She’d know soon enough if her decision had been a good one.
Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Chapter Ten
A handwritten note delivered to Winfield was received at half past one in the afternoon by the butler, who promptly turned it over to a maid, who carried it into the study on a tiny silver tray and left it on the edge of the late Lord Radnor’s massive oak desk.
“For you, my lord,” she said, her gaze flicking to the window where the newly returned Lord Radnor stood looking out across the back fields, his expression shuttered.
“Thank you,” he murmured without turning.
“Is there anything else you would like? Anything else I can… do for you?” the maid asked suggestively. Her name was Arlene, and she’d worked at Winfield for the past six months, first as a scullery maid and most recently as a housemaid. She was a pretty young thing with big doe eyes, thick dark hair, and a not-so-secret yearning for the lord of the manor.
“Nothing at the moment,” Radnor said.
Arlene’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Handsome devil, she thought longingly, sneaking a glance at his trim backside before she left the study.
A woman of rather loose moral character, Arlene would have gladly indulged in a bit of slap and tickle with her employer, but if he understood her hints (none of which were very subtle) he never let on. Having learned all about him from a gossipy chambermaid when she first began working at Winfield, she knew he had once been engaged to a Miss Dianna Foxcroft. Everyone said the interest between the two had long since waned, but Arlene wasn’t so certain. Having been lovesick enough to recognize the symptoms in another, she knew Radnor was pining for someone.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t for her.
Miles waited until he heard the study door click firmly into place before he went to the desk and picked up the envelope the maid - Ana? Arliss? Arlene? - had left. Frowning when he recognized the Ashburn wax seal on the back, he opened it with a flick of his thumb and quickly scanned the contents, eyebrows rising higher and higher with every word read of the hastily scrawled letter.
I am as shocked as you that I am writing this letter, but I see
no other way. While I still think you are the equivalent of pond scum,
Dianna seems to believe otherwise, even though she refuses
to admit it. Come to dinner tonight and
prove me wrong, Radnor.
C.
(If you hurt her, I will kill you)
Miles reread the letter twice, then a third time just to certain he wasn’t hallucinating before he folded it in half and tucked it away in a drawer. Feeling as though he’d taken an unexpected blow to the solar plexus he stumbled towards the nearest chair and sat down heavily, burrowing his head in his hands.
Dianna had made it back to Ashburn, then. He’d had little doubt that she would, but still he’d worried and would have followed if his horse hadn’t come up lame with a stone bruise.
Before Charlotte’s letter arrived he had been contemplating riding over himself to make certain of Dianna’s safe return but he’d been torn, not wanting to upset her any more than he already had. Now he’d been given a reason to see her. No, not a reason, he corrected with an incredulous shake of his head, an invitation.
Why Charlotte Graystone, of all people, would encourage his presence he didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. If she wanted him at dinner, he would bloody well be at dinner. The only question remaining to be answered was if Dianna wanted him there. After the way she’d run from him this morning, Miles rather thought not, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. If she ran a hundred miles, he would run a hundred and one. It would take time and persistence, but he wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t. Not now. Not ever again.
Wrapping his arms around the womanly curves of her body, breathing in her sweet scent, holding her through the night and into the morning had only served to reaffirm what he already knew. He wanted her. Needed her. Yearned for her. Mind, body, and soul.
As a young man, inexperienced in love and the ways of the world, Miles’ passion for Dianna had ignited quickly, like a hot burst of flame. But a fire that burned too hot needed to be constantly fed, and he’d possessed neither the commitment nor the foresight to keep it going. When his dreams grew bigger than the flame he’d chosen his head over his heart, his thirst for exploration over his responsibilities, and places untraveled over a girl he’d known all of his life.
Miles did not regret leaving. He had needed to see the world with the same desperation a tree in a crowded forest sought the sun. But he did regret the way he left, and the damage he’d done to a young woman who had deserved so much more.
Now the flames of passion were burning anew, but instead of flaring brief and bright they smoldered deep within him, never again to be so thoughtlessly extinguished.
Cupping the back of his neck where the muscles were now stiffened and clenched, Miles surged to his feet and returned to the window he’d been staring out for the past hour, although he no more saw the scenery outside the glass now than he had before. Unbidden, Dianna’s parting words at the cottage suddenly ran through his mind.
You are so busy trying to get to the next thing, you never stop to see what is around you now.
Taking a breath, he closed his eyes. Opened them. And, for the first time in recent memory, allowed himself the time to truly see the world around him.
He saw the way the sunlight filtered down through the branches of a towering oak he’d never noticed before, turning its leaves from a dull orange to a brilliant, fiery red. He saw a rabbit, its brown coat sleek and lush, hop boldly across the lawn, tiny nose quivering as it paused to scent the air before dashing into a thick hedge of flowering rhododendrons. He looked up and witnessed a cloud slowly rolling across the clear blue sky, its fluffy white edges giving it the distinct appearance of a teddy bear he’d once treasured as a young boy.
