Miranda, not at all sure of the meaning hidden behind these words, gave a cautious nod, mainly because Mims was correct. Seeing Harry again after all these rain-enforced indoor days would indeed be mostpleasant. More than pleasant. In fact, her heart was doing odd little leaps within the confines of her stays. She did not, however, put these thoughts into words. From the expressions on her daughters’ faces, she had a feeling it might be information they would seize upon with glee. They would just have to curb their curiosity.
After a light afternoon tea, with the rain still lashing against the parlor windows, everyone repaired upstairs where Betsey was allowed to perform her magic upon both Miranda and Lissy. In her time, the now aged and stout Betsey had been nursemaid, lady’s maid, companion and then restarted the cycle of employment when Lissy had come along. Consequently she possessed the skills of all those jobs and was well able to turn two ladies out for a dinner engagement.
Miranda had given in to the girls and chosen to wear the pale blue gown with the sarsenet overlay, with a black armband, of course, mainly because Betsey turned out to be in agreement over its appropriateness. And between them, Miranda and Betsey persuaded Lissy into the cream and yellow gown she’d worn for the ball Sir Geoffrey had held for her eighteenth birthday, not long before his unexpected demise. Both ladies finished their ensembles off with elegant shawls, pretty reticules and on top of that, thanks to the rain, head to toe hooded cloaks.
“And you mind how you take down your hoods,” Betsey chided them as they stood in the parlor, just before half past five, waiting as young Dick splashed through the rain to open the farm gate and let Harry’s coach and four into the yard. The carriage that had been theirs, of course, driven by Joe Miller in a hooded great coat to keep the rain off him.
“Why do they have to do that?” Megs asked, peering out of the open front door into the puddled yard.
Betsey frowned at her, and Mims answered for her. “In case they mess up their beautiful hair that Betsey spent such a long time doing, ninny.”
The carriage swung in a tight circle and came to a halt as close to the door as it was possible to get. Young Archie Miller, similarly clad to his father, jumped off the back and ran to let down the step and open the door. With a bit of difficulty, he unfurled an umbrella and, holding it above his head, held out his gloved hand to offer Miranda help into the carriage. She hitched up her skirts a little and skipped across the puddled gap and up into the carriage. A moment later, Lissy was by her side. The door closed, the step went up and the carriage rocked a little as Archie regained his place out in the rain on the back. With no more ado, it moved off at a walk until it was through the gate, and then Joe must have clicked his tongue to his horses for they broke into a spanking trot.
Harry dipped hishead to his two ladies which was as much as he could do in the confines of the carriage. Why had his heart, which had been beating rather too quickly on the journey from the Hall, skipped a beat the moment Miranda climbed into the carriage accompanied by a cloud of intoxicating scent? Thank goodness the weather was rendering the interior gloomy enough that she wouldn’t be able to see the color in his hot cheeks.
“Miranda,” he said, loving the way her name slipped off his tongue. “And Melissa. You both look delightful.” He would have liked to have repeated Miranda’s name several times, but caution prevented him. He didn’t want her thinking him addle pated.
Four days of rain-enforced loneliness in the Hall had left Harry with time on his hands. The estate books being in such a good state, and Crawford being so well-organized, meant that he’d had little to do but rattle about a house that was bigger than any other place he’d ever lived. It possessed a decent library of course, but there was only so much reading a man could do, even if he liked reading. And Harry was not a reader of fiction.
He’d been interested to discover a new edition, in three volumes,ofThe History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in Englandby Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon. History had always been one of his passions, and the fact that his new property was so close to the village of Naseby, scene of one of the major battles of the Civil War, was of great interest. He’d spent many happy hours reading these particular books. And the rest of the time he’d spent thinking about Miranda. So now he knew a lot more about the Civil War but nothing new about Miranda.
“What terrible weather,” she said, as she settled her skirts and her blue cloak. “Thank goodness Joe Miller is such a good driver and could put the carriage so close to my front door. I must thank him for that later.”
Harry smiled. “I’m most impressed the rain didn’t put you off making the journey. But you know the roads here better than I do, so I trust in your decision and Joe’s undoubted skills as a driver.”
Miranda nodded. “We don’t in general suffer from flooding, although I have to admit this deluge is a little on the Biblical side.”
Harry leaned back in his seat. As they’d sat together opposite him, it gave him a perfect opportunity to gaze at Miranda while pretending he was looking at them both.
