Page 36 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
When he raised a brow at her, she arched hers back. “What is it?”
He glanced around, saw several others converging, and remembering her mother’s warning, started strolling through the crowd as if they had their sights set on someone in particular. “Until this evening, I hadn’t realized that becoming your fiancé would function as a ticket of sorts, permitting me entrée to this arena.”
When he glanced at Meg, she looked confused.
“Until now, I’ve avoided the ballrooms.” He glanced swiftly around, confirming his earlier assessment that this ball at least was an event at which meaningful matters might be discussed and useful connections made. “And while that was definitely by my choice, if I’d simply changed my mind and appeared here tonight without you by my side, I would have been viewed with a certain suspicion.”
She tipped her head. “Yes, I agree. You would have been looked at askance because no one would have felt they understood why you were here.”
“Precisely.” He paused, then added the rest. “But as the Duke of Wylde, I have responsibilities to the dukedom, to the family—even to the realm in terms of my seat in the Lords.” Steering her past a group who were plainly debating intercepting them, he dipped his head and met her eyes. “But to fulfill those responsibilities to the best of my ability, I should be—I need to be—here. Don’t I?” He glanced at those around them. “Attending events such as this?”
When he looked back at her, her expression was serious, and she nodded. “Yes.” She met his eyes. “You probably do.” She, too, glanced around. “I know Alverton, Winchelsea, St. Earith, and even Glengarah will be here, meeting with others and sharing opinions on this and that.” She brought her gaze back to his face. “Sometimes, they stay for only an hour. At other events, they stay the whole time.” She frowned. “But you would have been invited to every event ever since you came on the town.”
“Indeed. All the major hostesses invariably send invitations to me and every other gentleman of birth and standing, but of course, once past our callow youth, most of us never attend events such as this.” He raised a brow at her. “Can you imagine what would have happened had I attended this gathering while still unattached?”
She nearly choked on a laugh. “Regardless of any suspicions, a frenzy would have ensued.”
“Exactly.” Had he not sent that announcement to theGazetteand had she not been on his arm, he still wouldn’t have been able to step foot into Her Grace’s ballroom, even though, as the grandes dames had been at such pains to point out, this was a function at which he rightfully belonged.
They’d reached the other side of the ballroom and turned to survey the chattering horde.
“Meg. There you are.”
He and Meg turned to greet the Countess of Alverton and her husband.
Meg smiled, grasped hands, and touched cheeks with Therese. “I hoped I’d catch up with you here.” She nodded to Devlin. “Devlin.” After introducing Drago, she returned her gaze to Therese. “How are the children?”
Therese happily filled her in on the latest exploits of her growing brood, leaving Devlin to chat with Drago.
From there, by artful if impromptu design, she and Drago progressed from one family encounter to another via various cousins including Louisa, Marchioness of Winchelsea, Antonia, Marchioness of St. Earith, as well as Meg’s sister, Pru, all with husbands in tow.
After parting from Pru and Deaglan, Drago murmured, “Was this organized?”
Meg grinned. “No. But they understand that you might be feeling a trifle out of your depth and are trying to help by easing your way.”
He smiled. “I have to admit I’m obliged to them. We’ve kept the hordes at bay for over an hour.”
But there was no escaping forever, and they were soon engaged in conversations that had them accepting congratulations, approbations, outright encouragements, and not a few commendations on their good sense in getting engaged to each other, before the conversations inevitably devolved into overly inquisitive probing into how and when and where they had met. Meg was an old hand at sliding around such queries, and Drago proved even more charmingly adept at giving answers that were both true yet entirely misleading.
Indeed, listening to him as he successfully deflected old Lady Harrington, Meg found herself in awe of his skill.
She was delighted when Drago’s sisters and their husbands stepped in to ease the pressure, and Claudette made a point of steering them to where several of Drago’s more distant connections were pleased to make Meg’s acquaintance and chat for a short time with Drago, who, it seemed, they rarely saw.
Once again, comments genuinely supportive of their match came thick and fast.
Soon after, the dance floor cleared, and the musicians set bow to string, and with considerable relief, Drago solicited Meg’s hand for the first waltz.
Our first waltz as an affianced couple.
As with Meg in his arms, he stepped out, Drago inwardly frowned as he remembered that this was, in fact, all a sham.
He refocused on her, on the supple feel of her in his arms as he steered them around the floor. They whirled, and she looked up and, smiling, met his gaze, and the rest of the room fell away.
She was featherlight in his arms, effortlessly matching him step for step, the skirts of her gown swirling as they precessed down the room. Then her smile deepened, and she murmured, “I had wondered if you enjoyed dancing.”
It was patently obvious she did.
“I enjoy all forms of dancing.” He clamped his lips shut and hauled his mind from the track it had taken. No need to think about that particular age-old dance and even less of enjoying it with her.
