Page 69 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
Meg and Pru had quickly learned not to let Dougal free. The now-three-year-old lordling was fast on his feet, which was why, as well as Dougal’s nursemaid, Deaglan had insisted they were accompanied by Diccon, a tall, lanky, long-legged footman who was accustomed to running down and recapturing his young master.
Both nursemaid and footman were trailing two paces behind, both keeping a watchful eye on their charge.
Meg wasn’t sure whether she was amused or appalled that it took four adults to corral and oversee one small boy. Of course, with his round, still-chubby face framed by black curls and the wide cerulean-blue eyes he’d inherited from Pru, Dougal was already a charmer and a cheeky one at that.
“Next one!” he shouted and threw himself into towing Meg and Pru to the next set of railings.
Over his head, the sisters shared a smilingly resigned look and allowed him to drag them along.
The three zebras in the next enclosure fascinated Dougal. Being Pru’s son and a true grandson of Demon Cynster, he was familiar with and could already name most of the points of a horse, and after frowningly studying the zebras, he looked up at Pru and said, “Mama, these look like horses with stripey skin, but they’re not, are they?”
Pru smiled proudly. “No, darling, they’re not. They are distantly related to horses—to equines, you remember that word—but they are a different group to our horses. No one rides them or puts them in harness or anything like that.”
Dougal looked at the zebras. “So they just run around and crop grass all day?”
Pru arched her brows. “In the land from where they come, that’s probably what they do.”
Dougal stared at the zebras some more, bending and squinting at their hooves, then commenting on their manes and tails.
Meg listened to the exchanges between Pru and her son and had to smile.
When Dougal finally lost interest and consented to move on, Meg cast a laughing glance at Pru. “I must remember to ask Mama and Papa if you were as horse-obsessed when you were Dougal’s age.”
Pru blinked her blue eyes wide, then smiled and glanced at her son. “I rather suspect I was.”
They walked slowly on along the garden’s winding walk toward the last cage, the one housing the gorillas. Meg knew of it from when she was young, and she and Toby had been brought to the gardens. Toby had insisted on spending ages before that cage, staring in; the large apes had always fascinated him.
They halted before the gorillas’ cage.
Dougal studied the two large apes inside. After a moment, he wrinkled his nose. “They smell bad.”
Meg refrained from pointing out that the zebras had been smelly, too.
Dougal took a large step back. “I don’t think I like g’rillas.” But he continued to watch the pair closely, while Meg and Pru simply waited.
After a moment, Meg’s attention drifted. She glanced around and saw Drago striding along the path toward them. Hands in his greatcoat pockets, he was scanning the groups about the cages.
Pru had followed Meg’s gaze and cynically murmured, “I seriously doubt His Grace of Wylde is here to see the animals.”
From the way Drago’s expression lit when he spotted them, Meg doubted that, too.
Drago walked up and swept them both an elegant bow. “Good morning, ladies.” His gaze fell to Dougal, and Drago grinned. “And Lord Dougal as well.”
Dougal clung to Pru and Meg’s hands and looked up at Drago. “Are you a lord, too? Like my papa?”
Drago crouched, bringing his face closer to Dougal’s level. “I am, indeed.”
Pru bent down to say, “Drago is a duke, which means he’s a higher-ranking lord to you, my sweet, so you should practice your bow.”
“Oh.” Dougal looked at Drago with renewed interest. “All right.” He drew his hand from Meg’s and bobbed in a clumsy half bow, then looked up at his mother. “Is that right?”
Drago answered, “Perfectly acceptable.” He held out his hand. “It’s also acceptable for lords like us to shake hands.”
Dougal grinned hugely, grasped Drago’s elegant fingers in his chubby fist, and pumped enthusiastically.
“Excellent! You now have greeting a duke down pat.” Drago retrieved his hand and rose. His gaze lifted to the gorilla enclosure. “What do you think of the gorillas?”
Dougal pulled a face. “I suppose they’re all right for animals, but I don’t really like them.” Eagerly, he looked up at Drago. “I like the zebras best.”