Each was beautiful in their own way. He was trying very hard not to make it obvious which one of them he couldn’t take his eyes off, but it was difficult. While Melissa was dewy with youth, Miranda seemed to glow in the evening light, eclipsing her daughter, despite the gloom, as the sun does the moon. Good heavens, he was waxing most poetic. Or her glow might be entirely in his imagination. Or, he might have lost his wits, as he suspected Sir Julian had. That last seemed possible. Four days of solitude might well be helping with that.
What should he say? The sensation of being tongue tied in the presence of a beautiful woman was a strange one, but it was there, nevertheless.
Miranda came to his rescue. Or did she? “How have you beensettling in to the Hall, Harry? I hope you’re getting used to it and finding it comfortable.” She glanced out of the window. “I daresay, like us, you’ve been remaining wisely indoors during all this rain.”
He smiled. “I’m finding it’s a big house for one person, especially when I’m forced by circumstances to remain inside it for four long days. I think if this was indeed a Biblical downpour of forty days and forty nights, I would still have wanted to come out in it lest I go quite mad in my own company. I must confess to having found it a little lonely all by myself.”
Lissy replied before Miranda had a chance. “Of course, when we were there we were never lonely and never bored because we had each other. My sisters and me, that is.”
Miranda tapped her daughter’s foot in warning. “I’m sure when Harry is married and has a family of his own at the Hall he’ll not find it lonely at all. Your papa used to retreat into his study in search of peace and quiet from you girls. He quite rightly said you were far too noisy.”
Why did mentioning when he had a family of his own make her stomach feel as though it had become a gaping hole? If she believed Lissy, then he didn’t want to marry anyone. She would never see him happily married to her daughter and have grandchildren playing in the gardens her own children had grown up in. A sad thought.
A smile flitted across his face. “Perhaps,” he said, a little enigmatically. But, if she wasn’t mistaken, the look in his eyes said something else entirely. Heat washed up her body and she rather wished her fan wasn’t hidden in her reticule. It would have been handy to hide her blushes behind.
At Thornby Grange,Sir Julian was ensconced in his bedroom with Farnon, the valet he’d poached from Windrush Hall, in attendance. He’d had plenty of time to think about how to win Miranda over and come up with nothing easy. Obviously, she needed to appreciate the way he felt about her, to acknowledge her own feelings for him, andto come naturally to returning the love he felt for her. But he wasn’t at all sure he could get this to happen.
Not now he had a rival.
And with the rain keeping him immured at Thornby for the past few days, he’d had time to mull this over and for it to grow in his imagination. As a consequence, he’d become more and more certain that the newly arrived baronet was indeed a rival for his beloved’s attentions. Not only that, but she was living scarcely a mile from the Hall where his rival now lived and might conceivably see him every day. Even in this rain. Something that would give his rival an unfair advantage.
It had to be stopped.
Miranda was alone and vulnerable after the death of her husband. She had little money and was living in reduced circumstances. She would, of course, be desperate for a man to step in and offer her security. A woman…a lady…could not be expected to live alone for long. It was just not right. She did not possess the intellect to do so. She needed a man. A man of means who could look after her in the manner she deserved. And in return, she would offer him her luscious body. The mere thought of what might lie below her clothing had him turning away from Farnon in case his man noticed his physical state.
To give himself time to recover, he went to the window and looked out. The rain was lessening. A good sign. Possibly even an omen. He had to hope the rain had kept his rival away from his Miranda. Yes, his Miranda. That could only be good.
Tonight he would launch his attack. No, that was the wrong word entirely. This must not be aggressive, no matter how he felt. But it needed to be tonight, before that weaselling baronet had a chance to lure her away with the promise of the house that had once been hers. He must himself secure a more binding promise from her than the vague suggestion of being able to call in a year or two’s time. He must make himself more attractive not only financially but also in love. Hemust show her how much he cared for her.
He turned back to Farnon and the man began to knot his cravat for him.
With his plan in mind, his invitations had been few. But he’d chosen well in that he’d invited two couples whose daughters were in want of husbands. Two husband-hunting mothers who could be relied upon to keep his rival occupied. Their husbands too, of course, but they were not important. It was keeping Sir Henry out of his way that was important.
He smiled to himself as Farnon finished the cravat. Yes, he was certain he could make this evening work in his favor.
