Page 92 of The Moonstone Pirate
“Yes.” Draco joined him in staring out over the glistening waters.
“She is all heart, that girl. We often forget how truly smart she is because the side of her she usually shows us has everything to do with feelings and little to do with practicality. She is a bundle of compassion and kindly spirit. But she is also talented, sharp as the crack of a whip, and soaks up knowledge like a sponge.”
“I would add brave, loyal, and sensible under duress to that list of her virtues,” Draco said. “I knew it already, but to see her today… And she is so humble about herself. I behaved like an ass. She handled me rather well.”
“Are you going to continue to behave like an ass and refuse everyone’s help? I could talk to Matchett for you.”
“No, I want to do it myself. I suffered a flesh wound, that’s all. One would think I was at death’s door the way everyone is fussing over me. All I intend to do is ask questions, and then Imust talk to Thaddius Angel to look at his guest registry, as well as see if any mail came for me today.”
“Yes, I suppose you must be eager for word from the Home Office, especially since you are to meet with that gunrunner tomorrow. Just say the word, and my men will swoop in and take him and his crew into custody.”
“You and Burness will be the first to know if my instructions change. Truly, I will not hesitate to call upon you if I feel the need.”
They soon parted ways.
Draco had driven Imogen and Deandra into town in a rig that was now waiting for them in front of the hospital. One of Brennan’s soldiers was in the driver’s seat. “I’ve got this, my lord. You just sit back and enjoy the company of those pretty ladies.”
Lord, he hated being patronized.
But he was not going to win this round, and he did not particularly mind having another able-bodied man with him on the ride back to the Burness residence. He did not expect trouble, but neither had he expected to be attacked in a tea shop.
Imogen climbed in, sitting opposite him with her hands primly folded on her lap. Deandra was beside him, clutching him and refusing to let go. He indulged his cousin, since he did not know what else to do to keep her calm.
Imogen smiled in approval.
He tossed back a sloppy grin, wishing it was her that he was holding. But she seemed content and rather relieved they were out of the hospital now. He did not mind sitting opposite her and staring at her lovely face.
There was just something about this girl.
She really did look like a butterfly with those big eyes and lovely mass of hair that framed her heart-shaped face. Her neck was swanlike, long and slender. He would enjoy planting kissesalong its smooth arch and kissing the tempting hollow of her throat. Her shoulders were small, which probably accentuated the size of her nicely rounded bosom.
He looked his fill, since he had nothing else to do as the rig jounced its way up the high street and out of town.
He had not thought to ask about the extent of her uncle’s authority over her, but he would make a point of finding out when he spoke to Burness. Did he have the authority to consent to Imogen’s marriage? Or would Draco have to write to her father in order to seek permission?
Bollocks.
That would delay matters possibly for another month, if not longer if they insisted on a London wedding.
Imogen nudged his foot to regain his attention. “Draco, you were smiling, but now you are frowning. Is something wrong?”
“No, Butterfly. Just thinking of certain matters that require my attention. Important Woodley matters. One in particular that I must address as soon as…” He could not mention his Crown assignment with Deandra listening in. “Just an important item on my list of things to do now that I am earl.” Did Imogen not count as such? Acquiring a wife was rather an important Woodley concern.
The ride to Westgate Hall was surprisingly pleasant and quiet without Deandra’s howling to shatter his eardrums.
Melrose hurried toward them as soon as the conveyance approached. Since Major Brennan had insisted on assigning one of his soldiers to drive them here, Draco would take advantage of the man’s services on the ride back. Knowing he was not taking the reins would quiet Imogen’s protests, because he knew by her look that she was going to mother him.
Not that he minded. His arm did ache like blazes. He was slightly nauseated, too. His stitches were fresh, and he wouldhear no end of chiding if the slightest trace of blood seeped through his bandage and onto his borrowed shirt.
“My lord, news of what happened just reached us,” Melrose said with sincere concern. “Lord and Lady Burness are at St. Austell Grange at the moment, but I’ve sent a man to inform them of the shooting on the chance they have not heard.”
Draco gave an arch laugh. “I’m sure the town criers have spread the news far and wide.”
Melrose cleared his throat. “Yes, it is likely. His lordship and her ladyship should be back soon.”
“But as you can see,” Imogen said, hopping eagerly out of the rig, “we are all well.”
Melrose obviously did not agree, for his eyes rounded and he cried out in alarm. “Dear heaven! Lady Imogen, your gown!”
