Amelia put a hand up as Margaret opened her mouth to protest. “No, Margaret, I really do want you to come. You will thoroughly enjoy the evening, I promise.”
So Margaret acquiesced, wearing a stunning evening gown in deep royal blue, a diamond and sapphire necklace, bracelet and earrings, and turning up at Amelia’s grand house in Knightsbridge at the appointed time in her hired chauffeur-driven black Daimler.
The evening had been the start of a considerably fascinating and exhausting round of social engagements which took her all over the world from Johannesburg, New York, Paris, Berlin, the south of France, Monte Carlo and of course, many visits to London, finally finding a real use for Charles’ generous allowance. She had also been amazed at how he showed no desire to stop her social whirl and almost gave her carte blanche to do as she pleased with other men, although it did come with a stern warning.
“I am sorry that our marriage hasn’t turned out the way you have liked,” he had said on the eve of her first trip to Monte Carlo with Amelia and her set. “But I do want you to be happy. I realise this will probably mean there might be,” he had hesitated and played irritatingly with his signet ring on his left hand before continuing. “There might be other men … and I quite understand, really I do and I won’t stand in your way. However, I would urge you to remember exactly who you are and who you represent and, of course, the children. I don’t ever want them to hear any scandal associated with their mother so I expect you to be totally and utterly discreet. You must also return to Canleigh for their birthdays, all the school holidays, especially Christmas and Easter and join us on our breaks at Blairness. I would also add that if there is any hint of scandal, I will take steps to divorce you, your allowance will stop immediately and you will have no access to the children. So, is that agreeable to you?”
Margaret had been unable to believe her luck. He was offering her freedom to live her life as she chose, providing her with the income to do it, and all she had to do was spend a few weeks of the year twiddling her thumbs at Blairness and Canleigh … and, of course, keep any dalliances quiet. At that moment she had almost loved him and planted a kiss on his cheek but restrained herself and smiled instead.
“Thank you, Charles … and yes, I understand. I won’t disgrace the Canleigh family, I promise.”
Her tone of voice had made Charles look at her with narrowed eyes but she had smiled again and he had let it go, although she knew he was wary. She would have to be really, really careful.
And so it began. She had taken a suite at the Savoy and with the help of Amelia, had integrated herself into London society who were more than willing to include the beautiful, vivacious, wealthy Duchess into their circle. There were men, of course, quite a number, in fact, but in public she always made sure there was a chaperone or they were in a crowd. Amelia became her confident. Having got used to her incessant inane chatter, Margaret found that beneath the waffle, there was a fun loving woman who was very good at keeping secrets. They didn’t actually become close but Margaret found Amelia could be relied on to provide cover for any illicit assignations and a flat in Bloomsbury, to which Margaret was given a key and could use as and when she wanted.
At first, she had been wary of bumping into Uncle Arthur or Aunt Sarah at a function but she ascertained from an acquaintance that following Beatrice’s marriage to a Belgian businessman and then moving abroad, they had sold their London home and bought a large property by the sea in a remote part of Norfolk. It was good to know the chance of seeing any of her relatives again was pretty unlikely.
Life became very pleasant indeed and the inconvenient breaks to Canleigh and Blairness could be borne relatively easily, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she was jetting off again. It was a constant round of pleasure; spending leisurely weeks cruising on yachts, sunbathing on deserted Caribbean beaches, spending lavishly in casinos, attending masked balls in Venice, being serenaded in gondolas, betting on exciting horse races in Saudi Arabia and skiing in the Alps. Unfortunately, with all this public exposure came the interest of the press and magazines. Photographers always seemed to be around, snapping quickly at her and anyone she happened to be with and it was rare a magazine that didn’t contain a number of pictures of her in their monthly editions. However, there was nothing they could print about her relationships as she was exceedingly careful to keep them completely under wraps and actually found all the subterfuge just added extra excitement to any current affair. To avoid letting down her guard, alcohol was kept to a minimum when out and about and it was only when in the privacy of Amelia’s flat or in her suite at the Savoy that she would allow herself to indulge in her favourite gin and tonic or even better, champagne. Relationships were kept short. Sex was all she wanted and she made sure that any man she did invite to her bed was also married and had as much to lose as herself if he talked.
Then, on a short visit to Canleigh, between a trip to Dubai and the next to Cannes, Margaret received another stroke of luck. Just after breakfast on the second day of her homecoming she walked past the open library door where Charles was opening his post and
