The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(37)
The questions bothered Meagan in light of her own constant visions of Alexander, coupled with Alexander’s speculation that Black Annie had cast the spell on Meagan on purpose. She longed to visit Black Annie and shake some answers out of her, but Simone had kept Meagan constantly at her side, and the one letter Meagan had managed to post to Black Annie had not been answered.
Michael walked on, assuming the conversation finished, and returned his interest to the cleverly engineered fountains.
How delightful, Meagan thought wistfully, to be six-and-forty and not worry about anything but how hydraulics work.
Dominic, who had been following his usual discreet distance behind them, now moved forward and spoke to Meagan. “You look for His Grace, do you not? He is there.”
He pointed with one blunt finger down a path perpendicular to theirs, and Meagan turned her head and saw Alexander.
His broad and tall body arrested her attention, so much so that it was a moment before she realized he was surrounded by people, most of them female, including Lady Anastasia. Meagan saw the Duchess of Gower sidle next to Alexander, and her heart sank.
“Oh, lud,” she murmured.
“There are some you do not like?” Dominic flexed his bulky hand. “I can perhaps send them away or make them afraid of speaking bad to you?”
“Goodness, no,” Meagan said in alarm. The last journalist who had come too close to Meagan had found himself raised over Dominic’s head, with Dominic smiling and asking how far the man thought he could be thrown. While Meagan did not truly think Dominic would hurt a woman, she could not be certain. “It is all right, Dominic. I will endure it.”
“They must be taught to not be bad to you,” Dominic said. “You will be an important lady. You will be worshipped.”
“Worshipped,” Meagan repeated faintly. “How very interesting.”
Alexander and his party moved closer, only Alexander seeming to notice Meagan and Michael waiting for them.
“The first wife of the Grand Duke, she was beloved,” Dominic was saying. “Ballads were sung and poetry written about her the length and breadth of the kingdom.”
Meagan shivered. “You may cease reassuring me now, Dominic.”
Dominic bowed and withdrew as Alexander neared them and halted. “I will be but a step behind you, my lady,” Dominic said, loud enough for the others to hear him.
Meagan adjusted her parasol and pretended to be interested only in the nearest fountain until she realized it depicted a goddess with water spurting from her very ample nipples.
Her face heated and she turned away in time to see the Duchess of Gower firmly take Alexander’s arm. In a graceful move, Lady Anastasia Dimitri took Alexander’s other arm and sent Meagan a reassuring look.
The gentlemen of the group piled behind Alexander and the ladies, some studying Meagan and Michael through quizzing glasses, others showing relief that another male had come to even the balance of all these blasted females.
Michael gave Alexander a cordial nod and extended his hand. Meagan made a polite curtsey, wishing all but Alexander and her father would evaporate.
Alexander wore his military-style coat, his athletic build emphasized by the sash of office that rested snugly against his chest. It encircled his hip just where a lady might want to put her hand …
Meagan snapped her gaze from the breeches smoothed over that hip, taking in the medals that clinked as Alexander released her father’s hand and turned to Meagan. His face was strong and square-jawed, with just a brush of dark stubble on his chin and jaw. The breeze stirred his black hair, revealing the glittering ruby in his earlobe.
Meagan held her breath, waiting for the inevitable erotic visions, and exhaled slowly when they did not come. Perhaps the love spell was taking pity on them, given them a respite while she and Alexander were forced to stand in the middle of a crowd.
Alexander let his gaze rove Meagan’s face, dip to her neck, brush her bosom. He began to reach his gloved hand for hers, then he curled his fingers and brought his hand back to his side. “Meagan.”
Wise, he was very wise not to touch her. She responded with another curtsey and murmured, “Alexander.”
Shock and disapproval flared on the faces of several ladies as she spoke his given name. Most married women addressed their husbands as Mr. or my lord, in public at the very least. Christian names were for intimacy, for sisters and brothers, for old and dear friends, or for lovers. Meagan sent Alexander a small smile, appreciating that he’d let her stun her enemies. Alexander said nothing, did nothing, but a spark lit his dark blue eyes.
The Duchess of Gower, her fingers pasted to the crook of Alexander’s arm, bared her teeth in what passed for a polite smile. “His Grace was telling us all about the unusual gardens of Nvengaria. How they’re let grown almost wild, and how good gardeners are valued as much as princes.”
Alexander paid as much attention to the Duchess of Gower as he would an insignificant insect on his sleeve. Any moment now, he’d simply brush her away.
Lady Anastasia answered for him. “Yes, the gardens at the palace at Nvengaria are magnificent beyond compare. You are fortunate you will be able to see them, Miss Tavistock. You will come to love them, as Princess Penelope does.”
Lady Anastasia knew how to fence, Meagan thought. She wished she could laugh at the look on the duchess’ face as Lady Anastasia reminded everyone that Meagan would have privileges the duchess would not and that Meagan’s closest friend was married to the famous Prince Damien.