for a man. If you were to examine my bookkeeping, you would find it kept in a reasonable hand and totalled properly at the bottom of the ledger.’
Then the smile was gone again. ‘But Mr Montague really only wanted the money. And Justine wanted her freedom. I was the only one who really cared about the shop. I planned for years so that I might be ready to take it on. And I have done well. Or, at least, I did. If I cannot have it...’
She spoke of the place as if it were a living thing. And a precious one, at that. It was not just some stray dog that could be put out when it became too inconvenient to keep. By the look on her face, she would be no more willing to abandon a child then she would shutter the windows and lock the doors of de Bryun’s.
‘Are you quite sure you are ready to leave it?’ She had come to the decision on her own, just as he’d wished. Why did it not make him happy?
‘You wish me to close it, do you not?’
‘Well, yes.’ He did. Or, at least, he had. Now, he was not so sure. ‘But when we have discussed it before, you have been quite adamant on the need to ensure the livelihoods of your staff.’
‘I must see to their safety as well,’ she said. It was an odd statement, after the assurances she had given him about the minimal risks involved in her job.
‘You promised me before that if you were worried for your safety you would let me protect you,’ he reminded her.
Hope flared in her eyes for a moment. Then the look of misery grew deeper, as she became even more obedient. ‘Of course. But as you pointed out to me, yesterday, it will be difficult to run the place with the responsibilities I am likely to have as your wife.’
‘That is correct.’ He thought of his mother and what she did to fill her days. She called on friends in the morning. In the afternoon, she sometimes shopped. She went to dinners in the evening. When they were home, she might visit the sick and the poor. If she stopped doing any of those things, it would not have mattered one whit to the duke, or the people around her. She kept busy. But he would hardly have called what she did ‘responsibilities’.
But Margot had pointed out to him on several occasions that she already had them. It was ludicrous to insist that she accept idleness for propriety’s sake. ‘Perhaps there might be a way to keep it open part of the year. Summering in Bath does not conflict with a London Season.’ What was he saying? Hadn’t it been his wish that she stop work and devote herself to him? But now that she was considering it, he felt no happier about it than she did.
She shook her head. ‘It is better to make a clean break of it. I cannot ask my staff to work half a year, and wait for me to return. It would not be fair.’
‘I see.’
‘And there is your family to consider,’ she said.
‘My family?’ It was strange that she would think of them, since he spent little enough time considering their feelings. ‘If you are thinking of yesterday’s meeting with Arthur, put it from your mind.’
‘It is not that,’ she said. ‘I am sure your father would prefer that there not be a shop girl in family.’
‘My father?’ Stephen laughed. ‘My father can go to hell and take his opinions with him. When he does, I will be Larchmont. And I do not care a fig if my duchess has a shop.’
‘You don’t?’
‘I don’t.’ Perhaps it was just a contrary wish to do the thing that would most annoy Larchmont. Or perhaps it was that she was smiling at him for the first time all evening.
He put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her out of her chair and away from the table. ‘It is plain that talk of closing de Bryun’s upsets you. We can discuss it tomorrow. Or some other time.’ There were weeks left before the season changed and they must leave for home. ‘But we will find a way to handle it that will be satisfactory to all concerned.’ He kissed her cheek.
And as they always did, when he was this close to her, troubles did not seem so important. ‘All that matters is that we are together.’ He kissed her again. ‘Although I do not know what I shall do with my nights, now that I have used up all my time with you. Last night was four, was it not?’
This actually coaxed a grin from her. ‘Nothing happened on the second night. I do not think we should count it.’
‘On our wedding day, you suggested I save my last visit to your bed for a special occasion. Christmas, perhaps. Or my birthday, which is in March.’
‘March is a very long time away,’ she said.
‘It is,’ he agreed.
And quite suddenly, she was in his arms, clinging to him so tightly that it would have taken all his strength to part from her. ‘Then let us make the last night last for ever,’ she whispered. ‘Just promise me, that, no matter what might happen, we will not be parted.’
‘Never,’ he agreed.
‘Then it will be all right,’ she said, as he manoeuvred them towards the stairs and bed. ‘As long as I have you, the rest does not matter.’
* * *
Margot awoke alone the next morning in her husband’s heavily curtained bed. Just beyond the velvet, Stephen was assuring his valet that he had no intention of leaving the chamber until evensong, if then. Breakfast should be brought to the room. Tea as well. Nothing else was required from the servants for the rest of the day.
And then the bed curtains parted again and he returned, throwing himself back on to the mattress. ‘There. Sorted. I will make the night last for ever, just as you commanded. Come to me, my love.’
She did not need to comply, for the force of his return had bounced her to his side. His arms were about her again and she felt warm and protected. The slight throbbing in her cut finger made her snuggle even closer to him. Perhaps there was madness in his family. Stephen seemed quite normal, as did Louisa. But Arthur and the duke... She shuddered.
‘Cold?’ He pulled the comforter over them and she did not have to explain. ‘Let me take care of everything.’
‘That would be nice,’ she admitted. Not even the duke could harm her, if she was with Stephen. Though he had wished aloud that she could be thrown into the river, she doubted that he was liable to carry out the threat.
It annoyed her that one visit from the man had left her ready to give up. But, in her defence, it was one thing to stand up to the likes of Arthur and Mr Pratchet, and quite another to stand alone against the wrath of a peer. Larchmont had almost infinite power and wealth, and he had already taken a dislike to her.
He was also quite mad. The interaction with him had shaken her more than she’d expected. There was something in his eyes that hinted a broken counter was the least of her worries, should she have further dealings with him.
Stephen noticed her mood and made a soft, shushing sound in comfort. ‘What is it that troubles you so?’
She should tell him about the visit from the duke. She should have told him immediately after she had returned. But it seemed there was trouble enough between father and son, without her adding to it. ‘Nothing, really.’ Perhaps, when she had got over the shock of his first visit, she
