How to Marry a Duke (A Cinderella Society 2)

Meg turned Little Tom just so and when he finally vomited, he spit up on her sleeve and dangerously, dangerously close to Mr. Hughes. He scrambled back as though it was fire, thoroughly distracted from the argument. Emmaline’s mouth twitched as she fought against a smile and lost. “There, poppet. Who’s a good lad?”

“Control your offspring!”

“I thought I was being hauled away to your bloody stocks?” Emmaline asked tartly, never one to give in gracefully.

“Emma,” Tom said, wearily. “Please.”

“Control your wife!” Mr. Hughes roared.

Before an actual war broke out, Meg turned again, keeping the constable in the line of fire, while rubbing soothing circles on the baby’s back. He was already looking better, his cries more offended than uncomfortable. She finally handed him to Emmaline once Mr. Hughes had stepped back. “Mr. Hughes, I’m sure you agree that a baby needs his mother. We should not punish this little one because a mother’s love makes her a little…outspoken.”

“Well, I suppose…”

“It’s her nerves, you see.”

“My nerves,” Emmaline hissed. “Meg Swift, you—”

“And I simply cannot leave this stain to ruin my dress!” Meg continued with growing alarm.

His eyes widened in horror that ought to have been comical were he not so serious. “Miss Swift! Do let me take you back up to the Hall.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tom ushered Emmaline towards their cottage, soothing the disgruntled baby. Wes just shook his head and went back to sorting through the rents. Meg would hop up into the pony cart and listen to Mr. Hughes intone on various concepts. Her cheeks already ached from smiling and her neck wasn’t pleased with all of the nodding. She was clearly out of practice. She hadn’t had to dig for her polite smile all of the many days she’d been at the Abbey.

But as no one had been fined or put in the stocks, Meg considered the morning a success of sorts.

And then that voice she would never forget, the one that she thought she would never hear again, husky and full of the North, the one that slid over her skin and never failed to make her tingle.

“Meg.”