Page 6 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

She added the numbers again, checked the sums, and went through all the ledgers. She even checked the list she had made of things they could sell, but they were running out of those, too. Somehow, even now inside her own house, in the safety of her father’s study, she felt as exposed as she was last night in that alley.

And just as she was feeling vulnerable, the door burst open, and her mother walked in.

“I need a new gown for Lady Weatherington’s ball,” she announced, as if speaking to her accountant and not her daughter.

“You mean you need money for a new gown,” Marigold corrected her. “I would suggest you look into your wardrobe and find an adequate old gown instead.”

Her mother would have looked upon her less appalled if she had struck her across the face.

“You mean to tell me that I will show my face at this ball with a dress I have already worn?”

“It seems that we are in perfect understanding, Mother.”

“Must I be a laughingstock?”

“In case you haven’t understood the predicament we are in,” Marigold said in a very deadpan tone, “we are already the laughingstock of the ton. Everybody knows that we owe money to everybody. And they know that even if you wore a new gown, you wore it yourself and did your hair on your own because we have no maids in the house.”

“Your father would never have allowed this.”

Marigold gripped the leather ledger as if her life depended on it.

“Father has left us with significant debt and little income to think of. But I am fairly certain that if he were here looking at the sums like I do, he too would have suggested altering or using one of your old gowns.”

It was always amazing for Marigold to see that her patience was inexhaustible, and sometimes, she even admired the restraint she showed every time her mother had a ridiculous demand.

“You always say that, but I know you’re lying,” her mother accused. “You are hiding money from me because you like to see me suffer.”

“Honestly?” Marigold dared to chuckle. “I wish I were hiding money from you because that would mean that I could pay off the creditors who are pressing us. I could stop being ashamed of passing by every store in the neighborhood, from the butcher to the grocery store. Even if it meant that it would hurt your feelings.”

“Such a cruel daughter I raised.”

“Are you not listening to me, Mother?” Marigold said, drained. “We have no money.”

“We would if you cared more about people than you do about the ledgers.”

Marigold snapped said ledger closed. All she did in her life was care, and now, she was accused of not caring? By her own mother, who would gladly sell her for new shoes?

“Explain to me this, then, Mother.” Her tone was controlled but just barely. “What happened to the money from the loan?”

Her mother looked away from her eyes.

“That money was for house repairs,” she mumbled.

Marigold looked around the old, worn house.

“Then why do I see no repairs being done?”

Her mother turned to her with a cold, harsh look.

“Do you dare question me?”

“You came in here asking me for money. We had money, and yet we left servants unpaid and practically owe everybody, and the house is still a wreck. I am asking where the money from the loan is.”

“I endured,” her mother started her usual show, “a miserable existence, so I could pay off the physicians when your father was sick.”

Marigold looked at her mother playing the role of the suffering wife so well.

“And now, you’re still asking me to suffer.”