The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(91)

The way Miss Finley smiled at Meagan and the way Meagan smiled back, however, made Alexander suddenly sure that the two of them would get along well. Alarmingly well.

Lord Stoke’s blue eyes twinkled as he shook Alexander’s hand. “Your Grace. I have been curious to meet you.” His voice rumbled like broken gravel. “I assisted your Prince Damien across the Channel last year one step ahead of your assassins.”

Alexander remembered that Damien had slipped from England before Alexander’s hired men could catch up to him and Penelope, taking a privateer’s ship across to France.

Alexander bowed slightly. “It seems you did. In retrospect, I am grateful.”

Stoke grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “I always enjoy a challenge.”

“Damien and I work together now,” Alexander said.

“So I heard.” Stoke’s gaze was knowing. “Don’t worry, Your Grace, I won’t let my band of merry pirates loose in here.”

“I should think not,” his wife said with a look of mock horror. “One ball full of pirates was enough for me.”

“But it brought me closer to you, love.” Stoke spoke teasingly, but Alexander did not miss the light of affection in his eyes. Lady Stoke blushed at their private joke.

Stoke moved on, his fingers sliding to the small of his wife’s back, a protective move that put him at her side. Alexander envied him his ease with his wife, hoping to find that ease with Meagan.

“You are lovely, Miss Finley,” Meagan was saying to the black-haired girl. Maggie Finley had coffee brown eyes, high cheekbones, and creamy skin tinged brown. “You must call on me. My dearest friend has gone away, and I desperately need a girlish chat.”

“Why thank you, Your Grace.” Miss Finley opened her eyes wide as though she hadn’t expected to be received with such enthusiasm. Alexander could have told her that Meagan’s interest was genuine. Nothing she did was false.

When Miss Finley flowed off after her father and stepmother, Meagan slanted an amused glance up at Alexander. “Oh dear. If we become friends, we shall be known as Meagan and Maggie. People will laugh.”

Her red-lipped smile and the happy sparkle in her eyes made Alexander want to kiss her. Also to forget the rest of the ball and lead her by the hand to their private rooms and begin the gown ripping.

Not yet. The love spell and the logosh were still too strong, and Alexander wanted to be tired enough to damp them down. “Later, my love,” he whispered into her ear.

He had not answered her comment, but Meagan understood and flushed rosy red. The warmth of the blush crept to her décolletage and beneath, drawing his eyes to the swell of her bosom.

The next guest was approaching. Alexander reluctantly turned away. But before the guest, a gray-haired baron, could reach them, Lady Anastasia swept in past the majordomo and grasped Alexander’s gloved hand. A wash of perfume swamped Alexander, and Anastasia smiled her most vivacious and brittle smile.

“Alexander,” she said. “Your Grace, I must speak to you—in private.” She flashed a smile at Meagan. “You do not mind, my dear, do you?”





Chapter 23





The na?ve Meagan of six weeks ago would have been confused and jealous to watch Anastasia latch on to Alexander and drag him away to the anteroom. The more seasoned Meagan knew that Anastasia would not so obviously take him off unless she knew a piece of intrigue that worried her. And because Lady Anastasia worried, Meagan worried.

As soon as she could, Meagan slipped away from the gray-haired baron and hurried across the landing to the French anteroom, so named because every gilded object in it had been purchased—legally or illegally—from Versailles.

She paused in the doorway. Alexander and Anastasia faced each other, heads bent, on chairs Louis XVI and his queen had reposed in before fleeing the mob.

“Has something happened?” Meagan asked softly.

They turned to her, Alexander with his Nvengarian blue eyes and Anastasia who looked just as un-English but in a different way.

“Close the door,” Alexander instructed.

Heart speeding, Meagan eased the door shut behind her. Part of her was pleased that Alexander did not send her away, saying it was Nvengarian business, but she also knew that the truth would not be pretty.

“Von Hohenzahl still boasts he will best you, Alexander,” Anastasia was saying, in English for Meagan’s benefit. “And that you will be his greatest chance to take Nvengaria and restore himself to Metternich’s graces.”

Alexander made a dismissive gesture. “I never believed I’d tamed von Hohenzahl. My men are watching him, and he does not make a move without my knowledge. For instance I know that he offered you a vast sum to seduce me tonight and hand me over to him. And that you took the money.”

Anastasia flushed under his narrow gaze. “I accepted to make him tell me what he plots.”

“And did he?”

Anastasia looked glum. “No, he told me nothing but that I was to bring you to him.”

Alexander’s brows came down. “Perhaps we should consider me seduced, and you can truss me up and deliver me as promised.”

Meagan strode to them. “What on earth for?”

Alexander’s eyes had gone chill, the calculating, scheming Grand Duke coming to the fore. “To see what he plans, my love. Villains like to gloat of their intrigue in front of their victims. It makes them feel clever.”