Page 60 of Duke of Gold
He turned back to her then, his eyes dark and filled with something she couldn’t quite name—anger, perhaps, or pain. “Do not press me, Margaret. Leave it be.”
His refusal only fueled her frustration. “You cannot shut me out like this, Morgan. Not forever.”
“You do not understand what you are asking,” he bit out, his voice low but fierce. “And you will not find the answers here. Now leave.”
Peggy stared at him, her heart pounding as her words faltered. His walls were firmly in place, impenetrable and unyielding, and no matter how desperately she wanted to reach him, he refused to let her in.
At last, she nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. “Very well,” she said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “I shall leave. But know this—whatever it is you are hiding, it will not remain hidden forever.”
Morgan said nothing, his silence as heavy as the tension in the room. Peggy turned and walked out, her steps measured but her heart shattering with each one.
As she made her way back to her chambers, her mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of hurt and confusion. Her husband’s anger, his secrecy, his unwillingness to share even the smallest piece of himself—it all weighed on her, pressing down until she could scarcely breathe.
When she reached her bedchamber, she closed the door behind her, the sound echoing in the stillness. Her gaze fell to her bureau, and a memory surfaced—the note she had received days ago.
She had dismissed it then, brushing it off as nonsense. But now, with Morgan’s words ringing in her ears, the question took on afar more unsettling weight. Crossing the room, she opened the drawer and retrieved the note, unfolding the paper slowly as though it might reveal something more the second time.
The words stared back at her, stark and unyielding.Do you truly know who you married, Duchess?
Peggy sank onto a chair, clutching the note in her hands. Her composure finally cracked, and tears slipped down her cheeks, warm and unbidden. She tried to make sense of it all, to piece together the fragments of her husband’s behavior, but the more she thought, the more elusive the answers became.
Peggy adjusted her gloves as she descended from the carriage, her smile poised and serene despite the turmoil that churned beneath her exterior. She was here to inspect the new ward at the children’s hospital.
Although she was grateful for the distraction, the ache in her chest remained, a persistent reminder of Morgan’s anger and the wall now standing between them.
“Ah, Your Grace,” Lady Aleshire greeted warmly, gesturing for Peggy to join her at the steps of the children’s hospital. “You’ve brought such a brightness with you today.”
Peggy inclined her head graciously. “I am delighted to be here. The work being done at this hospital is truly remarkable,” she replied, her voice steady and bright, though it took effort to maintain the facade.
The group was soon ushered inside, where the headmistress—Mrs. Trenton, a stern yet kind-faced woman Peggy had met briefly at the charity ball—awaited them. She dipped into a polite curtsy. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to see you again,” she said.
“And you as well, Mrs. Trenton,” Peggy replied, extending her hand. “I have heard much about your dedication to the children here.”
Mrs. Trenton’s eyes softened with pride. “It is my life’s work, Your Grace. Would you care to meet the children? They have been most eager to greet you.”
Peggy nodded, following Mrs. Trenton and Lady Aleshire through the hospital’s airy hallways. The laughter and chatter of children filled the space, a sound both chaotic and heartwarming. Peggy’s spirits lifted momentarily as they entered a large, bright room where a group of children sat at low tables, engaged in various activities. At Mrs. Trenton’s prompting, the children rose and offered polite bows and curtsies.
“This is our Duchess, children,” Mrs. Trenton announced with a smile. “She has come to see how well you are all doing.”
Peggy beamed at them, her heart softening at the sight of their eager faces. She moved among them, exchanging kind words and asking about their studies, marveling at their enthusiasm. But as her gaze swept the room, she noticed an empty chair in the far corner.
“Are we missing someone?” Peggy asked, her tone light but curious.
Mrs. Trenton followed her gaze and sighed. “Ah, that would be Lottie. She often slips away when she finds herself engrossed in a book. A most voracious reader, that one.”
Peggy’s smile deepened. “Where might we find her?”
The headmistress led her to a quiet corner where a small girl of about nine years old was perched on a cushioned bench, entirely absorbed in a book nearly as large as her lap. Peggy’s heart softened at the sight.
“Lottie,” Mrs. Trenton called gently, and the girl’s head shot up, her eyes wide with surprise. She quickly slid off the bench, clutching the book to her chest as she offered a deep curtsy.
“Your Grace,” Lottie murmured, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” Peggy said kindly, kneeling slightly to meet her gaze. “What is it you’re reading?”
Lottie hesitated, then held the book out to her. Peggy took it carefully, glancing at the title. “Tales of Courage and Valor,” she read aloud, her smile growing. “A fine choice.”
The girl’s face lit up, her shyness melting away. “It’s my favorite,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve read it three times already.”
