The Madame Catches Her Duke by Christina McKnight

Author:Christina McKnight [McKnight, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: La Loma Elite Publishing
Published: 2018-01-03T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Marce backed out of the duchess’s private drawing room, her smiling gaze never leaving Leona as she pulled the door closed. If this were to be the final memory between them, Marce wanted the duchess to remember her in a happy light—smiles and waves with laughter not far below the surface. And Marce’s memories of the matronly mother figure would include fond moments of cherished conversation, something about important goings-on in the world, and other more frivolous topics such as the village butcher’s plan to expand to baking.

Her hand remained on the latch for several moments. Attempting to compose herself before traveling back to her own room, Marce swiped a tear from her cheek.

The last hour had been the hardest of her life—far more gut-wrenching than putting her mother to rest. Certainly more arduous than raising four siblings. More difficult even than controlling a room brimming with London lords in the midst of a heated game of vingt-et-un.

They sat and talked, enjoyed Leona’s favored orange-spiced tea, and discussed the future.

A future Marce would not be a part of.

Leona would not come to London come warmer weather and spend hot summer nights at Covent Gardens. Come Christmastide, Marce would not travel to Hadlow Estate with her siblings and their spouses. There would be no sleigh rides in the open field between Cresthaven and the Harwich property. No days spent in the kitchen baking pies and making custards to be taken to the villagers for the new year.

What hurt most, was that Marce desperately longed to be a part of everything they’d spoken of. In her heart, she knew her siblings would be better for knowing the duchess. But how did one explain their connection? She’d been careful all these years to never mention Rowan or his mother to her family. Garrett suspected there was a debt Marce owed, but she’d been able to keep him unaware of the depth of the deception by blaming Payton’s gambling. It was wrong to cast fault on their youngest sibling, but what choice did she have? Besides, the girl had amounted a sizeable gaming debt, thought it was nowhere near the grand total she owed Rowan.

There wasn’t time to dwell on any of this now, however. Perhaps in a few months, when she’d found her new home and sat alone before her hearth or in her garden, Marce would examine all her flaws, scrutinize what alternate course would have better served her, and determine if she would ever speak of it to anyone, including her siblings.

For now, enough with the pity.

Marce wasn’t deserving of the emotion, even her own.

There was much to do if she hoped to reach London before nightfall, though the task of departing Hadlow without a commotion might prove problematic.

A draft cascaded down the hall, bringing with it the aroma of vetiver, earthy and virile. It was the favored cologne about town, yet Marce hadn’t remembered the scent at Hadlow. The shuffling of muted footsteps had Marce turning toward the shadows farther down the abandoned corridor.

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