Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(46)

She shot him a glance and he caught his breath. They were married. When they returned to London, she would move into his townhouse in the city. They would truly live as man and wife.

He cleared his throat and tried to find some focus. “Yes, well, I suppose it is all we can do. Now I find I’m very tired. It was a long day.”

Meg set her drink down and moved toward him. “I’ll—I’ll join you,” she said, her cheeks flaming a little.

He swallowed hard and offered her an arm. Together they said their goodnights and then he guided her toward the parlor door. They had only taken a few awkward steps toward the staircase when his mother stepped out of the room behind them.

“Simon,” she said.

He turned, drawing Meg with him and barely contained a sigh. The now-Dowager Duchess of Crestwood looked just as sour and judgmental as she always had. This was clearly not to be a supportive moment between them. Not that he could recall one from before, either.

“Yes, Mother?” he ground out, focusing as much as he could at the gentle feeling of Meg’s fingers against his arm. They were tightening a fraction now, a buoy against what was to come.

“Because I have little choice, I shall support you as best I can in public,” the dowager said. “My going against you will only make it harder for me.”

He shook his head slightly. “Well, I’m sure Meg and I appreciate the support no matter for what reason it is given.”

He moved to go, and his mother snapped, “I am not finished.” Meg tensed at his side as they returned their attention to the dowager as she continued talking. “You have always been a disappointment, Simon, so I ought not to have expected more from you in this. But I want to be perfectly clear that my public support in no way reflects a private sentiment. Your ridiculous decision to act on your heart rather than with your head shows me what kind of fool you are. Straighten up, or you shall lose all your allies. Including me.”

Simon gritted his teeth. He’d heard some variation of this speech from her over the years. Today it hit home, for he remained raw over all he’d done to bring them to this place. He opened his mouth to reply when Meg slid her hand from his arm and stepped forward.

“Your Grace, Simon and I are infinitely aware of all the damage we have done to ourselves and those around us, both socially and in terms of emotional damage. No one needs to tell us, for aside from the Duke of Northfield, I do not think anyone is suffering as much as we are. Not that you offer comfort, but there we are.”

“Margaret—” his mother began, her eyes flashing.

Meg held up a hand. “I am not finished. The fact is that Simon will need support, not just publicly, but privately, as we work through this difficult time. If you are not equipped or inclined to provide it then I offer a solution: stay away from us.”

His mother’s lips parted and she gasped in a breath that seemed to echo in the hallway. “How dare you? What right do you have to speak to me in such a way?”

“I married your son today,” Meg all but growled. “Which makes me the Duchess of Crestwood now, and responsible for the appearances we choose to uphold. I will make myself clear—if you ever again speak to my husband in the manner you just did, I will cut you out of our circle so fast, you will not know what happened.” Meg smiled, but it wasn’t the usual warm and welcoming one that graced her lips. “You and I can be allies, or we can be very public enemies. It is your choice. But choose wisely, for I know how much appearances mean to you.”

They all stood for a moment, both Simon and his mother shocked by Meg’s statement. At last, the dowager stepped toward him. Simon tensed, ready for another attack or set down or demand.

Instead she met his eyes. Her nostrils were flaring with upset, her eyes flashing with anger, but to his utter shock she said, “I apologize, Simon. I spoke out of turn. Of course you have my full support.”

Simon could only stare. In all his years on this earth, his mother had never apologized to him. He had certainly done so to her dozens of times, but never had that act returned. Now he hardly knew what to do.

Not that it bothered Meg. She gave another tight smile and leaned in to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Your Grace. Now my husband and I will retire. Come along, Simon,” she said, taking his arm again and turning him toward the stairs.

He followed her, almost blindly, his ears still ringing from what had just happened. What she had said and done.

The fact that she had championed him, which no one had really ever done in his life. As they reached the door to his chamber, he turned toward her.

“Meg,” he whispered.

She lifted her face to his, dark eyes clear and focused on him. He caught his breath, knowing she was his and still hesitant to let that be.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?” she asked, lifting a hand to touch his face.

He shook his head. “You know what. What you said to my mother.”

A shadow crossed her expression. “I know it was speaking out of turn and normally I wouldn’t be so blunt, but I am tired of the way she treats you, Simon. And I will not stand for that in my house, not while I am duchess.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “You have been duchess all of eight hours and already you lay down your rules.”

She nodded and reached around him to open his chamber door. “I do. Now come inside and we can—”