The Mad, Bad Duke

by Jennifer Ashley

  However, by the time the three of them descended the carriage, Meagan wondered if she’d even be able to find Alexander in all the crush.

  As usual, Dominic and another bodyguard pressed close to Meagan, shooting dangerous glances at anyone who approached her. Every lord, lady, heiress, and heir of the Upper Ten Thousand had descended upon the Talbots, whether because they felt generous toward Lady Talbot’s charities or because they wanted to witness the fireworks between ladies of the ton over the upcoming marriage of Grand Duke Alexander, Meagan could scarcely guess.

  Lady Talbot professed delight to see them, but then, she was delighted to see everyone. A tall, thin woman with a birdlike stoop and a mountainous headdress, she enjoyed her fellow man—and woman—and wanted a chat with everybody.

  “Lucky Miss Tavistock,” she said, grasping Meagan’s hand. Her eyes were watery blue and kind. “Grand Duke Alexander is by far the handsomest man in London. Gave us all a shock when he announced he’d marry you, of all people. He must have fallen wildly in love indeed, my dear, most likely with your pretty eyes. They are quite lovely.”

  Meagan thanked her and curtseyed. Lady Talbot turned to her next guests, oozing sincerity as she proclaimed how delighted she was to see them.

  “I’ve heard that Lord Talbot has some fascinating water gardens,” Michael remarked as they drifted among the crowd, the hot sun beating down on Meagan’s and Simone’s parasols. “Shall we view them?”

  Simone gave him an amazed look, wondering how anyone at a garden party could possibly be interested in the garden. “Darling, I must circulate and speak to people. It has been a long time since I’ve been seen at a very important event. You and Meagan run along. I know you both like that sort of thing.”

  Instead of growing annoyed, Michael grasped Simone’s hand. “You gad about to your heart’s content, love. Meagan and I will look at boring fountains and yew borders.”

  Simone smiled as though dazzled, then released his hand and hurried off toward a clump of ladies, calling out to them as she went.

  Meagan took her father’s arm and let him lead her toward the heart of the garden, Dominic following close behind. People milled everywhere, but Meagan saw no sign of Alexander. Her heart thumped in disappointment, then sped up again every time she saw a tall man with a blue coat.

  The crowd thinned as she and Michael approached the walk where Lord Talbot had his fantastic fountains. Like Simone, most of the guests were more interested in the wine, tea, refreshments, and gossip than in the actual gardens.

  Meagan tightened her grip on her father’s arm. She hadn’t had much chance to spend time alone with him of late, as Simone’s frantic preparations kept Meagan busy every waking moment. Michael had not been happy with Alexander’s abrupt proposal, but as the weeks passed, he’d had grown more sanguine toward the idea of Meagan marrying him.

  Alexander had plainly shown that he intended to take care of Meagan and play by English rules. The sums he’d settled on Meagan for her widow’s portion and pin money had been staggering. Michael did not like ostentation, but at the same time Alexander’s generosity mollified him.

  “Father, why did you fall in love with Simone?” Meagan asked abruptly as they walked.

  Many people in the ton had asked that very question. Michael slanted her a look as though amused at her exasperated tone.

  “Your stepmama can be frivolous, but she has a good and loving heart. Her first husband did not treat her well. Sir Hilton had no patience with people who did not think exactly like him.”

  Meagan knew the truth of this, having met Sir Hilton. “You married her because you thought she deserved kindness?”

  Michael studied the first fountain, water streaming from the mouths of three fish into a bowl. “Partly. Also, she makes me laugh, we are compatible, and we were both lonely.”

  He contemplated the fountain a moment, then gave a little laugh and shook his head. “No, that explanation is too simple. Love happens when you least expect it, and it is difficult to explain why one loves one person and not another. I love Simone, she loves me, and we accept each other the way we are. That is a rare thing to find. So many people want to remake the other in the image of who they want them to be.”

  Meagan nodded, wondering if he was trying to give her a warning about her upcoming marriage. “You loved Mama, too,” she said. “Why did you fall in love with her?”

  A faraway look entered Michael’s eyes. “Your mother and I were both very young, and she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever beheld. You look much like her.”

  Meagan warmed at the compliment. She had a framed sketch of her mother, done not long before her mother’s death, a simple picture of a young woman with kind eyes and a sweet smile. She kept it on a table in her bedroom so she could look at it often.

  “But what made you notice her in particular?” Meagan went on. “There must have been dozens of debutantes paraded before you when you were a young man.”

  “Not as many as you would think, my love. I had no fortune, only a modest income.”

  Meagan looked him up and down, brows raised. “Nonsense. A handsome man with a modest income interests a young lady far more than an ugly man with a fortune. The debutantes likely threw themselves at you.”

