The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(67)
“Perhaps you will find someone else,” Meagan suggested gently.
“Doubtful, lass. And don’t get that matchmaking glint in your eye. I had my chance, and it’s done. I truly don’t mind hordes of ladies chasing me up and down Mayfair, so put it out of your head that I am miserable, and tend to your own troubles.”
Meagan couldn’t help smiling. Egan was red and uncomfortable as he drank more whisky. She’d keep her thoughts to herself, but there had to be someone for him …
She laughed a little. “Do you know, both the Duchesses of Cranshaw and Gower have made me promise that I will give a ball, my first as Grand Duchess of Nvengaria. I am terrified. The Duchess of Gower wants me to trip, and the Duchess of Cranshaw wants me to blossom so she can rub it in the face of the Duchess of Gower. Those ladies are squeezing me in two.”
Egan looked grateful she’d changed the subject. “An excellent idea, giving a ball. When London society learns ye can host a fine entertainment, they will turn a favorable eye on ye. Your star will rise.”
“But good heavens, Egan, I know nothing about it.”
“That is why you have staff. Leave it to that nice Mrs. Caldwell.” He shivered. “She can look at a man and make him feel like a guilty schoolboy what’s not finished his rice pudding.”
“She has been very kind to me. She knows the running of this house backward and forward.”
Egan grinned. “Ye see? She will have the ball arranged in a trice, and ye have dozens of servants to do all the work. All ye need do is stand in the ballroom and shake hands until your fingers go numb.”
Meagan sighed. “I hope you are right.”
Egan leaned back in his chair and studied the brightly colored and rather unconvincing tigers and lions cavorting on the ceiling with unclad gods. “Good Lord, that’s enough to make a man nauseated. Or give him nightmares. How do you live in this ornamented house?”
Meagan jumped to her feet. “I cannot sit still. Would you like me to give you a tour? Montmorency leads people around on Wednesdays for a shilling. This will save you the cost.”
Egan sent her a sympathetic look. “Lead on. I will be appropriately overawed.”
Meagan hoped that wandering through the many rooms of the mansion would still her worry about Alexander, but that was not to be. She took Egan to the ballroom with its curved red ceilings and huge gold and crystal chandeliers. They visited the Asia hall then the anteroom done in glittering gold and white, and the huge dining room with its black marble columns and paintings of bloody battle on the walls.
“Nice thing to look at while you’re eating,” Egan remarked.
Meagan laughed. “Precisely what I thought upon first viewing them.” Her amusement died. “Oh, Egan, how can I be Duchess of Nvengaria if I am intimidated by a house?”
Egan took on a thoughtful expression. He glanced about the room, then back at her, as though trying to make up his mind about something. “Well, lass.” He cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening. “There is a way to take the intimidation out of these garish rooms, but it involves Alexander and is a bit personal.”
“What?” Meagan clasped her hands. “I am ready to try anything.”
Egan leaned against the sideboard, irreverently placing his hands square on carved representations of naked goddesses. “Well, you take Alexander into each room in turn, and you ask him to kiss you. Once you’ve initiated a room in that way, it won’t frighten you any longer.”
Meagan felt herself turning bright red, remembering how Alexander had not only kissed her in this room but had made white-hot love to her on the table. Egan caught her look and laughed out loud.
“I see you’ve already begun the campaign. Maybe you’re correct that Alexander isn’t the cold-blooded man I think he is. Well done.”
Meagan’s face grew hotter. “He truly is a man of deep feeling. Which is why I am so worried about him. I wish he would have let me stay with him tonight. I hate not knowing what is happening to him.”
Egan shook his head. “Aye, lass, I know. But Alexander is a resourceful man, and experienced, and he’s got that logosh and half a dozen bloodthirsty Nvengarians around him. He will be all right.” His smile returned. “Let me regale you with stories of my crazy family in Scotland. I’ll make you laugh, and Alexander will be home before you know it.”
“Perhaps,” Meagan said, but let Egan begin his stories. She listened and laughed appropriately, but she could not erase her fears about Alexander and what danger he faced at that moment.
* * *
Otto von Hohenzahl looked fearfully down at the Nvengarians who had him pinned to the wall of his study. Alexander watched him from across the room, Myn beside him. The logosh now wore his usual linen shirt and worn breeches, clothes he’d stashed in Alexander’s carriage before he’d climbed up to the house.
Myn’s appearance at Alexander’s side had caused von Hohenzahl to go sheet white and gibber in fear.
“I find it curious,” Alexander began, “that you know what a logosh is. Not many do.”
Von Hohenzahl spoke thick German, his dialect almost indecipherable. “He can kill all of us in this room.”
“I know.” Alexander spoke Nvengarian, refusing to switch languages for von Hohenzahl’s benefit. “Perhaps I will leave him alone with you, to see what he does.”