Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(33)

Before Meg could say more, though, her mother strolled into the room. Meg turned toward her with a frown. The dowager looked fine to any casual observer, but Meg was not that. There were shadows beneath her mother’s eyes and a glazed look to her that meant one thing: she was hungover. A usual occurrence.

Emma sent Meg a supportive look, for she knew just as well as Meg the damage the dowager could do, and moved to the door to welcome her.

“There you are,” Emma said with a broad smile. “Just in time, for we were only beginning to talk about the final ball of the party. Meg’s engagement ball.”

The dowager sent Meg a brief look, and Meg shifted beneath her regard. Her mother was often hard to read, thanks to her emotions being blunted by alcohol. Today, though, she saw worry in the dowager’s eyes. Perhaps even judgment.

And if she had earned the judgment of a woman who often had to be snuck out of parties so she didn’t make a scene, how far Meg had fallen, indeed.

“I think the most important thing is that we act like this is the first ball we’ve ever held in honor of Meg’s engagement,” the dowager said, moving to pour herself tea and drinking deeply before she continued, “If anyone is so uncouth as to mention the Duke of Northridge, we move on as if his name was never mentioned.”

Meg frowned. “Graham is…was…such a good friend to both James and Simon. And we were engaged for so long, Mother. I don’t know that pretending he doesn’t exist will help.”

Her mother arched a brow. “The young man left here in order to protect you all in some way, did he not?”

Meg wrinkled forehead as she thought of Graham’s hasty and angry departure. At the time, she wasn’t certain he was thinking of her or Simon in any kind of protective way. But then again, if he’d stayed it only would have caused larger rumblings. More to stare at and analyze.

And the one thing Graham had always been was protective. Of James, of Simon…even of her.

“If part of his leaving was to protect Simon and me, then we owe him a great deal,” she said softly.

“And one day I’m certain you will have a chance to make all this up to him,” the dowager said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But for now, I say we make this a glittering ball, a powerful display of our family unity and celebration of this union.”

Emma ran a hand across her chin, as if she were pondering the suggestion. “I thought small and demure, but you are likely right. A larger display will show our support and perhaps silence those who would find fault in this match.”

“A good party will silence anyone if done properly,” the dowager said.

Emma nodded. “I agree. But since this party is tomorrow night, that means I must rush off to speak to the servants now and adjust our plans. Will you two be…” She darted her gaze to Meg. “Will you be all right?”

“Of course,” the dowager said. “Meg and I have lived together for years, of course we can be alone together.”

Meg nodded to allow Emma to leave. She did so, but Meg could see she was uncertain. Truth be told, so was she as she turned toward her mother.

“Now that Emma is gone, do you have anything to say to me, Mother?”

The dowager flinched ever so slightly at the question, but she didn’t back away. “You think I was holding back my judgments of you until Emma left?”

Meg shrugged. “I suppose if you had judgments, Emma’s presence wouldn’t have prevented you from stating them. I only thought you might want to scold me since you didn’t get the chance to do so yesterday when this mess began.”

“Because I was drunk,” her mother said.

Meg’s mouth dropped open in shock. The dowager had never acknowledged that she drank, not in all the years Meg had been tasked with watching her, protecting her, keeping her from public view when she was at her worst.

“I-I—”

Her mother shook her head. “Don’t you ever wonder why I escape in a bottle, Margaret?”

Meg turned her face slightly. “I know why. You were very unhappy with Father.”

“Do you? Do you truly understand? Perhaps you do, considering this broken engagement and compromising position you found yourself in.” The dowager let out a pained sigh. “Your father had a family before ours. The family he truly wanted. When they were killed in that accident, he didn’t want to marry again or have new children.”

Meg pursed her lips. Although this was not a conversation she had ever had with her mother, over the years she had discussed it with James…with Simon…and she’d tried to understand her father. Tried to feel for him and the grief he must have endured when he lost the family he’d chosen.

But that was hard when his cruelty toward her and her brother was so abject.

“He had his duty, though, didn’t he?” she said softly.

The dowager nodded. “Indeed, he did. And that duty was important to him. Our marriage was also arranged. My father’s fortune was good and his title was respected. It was a good match, at least on paper. The reality, as you know, was far different.”

“He hated us all,” Meg murmured. “I don’t think he spoke to me at all from the time I was seven or eight until the day he died. I was unimportant, not a boy, not a spare.”

Her mother shuddered. “He hardly spoke to me, either. He grunted over me, trying to produce a spare out of terror that his eldest son would die, but after you were born, we never conceived again. He hated me for it. He hated you for being a girl. He hated James for not being his late son.”