Well, he was an ex-army officer. Granted, he’d been a medic, but that didn’t make him much less martial. And possibly even braver than most soldiers as it had been his job to work just behind the front line trying to repair the wounded soldiers sent to him so they could go back out and fight. He’d been there, but he’d not been fighting, which, she allowed, might possibly make him the bravest man in the army. Although of course her opinion might be a little biased after that kissand that proposal, such as it had been.
She could not lose him. She just could not.
Her thoughts wandered with inevitability to Sir Julian. She’d long been aware he had a fancy for her but this wild declaration had taken her aback. Had he truly been considering the two of them practically affianced, all because Geoffrey had once suggested that to him, probably when he was bosky. Now she thought about it he had been unusually attentive since Geoffrey’s death. But he’d never pushed himself on her and she’d thought him well put off for at least a year or two, during which time a lot could have happened.
An idea blossomed. What she needed to do was go and see the silly man and explain to him, as clearly as possible so there were no further misunderstandings, that Geoffrey, if he’d said it at all, had not meant for his friend to marry his wife if she became a widow. And that she couldn’t possibly consider marrying him when she loved another, and that Harry’s behavior up by the wood had been entirely welcome. In the cold light of day he would surely understand. And she could get him to call off the duel. That was the most important thing of all. Maybe she could intimate that a local magistrate such as he was should not have issued such an illegal challenge.
Yes, that was a good plan. She got up from the table and hurried upstairs to find her riding habit.
A little more than half an hour later, for Dick had to be sent out to catch Traveler, who had rather spitefully rolled in the muddiest part of the meadow, she was ready to go. Betsey was out of sight in the gardens and the girls were nowhere to be found, which was good. She didn’t want anyone trying to stop her.
Dick opened the gate and she trotted up the lane, the breeze fresh on her face. On the way over she would pass the time with thinking about Harry. What could be better? And this problem would soon be sorted out and she could get on with her life. A life that she foresaw was going to include Harry.
Sir Julian wasin his study when he saw Miranda riding up his front drive looking jaunty and beautiful in her blue riding habit. His heart, which had been residing in his boots after his encounter with her and Sir Henry in the meadow, rose in excitement. She was here. The woman he longed for was here. The woman who would make his life complete. That she no longer brought Windrush Hall with her didn’t matter. All he could think of was that at last she had come to him, willingly, and she would be his. Right now.
There being no mirror in his study he hastened to the parlor where one hung on the wall opposite the window, the idea of its situation being to increase the size of the room by optical illusion. Yes, he looked most presentable. She would find him pleasing to her eye. With his fingers he gave his fading ginger hair a quick fluff up, both in order to give the impression of added height and also to disguise the fact it was thinning. His heart was beating a rapid rhythm and his breathing came fast. The moment he’d been waiting for since before his own wife died had finally arrived. She’d cast aside that upstart who’d stolen her home from her and tried to mendaciously claim her as his bride, and realized that only he, her long admirer, represented what she truly needed.
Puffing out his chest, he sat down on one of the richly upholstered pink settees and waited for his butler to bring her to him.
It didn’t take long. Morton, the butler, opened the parlor door. “Lady Madeley to see you, Sir Julian.” And she came in.
He rose to his feet, one hand on his heart.
Never had he seen her lovelier. From her daintily booted feet up through her elegant riding habit to her perfectly formed face, cornflower blue eyes and abundant blonde hair. He could not drink in enough of her. Perhaps the showdown with that upstart had served to multiply his feelings, perhaps it was the thought of losing her that had done so, but, whatever it was, his heart felt as though it were brimming over with desire.
She hesitated on the threshold, her eyes suddenly wary.
Let her not be. Let her show him how much she loved him. He was more than willing to declare his love for her. Long years of admiring her from afar had taken their toll on him.
He smiled what he fondly imagined was his most welcoming and loving smile and executed a deep bow. “Lady Madeley. Miranda. How glad I am to see you here.”
She came further in and, at a nod from his master, Morton retreated and closed the parlor door. With that gentle smile on her face, the one he thought was meant only for him, she made a polite curtsy.
“Please,” he said, indicating the settee he’d just risen from, “be seated. I am more than gratified to be able to welcome you into my home.”
She sat, but not beside him. Instead she chose a single, upright chair and folded her small hands in her lap. “Thank you.”
He tried hard not to lick his lips in anticipation. He must not look too eager. In his experience ladies could be quite put off if one was too forward. Although what he really wanted to do was go down on one knee before her and assure her that his previous offer still stood and he would marry her immediately, or, failing that, at any date she chose. But preferably sooner rather than later.
She regarded him out of wide, solemn eyes for a long moment before taking a deep breath.
His heart gave a little leap. Here it came. Her declaration that it was him she wanted, not that vile upstart. He could still feel the bruise on his knuckles from having knocked the blackguard down.
“I’ve come to ask you to withdraw your challenge to my cousin.”
What? He stared at her in horror, unable, for a moment, to control his reaction.
She nodded as if to emphasize her request. “It would please me greatly if you were to do so as I care most deeply for my cousin and would not like to see harm come to him.”
She was looking at him as though she expected a reply, so he made a harumphing sound.
She must have taken that as some sort of answer, because she went on. “When you so abruptly came upon Harry and me, on his land, I might add, you quite misunderstood the situation. Harry is not someone who was forcing himself upon me. I was not resisting his advances. So the whole premise of your challenge to him was wrong.” She cleared her throat. “I am sure I can persuade him to overlook your striking him, as he will understand your misapprehension. He is not a violent man despite having been an army officer. I will make sure he knows you made an easy mistake. I will tell him that you were only following the instructions of my late husband in watching out for me so very kindly. But you were wrong, and the challenge to the duel should not stand.”
She finished, those gorgeous blue eyes still fixed on him.
His heart descended back to his boots. She had not come for the reason he’d thought. She’d come to rub his nose in the fact that another man had won her, and to beg for him to withdraw his challenge. He’d been thinking it a little foolish himself until she’d spoken, but now, having heard her terrible words, he knew he could never withdraw. Henry Madeley—he refused to call him “sir”—should not be allowed to have her. He would aim for the upstart’s heart, not the shoulder he’d been planning on.
She entwined her fingers in a nervous fashion. Could she be lying? Had the coward sent her to beg for his life? She looked up at him beseechingly. “As it is a matter of my own happiness at stake here, I was hoping that you would have some fellow feeling for me.”
