Nora looked sharply at the dowdy woman. Of course that was information Nora had already overheard, but she had been hoping to reveal it to Michael privately. Nora knew he had never stopped loving her—even knowing he was just a groom to her, and not someone Maggie could ever return feelings for. With darting eyes, Nora took in Michael’s reaction. He had blanched white as one of the estate’s crisp, starched sheets. “How do you know that?” Nora challenged Helen with a bit more aggression than she had meant to. “I never heard anything like that.”

“I was mopping the hall the other day outside the library. The door was slightly open and I overheard the two of them talking,” Grace explained.

“That’s disgusting,” Helen stated firmly, her voice dripping with true revulsion.

“What? That I overheard them?” Grace questioned. “It wasn’t as though I was trying to—”

“No!” Helen interrupted. “The Duke of Cotswall marrying Lady Margaret—”

“I think he’s rather distinguished,” Mrs. Howard maintained. “For a man his age, I think—”

“That’s exactly the thing of it,” Helen insisted. “He’s a man his age.”

“What would you estimate him to be?” Rose asked Mrs. Howard. “Forty-five? Fifty?”

“It’s not so unheard of,” Mrs. Howard said. “A man of great wealth feels that the lavish life he can offer a young woman makes him an attractive candidate for marriage despite a gap in age, and many a young woman eagerly reciprocates his attentions.”

“I still say it seems wrong,” Helen said.

“That’s because you’re very young,” Mrs. Howard replied. “The opportunity to be the Duchess of Cotswall with all the power, influence, and opportunity which accompany that title is nothing to be dismissed lightly. I hope that the new sophistication and maturity that we are noticing in Lady Margaret will help her to realize what she’s being offered.”