Page 28 of Her Summer Duke

Chapter Eleven

Margaret pulled her own gown out of the heavy armoire in her dressing room, and then rejected it for another, and then another. None of her gowns seemed fitting enough to become her wedding dress.

She finally looked disapprovingly at one gown with a ruffled and beribboned front. The ribbon was white, but the dress had no brocade, no lace – it was quite plain but would go well with her large white bonnet. Nothing in her wardrobe was befitting a bride, truly, but she kept telling herself that her gown was not important. What was important was that because Saltonbury had committed some punishable act and he was at risk of going to prison or worse, now she had to join him in exile.

It worried her, a little, that he had not told her anything of exactly what it was that he had done, which was bad enough to force him to leave the country.

Was he the man she had always thought him? Or was he something worse? Was she doing the right thing?

As she adjusted the white bonnet on her head, she thought, this is the very least I can do for a man who saved my life not once, but twice.

Yet, even thinking about her debt to him did not console her soul. Marriage was for life. It was as if she was putting a slave’s collar around her neck. She swallowed hard with the thought.

She turned to snatch up her reticule and a pair of long white gloves. She had packed very little in her valise: Her paisley print dress, her black mantelet for cold evenings, her light silk gown, her muslin nightrail, her combs and brushes and pins. She even put in an extra pair of leather slippers, but there was no more room in the small bag. Saltonbury had told her that her bag must be slight.

Satisfied that she had packed what she could, she took one more look at herself in her hand mirror. She did not see a blushing bride staring back at her, but instead, a worried young girl with dark rings of purple under her eyes. She grabbed at the bag and turned towards the door, just as Lady Phoebe knocked.

“Cousin, are you quite ready to go down to breakfast?”

Margaret stopped with her hand poised on the door handle. She put her bag on the floor and slid it to the side with her foot. She slowly opened the door.

When she saw Margaret dressed in her traveling clothes, Phoebe looked shocked.

“Oh my Margaret, you are dressed with your bonnet already! Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I explained to you that His Grace of Saltonbury wanted to see me prior to breakfast.”

Phoebe’s eyes took in Margaret’s attire. Then, she glanced at the floor and saw the bag.

“You are leaving! You are eloping! Tell me the truth, cousin!”

Margaret nodded.

“I am marrying Saltonbury, and then we must leave England. The whole matter is all very complicated and I do not wish to stop now to explain.”

Phoebe reached out and took Margaret’s hand.

“I understand. Just let me go with you to attend your wedding, please. I cannot bear to miss it. Please, Margaret.” She pressed Margaret’s gloved fingers in hers. “Please. I promise not to make a fuss. I promise to let you go off with your new husband, unimpeded.”

At that moment Lucy came out of her room.

“What husband?”

The two young women froze and looked at Lucy. Some moments passed before Margaret spoke.

“Lucy, uh, er, I am going to marry Saltonbury this morning, at the chapel.”

“Marry? You are eloping with him? But why, Lady Margaret, after all this time? After eight years in the planning, the wedding is to be a grand affair. You cannot just push that all aside. Weddings take enormous planning. Lady Mantrell and I have so many plans worked out, just waiting for the day to be set, to put them into motion.”

Margaret reached down and picked up her valise.

“My wedding is to be a quiet affair and then Saltonbury and I are off to begin our life.”

“Off where? I beg you to tell me, what is going on, Lady Margaret?”

Margaret’s voice became soft as she tried to explain, and she fidgeted nervously – what if Lucy refused to help her? What if she went and told Lady Mantrell?

“Lucy, something has happened which makes it important that Saltonbury and I marry at once. He has arranged for the special license, and the minister at the Chapel - there is nothing that can stop this. I owe him my hand, Lucy,” she bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears, “I owe it to my father’s memory. This is what Father wanted.”