AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The countess lowered the curtains and peered at her daughter. "Miranda, not this unreasonable obstinacy again. Affections will eventually come with the man you marry."
She took a steadying breath. “I’ve formed an attachment with Dr. Astor. I admire him most ardently and—”
“No!” her mother gasped in such a horrified tone, Miranda stopped speaking.
Her mother took her hands between hers. “My dea
r, while Dr. Astor’s situation in life is respectable, he is not your equal in station and would make a marriage between you both quite ineligible by our family’s standard. I trust you are neither so foolish nor so undutiful as to conduct yourself in a way that might encourage him to make an offer.”
“Mamma I love him, and he has suitable connections—”
"Connections!" her mother snapped with icy disdain, releasing her hand. "You are not to marry a man who has connections, but a man who is of great rank and privilege, certain of his place and position in the haut monde. I shall hear no more of this nonsense with Dr. Astor!”
“And if he loves and respects me? Should that not be just as important as wealth and consequences. Do you not love papa?”
An expression of scandalized dismay settled on the countess’s countenance. “Are these the discussions you’ve been having with the doctor?”
Miranda lifted her chin. “Our feelings are known to each other.”
Her mother appeared faint. “I’ll not hear another word of this, young lady! I must summon Henry at once, perhaps he will be able to talk some much-needed good sense into you.”
Miranda closed her eyes in frustration. “Mamma! If you will but for one moment consider my happiness in your plans,” she said in a voice thick with tears. “For a moment, Mamma, think of what I desire. I will not be forced—”
A knock sounded, robbing her speech. Simon entered with his brother, and Miranda and her mother surged to their feet. Her eyes were for Simon, but a sharp inhalation of appreciation tugged her gaze to the man beside him.
The resemblance between the brothers was uncanny, except there was an air of hardness and insouciance about the duke. She thought she saw sadness and sorrow woven in the depths of his blue eyes.
Simon stepped forward. "Countess Langford, Lady Miranda, may I present my brother, William Astor, the Duke of Wycliffe. William, the countess, and her daughter have been my guests these last several days while the countess recovers from a bad sprain."
The duke bowed, “I’m charmed,” he said, his eyes never leaving Miranda’s person.
“And we are delighted,” her mother said, dipping into a most graceful curtsy.
Miranda curtsied, and when she lifted her eyes, both brothers stared at her with similar, piercing regards. She realized she was quite fetching in a layered golden gown which clung to her slender frame, and her dark golden hair had been styled in a becoming chignon. Still, it was no cause for the duke who did not know her to stare so boldly.
Oddly, she could not read the emotions in Simon's eyes, for usually she would only spy tender regard in his gaze.
"I must take my leave, and unfortunately I will not be present at dinner this evening. Mrs. Chudleigh is in labor, and I must attend her in the village. Vicar Powell and his wife are my guests for dinner this evening. William, please convey my apologies as I must attend to my patient."
The offer to accompany him hovered on her tongue, but she bit it back before she scandalized her mother and the duke. But how badly she wished to assist him, and it gladdened her heart that he would not be the type of husband who would want to curtail her to household duties and balls and parties hosting.
"I shall take excellent care of your guests," the duke said with a warm, inviting smile, to which Miranda did not respond.
His brow arched as if he was not accustomed to a lady resisting his charms. She almost rolled her eyes. Simon's lips twitched, and it was evident he fought back a smile.
“I will bid you ladies good evening.” Then with a bow, he departed the parlor, responding to his call of duty.
"Should I call for tea, Your Grace?" her mother asked with an affable charm.
“I would like that.”
“Lady Miranda’s skill at the pianoforte is unsurpassed. Might she play for us while we wait for the teapot to be refreshed.”
"I would like that," the duke said, walking to sit on the sofa closest to the pianoforte. "I…I knew someone once, and she loved music. I've not heard anyone play since."
And suddenly Miranda did not mind playing, for she sensed the duke loved and missed whoever he spoke of. She ambled over to the pianoforte and lifted the gleaming lid. Closing her eyes, she allowed her fingers to dance over the keys bringing rich, vibrant music alive. She started to sing, and she heard her mother’s sigh of pleasure, and she wished Simon had been present, for it was him she sang and played for.
Later that night, a knock sounded on Miranda's door, she closed the book she'd been reading, and glanced up. It was frightfully late, after midnight at least. And still, Simon had not returned. He had sent word that Mrs. Chudleigh's labor might very well continue into tomorrow and he would spend the night at her residence. A pulse of worry slithered through Miranda when a more strident knock sounded, and she pushed from the bed, tugging her robe from the peg and slipping it on. She hurried to the door and opened it, to see Agnes standing with a lantern, a fierce and worried frown on her face.
