The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(97)

The dratted Nvengarians would not let her out of the house to go look for him after the guests had gone, not even Dominic, who’d taken a shot to his side and now lay feverish in his bed in the attics.

Nikolai arrived to report on Dominic’s progress as Mrs. Caldwell tried to persuade Meagan yet again to drink the tea. “He will live,” Nikolai assured Meagan, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of the night. “But he is proud to have fallen for you. He would die one thousand deaths for you and think it not enough.”

“I don’t want him to die even one death for me,” Meagan said pushing away Mrs. Caldwell’s teacup-laden hand. “Do make him stay in bed and recover.”

Nikolai looked slightly disappointed at her practical order, but bowed. “I will convey Your Grace’s wishes.”

“And why aren’t you out looking for my husband?” Meagan demanded.

“Julius and the other bodyguards will find him, Your Grace, rest assured. I remain here to prepare either to heal His Grace’s wounds or to lay him out for his funeral.”

Meagan flinched, and Mrs. Caldwell said sharply, “Cease with your talk of funerals, you ridiculous young man.”

Nikolai looked perplexed. “If Grand Duke Alexander has fallen in battle, protecting that which is most dear to him, his funeral and monuments will be the grandest the world has ever seen.”

Simone clapped her hands over her ears, upsetting the bowl of lavender water. “Do make him stop. I cannot bear it. I cannot dress all in black; it does not suit me. Oh, my poor dear Meagan.”

Mrs. Caldwell slammed down the teacup and ran at Nikolai, her arm outstretched as she pointed at the door. “Out! Now!”

Nikolai took one startled look at a hundred and eighty pounds of angry housekeeper bearing down on him, and fled.

“This is all too much for me,” Simone said, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I am sorry, my dear, I must have a lie-down.”

Meagan felt a flicker of relief beneath her numbness. Simone in a sick room was not conducive to good health.

“That is all right, Step-mama. Mrs. Caldwell will show you to a guest room. You will stay here tonight.”

Mrs. Caldwell at last abandoned the bloody teacup. She called the maid, Susan, to come and keep an eye on Meagan while she half-escorted, half-dragged Simone out of the bedchamber.

Susan sat down by the bed, trying to look cheerful. “Now then, Madame,” she said brightly. “I shall tell you funny stories and make you feel better.”

“You are kind, Susan,” Meagan said. She pushed the untouched teacup toward her. “Do have some tea. Mrs. Caldwell made it and it seems a shame to waste it.”



* * *



Meagan never succeeded in leaving the house. With Susan snoring softly under the influence of the laudanum-dosed tea, Meagan had dressed and crept downstairs. Her plan was to go to her father and have Michael take her to Bow Street where she could hire a Runner to search for Alexander.

But the bodyguards left behind were diligent. They stood at the front door, arms folded, like a wall of muscle and blue coats, and refused to let Meagan out. Explaining what she wanted to do, Nikolai translating, did not help. Bow Street Runners weren’t Nvengarian and would not understand, they said. Alexander’s men would find him. Meanwhile, Her Grace should go back to bed.

The bodyguards spoke in grunts and monosyllables, but from their annoyed glares she knew Nikolai translated correctly.

“In that case,” Meagan said haughtily, “if I am to be your prisoner, I wish to be informed of everything His Grace’s men discover. No matter how unimportant, you tell me everything. If you do not I will …” She broke off, studying the stoic bodyguards and Nikolai as he rattled off the translation. “Well, I shall have something to say about it.”

Drawing her dignity around her, Meagan turned and swept back up the stairs, seething all the way.

When daylight broke, she donned a morning dress with a mantle and half-boots and swarmed down the stairs after choking down a half cup of coffee, all she could manage.

The same bodyguards reposed at the door, blocking her way.

“Do not worry,” she said in a freezing voice. “I am not going to Bow Street. I have an appointment of a different nature in mind. You may come with me if you wish, all of you. Please call my carriage, Nikolai, there’s a good man.”

The bodyguards grudgingly allowed her this much but would not let her out the front door until the carriage arrived at the step. Four of the bodyguards piled onto the top of the carriage, then the coachman started the horses and followed Meagan’s directions to Garland Close, just off the Strand.

Meagan did not truly expect Black Annie to be at home. If Alexander’s men had not been able to find the elusive witch, Meagan did not believe an unexpected call would do the trick.

Therefore she was quite surprised when the round-faced maid opened the door and said, “Oh, yes, Your Grace, Mrs. Reese is in. Would you care to step this way?”

Black Annie kept Meagan waiting in the pleasant sitting room only a few minutes. Dressed in a neat gown of gray, she entered and curtseyed politely, but a twinkle lit her eyes.

“Your Grace, how kind of you to call on me. What may I do for you today?”

Meagan gave her a cool stare worthy of Alexander. “I believe you know perfectly well why I’ve come,” she said, tightlipped.