Page 93 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
While he did, Meg pulled off every ribbon she could reach. When, having stowed the cans in the boot, Drago returned, she handed him the reins. “Wait while I finish deribboning us. I don’t fancy driving all the way into Kent advertising our newlywed state.”
“No, indeed.”
Drago waited patiently while the ribbons, too, were thrust into the boot. When Meg clambered back up and took her seat beside him, he met her gaze and smiled. “Ready?”
She beamed and faced forward. “Let’s go.” A few minutes later, she leaned her shoulder against his and added, “And if I might suggest, once we’re free of the traffic and on the open road, it would be fitting for you to give your horses their heads.”
Drago’s smile deepened. As was so often the case, he and she were in absolute agreement.
CHAPTER15
The sun’s last rays were slanting across the lawns and the front façade of Wylde Court when Drago steered the now-docile grays up the long, curving drive to the graveled forecourt.
A sense of relief spread through him, along with welling anticipation.
He drew the horses to a halt and glanced at Meg. “Here we are.”
She met his eyes, expectation and awareness in her gaze. “Indeed.”
His staff had been on watch. Grooms came running to take charge of the horses. Drago descended, passed on the reins, then rounded the curricle and handed Meg down.
As she stepped onto the gravel, the grooms, both older men, bowed ceremonially. “Your Graces.”
Drago felt Meg’s fingers flutter in his and tightened his grip. When she looked at him, he smiled reassuringly. “The rest of the staff will be waiting inside to welcome you.”
Her answering smile was a little less certain.
They’d brought no baggage with them; all their luggage would already be there, sent down earlier in a heavy carriage with Maurice, Tisdale, and Rosie. Consequently, no footmen came running, but the front doors had been propped wide, and Fothergill, the Court’s butler, stood waiting.
Drago drew Meg’s arm through his and led her toward the shallow steps leading up to the porch. “Chin up,” he murmured. “Believe me, they’ll welcome you with open arms.”
She glanced at him questioningly. “Because I’m your duchess?”
They started climbing, and he confided, “Despite my wider reputation, I’m something of a favorite here.”
Meg found that easy to believe. She’d already realized that her husband was a complex man with multiple façades he showed to different groups. At base, at heart, he was, however, always the same—a kind and caring nobleman who accepted his responsibilities and took them seriously.
She didn’t doubt that his staff there, on his principal estate, loved him for that.
Just as I’ve come to do.
The understanding that she shared that trait with the very formal butler, Fothergill, who maintained a neutral expression but whose eyes twinkled warmly, with his wife, the bobbing housekeeper who eyed her with open hope, and with all the staff members in the long line snaking up the grand staircase made the ceremonial introductions and induction into the ways of Wylde Court easier than she’d imagined.
When they reached the youngest scullery maid and the bootboy, both of whom looked at Meg with awe and something close to reverence, she couldn’t hold back and acknowledged Fothergill’s introduction and the little maid’s awkward curtsy and the boy’s overexuberant bow with a bright, appreciative smile.
Before she could turn away, Drago stepped to her side. He, too, smiled at the young pair, and Meg saw both smile back.
They’re not nervous of him at all. Fancy that.
“Thank you, Fothergill.” Drago nodded in dismissal to the butler and caught Meg’s eyes. “We can find our way from here.”
Fothergill bowed. “Of course, Your Grace.” Straightening, his expression softened, and he inclined his head deferentially to Meg. “Your Grace. Once again, welcome to Wylde Court.”
The assembled staff, who had turned to watch her progress up the stairs, cheered and clapped.
Meg felt herself blushing. Spontaneously, she raised her hand and waved. “Thank you!” she called, then Drago closed his hand about hers and tugged her on.
She went, allowing him to draw her with him along the gallery.
