Marguerite's Pledge for Redemption
[A Regency Era novel, #vengeance #weaktostrong #heiress #loveaftermarriage #noblefamily #dramatic #betrayal] "Lady Blanchard," the Marquess of Canterbury announced, his voice carrying a hint of surprise as he swept off his cocked hat and handed it to the waiting butler. He then stepped into the drawing room, his eyes immediately falling upon her. The cup of tea and a plate of pastries on the coffee table suggested that she had been waiting for his arrival for some time. "What a surprise," he continued, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone. "Do you require anything from me?" "Indeed, Your Grace," Maggie replied, her voice steady despite the weight of her proposition. The Marquess's amusement vanished, replaced by a flicker of suspicion. He crossed his arms in a haughty manner, his posture demanding an explanation. "And what might that be?" he inquired, his voice laced with a cool formality. "I would like to propose," Maggie began, meeting his gaze directly, "a marriage alliance between us." -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- Upon her father's untimely demise, Lady Marguerite “Maggie” Delaney Antoine Blanchard was betrayed by the man he loved, Nicholas Cunningham, and the only other relative she trusted, Nicholas' father, Lloyd Cunningham. She found much-needed support in the Marquess of Canterbury, Percival Clement Duane Locksworth, whom she did not care for due to the unfortunate nature of their first meeting, but who turned out to be the lifeline she needed to exact his revenge and regain the Countess of Huntington title. When Maggie offered the Marquess a beneficial deal in exchange for his hand in marriage, would the not-so-charming gentleman say yes? And if he did, would Maggie be able to win the claim for the Earldom of Huntington and retain it within the Blanchard family's ownership? Or would she crumble under the storm of the Marquess's gaze, his presence a churning sea threatening to engulf her whole?
Chapter 36 - A Memorable Wedding Night (1)
Unlike brides, thank heavens, grooms weren't subjected to elaborate preparations on the wedding day. Yet, Percy found himself having to endure a surprising amount of fussing over his attire. The sheer number of buttons and cravats involved was enough to exhaust any groom, he thought to himself in exasperation many, many times with every heavy sigh rumbling from his chest.
He was so tired that he did not want to look at any work documents in his study.
All he craved was the blissful oblivion of sleep, preferably achieved by collapsing directly onto his bed, clothes, and all. Changing into something "comfortable" seemed like a herculean task at this point.
He must have fallen asleep for several minutes, he later discovered, before he was woken up rather rudely by the insistent pounding at his door.