Page 128 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
She looked at Drago and grinned. During her confinement, Ridley had managed to worm his way into the ducal suite. The fact that it was usually Drago, or if not him, Maurice, who let the pushy dog in never failed to make her smile. She studied her handsome husband’s face as he sharply instructed the dog to get down, and Ridley grudgingly complied.
Her son released her breast on a contented sigh, and she reswaddled him, settled her nightgown, and lifted him to her shoulder. Gently patting his back, she looked at Drago, who had watched every move like a hawk. She wasn’t sure he was aware of just how intently focused on the baby’s well-being he was. “Your mother is asking, as is your aunt. And as you might imagine, an unending parade of my female relatives, young and old, as well. So”—she fixed Drago with a pointed, almost-belligerent look—“what is his name to be?”
To her surprise, on that point, Drago had ummed and aahed. Now, he looked uncertain, not an expression she was accustomed to seeing on his arrogantly aristocratic face.
“I wondered if,” he ventured, “in light of what brought us together, we might call him after my father—Ryland.”
She’d expected as much and nodded. “How about Ryland Harold, honoring both our fathers? Ryland Harold Helmsford, future Duke of Wylde.”
Drago smiled. “Done.” He blinked, then admitted, “I didn’t think it would be that easy.”
She met his gaze. “I think you know there’s only one name I would have vetoed.”
Sobering, he nodded. “And that was one I would never suggest.”
For a second, the specter of Thomas Hayden hovered between them, but it was a fading shade, almost insubstantial now, and no longer held any power over them.
“Now we’ve settled that so amicably”—Drago pushed away from the bedpost and, ignoring Ridley’s outraged stare, sat on the bed beside Meg—“before I forget, I met with Joshua earlier. As soon as I saw him, I knew something momentous—something good—had occurred, and he couldn’t wait to blurt it out. Alison is expecting their first child, and wonder of wonders, Hubert is finally engaged to be married.”
“No!” Meg’s eyes went wide. “Well, I was expecting to hear about Alison one of these days—they’ve been married for months, after all—but Hubert? Who has he chosen?”
“If I understood correctly, the shoe was on the other foot. The lady chose him. She’s a Miss Sinclair from the Lowlands. According to Joshua, Hubert was smitten from the first, and while Miss Sinclair tends to play her cards close to her chest, the general view is that she is also taken with Hubert, rather than simply with the notion of being the eventual mistress of Melwin Place.”
“That’s splendid.” Meg lowered her contented son to her lap and leaned back against the piled pillows. “That will give Hubert something to do instead of hovering over Alison and Joshua.”
Absentmindedly, Drago nodded, distracted by his heir’s large dark eyes, which were studying him with blatant curiosity.
On learning of Thomas’s demise and his plot to beggar the Wylde estate by, through Hubert, controlling Alison’s putative son, Hubert had been horrified and mortified, and his confidence had suffered a considerable blow. Thomas had built Hubert up in his own esteem to the point that Hubert had believed he was a very knowing gentleman working to secure the best outcome for his family. That in reality he’d been the puppet of a would-be ducal murderer had come as an ego-shattering shock, and ever since, Hubert had been much less sure of himself and much less inclined to disapprove of anyone else.
“I’m glad Hubert’s found someone who will stand beside him.” Meg looked at Drago. “I assume this Miss Sinclair can be counted on to support him?”
“Apparently she’s of a managing disposition, so I hope that means yes.”
“Regardless, Hubert marrying will mean a lot less attention focused on Joshua and Alison, which given their situation, I’m sure they’ll appreciate.”
Drago looked up, and Meg smiled understandingly at him. He smiled back, then leaned forward and, over the head of their offspring, pressed his lips to hers.
Athumpon the bed jerked them from the kiss.
“Ridley!” Meg stared at the dog, who ignored her and circled beside her legs.
Drago muttered a curse and shifted, intending to catch the dog, but Ridley dropped, nose to tail, his back tucked against Meg’s legs.
Meg laughed and caught Drago’s arm. “No, leave him. If you put him off, he’ll just give us that mournful look as if we’re being the world’s worst owners.”
Drago huffed, but left the dog lying. “At least,” he said, looking back at his son, “he doesn’t seem overly interested in the baby—in Ryland.”
“No.” On hearing Drago use the baby’s name, Meg felt her heart swell. “I suspect Ridley sees Ryland as an unwanted interloper for my affections. However, I predict that will change the instant Ryland starts to crawl. After that, it will be them against the world.”
“Heaven help us!” Drago met her eyes, read her happiness, and smiled. He caught her hand, raised it, and holding her gaze, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Regardless, dear wife, I suspect we’ll survive.”
With love in her eyes, Meg nodded. “You and me, partners in life—come what may, we’ll triumph.”
* * *
Seven years later…
In Wolverstone House,Toby walked into the study that Drake had made his own and wasn’t all that surprised to find his cousin Louisa waiting to pounce.