  Michael laughed. “You were not there, daughter, so you can know nothing of the sort. I never met your mother in the endless social rounds, but one day while I visited the art collection of the Duke of Devonshire, I found her observing Greek statuary. When I saw her, I simply knew. An old school friend introduced us, and we were engaged within the week.”

  Meagan had heard the story many times and thought it terribly romantic, but Black Annie’s claim now made her view the tale in a different light. Had the smiling young woman he’d met in the Duke of Devonshire’s gallery asked Black Annie to help turn handsome Mr. Tavistock’s gaze upon her?

  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.

  Her father walked on, interested in fountains and assuming the conversation to be finished.

  How delightful, Meagan thought, to be six-and-forty and not worried about anything but how hydraulics work.

  Dominic, who had been wandering his usual discreet distance behind them, now moved forward and spoke to Meagan. “You look for His Grace, do you not?” he asked. “He is there.”

  He pointed one broad finger down a path perpendicular to theirs, and Meagan lifted her gaze and saw Alexander.

  His broad, 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, lord,” she murmured.

  “There are some you do not like?” Dominic flexed his bulky hands. “I can perhaps send them away or make them afraid of speaking bad to you?”

  “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 really 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 interesting.”

  “The first wife of the Grand Duke, she was beloved. She had ballads sung and poetry written about her the length and breadth of the kingdom. A similar thing will happen to you.”

  “You may cease reassuring me now, Dominic.”

  Dominic bowed. “I will be but a step behind you,
my lady.”

  Meagan adjusted her parasol and pretended to be interested in the nearest fountain until she realized it depicted a goddess with water spurting from very ample nipples.

  She blushed and 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 knowing look.

  The few gentlemen of the group piled behind Alexander and all 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 nodded at Alexander and extended his hand. Meagan made a polite curtsey, wishing all but Alexander and her father would evaporate. She had at one time or other over the last weeks been introduced to these people, so she had no excuse for not speaking to them.

  Alexander wore his military-style coat as usual, his athletic build emphasized by the sash of office pulled snug against his chest. It encircled his hip just where a lady might want to put her hand….

  Meagan snapped her gaze upward, taking in the medals that clinked as Alexander released her father’s hand and turned to her. Looking at his face nearly melted her; it was strong, clean, and square-jawed, a brush of dark stubble on his chin and jaw. The breeze stirred his black hair, revealing the glittering ruby in his earlobe.

  She waited, holding her breath, for the inevitable erotic visions and exhaled slowly when they did not come. Perhaps the love spell was taking pity on them, giving them a respite while she and Alexander had to stand in the middle of a crowd.

  Alexander let his gaze rove her face, dip to her neck, touch 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.”

  She saw shock and disapproval on the faces of several ladies. 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 shock her enemies.

  The Duchess of Gower, her fingers pasted to the crook of Alexander’s arm, bared her teeth. “His Grace was telling us all about the unusual gardens of Nvengaria. How they’re allowed to grow almost wild and how good gardeners are valued as much as princes.”

  Alexander paid as much attention to her as he would an insignificant insect on his sleeve. Any moment now, he’d simply brush her away.

  Lady Anastasia answered. “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’s 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.

  Not to be outdone, the Duchess of Gower took up the gauntlet. “Of course, foreign gardens can be nothing to what we have in England. Chatsworth, now, the Duke of Devonshire’s house, has the most magnificent gardens in the world.”

  Lady Anastasia smiled warmly. “Yes, Miss Tavistock, they are modeled on the gardens at Versailles. When you have seen both, you may decide which you like better.”

  Highly entertained, Meagan and the rest of the party turned their heads back to the duchess to see how she would respond.

  All except Alexander. His gaze was fixed on Meagan, and he showed not even polite interest in the chatter.

  Before the Duchess of Gower could think of her next retort, he removed her hand from his arm and stepped forward. “I will take my fiancée to see the rest of the water gardens,” he said abruptly.

  The duchess choked and turned brilliant red. Lady Anastasia smiled. “An excellent idea, Your Grace. Some of the fountains are quite clever.”

  “Too clever,” the duchess said, trying to recover. “Not fit to be seen by a young lady.”

  Alexander sent her a long look, his cool silence more effective than any retort. Alexander only had to gaze at a person with those steady blue eyes that missed nothing, and the recipient flinched and worried. The Duchess of Gower gaped a moment, then shut her mouth with a snap.

  The first match to Lady Anastasia, Meagan thought. The duchess had skewered herself. Some victories were sweet.

