Her Wicked Ways (25 page)

“You’ve what?” Miranda gripped the fan until she felt the delicate wood bend. “I don’t want to meet with Darleigh. I need to find Saxton so I can return to Wootton Bassett. As I’ve tried to tell you, I—”

Rebecca thrust her lower lip out in a most unattractive frown. “You aren’t as fun as you were before. What did they do to you in that horrible little village?”

“You weren’t pilloried, were you?” Georgie’s caramel-colored eyes were wide, and for the first time Miranda realized her two closest friends in the world were a wheel short of a barouche.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Wootton Bassett isn’t a ‘horrible little village.’ There are nice people there doing nice things.”

She recalled her charges and how different their lives were from Georgie’s and Rebecca’s. Miranda had shared with the girls the trappings of being ladies, but beyond their accomplishments with needlepoint and dancing they were, quite simply, good girls. Girls who didn’t waste their time arranging clandestine meetings that would likely get Miranda compromised.

Just when she feared she might knock her friends over in an effort to leave, Miranda spotted Jasper’s tall frame near the corner of the card room. With a muttered, “Never mind,” she took herself off, not caring to look back at Georgie and Rebecca, who were now whispering madly.

Jasper’s eyes lit on Miranda as she closed the distance between them. “Good evening, Miranda.”

Miranda took in his casual stance, the way he watched the faro game at a nearby table. “Where have you been?”

“What, no jovial welcome? No sisterly affection? No appreciation for a brother’s good deeds?” He said the last with an exaggeratedly elevated eyebrow.

“Yes, yes, thank you for talking to Kersey.” Miranda had no desire to revisit that conversation, even in her own mind. “But you will get no sisterly affection from me until we are on the road. When are we leaving?”

He went back to watching the card game. “About that…I’ve encountered a snag. With the departure of Kersey from the field of potential suitors, Holborn has simply moved on to the next target.”

“And that would be?” Miranda was afraid of the answer, but had to know just the same.

Jasper didn’t look at her. “Lord Walter.”

“Can’t you talk them out of it?”

Now he turned. “You think I hold some sort of influence?” He snorted. “The country air has weakened your mind.”

Miranda wanted to brain him with her fan. “But the benefit is tomorrow night! I need to leave immediately. If the roads are at all bad, I’ll risk missing the entire thing!”

Two of the gentlemen seated at the faro table threw angry glances in their direction. Jasper grabbed Miranda by the elbow and escorted her from the card room.

“I can see you’ve still not learned the art of moderation.” Jasper let her go as soon as they’d walked several feet down the corridor. “You’re going to have to get over this obsession with a silly benefit.”

Miranda gasped. “It’s not silly.” She gritted her teeth. “And I’ll get back there with or without your help.”

Jasper shook his head. “You are the most stubborn, difficult girl.” He fell silent for a moment. “I’ve no doubt you’ll sneak off by yourself and cause even greater havoc. I’m beginning to wonder if the duke and duchess aren’t correct in their treatment of you. You really have no notion of how your behavior appears.”

Miranda’s shoulders drooped. “What happened to you? I used to be able to count on you being as mischievous as me.”

Jasper chuckled. “There you are dead wrong. No one is as mischievous as you.” He sobered. “And it nearly got you into serious trouble. Still might if you aren’t careful.” He raised his hand to his chest. “Because I am a kind and helpful brother, I will escort you
in the morning
. I promise we’ll get you to your precious benefit in plenty of time.”

“What about Mother and Father?”

“I’ll explain that Lord Septon has journeyed to Wootton Bassett for this benefit in the hopes of seeing you, his goddaughter. They won’t want to disappoint him. Of course, I’ll have to promise to bring you back the very next day, you realize.” He cocked his head to the side in brief contemplation. “The only problem is where I shall stay when we get there. Is this Stratham’s house adequate?”

“Yes, more than. You’ll be quite comfortable. Are you sure you’re
allowed
to stay there?”

“Ah, sweet sister, when will you realize the rules are not the same for you and me?”

But Miranda knew all too well. Perhaps that was why she always broke them.

FOX sat in his landau in the drive of Stratham Hall. Daylight was fading along with his interest in this benefit. Oh, he was pleased the orphanage would reap the rewards, but did he really need to be there?

“Are we getting out?” Rob asked from the opposite seat. He’d ridden over with Fox from Bassett Manor. “I need to get inside. I told Mrs. Knott I’d arrive a little early.”

Fox leaned his head back against the seat. “Go ahead. I’m still thinking about it.”

Rob kicked him in the shin. “This is a bloody benefit for
your
orphanage!”

Fox looked down at his leg. “Are you trying to ruin my new clothes?”

“No, but if you aren’t going to make use of them, what difference does it make?” Rob’s brows drew together over his flashing eyes. “I never knew you to be a coward, Fox. Besides, we discussed the potential for other opportunities, if you’ll recall.”

Of course he recalled. Rob had suggested several days ago that perhaps one of the out-of-town guests might be a marriageable
moneyed
female. Since things hadn’t worked out with Miranda, why not move on to someone else? “Hadn’t worked out” was a disingenuous way to describe the hollowness in Fox’s chest. But he hadn’t shared the true nature of his feelings for Miranda with Rob. Hell, he’d barely admitted it to himself.

Rob jumped down. “Come on. Surely drinking a goodly amount of Stratham’s liquor will improve your mood.”

This argument was the best he’d made yet. Fox climbed out of the landau. “Fine. I’ll go to the damned party.”

