The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(27)

Meagan was different. Alexander’s body knew what passion was, and for the first time in his life, he responded to its primal call. The Grand Duke’s control was legendary, but Alexander knew in a flash that Meagan was stirring the spark that could release the beast. That beast dwelled in a space inside Alexander that he never examined too closely, but he felt it circling, waiting.

He licked the freckles that crossed her nose, finding them adorably attractive.

The polished desk became more and more enticing. Alexander could lift Meagan to it, lay her back on its clean expanse, skim her skirts up and find the waiting heat between her legs. His cock pushed at him, ready.

He began moving her back to the desk, unable to stop himself.

The door swung open behind him and the breathless voice of Simone Tavistock filled the room.

“You see? I knew they would work everything out.”

Meagan jumped. Her face scarlet, she tried to scramble out of Alexander’s hold, but he refused to release her. Let the world see their passion. Alexander would not hide it.

One arm solidly around Meagan’s waist, he turned to face the invasion of her stepmother and Michael Tavistock, and made a half bow. “Mrs. Tavistock. I am still waiting for Meagan’s final answer.”

Simone’s smile beamed. “Well, of course she accepts. She is kissing you, is she not? And to think, only yesterday I worried about her prospects.” Simone pressed her hands together. “This is so delightful, I believe I shall swoon. Do catch me, Michael darling.”

“No.” Michael Tavistock put firm hands on his wife’s arms.

She sent him a startled look then gave a decided nod. “You are quite right. There is no time for swooning; there is so much to do.” Simone bent a steely eye on Alexander. “You’ve told us you obtained a special license, but a hasty wedding will never do, Your Grace. The banns, St. George’s, Hanover Square, and a proper wedding breakfast with all the trimmings is what Meagan shall have. Prince Damien swept my daughter away from me and cheated me out of a grand church wedding, but you, Your Grace, will not.”



* * *



The denizens of the pub in Wapping that was within smelling distance of the river had become used to the two foreigners who wandered in most nights and spoke together in the corner. The publican tolerated them because they bought his best ale and paid an exorbitant price for it without question. The sailors and fisherman who frequented the tavern had at first regarded them askance, but as the two in the corner only gabbled in German and left everyone else alone, the regulars grew used to them and finally ignored them.

One of the men was called Otto von Hohenzahl. Fifty years old, he had gray hair, an athletic build, and a round pink face obtained from a lifetime enjoying hearty beer and warm red wine. He spoke German in a thick Austrian dialect of the region just outside Vienna to his younger, dark-haired companion.

“Alexander was to have met with me last night, he and his Lady Anastasia,” von Hohenzahl said. “She kept the appointment, but he did not. So where was he, eh?”

The slimmer man at his side slurped his ale, which he admitted was not bad, although not up to Austrian standards. “A funny thing, Mein Herr. He was with a woman.”

Von Hohenzahl traced the rim of his tankard. “Not Lady Anastasia. She was busy speaking to me, trying to pry secrets from my lips.”

The younger man smirked. “No, he was with a red-haired English girl. A fraulein. A miss.”

“Wirklich?” von Hohenzahl’s lips twitched into a dark smile. “The rogue. Or was she paid?”

“No, Mein Herr, this is very interesting. Her name is Meagan Tavistock and she has a connection to Princess Penelope of Nvengaria. Her father married Princess Penelope’s mother. This must be some kind of game the Nvengarians are playing.”

Von Hohenzahl gave him a sharp look. “What game, I wonder? But it does not matter. I want Alexander. I will have him, I swear it.” He clenched a gloved fist as though enclosing Grand Duke Alexander inside. “You have been watching him. Have you witnessed any change?”

The younger Austrian shook his head. “Not yet. But I have not seen what goes on inside his house. It is impossible to get a spy in there.”

Von Hohenzahl nodded, not angry. “I know this. Alexander is fanatically careful. But soon, Peterli, soon he will be in my hand and all his care will mean nothing.” He smiled, his eyes glittering. “What will Alexander say when he discovers that my secret weapon against the Nvengarians is Alexander himself?”

“I will enjoy finding out.” Peterli chuckled.

“And my master, Metternich, will be pleased when I hand him the keys to the kingdom of Nvengaria. Perhaps he will make me a count.”

“Your master will reward you well, that is certain.” Peterli cast his gaze toward the bar where a young woman was sending them an impish smile. “Now, perhaps we should reward ourselves this night.”

Von Hohenzahl followed his colleague’s gaze and snorted. “Not here. The ladies are too dirty. I will take you to a house where the ladies are clean and friendly, and you may have as many as you like at once.”

Peterli laughed, eyes twinkling. “You are generous, Mein Herr. Please, take me to this house.”

Von Hohenzahl tossed the publican an extra coin, then he and Peterli bundled themselves into greatcoats and left the inn.