by Liz Tyner
Her mother had been reclusive and sickly and hadn’t wanted much to do with society, and the glittering world had been an unfamiliar place to Miranda. In fact, she and her mother had tended to spend more time with servants than anyone else.
But the woman who’d moved in after her mother’s death had been so different.
Her stepmother had wanted to shine and her daughters to get all the attention. Miranda was a hindrance.
‘Society doesn’t accept me.’
‘Perhaps if you tried to enchant the people of society as much as you do the servants and shopkeepers, they would. You could captivate anyone. You really could. And you do. I would guess the distance you keep around yourself makes you more intriguing and you cause people to want to breach the wall around that surrounds you. To be your friend.’ He clasped her hand.
She raised her chin. ‘That is preposterous. I worked hard to be friendly.’
‘You may have worked hard to put yourself in their path, but in honesty you admitted to me that most of them are selfish and your true friendship is only given to worthy people.’
From a young age she’d realised she had to be careful who she could trust. Even so, once when she’d broached the subject to her mother of finding her grandmother a hint of sadness had shown in the woman’s eyes.
‘I’d like it if you didn’t think about such things,’ she’d answered. ‘I’d like you to always think of me as your mother. Your only mother.’
It had seemed unfair to question anything after that. It had felt like betrayal.
She imagined Chalgrove’s life.
He’d always known who his father was. His mother. His place in society.
Never once would he have had to question any of those things.
When his father died, he’d immediately stepped into the role prepared for him.
When her mother died, she’d been afraid her father would toss her out and, when he’d brought home a wife, she’d almost wished for it. Then she’d planned an escape.
Chalgrove had no idea what it would be like for her to try to enter society’s world. Her stepmother had worked even harder than her father to keep Miranda in the shadows.
She’d thought she would never see them again, but now it appeared she would.
Miranda studied his face and almost felt she could tell him who her grandmother was.
But then she saw a flicker at his jaw and she batted those illusions away, and made an excuse to return to her room. She couldn’t let him use her emotions to trap her grandmother.
Chapter Thirteen
Miranda walked to her room feeling as if she’d been nearing a sugar-spun dream and a nightmare of darkness at the same time.
She remembered the salty-sweet taste of his lips. The promise of her safety. Words he could easily change.
When she arrived at her door, she saw a maid poised to knock.
‘Oh, I’m so glad to find you, miss. Her Ladyship would like to speak with you.’
‘Please tell her I’m suffering from the effects of my recent trauma.’
The maid’s composure wavered. ‘I will, of course, if you ask. But I do not recommend telling her.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No.’ She whispered, ‘It is best to do as she wishes. I recommend you find her. She has never experienced the possibility of her suggestions being ignored and could take great affront.’
‘If you’re trying to tell me she may pitch me out, don’t worry. I don’t wish to encroach on her hospitality, anyway.’
‘Oh, no, no, no. She’s a gentle sort. Gentle. She rules this house with the softest touch, but even soft touches can pinch.’
‘Please make my kindest excuses, then, as I must get some rest. The events have near swept me under a rug.’ Miranda entered her room and touched the rail of the four-poster bed. ‘I’m exhausted.’
‘I understand and will try to inform her.’
* * *
The knock barely sank into Miranda’s consciousness, but the jostle at her bedside woke her.
‘Oh, dear, you must be tired.’ Her Ladyship stood over her.
She actually pulled the covers up and gave a few pats to tuck Miranda snugly in bed. ‘I waited as long as I could and then became concerned you’d been abducted again from right under our noses.’
The Duchess shuddered, brushed a hand at her breast and then inhaled. She moved to the pull and tugged it. ‘I talk to my son and he tells me almost nothing and makes it sound like a misunderstanding, but his clothing was in tatters when he arrived home, then the magistrate appeared and sent a constable. There are probably three men watching the house each time I look out of the window.’
Next, she sat on the bed. ‘I hope you are up to talking about your adventure.’
Miranda had a feeling it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t feel well. The Duchess wasn’t going to rest until her curiosity was satisfied.
‘My son is trying to spare my sensibilities—or the ones he thinks I have,’ the Duchess said. ‘He will not divulge anything much except to say you both were taken from different places by several men and a woman and held in a small home. He said the cottage was warm and dark, but otherwise not bad.’
‘True.’
‘He said you weren’t compromised?’
‘No. Of course not. He was ever the honourable gentleman.’
‘Well...’ The older woman lowered her voice. ‘He’s remarkably handsome and you are lovely. A mother needs to be reassured no harm has been done and, if harm had been done, I would want to help repair any damage. I could not tolerate Susanna and feared constantly he might marry her. I pretended not to know how much time he spent with her—and she was ruthless. At least that is what I heard and surmised.’
‘Are you sure he would want you to discuss this with me?’
The Duchess batted away Miranda’s concern. She raised one eyebrow. ‘Well, he did allow me to alert him to any potential future wife. So, he is sensible.’
Miranda bowed. ‘Please understand, Your Grace, it is difficult for me to speak of it as well. At first, it was dark and I didn’t know what would happen. Then, your son managed to save us.’
