Page 18 of Duke of Gold
Peggy smiled faintly, though her chest tightened at the mention of her older sister. Elizabeth had always been the voice of reason, the model of poise and discipline—qualities Peggy wished she could summon more easily. How Elizabeth would likely frown if she saw them now, their cups filled before dinner, their mirth unbridled.
Before she could dwell further, the butler entered with quiet efficiency, a folded letter resting on a silver tray. “A missive for you, Lady Margaret,” he said, bowing as he offered it.
Peggy accepted it with a murmur of thanks, the laughter fading as she recognized the seal. The Duke. Of course. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the envelope as she excused herself from the lively chatter and stepped toward the window for better light.
Anna raised a brow, her curiosity barely concealed. “Oh, do tell us if it’s a romantic ode,” she teased, but her tone was lighthearted.
Peggy didn’t reply, instead breaking the seal with deliberate care. The paper felt heavier in her hands than it should have, the weight of its sender pressing down on her shoulders. She unfolded it and read:
Lady Margaret,
I trust this note finds you well. In light of the limited time before our wedding, I must inform you that I shall not be available for further outings or engagements until after the ceremony. My schedule demands my full attention, and I trust you will find it agreeable to reserve your energy for our future roles.
Sincerely,
Duke of Giltford
Peggy stared at the words, her pulse quickening with each passing second. Her grip on the letter tightened as indignation surged through her. Not available for further outings? The audacity of the man! As if she had any intention of inviting him to another promenade. The last one had been a mistake, one she had no desire to repeat.
“Peggy?” Anna’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “What is it? You look as though you’ve swallowed a lemon.”
Peggy forced herself to glance up, hastily folding the letter to hide its contents. “Nothing of consequence,” she replied, her voice steady but a fraction too quick. “Just a note from the Duke.”
Petunia set her glass down with a soft clink, her brow furrowing. “From Giltford? What does he have to say?”
“Surely something romantic and sweeping,” Anna teased, her lips curving into a sly grin. “Did he compose a sonnet for you? Or perhaps he has sent a declaration of undying love?”
Peggy let out a short laugh, though it sounded strained even to her ears. “Hardly. It is merely a matter of logistics. He has many pressing engagements, and it seems there will be no further outings before the wedding.”
Anna tilted her head, studying Peggy closely. “That’s a rather curt message for your intended, isn’t it? Did he even bother to inquire after your health?”
“I’m quite sure he didn’t,” Peggy replied lightly, tucking the letter into her lap. “But then, he is a very busy man.”
Petunia’s gaze sharpened, and she leaned forward slightly. “Peggy, are you quite certain everything is well? You seem... distracted.”
Peggy’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the folded parchment. “Everything is perfectly fine, Auntie,” she said, keeping her tone airy. “He is simply preoccupied with his affairs, as any Duke would be.”
Anna exchanged a glance with Petunia, her skepticism plain, but she said nothing more. Peggy seized the moment to stand, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her dress. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need some air.”
Petunia’s expression softened, though her concern lingered. “Of course, my dear. Take your time.”
Peggy stepped out of the room, the folded letter clutched tightly in her hand. Once in the hallway, she paused, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled. Her earlier anger had not abated, but now it was filled with something heavier—a gnawing sense of helplessness.
More than anything, she wanted out of this farce of a betrothal. But that, of course, was impossible. To walk away now would be to jeopardize her family’s honor, to ruin the delicate balance her uncle had worked so hard to restore.
If only she could?—
No. She couldn’t think like that. She had responsibilities, a duty she could not shirk. She would not shirk them, no matter that her thoughts lingered wistfully on the gallant knight who would never come.
CHAPTER 9
“Lizzy, you came!” Peggy embraced her sister warmly, though the trembling in her hands betrayed her nerves.
Elizabeth returned the embrace with equal fervor. “We arrived but a moment ago. Oh, thank heavens we made it in time.”
Peggy pulled back slightly, searching her sister’s face with concern. “You must be dreadfully tired after such a journey.”
“Nonsense!” Elizabeth declared, waving away the notion as she stepped back. “It is my dearest sister’s wedding day. I would not miss such an occasion for all the world.”
