“That nasty little man would have got me some time. Don’t blame yourself,” she said, rubbing her forehead. Suddenly she had a massive headache and felt quite sick. Whether it was from a hangover or the situation she was now in or a mixture of both, she had no idea. She just wanted to take a few aspirins, crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and blot out the world.
Simon drew in a breath. Things had moved much quicker than he had imagined. He had anticipated having a few more days to play with to fully ensnare the beautiful Duchess but the situation was now out of his control. He had to act swiftly before she went back to Yorkshire and she was out of his reach forever.
“If it’s so bad and your husband doesn’t make you happy, you should leave him,” he said with determination. “Life’s too short to be miserable and we would both be in the depths of despair if you disappear again. Margaret … why don’t we go away together, now? There’s simply no need for you to return to Canleigh … ever … and I certainly don’t want to remain here either, never knowing if I will see you again. Imagine it, just us, alone, with the time and freedom to enjoy each other. Don’t you think that’s a wonderful idea? Surely you can’t want to return to a life where you will wither and die. It would be such a dreadful waste … you, pining for me in the wilds of Yorkshire … and me, pining for you in London, which will become even darker and more dismal than it was last week. Think about it, darling Duchess. We’d have such fun.”
Margaret gave a soft laugh. “Don’t tempt me.”
It was an enticing thought but not remotely possible. She was in enough hot water already and didn’t want to make it worse. She liked being a Duchess, liked the money that went with it and even though she hated Canleigh Hall, she liked society knowing she was mistress of it. No, she didn’t really want to give it up. In time, if she kept her head, this would all blow over and she and Charles would reach some kind of compromise again. She didn’t want a divorce and was pretty positive Charles didn’t either. Perhaps once the scandal had died down and she had pacified him, an amicable official separation could be arranged. If she promised to be discreet in future she might be able to persuade Charles to let her live permanently in London, although she doubted it would be at Canleigh House, unfortunately. She loved it now that it was all to her taste. Yes, she ought to be able to talk him round, use a few feminine wiles and then she could have the best of both worlds. An affair with Simon would definitely be amusing but would probably peter out in the not too distant future. He was young and would move on but there would be others. Margaret’s eyes sparkled for a second.
He was urging her to listen to him. “Think about it. That’s all I ask,” he said. “In the meantime, what are you going to do?”
She sighed miserably. “I shall have to go back to Yorkshire … face the music … and as soon as possible really. The longer I leave it the worse it will be.”
“Let me take you,” he said quickly, not wanting to let her disappear, keen for another opportunity to work on her. “You can’t go on the train. You’ll be besieged by reporters. I can sneak out of here and be with you in an hour.”
Knowing there was no alternative but to agree, Margaret relented. “Okay. I’m not at Canleigh House though.”
She gave him the address of the flat and before he rolled up an hour later in his cracking brand new MGB GT sports car, she had rifled through the wardrobe in the bedroom to see if there was anything which would fit her. She could hardly turn up at Canleigh in the same dress she had worn last night. Luckily, someone, possibly Amelia, had left a pair of beige trousers and a white lace blouse and both fitted her reasonably well. The blouse was a little big but, tucked into the trousers, no-one would know. There were no shoes so she would have to wear her own, which being gold strappy sandals, did look a little silly with the outfit but hopefully no-one would notice.
In a short space of time they were heading for Yorkshire, a copy of the offending paper Simon had brought with him on Margaret’s lap. It was worse than she thought. The whole front page of the seedy rag was taken up with a shot of them standing under the trees, devoid of all clothing with their private parts blocked out. Their faces were hidden from view by foliage. It could have been any couple. There was nothing to reveal who they were, until she turned the page where there was a whole series of smaller shots. Their faces could be seen as they cavorted on the rug and later, to cool off, splashing in the lake. One particular photograph showed their features clearly. Margaret was standing in front of Simon, a head taller than she. His arms were around her waist and her head was tilted back on his neck as they both gazed up into the night sky. They were facing the camera and there could be no mistaking their identities.
Margaret groaned and put her head in her hands. Charles would have every reason to be incandescent with rage and she couldn’t blame him. It was going to take a hell of a lot of tact and ingenuity to pull herself out of this
