Page 16 of The Mistletoe Duke

He pulled himself straighter and said haughtily, “We dress for dinner.”

Her smile was frigid. “I am dressed.”

“More dressed than she was last night,” Susana said, sotto voce.

They both glared at her.

“Whatever do you mean?” Mother asked. Thankfully, everyone ignored her.

Jonathan simply plowed on. “You could at least wear something pretty.” It was a perfectly logical request.

There was no reason for Meg to burst into tears.

Again.

He turned to his sister and bellowed, “What is she crying about?”

Susana blinked. “Why ever are you asking me?”

“You’re a woman. You understand each other. Don’t you?”

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 Meg?”

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.