Page 107 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
Meg studied Drago’s face and saw enough in his stony features to suggest that distraction might be wise. “I can’t believe the others are already here. They couldn’t have got your notes until late last night or even this morning.”
Drago grunted and lowered his towel. “I suspect, like me, they had a lingering concern over whether our wedding would put an end to the attacks.”
She grimaced. “Their concern makes it difficult to take umbrage over them maintaining such a focused interest in our doings.” She picked up a towel and rose. Shaking out the length, she fixed Drago with an assessing look as he crossed toward her. “You didn’t ask them to hold themselves ready to come down, did you? Before sending for them yesterday, I mean.”
His gaze on her body, he shook his head. “Clearly, they felt sufficiently unsettled to hold themselves ready to come down at a moment’s notice, which only underscores the need to act and put an end to our villain’s game. He’s kept all of us dancing on his hook for long enough.” He offered her a hand to help her from the bath.
She gripped his fingers and stepped down to the tiles, but when he would have helped her dry off, she waved him back. “We have to get downstairs in short order, remember?”
His lips quirked, but he obligingly retreated to lean in the doorway again.
While she dried herself, they talked about household arrangements now the others were there, then he helped her don the day dress Rosie had laid out in the dressing room.
After she’d brushed her hair, wound it up, and anchored it, and put on delicate gold earrings and a matching necklace Drago had given her, she sighed, then turned and reached for his arm. “I’m as ready as I can be to face the inquisition waiting for us downstairs.”
* * *
After pausingto confer with Fothergill in the front hall, they entered the library to find their supporters lounging in the armchairs before the hearth.
Denton and George leapt up to offer Meg and Drago their places, then fetched other chairs from farther down the room.
Once everyone was settled, Drago began, “First, thank you all for responding to my summons so promptly.”
George waved dismissively. “Of course we came!”
“This,” Toby stated, “whatever this is, has been going on for too long.”
Drago dipped his head in agreement.
Frowning, Aidan glanced at George and Harry. “I thought there were three of you. Where’s”—he looked at Drago and Meg—“Thomas, is it?”
Drago nodded. “I sent Thomas word of what had happened, but recommended that he didn’t hie down here.” Drago glanced at Meg, then at the others. “Thomas is dependent on his position at Crawthorne and Quartermaine, my solicitors, and I would rather he didn’t risk his place in chambers to assist us in this.”
“Aside from all else,” Harry put in, “you never can tell when having a friend reviewing your legal documents will come in handy.”
“Just so,” Drago concurred.
Toby stirred and fixed his hazel gaze on Meg and Drago. “So what happened out there?” He tipped his head toward the lake.
Drago explained that they’d taken out the rowboat the previous week. “And after yesterday’s excitement—I’ll get to that in a moment—I thought Meg and I could do with a quiet sojourn on the lake, so we took the boat out again. While not in use, the boat is kept in the boathouse, held out of the water in a canvas sling. We lowered it into the lake and set off. We’d reached the widest section of the lake before we realized the hull was taking in water.” Drago suddenly remembered and held up a hand. “Wait.” He rose and tugged the bellpull and, when Fothergill appeared, asked for Maurice. While they waited for the valet, Drago returned to his chair. “Apparently, since Monday last week, a hole had appeared in the hull, hidden under the stern bench.”
Toby arched his brows. “Just appeared?”
Drago looked toward the door as a rap on the panels heralded Maurice.
“Your Grace?”
“Maurice, there should be a handkerchief in the right outer pocket of my jacket—the one that was soaked.”
“Indeed, Your Grace. I found it, but it’s not one of yours.”
“No, it isn’t. Could you fetch it, please?”
Maurice bowed and departed.
Drago looked at the others. “I found the handkerchief—a plain white handkerchief as far as I saw—stuffed in the hole. When I pulled it out, the boat sank more rapidly.”
Toby said, “So whoever put the hole in the hull wanted you to row well out before the boat sank.”
