Page 65 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
When Drago stared implacably back, Warley sighed and said, “You have to remember that when he—your father—made his will, you were what? Early twenties? And sowing your oats left and right. You were a typical reckless Helmsford hellion.” Warley lifted a shoulder. “We all are to some degree, at least at that age, but the family tendency always seems to manifest most strongly in the eldest son and heir. Your father himself was exactly the same.”
Drago merely nodded. “And?”
“And…we, your father and I, could both see that you had all the necessary credentials and required talents to, eventually, in time, become an exceptional head of the family, a worthy successor in every way. That you would step into the shoes of the Duke of Wylde and do us all proud. But we wanted—me especially—to ensure that you would marry, so I badgered your father into putting in that clause.”
Warley glanced at Denton, then met Drago’s eyes. “Despite there being the two of you, accidents do happen, and I never, ever, wanted to be placed in the position of shouldering the responsibility for the family, let alone the dukedom. I knew that I didn’t have it in me. I simply don’t. You could even say, with justification, that I’m allergic to responsibility. And if the title ever did come to me, well, likely it would die with me, what? So your father agreed and, knowing you as well as he did, knowing that if it came to a question of having to knuckle down and marry suitably in order to protect Wylde Court and all those there, as well as Wylde House and the staff there, well!” Warley spread his arms. “No one doubted you would step up and do the right thing. That you would give up your hedonistic lifestyle and find some suitable lady”—Warley beamed approvingly at Meg—“just as you did.”
Warley returned his gaze to Drago, and his genuine approbation was easy to see. “We all recognized that you are a true Helmsford. You will not fail to act to protect those you see as in your care.”
Drago’s eyes had narrowed. He continued to study Warley. “So that clause had more to do with you than with me.”
“Well, yes and no. We all wanted to make certain that you lived up to your potential, and I have to say”—Warley’s gaze again shifted to Meg—“from all I’m hearing, Meg is the perfect bride to assist you in that endeavor.” Warley returned his gaze to Drago. “To help you pick up and manage all the ducal reins that you’ve largely been able to ignore until now but that, once you’re wed, you’ll no longer be able to let slide.”
Determinedly, Warley nodded. “And those aspects are yet more reasons why I should never, ever, inherit.” He appealed to all three of them. “Can you imagine me addressing the Lords?”
Meg struggled to keep her lips straight. Warley had a point; he was simply not the sort people tended to take all that seriously.
But as she absorbed the insights Warley’s revelations had offered, Warley sobered.
He looked at Drago. “Now we’re all clear that it’s not me or Denton behind these dastardly attacks, who is? Surely that’s the most urgent question.” Abruptly, he paled. “You haven’t informed the police, have you?”
“No.” Drago’s tone was decisive. “Nor do I intend to.”
“Thank God for that,” Warley returned. “Last thing the family needs—a scandal of that sort. The ton’s already salivatingly focused on the Helmsfords as it is.”
“But who the devil could it be?” Frowning, Denton looked at Drago. “Who is trying to kill you, and what do they hope to gain?”
Drago nodded. “Those are, indeed, the pertinent questions.” He caught Meg’s gaze. “But we’ve been assuming it’s me the attackers are targeting, yet in both instances, Meg was there, too.” He arched a brow at her. “Could someone be intent on harming you? The attacks started after our engagement was announced. What about disgruntled former suitors?”
Meg made a scoffing sound. “I’m Miss Prim, remember? I’ve never allowed any gentleman to even imagine I might entertain an offer, so no, it won’t be—can’t be—that.” She frowned at Drago. “But could the attacks be in revenge from someone who had expected you to marry someone else? We know of Alison, but were there others who might, conceivably, have had expectations, expectations the announcement of our engagement dashed?”
Although his expression remained as inscrutable as ever, Drago nevertheless clearly considered the point but, ultimately, shook his head. “There’s no one.” He grimaced and conceded, “Other than Alison and her family.”
“Could it be Hubert?” Denton asked.
Drago snorted. “Hubert is such a stuffy prig. Can you see him going to some sleazy tavern on the docks to hire the men who accosted us in Manchester Street?”
Both Denton and Warley looked as if they were trying to imagine such a scene, but neither could quite manage it. The subsequent suggestions were half-hearted at best.
When appealed to by Drago, Meg had nothing sensible to advance. She looked at the three Helmsford men and felt distinctly stymied.
Drago also looked around the circle, then concluded, “At present, there’s nothing we can do in terms of identifying whoever is behind these attacks, not until we learn more.” He locked eyes with Meg. “Until then, I suggest we—you and I—should take all reasonable precautions.”
Denton and Warley adamantly agreed and were quick to make suggestions.
Meg held Drago’s gaze and wondered what precautions he, her ducal betrothed, would consider “reasonable.”
CHAPTER11
“I’ve been thinking.”
Meg looked at Drago. He’d unexpectedly called that morning to take her for a drive in the park and had just steered his grays through the gates and turned the horses’ heads south—toward the Serpentine and away from the more fashionable stretch. As he hadn’t brought Milton, his tiger, she asked, “What about?”
He looked ahead, then said, “Let me pull up, and we can stroll.”
After drawing in to the verge and handing over the reins to the same stable lad who had held his horses before, Drago handed her down from the elegant carriage, then wound his arm in hers and set course for the banks of the Serpentine.
At that hour, that area of the park was mostly inhabited by nursemaids and their charges; while there were other couples strolling, they were not so plentiful that she and Drago would be forced to acknowledge others every few yards, nor were those others close enough to inhibit a private conversation.
