Page 72 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
She sat back, stunned, as that realization washed over her.
Followed by the conviction that he was absolutely right.
Her mind reeled, conjuring all the possibilities, none of which were good. Even if she’d been returned, unharmed, to her home within the hour…
Society would think the worst. Guaranteed.
She would be deemed soiled goods, and Drago’s entire family would have risen up and refused to accept her as his duchess.
And all of the ton—including every last one of the hostesses who had encouraged her to become his bride—would have agreed.
In one simple step, in a single hour, all prospect of her marrying Drago would have been wiped off the cards.
But it hadn’t happened. Whatever Fate was watching over her—over them—had sent him to Regent’s Park that morning.
Her characteristic stubbornness rose inside her, this time with such power it was virtually a living force. She would be damned if she was going to allow some cowardly villain to stop her seizing what she now wanted, namely Drago and his duchess’s coronet.
In her heart—in fact, to her soul—she now accepted that she was the right lady to fill those shoes.
She managed to find her breath again as he drew the curricle up before the steps of Wylde House. “So whoever is behind this is intent on preventing you from marrying.”
He stepped down, tossed the reins to Milton, and held out his hand for hers. As she placed her fingers in his and felt his close tight about them, he caught and held her gaze. “Or on stopping me from marrying you.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later,Drago was still trying to wrestle his unruly emotions under some semblance of control. The fact that Meg was sitting safely in an armchair by his library fire helped, but he was still a long way from his usual calm and collected self, that self who was accustomed to controlling everything in his world.
He told himself that feeling this way about a threat to the lady he’d chosen to be his duchess was only to be expected.
The rationalization didn’t help; he knew that the impulses battering him owed their power to something else.
Something more.
He was still pacing before the fireplace—under Meg’s watchful and faintly wondering gaze—when Prentiss opened the door and announced, “The Countess of Glengarah, the Earl of Glengarah, Mr. Cynster, Mrs. Cynster, and Mr. Toby Cynster.”
Drago blinked. He’d expected Deaglan and Demon, and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to see Pru, but Flick and Toby as well?
Meg rose and was immediately enveloped in a motherly, then a fatherly hug. She patted her father’s shoulder. “I’m quite all right.” She glanced at Drago. “Thanks to Drago.”
Demon pried his arms from around his youngest daughter and held out a hand to Drago. “I’m in your debt, Wylde. Pru told us what happened. It didn’t sound in any way like a chance attempt.”
“No. I’m sure it wasn’t.” Drago shook hands with Deaglan, then Flick tugged him down to place a motherly kiss on his cheek.
She gripped his hand and whispered, “Thank you.”
His lips actually lifted slightly. “Hitting those thugs was truly a pleasure.”
Their eyes met for a second; what Flick saw in his, he had no idea, but whatever it was seemed to satisfy her. With a nod, she released him and moved to claim one of the multitude of armchairs.
Before Drago had a chance to realign his wits, Prentiss was back to announce more visitors.
Meg wasn’t surprised to find herself welcoming Drake and Louisa. Toby would have sent word to Wolverstone House, which doubtless accounted for the presence of their Cynster cousins, Aiden and Evan, both of whom arrived in Louisa and Drake’s train; Meg had heard that Lucifer Cynster’s eldest sons were members of the group that Drake often called on in his investigations.
The newcomers were still sorting out seats when George Bisley and Harry Ferndale arrived. As Drago had sent summonses to the pair, their appearance was no surprise.
As, after greeting Meg and Drago, the pair moved to find chairs, Meg glanced at Drago. “Not Thomas?” She kept her voice low, beneath the hum of the others talking.
“He’ll be in chambers,” Drago replied, speaking just for her. “I don’t think I mentioned it, but he’s a junior partner at Crawthorne and Quartermaine, the Helmsford solicitors.”
