Page 41 of The Mistletoe Duke

“You know what I mean.”

“My mother has no say in this.”

“But—”

“To hell with my mother!”

“Well really.” An affronted snort came from the door.

They both turned to see the dowager standing there with Susana, Lizzie, and Vicca.

Susana sniffed. “This is becoming a habit,” she said, although she said it with something of a smile.

“What are they doing?” Vicca asked, poking her head around her grandmother.

“I do believe your father is compromising my companion,” the dowager clipped.

Oh dear. Meg leaped to her feet. “It’s not what it seems—”

“Yes,” Jonathan said, standing as well and wrapping his arm around Meg’s waist. “It’s exactly what it looks like. Meg has just accepted my proposal.”

Susana crossed her arms. “Well, it took the two of you long enough.”

“Indeed,” his mother said. And, to Meg’s delight, the dowager came to her with open arms and gave her a lovely hug.

“What does that mean?” Lizzie said with a skeptical look at the lot of them.

Jonathan went down on one knee and pulled his daughters close, so he could look them in the eye. “Meg is to be my wife and, if you’re willing, your mother.”

They both turned to Meg then, and though she was unaccountably nervous, she smiled. “Would you like that?”

The twins exchanged a look and then shrugged. “Of course we like it,” Vicca said.

Lizzie nodded. “We told you days ago you should marry Meg.”

“Weren’t you paying attention?”

Jonathan sighed. “Apparently I wasn’t. I needed to work it out for myself.”

“Well, I am delighted,” the dowager said. “We’ll make an announcement at the ball this evening.”

Susana chuckled. “And ruin Christmas for Cicely Peck.”

The dowager smirked. “An added bonus, but it will do.” She sighed heartily and turned to survey the new family to be. Man, wife, and daughters. Hopefully sons soon enough, judging from the look in Jonathan’s eye. “It makes me supremely happy when my plans play out,” she murmured.

Jonathan smiled. “It was a brilliant plan, throwing a party to find a husband for Meg.”

“Oh?” his mother said cheekily. “Was that my plan?”

“Wasn’t it?”

She shrugged.

His eyes narrowed. “You told me the point of this party was to find a husband for Meg.”

Meg blinked. “You told me the point of this party was to find a bride for Jonathan.”

“Did I?” Was it possible for a woman to flutter her lashes that fervidly and not create a breeze?