The simple scenery outside the window was breathtaking, and beautiful, and he felt ashamed that he’d never bothered to notice any of it before this moment. He had done the same with Dianna, he realized with a pained grimace. He’d looked at her, but he’d never seen her. Not for who she truly was, and then not as anything more than an obstacle. Something holding him back from his aspirations. Something holding him back from his dreams.
So he’d blamed her, and in his blame he’d been cruel. In his blame he’d been unjust. And finally, four years after the fact, he was paying the consequences for his actions.
But I see you now, Dianna Foxcroft, he thought silently. I see you for the bright, beautiful, intelligent woman you are. A woman who loves to laugh. A woman who is as content in a grand ballroom as she is sitting in a library with an open book. A woman wise beyond her years. A woman who will do anything for those she loves.
A woman who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Miles turned from the window and crossed the study, the heels of his riding boots echoing on the wooden floor. He could win Dianna back. The spark of attraction was still there, as much as she wanted to deny it. And it wasn’t only him who thought so. Charlotte must have seen it as well, or she never would have invited him for dinner.
He would need to act quickly. In two weeks’ time he would be escorting his mother and Harper to London, where they would take up residence for the entirety of the Season. It was to be his sister’s debut; something that should have happened three years ago when she turned fifteen but had been delayed, first due to his disappearance and then to mourn the passing of their father.
Miles had no designs on living in town for the next six months, but he knew offering his services as chaperone was the least he could do. After all, were it not for him Harper very well could have found a husband and been married by now.
Recalling his sister and Dianna had always gotten along quite well (both of them close enough in age and temperament to share several common interests) he
left his study in search of Harper, and after a half hour spent restlessly roaming the quiet halls of Winfield found her curled up in the library, her nose buried - as it always seemed to be - in a book.
She didn’t look up when he entered, but the tightening at the corners of her mouth and the tiny line of annoyance that appeared between her brows told him she’d noted his appearance and was choosing to ignore him.
Miles couldn’t say he was surprised.
Taking a sweeping glance of the library - while he liked to read, it was a room he rarely visited - he noted the subtle changes that had taken place during his absence. Namely, the amount of books had doubled and the shelves that had once been waist high now reached all the way up to the ceiling. Oversized leather chairs surrounded a dormant fireplace and a long table scattered with loose papers and opened books occupied the center. Tall windows covered with heavy curtains ran the length of one wall, diffusing the natural afternoon light and giving the room a somber air.
Miles’ footsteps were muffled by a thick green and gold rug with tasseled edges as he strode purposefully across the library and began to pull back the curtains one at a time, flooding the room with sun and forcing Harper to finally acknowledge his presence.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, closing her book with a hard snap.
Waiting until he’d secured the final curtain to reply, Miles turned to face her and said, “You need light to read, otherwise you’ll go blind.”
Harper’s eyes - the same dark, woodsy green as his own - narrowed to slits. “What do you care if I go blind or not?”
“And have to watch after you for the rest of my life to make sure you don’t go bumping into a table or stepping off the edge of a cliff?” Sinking into a leather chair opposite her own, he crossed his legs at the knee and stretched back. “I think not.”
“Yes,” she said coolly, “heaven forbid you be given another family obligation to meet.”
Miles acknowledged the thinly veiled barb with a nod of his head and a small, humorless smile, knowing it was no less than he deserved.
As a young girl Harper had idolized him. He’d been her hero. Her knight in shining armor. The brother who could do no wrong... until he’d done everything wrong. He knew she blamed him for the death of their father, and for leaving her behind with a mother who cared more for her missing son than she did her only daughter.
Coming home to find portraits of himself hung up in every room and all the windows covered as though the house were in mourning gave Miles a small insight into what Harper had been forced to endure during his absence, although he knew the reality was likely far worse than anything he could imagine. His sister had always been a bright, lively girl with an infectious laugh and a love for the outdoors. Since his return, however, he’d not heard her laugh once… and with the exception of traveling to the village for an afternoon of shopping forced upon her by their mother, Harper had not left the house.
She’d changed in other ways as well. Gone was the chubby cheeked girl he remembered. In her place a young woman of great beauty had blossomed. To Miles’ mind she was a bit thin, but her slender build did nothing to detract from her piercing emerald eyes, delicate features, and raven colored hair. His little sister was going to take the ton by storm, and he intended to be there every step of the way knocking blokes out of her path whether she wanted him to or not.
“I am having dinner at Ashburn tonight,” he said as he absently picked up a book resting on a side table and flipped through the crisp pages. “Would you care to join me?”
“Ashburn?” Harper’s dark brows flew up. “Where that wedding just took place that everyone is talking about between Dianna’s aunt and the duke? Why would you go there?”
“Because I have been invited.” He closed the book and set it aside before meeting his sister’s incredulous gaze. “And I want to.”
“Does she even want to see you?”
