Page 26 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
“You’re just in time to hear Meg and Drago’s news, my dear.” Felicity looked decidedly smug.
Demon stated, “Drago has asked for Meg’s hand, and we’ve given them our blessing.”
Pru’s eyes had widened even more. She glanced at Drago, then looked at Meg. “Him?”
Meg slid her arm into Drago’s and tipped up her chin. “Indeed.”
Pru’s smile was beyond delighted. “Well done, you!” She switched her gaze to Drago and offered her hand. “Welcome to the family, Drago.”
Drago took the hand and bowed over it. “Countess.”
Retrieving her hand, her smile still lighting her face, Pru glanced around the company. “What a turn-up this is going to be. The Season just got so much more interesting!”
The tall gentleman, almost as tall as Drago, who had until then held his peace, nudged his wife aside and offered Drago his hand. “Wylde.”
Drago grasped the man’s hand. “Glengarah.”
Pru settled on the sofa beside her mother. “Do you two know each other?”
“Same clubs,” Glengarah offered and claimed an armchair beside Pru as the others resumed their seats.
“I take it you’ve just arrived in town?” Drago ventured. He wanted to keep the focus on the newcomers.
“Only a few hours ago, via the boat train.” Glengarah glanced affectionately at Pru, who was already whispering with her mother. “And despite my wife’s sudden interest in the Season, what in reality lured us here is the upcoming sale at Tattersalls.”
From there, the conversation plunged headlong into a discussion of horseflesh, a subject on which, even in that company, Drago could hold his own. After Meg mentioned his grays and he explained how he’d come by them, Pru declared that she wanted to see them. “Especially if your stable is now going to fall within the family fold.”
The talk continued in purely equine vein.
Drago noticed that Meg, beside him, remained quiet, listening with what appeared to be a resigned air.
Under the cover of a discussion of the potential of horses in the upcoming sale, Drago turned to her and murmured, “Horses don’t appear to be a favorite topic of yours.”
Meg smiled wryly and, leaning closer, admitted, “They’re not. They are, however, the rest of the family’s life, so I’ve learned to bear with interludes such as this.”
Drago met her gaze, but then Deaglan claimed his attention, and he returned to the conversation.
Despite Meg’s customary boredom with the topic, she was listening and observing more attentively than usual. Initially, she’d held herself in readiness to intervene at the first hint that Drago needed help, but that hint had never come. Indeed, his relaxed assurance in this milieu plainly ran bone-deep. It wasn’t assumed, but a genuine part of him—a result of his upbringing in the same way that her confidence in this sphere was an outcome of hers.
Within ten minutes of Pru and Deaglan’s arrival, Meg had accepted that she wouldn’t need to metaphorically hold Drago’s hand or worry that he would put a foot wrong. In truth, even in chatting with her mother and father, he was incredibly poised and quick-witted, too.
Then the talk swung to the formal announcement of their engagement.
Drago nodded to her mother. “My mother wished me to convey her compliments and that, if convenient, she will call on you tomorrow afternoon to discuss what she termed ‘further arrangements.’”
“Excellent!” Meg’s mother replied. “Do assure the duchess that I will be at home.”
Drago undertook to do so. “Also”—he glanced at Meg—“Mama hoped you would be free to meet with her and others of the family this afternoon. At three o’clock, if that suits?”
Meg had to assure him that she would be available, to which he replied that he would call and escort her to Park Lane.
“One more thing.” Drago looked at her parents. “The notice in theGazette. Would you prefer to send a note directly? Alternatively, the editor is a personal friend and will ensure placement in the edition we stipulate.”
They agreed that her parents would craft an announcement and send it to Wylde House, and subsequently Drago would add his own note and send both to his friend.
“I strongly advise that the notice should run in Monday’s edition,” Meg’s mother said. “This is not the sort of news that will remain secret for long.”
“No, indeed,” Pru concurred. “But it might pay to set the scene a trifle.” Her blue eyes twinkled as she looked at Meg and Drago. “You don’t want to be held responsible for any seizures induced by shock.” She looked at her mother and arched a brow. “Perhaps via a drive in the park tomorrow afternoon?”
