He smiled.
She smiled back. Already she was seeing this evening as one she should not have consented to participate in. Arriving with Harry and Lissy had lulled her into a false sense of security as she’d envisaged spending the evening in close proximity to at least one of them. Only now they were both engaged by other guests.
She knew both the Letwin-Joneses and the Skeffingtons from the socializing she’d done when Geoffrey was alive. Both couples, especially the wives, were more than keen to find husbands for their daughters, who were both now over twenty, but darkest Northamptonshire, and in particular the area around Naseby, was not exactly rife with eligible, which meant rich, young men. No doubt news of Harry’s arrival, and his perceived availability, had flown around the neighborhood like wildfire, and all the mamas of unwed daughters had him in their sights. These two couples were here this evening with only one aim in mind.
She was quite surprised to discover she didn’t like that.
“A glass of Madeira?” asked Sir Julian.
She was forced to collect her wandering thoughts. “Thank you, that would be most welcome.”
Unfortunately, he didn’t have to go and get one but merely took one from a tray on the sideboard and handed it to her. She took a rather large sip. She was fond of Madeira and felt somewhat in need of fortification.
Under cover of taking a second sip, she glanced again towards Harry and saw that not one, but both of the young ladies were laughing at something he’d said. Laughing rather too much, as though they thought him the wittiest of gentlemen.
And yes, she was annoyed. Seen sideways on he was even morehandsome because he possessed such an attractive profile. And his hair…what would it be like to run one’s fingers through hair as thick as his? Geoffrey’s hair had been thinning when she met him, so she’d never been able to indulge in any running of fingers through it. And what was more, he would have objected strongly to her dislodging the style Farnon achieved that had so expertly hidden his growing bald spot.
“It particularly pleases me to see you here,” Sir Julian said, his eyes more than a little determined. “Because I hope in the near future to see you here on a more permanent basis.”
What? She’d thought she’d put him off the other day, but clearly not with enough firmness.
His smile widened. “I know you will deny it as you are so devoted still to the memory of your dear husband, my old friend, but I am quite confident that you are harboring close to your heart the desire to one day make me a happy man.”
Oh no. That was definitely obsession.
“I see it in your eyes, in the way you look at me, that charming little smile you have for me alone.”
She opened her mouth, unsure of what she might say and wondering why he couldn’t see the horror in her eyes. Love must truly be blind. Or maybe madness was, for mad he must be to persist when she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. Or, at least, she thought she had.
He held up an admonishing hand. “Say nothing, my lovely Miranda. I know you feel you must deny any sort of feelings you have for me, but allow me to assure you that I’m fully aware of them and knowing they exist, my heart swells with pleasure.”
Good heavens. No, she hadn’t said that out loud. Thank goodness. Whatever was she to do? The man clearly was besotted to the point of lunacy. Had he been anyone else she might have been flattered, but he wasn’t, and neither was she. Still groping for something to say thatwouldn’t be an insult and ruin the evening, she was interrupted.
“Dinner is served,” announced Sir Julian’s butler.
Sir Julian beamed at her in satisfaction and held out his arm. She could do nothing but take it and allow him to lead her into dinner.
With eleven of them sitting down to eat, the table had been laid with Sir Julian occupying the head and five seats down either side. He guided her to the seat on his right and she found herself sandwiched between Colonel Letwin-Jones on her right, and Mr. Skeffington opposite, both of whom seemed delighted to be placed so close to her. Harry, on the other hand, had been deftly positioned between the two young ladies and opposite Melissa. Miranda had a nasty feeling this was a deliberate ploy to keep him occupied throughout the meal.
She took her place, the feeling of wariness growing.
It was a splendid spread. Matalot of carp and a remove of duck, broiled chicken and mushroom and a host of other delicacies filled the table for the first course. However, her appetite, that had not been great before, died to almost nothing when having to converse with her host, who seemed intent on monopolising her.
She couldn’t even see Harry from where she was sitting, as he was on the same side of the table as her with the bulk of the colonel as well as Miss Beatrice Skeffington in her way. Chatter was loud, and she kept hearing the sycophantic laughter of those two young ladies. She found, to her surprise, that she couldn’t even chide herself for describing their laughter in that way. What was she coming to? Was she, perish the thought, jealous of them?
Melissa, on the other hand, was doing her duty by conversing with Mrs. Skeffington on her left and the personable Robert on her right. Wicked girl. If only she could be persuaded to chatter so ingenuously to Harry, she might win him over.
Only, did she really want that? Her confused feelings did nothing to increase her appetite and for the most part she pushed her food about her plate a little disconsolately. More and more she wasconvinced this evening had been a mistake.
Sir Julian, on the other hand, his face growing ever more florid as he imbibed glass after glass of wine, seemed to be very much enjoying himself. Under the table he slid a hot hand onto her thigh and she had to deliberately return it to his own lap without looking at him. Why he thought her enamored of him, she could not work out. Never had she given him that impression, or so she thought. If only she found saying no easier. Clearly her removal of his hand hadn’t worked, because ten minutes later it was back again. This time she dug her nails in as she returned it to his lap, keeping her expression bland as she listened to Mr. Skeffington talking about this season’s prospects for cub hunting.
Finally, after the table had been cleared and the second course brought, which included roasted fowls, a dish of asparagus and orange jellies as well as a lemon soufflé, none of which she touched, dinner was over. Thank goodness.
The ladies rose from the table to leave the gentlemen to their port, and Miranda was able to retreat into the drawing room.
Melissa appeared beside her as Miss Skeffington settled at the piano and played a few chords. “Oh surely not,” Melissa hissed. “I really don’t want to hear what that tedious young woman thinks of as music.” Which was a little rich as Melissa herself was considered tone deaf and not at all musical.
She sat on a settee beside her mother. “I’ve quite had enough of her telling poor Cousin Harry what she’s good at, which she seems to think is everything.” She huffed, keeping her voice low. “How simply awful it was that the table was laid out that way with you monopolized by our dreadful host, and poor Cousin Harry surrounded by those boring young ladies.”
