The enormous chamber was unoccupied except for a fuzzy black ball on one chair. Maxie studied it a moment before deciding that it was either a misplaced fur muff or a sleeping cat.
She began to prowl, randomly pulling volumes from the shelves. Candover had books she had always wanted to read but had never been able to obtain. There were volumes of poetry, history, philosophy, art, and everything else that might challenge or delight a mind.
Deciding to be methodical, she pushed the rolling library ladder to the far corner of the long room and climbed to the platform at the top. With a complete disregard for propriety, she hitched up her dress, crossed her legs under her, and pulled a volume from the top shelf. With diligence, she calculated happily, she might finish working her way through the library somewhere about the year 1850.
Lost in an epistolary novel by Montesquieu, she had almost forgotten where she was when the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention. She glanced up from her book to see the duchess enter, then close the door and lean against it.
Since the other woman didn't look above eye level, she must have thought she was alone. Maxie frowned, wondering if she should announce her own presence. Before she could, the duchess swayed, then stumbled over to sit on a long sofa.
Alarmed, Maxie hastily descended the ladder. "Are you unwell, your grace?. Shall I call someone?"
The duchess' lovely face was an interesting shade of gray green that did not complement her eyes. Attempting to smile, she said, "Don't do that. The reason I slipped in here was to avoid alarming anyone. Rafe has every servant in the house hovering over me, and he's the worst of all."
She leaned back and closed her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with me, except that I haven't yet acquired the knack of breeding properly. Most women are ill in the morning, but for me it seems to be the afternoon."
"I see," Maxie said sympathetically. From the slimness of the duchess' waist, it was obviously quite early in her pregnancy. "Lie back and put your feet up on the sofa."
While the other woman meekly obeyed, Maxie found a soft, warm blanket on another sofa and spread it over her. "Perhaps you should have a little something to eat."
The duchess shuddered.
Maxie said soothingly, "Many pregnant women find that it helps to eat several times during the day. Nothing elaborate, perhaps something like tea and biscuits."
The duchess considered. "It's worth a try."
A quarter hour later, after the expectant mother had warily consumed two warm scones and a cup of tea, her normal color returned. Curling up in the corner of the sofa, she said, "Thank you for your advice. I feel amazingly better." She made a face. "At least, until the next time."
"Don't worry, your grace, the nausea disappears magically sometime after the third month."
Unable to keep curiosity from her voice, the duchess said, "You sound like a midwife."
"I'm not that, but I've had a colorful past" Maxie swallowed the last bite of a scone. "Did Robin tell you about my background?"
"Of course not." Her hostess gave her a stern look. "He is the last man on earth to talk about another person's private business. Sometimes it is impossible to get him to say anything useful about anything. And I wish you would call me Margot."
"Not Maggie?"
"My real name is Margot and that is what I use now. Maggie is a nickname Robin gave me, and it lasted through my spying days. I'm sure that to him I'll always be Maggie, just as I'll never really think of him as Lord Robert." She tilted her golden head to one side as if weighing whether to say more. Making up her mind, she said, "I know you're uncomfortable with me, but I'm no threat to you. On the contrary, I would like to be friends."
Maxie had to give the duchess full marks for confronting an awkward situation headon. "I haven't meant to return your hospitality with churlishness. But I must admit that I have trouble understanding the relationship between you and Robin."
"You haven't been churlish. I think you have dealt very well with a situation that would send most women into strong hysterics." Margot sipped reflectively on her tea. "I met Robin when he saved me, at considerable risk to himself, from a French mob that had killed my father. I had a passionate desire to fight Napoleon any way I could, so we decided to work together.
"We were young and had only each other to trust, and there was a great deal of caring between us. It was easy-and very rewarding-to become lovers. Nonetheless, I had been acquainted with Robin for a dozen years before I was really sure of his name, station in life, or nationality."
She set her teacup down and began to turn her wedding ring absently. "It may be hard to understand this outside of the context of war. Robin would go off for months at a time, risking his life in ways I tried not to think about. Then he would show up, blithe and goodnatured, as if he had been strolling around the corner. I think there is a great deal that he never told me, to spare me from worrying even more.
"In some ways we were very close. Yet there were other parts of our lives that never touched at all. Eventually, it seemed wrong to be lovers, and that ceased. But the friendship and trust remained, and always will." Her graygreen eyes drifted out of focus. "Perhaps the outcome would have been different if I hadn't been in love with Rafe before I ever met Robin-it's impossible to say. But I suspect that Robin and I are too much alike ever to have made ideal mates."
Her manner changed, becoming brisk. "Perhaps now you can better understand why I genuinely want to see Robin happy."
Maxie's throat tightened. It couldn't be easy for the duchess to bare her soul to another woman who was very nearly a stranger. "I appreciate your openness, Margot."
"It's in my own interest to make peace with you. If you take me in dislike, it would affect my friendship with Robin, and I would hate that." She smiled with a hint of mischief. "Perhaps you could try thinking of Robin and me as brother and sister. Rafe found that helped."
To mask her thoughts, Maxie leaned forward to pour more tea for herself. It couldn't have been easy for Robin and Candover to become friends when they loved the same woman, but they seemed to have done it. She must do her best to match their maturity. Besides, it was very easy to like Margot. Glancing up, she said, "What you are doing is more than generous, to both Robin and me. It's easy to understand why Robin is in love with you."
"Robin was never in love with me. Not then, not now," Margot said firmly. She started to continue, then stopped. "I won't say any more. Perhaps I've already said too much."
Margot had convinced Maxie that she was not in love with Robin, but there was nothing in her words that proved that the opposite was not the case. Still, the duchess was offering a wise and tolerant female ear, and Maxie wanted to take advantage of that. She said hesitantly, "Robin has asked me to marry him, but it's hard to imagine someone with my mongrel past being accepted in his world."
"Nonsense. You have manners, education, and looks. With that and a dash of arrogance, you'll be acceptable at the royal court itself. The trick is never to apologize for what you are."
Maxie smiled. "It sounds like something you learned the hard way. But surely you had no trouble taking your place in society."
"You'd be surprised," the duchess said darkly. "When I married Rafe, my situation was not unlike yours. You and I are both the daughters of younger sons from noble families-respectable birth, but not absolutely top drawer. You have what you call your mongrel ancestry, while I have a distinctly shady past. There was plenty of fodder for gossips, and I was not at all what the Whitbournes wanted for the head of the family."
Maxie frowned. "Everyone knows about you and Robin?"
"That is one of the bits that few people know, and all of them are discreet. But it was impossible to conceal my spying career-too many people met me when I was playing the role of a scandalous Hungarian countess."