“Miranda,” he said, fully convinced in a matter of seconds that the upstart was wanting to renege on his agreement to the duel and had sent her because he was too cowardly to come himself. “Miranda, you must understand that this is a matter of honor between two…” He’d been about to say gentlemen but stopped, because that upstart was nothing of the sort.
“Honor might be better served by both of you making apologies,” she said. “To me, in fact, for I am most unhappy that you seem to think to honor me by making me the subject of your duel. I am more than shocked that either of you consider this acceptable in this day and age. Perhaps you will recall that duelling is illegal, and you are a magistrate.”
Sir Julian narrowed his eyes, the possibility that here lay a way to win her to his side arising in his somewhat twisted heart. “If I were to agree to your suggestion, then might you be more agreeable to view me in a favorable light and consider my suit?”
Her eyes widened. She swallowed and sat up a little straighter. “I’m sorry. Have I not been clear enough in my explanation? I am here to ask this of you because you mistook what you saw. I am in love with Sir Henry, and have accepted his offer of marriage. I could not possibly consider an offer from any other man. It would be cruel of me to encourage you falsely. And it is because you were wrong that I ask you to withdraw the challenge. I have no wish at all to see two gentlemen fighting over me in a completely illegal way.”
Pretty color tinted her cheeks.
Sir Julian’s brow furrowed. He knew what was wrong here. The woman was deluded. The upstart had worked his slippery charms on her and convinced her to extricate him from perceived danger. The realization that only he knew what was best for her washed over him. He had to keep her here, and then she would come to understand that he had only her best interests at heart.
“Can you do this?” she asked, oh so prettily. “As a friend of many years. To please me?”
He got to his feet, sweat standing out on his forehead and his clasped hands damp. “My dear Miranda, I’m afraid to have to inform you that you have been entirely taken in by a fraudster. Why, I doubt very much he is even who he says he is. A man of unscrupulousintentions who not only has decided to steal Windrush from you and your daughters, but also to take you from me, the only man who loves you as you deserve to be loved.”
She was staring up at him out of wary eyes.
“In fact, you need to understand that I have only your best interests at heart when I inform you that I cannot allow you to go back to Windrush where that upstart can exert his influence over you further. You must remain here with me until our common licence arrives, which I have already sent for, and then, when we are married—to one another—you will at last be safe.”
She rather sprang to her feet. They were very close. Those blue eyes flashed in an anger he’d never seen before. Oh, how attractive it made her. “Sir Julian, have you taken leave of your senses? I cannot possibly stay here and you have everything wrong. Upside down. Muddled in your head. I must return immediately to my family or they will be worrying about where I am.”
He resisted the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. Small steps. He retained enough of his sanity for that to be paramount. Once they were married, she would come round to loving him properly. And once they were married he could chastise her if she did not. The idea of doing so had a hot flush stealing up his body and more sweat prickled out.
“My dear Miranda,” he said, fighting to control the urges washing through him. “You will remain here whether you like it or not. I shall send a message to your daughters that you are indisposed and have taken to your bed.”
“I will not stay here,” Miranda snapped and made to turn towards the door.
Prepared for this move, he shot out a hand and grabbed her upper arm, that hot sensation burgeoning. “You will indeed, even if I have to keep you locked in one of the bedrooms.” All this sensation of power over her was most intoxicating. And yes he would lock her in. Keepher his prisoner and at his mercy. She’d soon realize her true feelings for him if he did that.
“Unhand me right now,” she snapped, giving a convulsive wriggle that got her nowhere. He had too tight a hold on her to let her go.
For a brief moment, excited as he was by her easy capture, he wondered if he needed to wait until they were married to consummate their love? Common sense straightaway told him it might be wise to. She didn’t have the look of someone who would acquiesce to his advances without extreme resistance. Not until she had a ring on her finger, at least. And waiting would only increase his anticipation and make the final triumph all the better.
“You know it’s what you truly want,” he said, meeting her angry gaze and savoring it.
She set her jaw. “I do not. Let me go now, and this will not go beyond the walls of this room.”
He shook his head. “I’m very much afraid I cannot do that.” How delicious her anger was. Of course, she had to make a show of resistance. He liked a woman with spirit.
Her glare, on the other hand, could have withered a lesser man.
Without relinquishing his hold on her, he rang the bell for Morton, who arrived so quickly he must have been lurking outside the door. “Please fetch Baxter to me and then both of you are to escort Lady Madeley upstairs to the pink bedroom and lock her in.”
“No,” Miranda said, a hint of panic in her voice. “I need to go home now, Morton. Right now.” She twisted in his grip but he had her firm.
Morton’s eyes widened in shock. But he was well trained and would do as he was told no matter what his master asked of him. The man’s eyes were darting between her ladyship and his master as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.
Perhaps he ought to qualify this order. “Lady Madeley is…er…feeling a little unwell.” Inspired. “Inform Baxter he is to keep guard outside her door as it’s imperative she mustn’t be disturbed.” Yes, Baxter the enormous gardener would do very well. Firstly, he didn’t know Miranda at all, and secondly, being a little slow on the uptake, he could be relied upon to do exactly as he was told.
“No,” Miranda almost cried. “I’m quite well enough to return home, Morton. Don’t let him do this to me. Send someone to fetch Sir Henry Madeley. Please!”
But Morton, who must be well aware who paid his wages, had scuttled away.
Sir Julian slid his hand down to a better grip on her wrist as Miranda shot him a furious glare, but that was all. And he was certain she didn’t mean it. How could she? He was her savior, wasn’t he?
