so please let it be our secret. And remind His Grace,” she said, her voice rough with tears, “we are dining together tonight so he should look his best.” She winked.
“I will make sure not to tire him, Your Grace.” Margaret stepped toward the door, eyes averted from the poor mole.
Margaret had been prepared to hate the Duke of Averell, despite the affection Amanda and the girls had for him. She felt quite the opposite now. Whatever type of man Marcus had been, the selfish father Welles remembered, the man dying inside the lavish suite of rooms, was that man no longer. The duke and Margaret had become friends during her stay at Cherry Hill. She found him to be loving and affectionate, a man who adored his wife and daughters. After being introduced and learning Margaret had only just begun to play faro, the duke had taken it upon himself to teach her every card game and trick he knew. Which was substantial.
The duke’s nurse, Gladys, came out of the double doors carrying a basin of water. She bobbed politely at the sight of Margaret. “Lady Welles. His Grace is expecting you. He says he will take you for every bit of your pin money.” She touched Margaret’s forearm. “I’ve given him his medicine. Don’t be alarmed if he nods off. I thought he should rest before dinner tonight with the duchess. He wishes to be at his best.” The nurse’s eyes grew watery, for she adored her charge as well.
Margaret nodded. “I won’t, Gladys. Thank you.”
She entered the darkened room, gratified to see the duke sitting up in bed, two fluffy pillows lodged firmly behind his back. He was already toying with a deck of cards, the elegant, tapered fingers trembling as he did so.
“Hello, Maggie.” He looked up and winked at her, his wide mouth ticked upward in a smile she was more than familiar with. “I’ll take your pin money today if you aren’t careful.”
The Duke of Averell was still a handsome, charming devil no matter the ravages of the disease which was slowly killing him. Just like his son. The eyes Welles had inherited from his father were still brilliant, the darkening rings of blue stark and glowing in his face, a sharp contrast to his withering, frail body. No matter the feelings of her husband for his father, it saddened Margaret greatly that the duke was not long for this world.
“You’re very bold, Your Grace,” she said in a saucy tone. “I may have a trick or two up my sleeve.”
A rumbling laugh came from him, another thing he had in common with his son, except the duke’s amusement ended in a bout of coughing. He waved toward a pitcher of water, and Margaret hastened to fetch him a glass. Holding the water to his lips, she watched him drink.
Once the coughing subsided, he gave a great sigh and sat back, taking her hand in his.
“Deal, my girl.”
They played whist. The duke, she suspected, allowed her to win, for she only lost a bit of her pin money. After an hour or so, much sooner than Margaret wished, he laid down his cards and declared the game over for the day.
“I find I’m very tired, my child.”
She nodded and turned her head, not wishing him to see her blinking away tears. The duke’s face was etched with pain no matter how much medicine Gladys gave him.
Margaret stood to leave, and the duke reached out, his fingers encircling her wrist. “Wait, daughter.”
“Your Grace, would you like me to read to you? Perhaps play you something soothing?” The conservatory was directly below the duke’s rooms. Sometimes he asked her to play with the windows open so he could hear her.
“No, my dear. Did you know my first wife was a pianist?” He shot her a look. “We’ve never spoken of the past, but perhaps we should. Time is running out and I wish you to know some things.” He winced in pain, lips tightening before he took her hand. “From my own lips. Amanda will white-wash my history because she loves me. Welles and Leo will paint me as the devil, which I fear is closer to the truth.”
“Your Grace—” Margaret tried to dissuade him. His tone had all the makings of a deathbed confession, one she didn’t feel ready to hear.
“I became a duke shortly before marrying Katherine,” he said without preamble. “I was arrogant,” he squeezed her fingers, “which I’m sure you find hard