They walked into the house together. Servants bustled to and fro doing whatever it was they did to prepare for such an event. A footman directed them to the Gold Room where Mrs. Knott and Mrs. Gates were reviewing the display of antiquities.

Laid out in one room, it presented an impressive collection. There were tapestries, both from Stipple’s End and Bassett Manor, silver pieces, a few portraits and a handful of landscapes, some jewelry, though nothing terribly dear as far as he could tell, and some ancient looking earthenware from Stipple’s End supposedly dug up in the yard. For the first time Fox allowed himself to believe this might actually raise enough money to get them through the winter.

Rob had stopped to speak with his wife and now came to stand beside Fox. “Mrs. Knott is going to see about getting us some brandy.”

Fox nodded and tried not to pluck at his stiff cravat. Stupid waste of money. He was supposedly dressed in the height of fashion, not that it mattered. He’d wanted to impress Miranda, and now she was gone. Hell, where was that brandy?

Footfalls carried from the doorway. Fox turned, expecting to see the footman bearing a tray. Instead, Stratham sauntered in wearing the same smug grin he always wore. And a green waistcoat.

Dammit
. Fox looked down at his chest. Stratham’s garment was incredibly similar to his own emerald waistcoat. He looked up and Stratham’s gaze registered the same likeness.

The footman stepped into the room behind Stratham, and Fox went directly for the brandy.

Stratham tried to look down his nose at Fox, but it was nearly comical given his vertical shortcomings. “Dipping into my cellar so soon?”

Fox grabbed a glass from the tray. “Yes.” After taking a fortifying sip, he turned to leave and stopped short as two gentlemen walked in. He nearly spewed his brandy at the ridiculous sight of Lord Norris stuffed into a puce-colored waistcoat like a sausage into its casing. The man stood even shorter than Stratham, but twice as wide. The gentleman at his side provided an amusing counterpoint as he was unearthly tall and thin.

“Lord Norris!” Stratham swept by Fox to pay his sycophantic respects to the man who likely controlled his every move.

Norris blinked, his lids stretching over eyes as fat as the rest of him. “Stratham, capital evening. Hope you don’t mind we came a bit early. Wanted to sneak a peek.” He wagged a corpulent finger at the items spread throughout the room. “This here’s Septon. Down from London.”

Miranda’s godfather. It bothered Fox that someone close to her was so friendly with the likes of Norris.

Septon bowed. “Good evening, gentlemen. Thank you so much for the kind invitation. Is my goddaughter about?”

Fox opened his mouth, but Stratham beat him out. “My apologies, Lord Septon. Lady Miranda has been called away by His Grace. She was sorry to disappoint you.”

The older man nodded, but Fox detected a bit of sadness around his eyes. He’d been looking forward to seeing her, then. And who wouldn’t?

The footman delivered Rob’s brandy and then departed. Fox wanted to follow him so he could procure the bottle.

Norris wandered over to study the tapestries hanging from the ceiling. All five from the orphanage had been cleaned. The colors were vibrant and the designs breathtaking. The four from Bassett Manor were larger, but dull in comparison. He’d be lucky if someone bought them as scraps.

The squat earl stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He turned to face Fox and the others. The buttons of his coat looked as if they might pop off. “Where did you find these tapestries? They’re a far sight better than yours there, Fox.” Norris had been interested in buying Fox’s tapestries last year. He’d viewed them, negotiated a price, and then never returned to actually purchase them. Fox had been counting on that money.

Fox downed the rest of his brandy. “They’re from Stipple’s End. And, yes, they’re exquisite.” He pinned the earl with a hardened stare meant to skewer him like a juicy piece of game. “And very, very expensive.”

Norris ran his fingers over one of the embroidered edges. “I should think so. What do you say, Septon, thirteenth century?”

Septon stepped toward the tapestries and removed a quizzing glass from his coat. “Hmmm. Yes. Excellent depiction of the lists, this one.” He studied a scene in which two knights charged toward each other on horseback, lances drawn at the ready. The crowd cheering the event was incredibly detailed. One could almost hear the shouting.

Norris chuckled. “I can see we’ll be driving the price up in our competition. Looks like your little orphanage is going to get lucky.”

Fox clenched his hand around the glass. They should be “lucky” anyway. Norris could easily feed all of them for the next year. A tap on Fox’s arm made him turn his head. Rob whispered, “Ignore him.”

Fox relaxed his muscles. “I’m for more brandy.” He strode from the room before something else could halt his progress. He left via the door the footman had taken and after traversing several rooms, ended up in the foyer. Bloody maze of a house.

He turned to go back the way he’d come and his eye caught Beatrice coming down the staircase. She wore a purple gown that sparkled in the candlelight. Her dark hair was swept up and decorated with what looked to be tiny jewels. He’d never seen her look so…beautiful.

Cool air rushed over his back as the footman opened the door. Beatrice froze near the bottom of the stairs. Her gaze arrested on something behind Fox. Her lips turned down.

Fox spun about, nearly dropping his brandy glass in the process.

Framed in the doorway was heaven herself.

Chapter Thirteen

MIRANDA stopped short. At first she didn’t recognize the man in the entrance hall, but then she looked at his face—really looked at it—and realized it was Fox.

Only a Fox she’d never seen. Dressed in a crisp black evening coat and pantaloons, a rich emerald waistcoat, and pristine white shirt and cravat, he was terribly handsome. He even wore dancing slippers.
Dancing slippers
.