Page 101 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
Alison’s face fell, and her expression grew mulish. “Worse! He’s convinced Papa that we should put off announcing our engagement until at least the end of summer!”
Glumly, Joshua confirmed, “To at least the end of August.”
“But it’s not even May.” Meg was incredulous. “That’s four whole months away.”
“I know!” Alison said. “It’s utterly unreasonable.”
Drago frowned. “Has Hubert given any reason at all for his peculiar stance?” He glanced at Joshua. “Does the end of August have any significance that you know of?”
Joshua shook his head. “I’ve thought and thought, but there’s nothing I can see that would account for Hubert’s insistence.”
“And he isveryinsistent,” Alison confirmed. “So much so that Papa won’t listen to any arguments Joshua and I make.”
Drago caught Joshua’s eye. “I confess, Joshua, that in light of Hubert’s resistance, I had my man look into your situation, and he’s assured me that all is definitely aboveboard with you. Consequently, I’m entirely willing to stand behind you, and if and when you think it might help, I’m happy to have a word with Melwin—Alison’s father, that is.”
Relief spread across Joshua’s face. “Thank you.” He looked at Alison, smiled, and squeezed her hand. “We hope it won’t come to that, but if it does, it’s comforting to know that we have your”—his gaze flicked to Meg, and he smiled—“and your duchess’s support.”
“Indeed. And our approval, too,” Meg staunchly declared.
“Thank you.” Alison, too, looked happier. “Your support means a lot to us.” She shook her head. “I really don’t want to be an autumn bride.”
Soon after, the four parted, and Meg and Drago continued down the last row of stalls.
“That must be so frustrating.” Meg glanced at Drago’s face. “Being kept apart for no reason—apparently just for a whim of her brother’s.”
Drago nodded. “One can’t help feeling for them.” He met Meg’s eyes. “Especially now that we’re enjoying the benefits of marriage that they’re being denied.”
He watched as she searched his eyes and gentle color rose in her cheeks. Then she nodded and faced forward. “Indeed.”
After meeting with one last lady and inviting her to join the party at the Court the next day, they returned to the curricle, left nearby in Milton’s care, and set off for home.
As with Meg beside him, Drago tooled the grays homeward, he was alive to how relaxed she was and aware, at some deeper level, of her contentment with her lot.
To him, now, that meant…a great deal.
And that, he thought, was simply one indication of what love had done to him.
He was still grappling with all the changes.
“Well,” Meg mused, “as we’d hoped, it seems the attacks have ceased.”
“Thus far, yes. Let’s hope that holds.” He remained concerned that no amount of investigating had as yet turned up even a hint of what the motive behind the attacks had been. Had that motive, whatever it was, truly been rendered null and void by their wedding? Or was it simply in abeyance, possibly due to them being at Wylde Court and therefore not easily reached?
“Well, we’ve gone a whole week, and nothing’s happened.” She threw him a smile. “I have to admit it’s so peaceful down here, it’s difficult to imagine anything intruding on the serenity.”
He wasn’t so convinced, but dipped his head. “It’s always very peaceful down here.”
* * *
In the wakeof their successful tea party on the south lawn on Sunday, on Monday afternoon, Meg set out on one of the regular visits Constance had mentioned she usually undertook when she was in residence, namely ferrying a basket of provisions to two older widows who lived together in a small cottage on a corner of the estate.
As, in a way, it was due to Meg and Drago marrying that the dowager was presently fixed in London, Meg had spoken with Mrs. Fothergill and arranged to go in the dowager’s stead.
“The old dears will be that thrilled to meet you,” Mrs. Fothergill predicted.
With Ridley dogging her heels, Meg stopped in the kitchen and picked up the hamper Cook had ready and waiting, then left the house via the rear door to walk to the stable. Fothergill had ordered the gig to be made ready for her, and the simple carriage was standing in the stable yard—along with her husband.
Drago saw her and smiled. “There you are.”
