lift upwards.

“Is that a smile I see?” he repeated the same words she had said to him the day before. “It’s all right to smile in my company you know, Margaret.” Then he frowned. “Margaret feels too formal now. Would you complain if I were to address you as Maggie?”

“No. No, I would not complain.” Something had twisted excitedly in her stomach.

“Good, then I shall be back shortly, Maggie. Enjoy your time with the modiste.” Then he was gone, sweeping out of the shop with great speed and alacrity.

The modiste soon appeared back from behind the velvet curtain, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“Come, come, Your Grace. I have some wonderful things for you to try on.”

Feeling an excitement that she had never known before, Margaret followed her to the curtain.

Theodore left it an hour before he returned. He paid a couple of visits to a few business acquaintances he had in town, then headed back to Mrs. Sinclair’s shop to find Margaret nowhere to be seen.

Mrs. Sinclair was holding up a bolt of material for a new customer. When she saw Theodore, she gestured to the red curtain.

“She is back there, Your Grace. Oh, what beautiful dresses I shall be making for the lovely duchess!”

Theodore nodded his thanks then slipped toward the curtain. He swept it aside then stepped back into the fitting area of the shop.

The sound of hurried feet caught his attention.

Margaret stood in the middle of the fitting area, turning back and forth rather frantically. She had three mirrors in front of her and continuously looked at the Pomona green material that was pinned to her figure in every mirror.

Theodore had to tear his gaze away from the pinned material. It revealed flashes of delicate collarbone and rather enticing curves through stays and a chemise.

Be a gentleman, Theodore.

His gaze shot to her face. She was biting her lip, with great concern, turning back and forth, completely unable to settle.

“What is wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

She jumped, spinning around fast, nearly knocking over one of the mirrors as she nudged it with her elbow. She caught it in a fumble as he ran forward to catch her, his hands on her arms. They ended up in a fumble of hands and arms together.

“Theo!” she hissed. “I cannot wear this.”

“Whyever not?” He moved her, directing her softly so that she stood in front of the mirror, with him behind her. “The dress is very beautiful. Once Mrs. Sinclair finishes it, of course.”

“This is too much,” she murmured in panic.

“Why is it?”

“I am not used to dresses such as these. To material like this.” She threaded her fingers through the Pomona green skirt. “Spend your money elsewhere, Theo, please. Do not spend it on me like this.”

She lowered her head, looking down at her feet with her hands on her hips.

Enough of this.

A rage bubbled in Theodore’s stomach, though it was not directed at Margaret. It was directed at her father.

Even if her father had never had the money to spoil his daughters, surely any man worth his salt would have spent what money he did have on looking after his daughters, on ensuring they had decent clothes to stand in. The prospect of money being spent on Margaret was so unusual to her, she was panicking, unsure how to accept the kindness.

This changes now.

“Maggie, it is too beautiful to leave in this shop. And as for the money spent on it, that is not a thing we should worry about. I have the money for a few gowns. It’s the least of my worries.”

“It is still too much –”

“If anything, it’s not enough.” His voice was a little harsh. It startled her so much, she looked up, meeting his gaze in the mirror. He felt a little breathless at the strength in that green gaze.

She really is very beautiful, even if she often hangs her head to hide it.

“You best get used to having things bought for you every now and then, Maggie. It’s not too much, and it’s not a big thing.” He raised his hands and adjusted the material on her shoulders a little, for it had become ruffled as he had caught her to stop her falling over.

One of the curls of her hair had fallen loose from her updo. Finding it was a fantasy that he too badly wanted to live, he brushed the curl behind her ear, letting his fingers trail momentarily across her neck.

She inhaled sharply, but she didn’t pull away.

Their gazes connected once again in the mirror. It was a moment of pure excitement. Something passed between them, though Theodore couldn’t have put his finger on what it was.

It is merely… something exciting.

“It is a dress. Do not fear it,” he whispered softly. “Now, enjoy it.” He let his hands drop from her and moved toward the curtain, stepping outside once again.

Mrs. Sinclair finished dealing with her other customer and returned back behind the curtain to assist Margaret.

Theodore spent his time looking through a display of gloves and bonnets. He picked up three sets of gloves and placed them on the counter too. One pair was for formal occasions, made of beautiful lace, but the other two were warm, green, and made of the finest wool to keep her warm in the wintertime.

When Margaret did eventually appear from behind the curtain in her normal gown and pelisse, she was pink-cheeked, perhaps a little embarrassed. Theodore found the expression rather endearing as he penned a draft for Mrs. Sinclair’s services. The whole time, Margaret fussed with the gloves he had laid on the counter.

Mrs. Sinclair stepped away to fetch a box for the gloves, leaving them a minute to talk.

“This is a great kindness,” Margaret whispered.

Kindness?

Theodore froze with the quill pen hovering in the air. That was not a word he could ever remember hearing attributed to him before.

It was a strange feeling, for her words conjured the horrid memory of his mother on that heathland. He thought of the way his mother had shouted, demanding he could not marry, warning him that he would be repeating the past.

I’m a demon, aren’t I? I have no kind bone in my body.

“Theo?” Margaret whispered at his side. “Thank you.”

A soft warmth spread through his body, but he quickly shut it down.

Today had been a weakness, a wish to help her, but it would not continue. He had always told himself that if he did marry, he would keep distance between them, to ensure he did not repeat the mistakes his father had made.

Perhaps Margaret had slipped through the cracks a little bit, become closer to him than he had intended, but that ended now.

“It is just one act of kindness. Nothing more,” he assured her, quite determinedly not looking her in the eye.

They both thanked Mrs. Sinclair for her help then left the shop, with Theodore carrying the boxes. They didn’t speak as they walked through Covent Garden, returning to the carriage. They didn’t even speak as they returned home in the carriage, though Theodore felt the temptation to look at wife more than once.

His weakness to her, the fact that he couldn’t stop staring, started to anger him again. So much so that when they reached the house, he jumped down quickly from the carriage and strode into the house, intending to put as much distance between them as possible.

Margaret, however, followed him into the house quickly. She stood by the entrance, opening up a sealed letter which had been left for her on a card tray. Theodore was halfway up the stairs when she called out to him.

Silently, he turned back to face her.

She stood quite still by the hall table, staring down at the letter as if something in the contents had stunned her. That loose lock of hair he had played with earlier now hung by her cheek.

The memory of touching her neck, of hearing the way she had inhaled sharply, had something burning excitedly in his stomach.

I cannot continue like this.

If he was going to stop staring at her, then he’d have to put more distance between them than just a few steps.

“It’s from my sister, Louisa,” Margaret murmured, waving the letter up at him. “She, Penelope and Alexandra are coming to see me. And… my father is coming too.”