Page 47 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
“As I see it, now we stand in a significantly different place. More, on a significantly different field, one on which neither of us imagined we would find ourselves.”
She nodded, and they kept walking. Eventually, she prompted, “So?”
Drago had wanted to revisit their arrangement but hadn’t known how to introduce the subject. Now, he could barely believe his luck, yet perhaps, given how instinctively they moved together, whether on the dance floor or in a drawing room, he shouldn’t be surprised that she had reached the same conclusion—had seen the same potential as he.
“I think,” he said, his tone carefully neutral, “that we should continue as planned, but with one fundamental adjustment.” He glanced at her, but she was looking down, and he couldn’t see her expression. He went on, “Specifically that we should eschew pretense and, instead of viewing our engagement as a sham, explore the possibilities as if it were real. Then in June, we can make our final decision—whether to proceed to a wedding, as all the ton will expect, or call things off as we’d originally planned.”
She nodded and looked up, meeting his eyes. “Yes. That sounds like a workable way forward.”
His heart, unruly organ that it was most astonishingly proving to be, at least around her, leapt. “Good.” He managed to mute the ridiculous smile that wanted to bloom across his face into an approving and pleased expression.
They’d been strolling along a vaguely circular path. She glanced ahead. “June should give us plenty of time to thoroughly explore the possibilities—to gain some idea of how a marriage between us would work and what the benefits would be.”
He was more than happy to agree with that. “There have been so many aspects brought to my attention that I hadn’t previously realized existed, I honestly feel there’s a lot for me to learn and absorb.”
“I feel the same.” Meg glanced up, met his dark eyes, and smiled. “I’m so glad we’ve spoken of this and decided on our new tack.”
His smile was warm. “I am, too.”
She remembered the other issue she’d wanted to raise with him. “On the subject of our engagement being real, I spoke with Alison yesterday, at my grandmother’s at-home, and she told me that Hubert is standing in the way of her and Joshua announcing their engagement. Hubert’s stance left Alison feeling that he harbored hopes of you and I changing our minds and you possibly making an offer for her.” She studied Drago’s face. “Could Hubert know that our engagement is—or at least was—a charade?”
Drago frowned. After a moment of thought, he shook his head. “I can’t see how Hubert would know.” He met her eyes. “Other than you and me, only George, Harry, and Thomas know the truth of our engagement. Well, the truth as it was. But more to the point, I never actually said that I intended to offer for Alison’s hand.”
She frowned, too. “You didn’t give your aunt any indication?”
“No. All she knew was that I intended to call at Melwin Place that morning—and even then, she was the one who made the appointment. I was on my way to take advantage of the opportunity and make an offer for Alison’s hand when…”
“When whisky intervened?”
His lips twitched, and he met her eyes. “Just so. But as I didn’t speak to any of the Melwins or to Aunt Edith of my intention, then beyondguessingthat at that time I was considering offering for Alison, Hubert can have no more reason than the next man to suspect that our engagement was a sham.”
“What about the next woman?”
Alerted by her tone, Drago looked at her. “What woman?”
“Your mother. She also spoke with me at Grandmother’s event, and while she—your mother—didn’t exactly say so, I was left with the distinct impression that she knew or at least had guessed.”
He grimaced. “I fear she knows me all too well. Guessed rather than actually knows is probably correct.” He regarded her curiously. “What was the gist of her comments?”
Meg arched her brows lightly. “She listed all the advantages that will accrue once we marry, and her parting words were that it wouldn’t do to disappoint the entire ton, capped with a recommendation that if there was any question of us breaking things off, we really should bear that in mind.”
He huffed. “That sounds like Mama. She doesn’t interfere until she pulls the rug out from under you.” Meg felt Drago’s gaze touch her face. “Is Mama’s interference what prompted you to suggest we rethink our direction?”
She met his eyes and shook her head. “No. Hers was merely the clearest and most succinct statement of everything I was already grappling with.” She paused, then added, “If anything, her summation helped me sort things out in my mind.”
He tipped his head as if accepting that.
They’d reached the farthest edge of the large lawn. Wordlessly, they circled and started back.
Unheralded, Drago sighed. He looked ahead. “I have a confession to make.”
She blinked at him. “Only one?”
He laughed, then conceded the point with a tip of his head. “As pertains to this, only one.” He met her gaze, and his expression sobered. “There’s a specific reason I was suddenly set on finding a bride.”
Puzzled, she studied his face. “Something more than advancing age?”
“Actually, advancing age does have something to do with it.” Having taken the plunge, he laid out the terms of his father’s will.