‘That’s Chalgrove. He’s always lived up to his heritage. Except...where his private life is concerned. The women he finds attractive have been appalling.’ She blinked and contemplated Miranda. ‘Perhaps we could discuss you instead.’
Miranda pushed herself to the opposite side of the bed.
‘When all is said and done...’ Miranda composed her words carefully ‘...I’m suited to be a governess. I have two charges to care for. Their mother died soon after the younger was born, and... You must understand. I love them dearly. I must get back to them.’ She reflected on the Duchess’s absorption in her words. Miranda raised her chin, the problem solved in her mind. ‘My employer is quite kind. The children come first in my life.’
‘They do?’ The Duchess’s brows rose. ‘Even though they are not your own?’
Miranda nodded. An idea glimmered in her mind, but she immediately pushed it aside. She could not dwell on having her own children. Chalgrove’s children. She couldn’t dream of snuggling his child close and wrapping her arms around it and its wispy little feathery tips of hair.
She had to keep her attention on Dolly and Willie. They were here, they were motherless and they needed her. ‘I love my charges.’
The Duchess ducked her chin. ‘What a fresh idea and what we all hope for in a governess. I mostly left Chalgrove on his own until after university. He’s his father’s son and we surrounded him with people who would take good care of him. I want that to continue. I wish for him to have a wife who will be at his side and I have a lady to assess, Miss Antonia Redding.’
The Duchess’s cheeks plumped as she smiled. ‘After all, he needs someone nearby who he can trust to have his best interests
at heart. Someone who will hire a...um...good governess.’
The Duke’s mother smoothed the bedcover beside her. ‘It’s rather like a chess game, only you’re playing for life. It’s part of the game. Move the pawns, bishops, knights, whatever, to try to get a mate. Check. You’d think it’s much easier on my side of the table, but not really. Until this incident, it had not occurred to me that anything could happen to him. It’s even more important now that he have an heir.’
Tapping her fingertips together, she added, ‘I have several more prospects to evaluate for him—and, yes, my son comprehends I’m choosing his wife. He is such a dutiful son that he trusts me in this.’
Someone knocked and the Duchess called out for them to enter. A maid came in. ‘Emerald,’ the Duchess whispered. The woman bobbed a few times and left on the run.
Chalgrove’s mother whispered, ‘I do have the best servants. They do make the occasional mistake of letting me go about half-dressed—and this has been trying. I forgot my necklace this morning because I was thinking of who might be my best daughter-in-law and reading over the letter again my sister had written about the young lady.’
‘Reasonable.’
She took one finger and patted down the skin at her eyes. ‘Egg whites.’ She rotated to Miranda. ‘An old trick of the Quality. Have a maid brush just the slightest amount while holding your skin firm and blow. Once dry, it gives a youthful smoothness.’ She jutted her skin in Miranda’s direction, waiting.
‘Very, very smooth,’ Miranda agreed.
She stopped her preening. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I’m not searching too hard to select a daughter-in-law. I suppose I’m wrongly considered meddling—perhaps from the top of my perfect coiffure to the tips of my specially made slippers.’ She moved back and raised a hem.
She stopped at the door and it seemed to magically open for her, a servant listening at the other side. ‘But, Miss Manwaring, I do want you to know I thank you most utterly for your part in the rescue of my son. He has a rakish side. Inherited his fashion sense from his father, though. Nothing can be done about it. Luckily he can’t hide those eyes he inherited from me.’
She laughed. ‘My eyes and smile. They were my fortune because it allowed me to have an asset a man would notice, much like I might notice a title.’
The Duchess inspected Miranda. ‘I’m duty bound to find Chalgrove the best wife and one he can be content with. I wish them to suit, just as my husband and I once did. All marriages should be so perfectly formed. We were perfection together and our parents decided we would make a good union when I was just a child. I am forever grateful.’
She sighed. ‘I will find my son a wife. If I’d have known it was going to be this difficult, I would have taken interest in the education and training of several suitable female children right after he was born. Then he could have chosen from my protégées.’ Her shoulders drooped. ‘Sadly, I had no idea how short the time had become for him to marry. The ordeal you had convinced me. I can only pray Antonia is the one for him.’
She gave a sniff before speaking. ‘You’ll be a governess again in no time. And I will finish my project soon. I’m planning a few exploratory soirées.’ She sighed. ‘Not enough hours in the day. But my son entrusted me with this duty. It is endearing when people realise you can observe their life objectively and make decisions for them.’
‘Your future family member will be fortunate to have such a caring mother-in-law.’
‘That’s so kind of you, Miss Manwaring.’ She finger-combed a few curls framing her face. ‘And you truly do not mind being unwed?’
‘No.’ Miranda spoke gently, not putting any unpleasant emphasis on the word. ‘If I were to marry, my employer would have to let me go because I was hired to put the children first. They are my life.’
‘Ah... Well, please join us as soon as you can. Your parents are here. I hadn’t realised that the Manwarings are in society and it occurred to me that perhaps you might be suitable for a bride for Chalgrove. But if you wish to remain a governess, then it is your choice. Besides, Antonia is so well recommended.’
