Page 13 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
Close enough to discern that she wasn’t entirely sure how to take his compliment.
“Yes, well.” She flicked the fingers of one hand dismissively. “The fact that you managed to draw me in is the only thing preventing me ringing a peal over your head.”
He couldn’t resist. “Good Lord! Your peal is louder than this?”
“Much!” She glared at him, then pointedly stated, “I’m waiting.”
Meaning he hadn’t succeeded in distracting her from her initial question.
He sighed. “All right.” He paused, selecting his truths as she had earlier. “The situation is this. I want to get married. I’m nearly thirty-five, and it’s time.” As a scion of a noble house, she would understand his not marrying previously and his wishing to marry now. “However, I saw no reason to subject myself to the brouhaha of openly searching for a bride during the upcoming Season.” He caught her gaze. “You can imagine what that would have been like.”
She blinked, then nodded. “You looking for a bride would create an outright frenzy. It would be matchmakers at twenty paces.”
He laughed and, grinning, inclined his head. “Indeed. All in all, it didn’t bear thinking about. So instead, I asked my aunt, Lady Catterdale, if she could make any suggestions.”
She frowned. “Why not your mother?”
Because she knows me all too well and wouldn’t have approved of or assisted in me embarking on a marriage of convenience.“Because I felt that Mama making any moves on that front would be too obvious, and I hoped that working through my aunt would be more…discreet. Regardless, I suspect Aunt Edith had been waiting for me to ask, because she immediately suggested I consider Alison Melwin.”
“Why?”
“Firstly, because Edith understood I was seeking a marriage of convenience, and Alison is an entirely acceptable, quiet, presentable, and amenable candidate for the position of my duchess.”
“Quiet and amenable being your most desired qualities.”
She was almost as cynical as he. “Just so. More importantly from my aunt’s point of view, Alison is the only daughter of Agatha Melwin, who is my aunt’s closest childhood friend and longtime bosom-bow. Additionally, Melwin Place, although a much smaller estate, shares a border with Wylde Court.”
Frowning slightly, she digested that, then arched a brow at him. “So what brought on this morning’s visitation?”
He grimaced. “I’d made an appointment to call at Melwin Place at eleven this morning. Although I’d made no mention of it, my intention was to use the opportunity to offer for Alison’s hand.”
She regarded him levelly. “But instead, you got drunk, fell asleep in your curricle, allowed me to rescue you, and ended by thinking to thank me by kissing me, thus landing us in this predicament.”
He considered each point, then nodded. “Yes.”
She continued to study him, then remarked, “At least we seem to have made Alison happy. Who told you she had no other suitors? Her mother?”
“My aunt. Who would have had it from Alison’s mother, so yes.” He frowned. “Obviously, Lady Melwin is not a source to be trusted on that point.”
“Apparently not.” Meg shifted her gaze to the window, to the peaceful scene outside.
The situation was beyond outrageous, yet in all honesty, she couldn’t see what either of them could have done differently. Step by step, the interplay of people and actions had led them inexorably to this point, and instead of feeling pointlessly incensed, she felt…curiously engaged. Immersed and drawn in, more or less willingly. Indeed, the scenario felt more like an adventure. A challenge to see if they—she and the notorious Drago Helmsford—could together extricate themselves from the mire into which some mischievous Fate had gleefully tossed them.
After a moment’s further consideration, she muttered, “I suppose this teaches me not to come to the aid of inebriated gentlemen.” She glanced at Drago. “Even if I did so mostly for your horses’ sakes.”
Her coconspirator looked genuinely contrite. “I do most sincerely apologize. As you no doubt realize, I was not myself—or at least not operating with my usual incisive wit and well-informed acumen.”
His dry tone had her lips twitching.
“I truly had no idea my morning would end like this.” He shook his head in apparently sincere befuddlement. “It was supposed to be quite different.”
“Well,” she replied, “you are still betrothed, only not to the lady you expected.”
He dipped his head in agreement, then met her gaze. “So what now?”
That didn’t require much thought. “Given we’re now unofficially engaged, I believe our next question should be, How are we going to manage this situation?”
From the seriousness of his expression, she judged his wits and his acumen, despite previously being in abeyance, were now fully active.