Miles did not need Harper to identify who the ‘she’ was. “No,” he admitted with a shake of his head. “But that doesn’t mean I do not want to see her. I know I have treated you and Dianna poorly but I intend to make amends, Harp.” He hoped using his sister’s childhood nickname might trigger some sort of softening towards him, but if it had did it didn’t show in her expression.
Clutching the novel she’d been reading to her chest as though it were a shield, she surged to her feet, the folds of her lavender skirt swishing around her ankles. “It will take more than a dinner to do that.”
“I know, but it’s a start.” He considered telling her about the events that had transpired last night, then thought better of it. Harper was not a gossip, but the less people who knew he’d spent the night with Dianna the better. The last thing he wanted to do was damage her reputation more than he already had. “I would like it very much if you would go with me.”
“Why? You got along without me perfectly fine for four years. Surely one night will not make a difference.” Harper’s fingers tapped against her thigh in a visible display of agitation before she blurted out, “People are not dolls, you know.”
Miles’ brow furrowed. “I know that.”
“You cannot put them down and pick them up at whim,” she continued as though he’d not spoken a word. “People have feelings. Emotions. They can be hurt. You hurt me Miles.”
His throat tightened at the raw emotion he saw on her face. “Harp, I-”
“And you hurt Dianna. She loved you. We both did.”
Loved.
Past tense.
“Now you think you can come back after all that time and pick up where you left off? Well you can’t!” she cried. “So please stop trying. You’re only making a fool of yourself.”
Harper swept out of the library in an angry flutter of purple muslin. Miles let her go. Partly because her vehement statement had robbed him of words, and partly because he knew she was correct. He had no right to ask for her forgiveness after what he’d done. But he was going to ask for it anyways, and keep asking until she finally gave in.
His sister may have given up on him, but he would never give up on her. Family was family, blood was blood, and if he had to spill a bit of his own in order to win back her loyalty and affection then so be it.
A glance at the gold pocket watch he always carried revealed the longest spindle pointing straight at two, giving him just enough time to get in a ride on Vesper before he needed to change for dinner.
Another battle to be fought, Miles thought wearily as he left the library and headed out to the stables. Unfortunately, Vesper was proving to be no less difficult than Harper and Dianna to charm. Perhaps even more so.
Thus far the spirited chestnut mare had countered his training attempts at every turn, seeming to take pleasure with every hard nip she managed to get in. Still he remained determined, and this time when she snaked her head out of her stall with ears pinned and teeth bared he stepped neatly to the side, avoiding her incisors by mere inches.
“Missed me,” he said mildly before slipping Vesper’s leather halter over her head. She eyed him distastefully; a queen staring down at a lowly serf.
A young groom, barely old enough to shave with a tall, lanky body he’d not yet grown into and a face covered in skin eruptions appeared from around the corner, a bucket of feed in one hand and a flake of hay in the other. He started forward, but upon seeing whose stall Miles was in front of stopped short and kept his distance. “Do ye, ah, need help?”
Mindful of Vesper’s muzzle and hooves, Miles tied her in the freshly raked aisle and began to brush her sleek chestnut coat with long, rhythmic strokes. “Carry on with what you’re doing Thomas,” he said, amused - but not surprised - by the groom’s wariness. It seemed Vesper had managed to grow quite the reputation in the past couple of years and no one, with the exception of himself, had any interest in handling her, let alone taking her out for a ride.
“See what you’ve done?” he began conversationally as he went to Vesper’s far side and, setting the
dandy brush aside, began working the tangles out of her mane with his fingers. “No one wants anything to do with you, and for good reason. You’re a holy terror.”
She turned her head and peered back at him, big brown eyes blinking as though she understood every word he said... and couldn’t care less.
“I’m not going to give up on you either,” Miles continued, nonplussed by his mare’s indifference. She was, after all, a woman, and if there was one thing he knew for certain it was that women were fickle creatures. Every last one of them. “You’re acting out because you’re feeling neglected, and I can’t say as I blame you. But you’re too talented and far too pretty to sit in a field all day.”
Vesper snorted.
“At least we agree on something. I am putting your saddle on now,” he warned. “If you try to bite me like you did the last time I’ll bite you right back.”
Fortunately, Vesper seemed to be in slightly better spirits and allowed the saddle to be placed on her back and the girth to be cinched without complaint. Putting the bit between her teeth was more of a struggle, but once the bridle was in place she stood quietly, ears flicking to and fro as Miles continued to talk to her in a low, soothing tone meant to set her at ease.
The moment he mounted, however, she released her pent up energy in the form of an exuberant leap and buck, her agile body soaring through the air as though she had wings beneath her hooves. Jamming his feet down in the stirrups and burrowing his hands into her crest Miles hunched low over her neck, pointed her towards an open field, and let her go.
When all was said and done Miles’ was drenched in sweat and sporting a new hoof shaped bruise on his left hip, but Vesper’s eyes were noticeably softer when he put her away, and as he closed her stall door she nudged his shoulder, the closest to an apology she’d ever come.
London Ladies (The Complete Series) Page 43