Page 15 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
“And you’ve often visited Walkhurst over those years?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, we could have met previously—say at the market in Sissinghurst.”
“Or in Benenden village. Or at church.”
“Not church. We want this to be believable, remember?”
“Well, we could add the shops at Rolvenden, then.”
“All right. So our revised story is that we’ve met occasionally, purely in passing and entirely innocently, over the past four or so years at Sissinghurst, Benenden, and Rolvenden. We should be vague as to how long we’ve been aware of each other. But this time, over the past two weeks, we met…how?”
“Driving is possible. I often drive alone around here. Or walking in the woods.”
“We met while you were driving the gig and I was riding,” he insisted, “and then we went walking in the woods and found ourselves discussing our potential futures and given our…” He paused, then looked at her. “What’s the word I’m looking for?”
She opened her eyes wide. “Inclinations?”
“That will do. Given our inclinations, we broached the subject of marriage, and”—he halted and spread his arms wide—“here we are.” He met her eyes. “Will that suffice, do you think?”
She reviewed the tale and nodded. “I can’t see why not.” She, too, glanced at the clock. It was nearly one o’clock. “We’ll need to break our news to Christopher and Ellen immediately, before they hear it from anyone else. The family will consider Christopher as in loco parentis, even though he’s only a few years older than me.” She studied Drago. “Are you and he acquainted?”
“Acquainted, yes. Close, no. He was a year ahead of me at Eton and Oxford, and of course, I’ve seen a bit of him over the years in town, and we occasionally cross paths down here. The Wylde estate lies north of the road to East End and Biddenden, so we’re not immediate neighbors.”
He frowned at nothing for a moment, then met her eyes. “I think we should speak with Alison first.”
She held his gaze. “You certainly owe her an explanation, if not an apology.”
He nodded. “I would also like to learn why she seemed so relieved and happy about not receiving an offer from me.”
Meg studied his perfectly serious expression, then lips reluctantly lifting, said, “I should take issue with how conceited that sounded, but…you’re right. Virtually every young lady I know would leap at the chance to be your duchess.”
“I know.” He shook his head. “That’s been the bane of my existence to date, and as there’s no denying it, that begs the question of why Alison wasn’t at the very least put out by our unexpected declaration.”
“Where is Melwin Place? I’ve heard the name, but never visited. Is it far?”
“Your uncle Vane and aunt Patience would know the Melwins, but I doubt the younger generation—Christopher and the rest—would have mixed with Alison, who truth be told has always struck me as something of a mouse, and even less with her older brother, Hubert, who is the definition of a pompous stuffed shirt. But to answer your question, Melwin Place is off the road to Biddenden, some way northeast of and farther away than Walkhurst Manor.”
Meg frowned. “Given the time…” She glanced at Drago. “Is there any food in the kitchen?”
“No. That’s why my men went to Rolvenden.” He met her gaze. “Let’s go to the Bull. We can have a bite in the dining room there, then drive over and see Alison before circling back to the manor and informing Christopher and his wife of your change in status.”
She huffed, but after a second’s consideration, nodded. “And once we speak with Alison, we can decide for how long my change in status should stand.”
CHAPTER3
“Give me your hand, and I’ll help you over.”
Meg looked up at Drago, who was balancing on the uppermost stone of a fallen section of the wall around Melwin Place. He was holding out his hand to her and attempting to look encouraging.
After seeing to his horses, then walking down to the Bull, where they’d enjoyed a quick and unexpectedly tasty lunch, they’d returned to the cottage, and with her help, Drago had put the horses to, and they’d driven around the lanes to Melwin Place.
But rather than bowl up the drive, Drago had turned his horses down a narrow track beside the small estate’s perimeter wall. The horses were now safely tied to some trees.
When she’d asked why they were leaving the curricle there, Drago had replied, “Trust me, at this particular point in time, neither you nor I want to encounter Agatha Melwin.”
As she suspected he was right, she’d followed him to this spot where, some time ago, a tree had fallen and the wall had crumbled and been left unrepaired.
