The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(80)
Meagan’s eyes stung. “But what am I to do?”
“You have your duties,” the Grand Duke said to her. “For now, that will have to be enough.”
He turned abruptly and strode to open the heavy door, stepping into the shadows of the hall. Meagan saw him lift his hair out of the way of the shirt before he shut the door and was gone.
Meagan sat back, alone, her heart squeezing to a point of pain. Alexander was shutting her out as certainly and firmly as he’d closed the door.
She knew the love spell drove him mad—it drove her mad too. But they should find the answer together, they should think of a way to tame the logosh side of him together. Meagan’s father and mother and now her father and Simone had always done things as a family. Meagan knew no other way.
Living arrangements? What the devil did he mean? Would he be so cruel as to send her away? And where would he send her? All the way to Nvengaria? Or back to Oxfordshire with her father?
Hurt laced Meagan, and she drew her legs to her chest and pressed her face to her bare knees. Alexander had never wanted this marriage. He’d been tricked as thoroughly as Meagan had. He’d tried giving in to the love spell and now he was going to banish it by closing her off from him.
Meagan unfolded herself, leaned down and lifted the forgotten sash of office from the floor, and brought it up to clasp to her bare body. The stiff gold threads lightly scratched her skin as she kissed the sash then pressed it to her face.
She cried for a while, releasing the pain, then she sat back, lost in thought. Alexander might want to avoid her or send her away, but Meagan had never been one to bow her head in obedience, at least not without a fight. Her father had taught her that if a request was not reasonable, she should question it, not mindlessly follow orders.
Meagan hugged the sash as she remembered Michael’s lessons, letting ideas trickle through her head. She wiped her eyes, her hard-headed confidence returning.
The Grand Duke might have stood up to the old Imperial Prince of Nvengaria, he might have stood up to slavers and opium sellers in his home city, he might stand up to the Austrian, von Hohenzahl, and his thugs, but he’d never faced Meagan Tavistock when she undertook a campaign to make a person see reason.
Poor Alexander, Meagan thought, trying to bury the worst of her hurt deep inside her. He would not know what hit him.
She kissed his sash of office again and smiled a shaky smile.
* * *
Meagan began her campaign the next day—or rather later that morning—when Susan ventured in to wake her.
Meagan opened heavy eyes then screwed them shut again at the sunshine pouring in through the windows. She’d fallen asleep entwined in Alexander’s sash, which now lay twisted beside her on the pillows. After her long night and the hard lovemaking this morning, her head throbbed and her eyes were sandy.
“I have just the thing for you,” Susan said. She removed the sash with a knowing smile and helped Meagan don a dressing gown. “A fine beverage that will pick up your spirits something wonderful.”
The beverage, whatever it was, was truly remarkable. It looked rather greeny-purple when Susan brought it to her and Meagan sipped it doubtfully, but within a second or two, fire sparked through Meagan’s every limb and her eyes opened fully.
“Merciful heavens! What is this?”
Susan winked one brown eye. “A family secret. My mother, she was something of a potion mixer.”
Meagan did indeed feel refreshed and ready to face the world. Susan bathed and dressed her in a dark blue morning gown, looping her hair into becoming braids pinned under a small lace cap.
Mrs. Caldwell entered the room just as Susan put the finishing touches on Meagan’s costume. “Breakfast is ready, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said briskly. “In the dining room.”
Meagan straightened her shoulders, beginning step number one of her plan.
“The dining room is rather large and dark for breakfast, Mrs. Caldwell. Have it served in the little morning room at the back of the house. The windows light it nicely and the view of the garden is pleasant.”
Mrs. Caldwell raised her brows but gave a nod. “As you wish, Your Grace. In that case, breakfast will commence in the morning room in a quarter of an hour.”
Susan giggled as Mrs. Caldwell bustled out. Meagan pretended to be cool and collected, but her heart raced, her nerves tingling.
The morning room was much more intimate than the enormous dining room. She and Alexander would have to sit quite close together at the little table she’d seen in there when she explored the house yesterday. They would eat and have conversation like husband and wife, discussing what they would do that day. She would ask nothing more of him today, just the breakfast as a couple.
Twenty minutes later, Meagan was seated in the sunlit room, her napkin spread across her lap. Gaius, Marcus, and Brutus began their dance of serving her food and drink, bumping into each other as they went to and fro in the small room. Meagan waited serenely, pretending not to notice.
Once Meagan’s plate was covered with eggs, slices of ham, and buttered toast, the footmen stood back and beamed at her, waiting for her to begin. Alexander’s place across the little table remained stubbornly empty.
Her heart sinking a little, Meagan scooped up her first bite. The food was scrumptious, as were all the meals served in Alexander’s house, but Meagan scarcely tasted it.