Dukes By the Dozen

Mother, who was sitting on the divan and taking all this in as though it were a play enacted for her private pleasure, suggested, “Why don’t you ask her?”

Jonathan glanced at Christian for some male support, but he merely shrugged.

So he turned to her. And he sighed. “Meg. Why are you crying?”

She glared at him, though the tears, and then said in an emotionless voice, “I don’t have anything pretty.”

That was all it took. His dudgeon deflated like a failed soufflé.

Of course she didn’t have anything pretty. Cyril, the bastard, had confiscated all her gowns and jewels and sold them after George died. His mother had told him as much and he’d tut-tutted and made some offhand comment about what a bastard Cyril was and then promptly forgot about it.

Well, hell. How could he fix this?

He had no idea, so he just did what he wanted to do.

He took her in his arms—again—and held her as she cried.

This was becoming a disturbing trend.

Although, if he were honest, he didn’t hate it.

“Don’t cry, Meg,” he whispered to her. “We’ll get you something pretty.”

She snorted wetly into his chest. “I don’t want anything pretty.” Which was clearly untrue, except that being contrary was apparently deeply imbedded in her nature.

“Oh dear,” Mother said with such horror, they both turned to look at her, though Jonathan kept his arms firmly around Meg.

“What?” Susana asked.

“I just realized that the party is in two days and Meg hasn’t a thing to wear.”

“I’ll take her to London tomorrow.” He didn’t know where the words came from. They just fell from his lips.

Suddenly, it seemed like an excellent idea.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mother said with a snort.

Susana shook her head. “You’ll never get a seamstress now.”

Mother shook her head as well. “Never.”

“Why not?” That seemed terribly ridiculous.

Susana stood and came to Meg’s side. “It’s high season, that’s why. But never mind. I have a solution.” His sister took Meg’s arm, dried her tears, and tugged her toward the door.

“Whatever are you doing?” Jonathan asked. “It’s time for dinner.”

“No time for dinner,” Susana crowed. “Meg, you and I are about the same size and I brought far more dresses than I will ever wear. You and I are going to pilfer my wardrobe! Have cook send two trays to my room at once!”

Jonathan watched them go—happy that Susana’s suggestion had seemed to delight Meg, and slightly annoyed that, once again, she wouldn’t be at family dinner, since this was the last one before the insanity began.

But his feelings hardly mattered, didn’t they?

He was only the duke.

CHAPTER 4

SUSANA’S WARDROBE was a treasure trove. Meg did her best to swallow the acrid fact that she’d once had one just like it and was now reduced to begging for scraps. She focused instead on the fact that she was lucky to have such a generous friend. And the opportunity to wear beautiful dresses as well. That was wonderful.

“Oh, this one!” Susana sighed, pulling out a beautiful sky blue frock with sequins stitched into the bodice. “It barely fits me now, since I’m increasing again, but it’s one of my favorites. I’m glad I brought it because it is perfect for your coloring.”

It was. And, in a flurry of crinoline, Meg eagerly tried it on. It was perfect. The blue brought out her eyes and made her shine. Or maybe that was simply her delight as she spun around and watched the skirt bell in the glass. It was a little tight in the bodice, but Susana insisted, with a wink, it was just right for someone on the hunt for a husband. There was another, a dark forest green, which would be perfect for the Christmas Eve supper and ball, and a lovely pink day dress.

“I love you in these jewel tones,” Susana said and Meg laughed.

“My last party frock was white.”

Susana grinned. “We’re hardly debutantes now.”

Yes. Hardly.

When they were finished, Meg returned to her dark weeds and sighed. “That was fun,” she told her friend, who grinned.

“Wasn’t it?”

“I’m so appreciative. You’ve been so generous.”

To her surprise, Susana stared at her, tears welling. Which caused Meg to tear up as well. “Meg, darling,” she said, opening her arms for a hug. “You deserve it. You’ve always been so generous with me. Even when we were children. Do you remember that time when you let me have the last cake at tea, after Jonathan and George swept in and tried to scarf them all up?”

Meg had to chuckle. “No. I don’t.”

Susana’s eyes sparkled. “Well, I do. And the time you gave me your doll, because I liked it. And— Oh, I could go on. You’re like a sister to me. A dear, dear sister. And I, for one, hate to see you moldering in Devon with Mama.”

“I’m hardly moldering. Besides, I love your mother.”

“I do too, but she doesn’t exactly live an exciting life.”

“She…throws parties…”

Susana snorted. “We both know, you throw those parties. She just tags along and makes speeches.”

“They are very good speeches.”

“That is a matter of opinion. And beside the point.”

“And the point is?”