  “Dominic,” Alexander said. Dominic came forward, alert. Alexander made a sharp gesture, and Dominic, understanding, stepped behind them, ready to keep anyone from following. Lady Anastasia took Michael’s arm, inquiring in her flattering, accented voice if he would walk with her back to the main gardens.

  Alexander did not extend his arm to Meagan, nor did he reach for her hand. Better that way, Meagan thought, as she shouldered her parasol and turned to walk beside him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Alexander led Meagan around the fountain of the largebreasted woman whose nipples still gushed water, conscious of her beside him even when he kept his gaze far from her. They ducked beneath the low-hanging branch of a tree and strolled down an empty path that led away from the main gardens.

  “She is Hera,” Alexander said after they’d walked in absolute silence for a few minutes.

  Meagan blinked. “Who is?”

  “The woman in the fountain. Hera, the mother goddess. It is a symbol of fertility.”

  The Duchess of Gower would have tittered at the announcement, believing Alexander hinted at a sexual liaison. Meagan simply looked thoughtful.

  “Well, she certainly looked to be fertilizing a good many. Are there truly naughty fountains back here as the Duchess of Gower suggested?”

  She was so serene, the yellow parasol throwing sundappled shadow over her skin, the fine straw bonnet framing her face rather than hiding it. She further protected her skin with a light lawn fichu, a thin cloth wrapped around her shoulders and tucked into her sash. He saw the talent of his hand-picked dressmakers in her white and blue walking dress, which subtly hugged her figure.

  The picture of a young English miss asking eagerly about naughty fountains made certain parts of him stand to attention.

  “Yes,” he answered. “Lord Talbot showed them to me earlier.”

  “Naughtier than Hera?”

  Alexander nodded. “Decidedly. He has statuary performing the sexual act in many and varied positions. The water seems superfluous.”

  Meagan pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I ought to be shocked, but it makes me want to laugh.”

  He liked the way her eyes sparkled, her lips curving in guilty glee. Looking away, he slid his hand through hers.

  His entire body focused on the warm touch of her fingers. He knew then that the love spell hadn’t given in, despite the lack of erotic visions. It was merely biding its time.

  He said, “I like that you laugh when it is appropriate and do not stoop to trading insults with bitches of women.”

  “Well, Lady Anastasia was doing so nicely. I hated to interrupt her.”

  “Lady Anastasia knows how to play the game.”

  “Did your first Grand Duchess know how to play the game?” Meagan asked suddenly.

  Alexander stopped. They stood in the shadow of a tall tree that overhung the path, and shadows brushed the face she turned up to him.

  “She was a master at it,” he said. “None could touch her, not even Anastasia.”

  Meagan gave him a wry look. “And the Grand Duchess was honored by poets the length and breadth of Nvengaria, Dominic told me.”

  “She was.”

  “Ah, well, I suppose I will be master of the game too, after many long and painful years of lessons.” She looked as though she faced a series of daunting mountain ranges to be scaled.

  He traced her cheek. “I do not want you in the game. I like you like this,
unsullied, unspoiled. The game, it will eat you alive. Leave it to me.”

  Her eyes closed a little, the love spell touching her too. “I would adore leaving it in your oh-so-capable hands. I would be a dutiful housewife and stay home to mend your shirts, except that I’ll be expected to go out to soirees and balls and things, not to mention hosting them. I will have to face the Duchess of Gower and Deirdre Braithwaite again and again. So I will need to learn something of the game.”

  “The duchess, she is a boorish woman. She wishes me to bed her, and she is angry because I show no interest.”

  Meagan’s cheeks colored beneath his fingers. “As I observed before, you are ever so blunt, Alexander. I suppose I should be happy that you are truthful about your affairs.”

  He shrugged. “I have no desire to have affairs. I did not even wish to marry again.”

  “Oh.” Her slender throat moved in a swallow. “Perhaps not that blunt.”

  He realized he had hurt her without meaning to. Alexander, who could bring any woman he chose into his bed by crooking his finger—literally—was losing his finesse.

  “Affairs are a distraction,” he explained. “I took mistresses when I was married to Sephronia because when I had physical needs she was busy with her own lovers.”

  Her color rose. “Well, that was not very sporting of her.”

  “I have shocked you. I ask your pardon. I am not used to speaking to English girls.”

  “No, no, I think you are enjoying yourself trying to shock me. I am not used to speaking to Nvengarian Grand Dukes. Even Damien was easier to talk to than you are.”

  “Damien works to be charming.” He made a small shrug. “I am more forthright.”

  “Yes,” Meagan said fervently. “You are certainly forthright.”

  “You wish, perhaps, I were more like Damien? This would be better for you?”

  He waited, every muscle tightening, as she tilted her head to one side and considered him. For some reason her answer had become damned important, and he had no idea why.