She moved through the door. and a maid stretched her arm in and pulled the door shut, right before she gave Miranda an encouraging smile.
Chapter Fourteen
Her father’s wife stood, her silver hair swept back so elegantly it classified as a crowning glory, a crumpled handkerchief in her hand. Her father remained a half-step behind his wife. He dressed more as an old Puritan than a man of society, his only idea of ornamentation the huge signet ring he wore. His hair had thinned and the lines on his face doubled since she had seen him last.
Her stepmother wore a gown with oversized sleeves and extra rows of flounces at the skirt, but she had managed to pull it all together into something fashionable.
Tears were in her eyes, but that didn’t surprise Miranda. Her stepmother cried at every meeting, every stumble, every chance. She cried when happy, when sad and when she wanted to make sure her tears hadn’t deserted her. And, if attention strayed too far from her, Priscilla’s tears could almost work in the same manner as a bark in a church.
Priscilla rushed to grasp Miranda’s hands. ‘Are you...all right?’
‘I’m well.’ Miranda gave a smile and let herself be pulled into her stepmother’s arms. A fragrance of perfumes and medicinals washed over Miranda and she clamped her teeth together behind her upturned lips. Her stepmother had never hugged her before.
‘I’m so glad you’re safe.’ The woman pulled back a little. ‘I cannot think how this could have happened in this day and age. We should never have let you work. Never. I feel we must shoulder the blame, but you insisted and how could we stop you?’
Miranda removed herself from the suffocating grasp. Her stepmother would have made a deal with the devil, or with Miranda’s grandmother, to get her daughters abducted and put into a room with Chalgrove.
Her father, hands clasped behind his back, had bowed his head. When he lifted it, she noticed a wetness in his eyes.
‘Father?’ she asked, surprised at the emotion.
He walked around his wife and took Miranda’s arm. ‘I’m pleased you weren’t injured and you’re back,’ he said.
Miranda saw the tense glance his wife gave him.
‘Thank you,’ she said, shocked to see that he did care for her.
He pursed his lips, gave her weak smile, and blinked the tears away. ‘You may come home to recover if you wish.’
His wife gasped and Miranda felt her stepmother’s nails clench into her skin and tighten now on Miranda’s arm.
‘I believe you’ve met the Duke—’ Miranda pulled herself away from the talons ‘—and he was instrumental in our escape.’
Her father nodded. ‘Chalgrove and I have met.’
Chalgrove waved a hand for them to sit, and the ladies eased themselves on to the hardback chairs. Her father took the overstuffed chair, back straight. Lips firm.
Chalgrove moved to the desk, purposeful. Behind the welcome on his face, she saw a tightness in his shoulders and his hand tensed on the surface of the wood.
‘I didn’t realise you knew the Duke,’ Priscilla spoke to her husband.
‘We’ve talked horses together. Bought myself a fine gelding on his suggestion.’
‘Well, we must express our gratitude for him saving your ward.’ Priscilla gripped the handkerchief. ‘You must let us know everything that happened. Everything.’
‘Miss Manwaring has been pivotal,’ Chalgrove spoke. ‘Without her I would not have found the road to London after we escaped.’
‘Yes. She’s sturdy,’ her stepmother analysed her.
‘I fear this ordeal may have taken a toll on her,’ Chalgrove said, his words calm and soothing. ‘I also am afraid the criminals may wish to harm her to prevent the possibility of her aiding in their trial when they are captured. I’d hoped your famil
y might stay here a few days while we search for the criminals.’
For the only time in their acquaintance, Miranda saw Priscilla drop the handkerchief.
‘Of-course-we’d-be-delighted.’ Priscilla spoke as if it were one word, before her husband could more than open his mouth.
‘I’d hoped for your consent,’ Chalgrove said. In those words, Miranda knew he’d had no expectation of any other response. ‘My mother will be pleased to have visitors as she enjoys company so much.’
‘Well, I don’t know...’ Her father hesitated. ‘I’d planned to leave tomorrow to attend business at one of my estates. Apparently, a tree fell on a carriage house—of all things. And the man there thinks he’s in need of an army to do the repairs.’
‘All the more reason for the ladies to stay here,’ Chalgrove responded. ‘I have already alerted the most trusted servants to be on their guard because of how Miss Manwaring has been threatened recently. That is enough for them to know. No one will be able to get in or out of this house without my knowledge. Your daughter will be safe.’
‘Awfully sporting of you to protect my family like this.’ Her father’s lips thinned and he seemed to want to say more before averting his eyes.
Miranda thought he might need the handkerchief.
‘Of course, I could do nothing less.’
Chalgrove might have had the intensity of a hawk in his gaze, but the mouse’s squeak came from Priscilla as she jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, Your Lordship, your graciousness is beyond compare. I so appreciate your deep kindness to our daughter.’ Affection glittered in her eyes. But behind the affection, Miranda saw smug calculation.
Priscilla bent and gave a quick squeeze to Miranda, who pulled away. Her arm still burned from the last touch Priscilla had given her.