The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor)

by Alexander, Victoria

  “There is nothing like a new wardrobe to make a woman feel invincible.”

  “I had never realized that before, but you are absolutely right.”

  “And how is the progress at Fairborough?”

  “Coming along far faster than expected. Edwin is brilliant at managing the workers. And as we have doubled the number of men working, the bulk of it will be completed sooner than we thought. While all the work certainly won’t be finished, I do have several ideas as to how we can hold the Midsummer Ball there.”

  Clara’s brow rose. “We?”

  “If it is going to be held at Fairborough, someone is going to have to arrange all the details. Oh, not the music and refreshments and such. That we shall leave in Lady Fairborough’s capable hands. But rather exactly where in the unfinished building to actually place it.”

  Clara nodded. “I see.”

  “I brought some drawings with me. I thought it might help.” Miranda selected one of the paperboard tubes and pulled out a rolled drawing, a bird’s-eye view rendering of the building and the gardens. Clara took it and clipped it to the mechanical table. Both women considered it carefully. “It’s rather a pity that Fairborough won’t be completely done by the ball.”

  “Is it always held in the ballroom?”

  Miranda nodded. “As far as I know.”

  “Why not have it outside this year?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Clara’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “This terrace overlooks a lawn bounded by—what are those?”

  “Hedges. Huge beech hedges. It’s really quite interesting. They form six open-air rooms, three on either side of the wide lawn.” Miranda pointed out the rooms on the drawing. “Each one is different. There’s a rose garden in one, a pool and fountain in another, tennis and croquet courts in two more and then the last two are filled with plants and statuary and all sorts of things that one might think are confusing but are really very lovely. They are arranged and planted at Lady Fairborough’s direction.”

  “If you place tables and chairs and refreshments here—” Clara tapped the drawing. “And musicians here . . .”

  “And constructed a temporary floor for dancing . . .” Miranda smiled slowly. “This will do beautifully. And what better place to have a Midsummer Ball than under the stars?”

  “And what better way to earn a bonus?”

  Miranda laughed and the two women continued with ideas and thoughts on the arrangements until she and Clara were confident that this too was well in hand.

  “This will work out nicely,” Clara said. “Lord Stillwell will have his ball at Fairborough, even if not exactly as he had intended. And Fairborough itself will be completed a few months later.”

  “With any luck at all.”

  “And then, as there will be nothing further to keep you in the country, you will at last return to London,” Clara said in a most casual manner. “Won’t you?”

  Miranda hesitated no more than a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

  “Aha!” Clara’s eyes shone with triumph.

  “Aha what?”

  “I thought there was more than construction keeping you in the country.” She smiled in a decidedly smug manner. “It’s Lord Stillwell, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say—”

  “Has he kissed you?”

  Miranda gasped. “That is an entirely inappropriate question to ask.”

  “You’re right, of course. Especially as you have just given me the answer.” Clara smirked. “A more pertinent question to ask is did you kiss him back?”

  “Miss West!”

  Clara’s brow arched upward.

  Miranda stared at the other woman, then sighed. “Yes, I kissed him back.”

  “And?”

  “And it was . . . very nice.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, perhaps extraordinary is a better word.” She grinned at her friend. “It may well have been the most extraordinary kiss I have ever experienced. Although, John was the only man I have ever kissed before,” she added quickly.

  “And I would never ask you to compare Lord Garret’s kiss with Lord Stillwell’s.”

  “Nor would I do so.” Miranda sniffed. Still, she couldn’t help comparing them herself.

  John’s kisses had been quite lovely even if she couldn’t quite recall specifically how they had made her feel. Which did seem horribly disloyal. When Winfield kissed her, her breath stopped and her toes curled and her heart had skipped a beat. And she’d known the most incredible longing for much, much more.

  “But I will say . . .” Miranda smiled slowly. “I’m not sure I have ever experienced a kiss like that before.”

  “How delightful.” Clara laughed. “One can’t ask for more than that.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid one can.” She shook her head. “One does have to wonder if it was extraordinary because it meant more than a mere kiss. Because it was special. Or because he is so very skilled at it. The man has a great deal of experience, you know.”

  “Yes, well . . .” Clara considered her for a moment. “Men of experience can be exceptionally dangerous not merely to a woman’s reputation but to her heart.”

  “I am beginning to see that,” Miranda said under her breath.

  “The man I was engaged to . . .” Clara began slowly. “He was a man of vast experience. And he kissed in an excellent manner, I might add.”

  Miranda smiled weakly.

  “But what he wasn’t was a man of honor.” She chose her words with obvious care. “It seems to me that isn’t the case with your Lord Stillwell.”

  “He isn’t my Lord Stillwell.”

  “Of course not.” Clara paused. “I suppose there is really only one way to find out exactly what his kiss meant.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Clara grinned. “Kiss him again.”

  This was obviously the price one paid for a sojourn in the country.

  Miranda blew a long breath and stared at the papers laid out before her on the desk. For the last hour, she had been awash in correspondence, receipts, accounts and all the other various and sundry bits of work that did tend to pile up when not attended to every day or so. Certainly, there was much that Clara could and did do, but there was equally as much that demanded Miranda’s particular attention.

  Which did nothing to ease her mood. She’d scarcely had a wink of sleep last night. She was tired, she was confused, and even when she was engrossed in the work before her, she couldn’t get Winfield out of her head. And, blast it all, she did want to be kissed again.

  “My, my, my, aren’t you the very picture of professional efficiency,” a voice sounded from the door.

  “Why is it that you keep appearing where I least expect you to be?” Miranda put her papers aside and looked up at her sister. “Where I least want you to be?”

  “Oh, just luck, I should think.” Bianca cast her a brilliant smile. “I have never been to my sister’s place of work before and I do want to see it.”

  “You do not. Besides, I do as much of my work as possible at my home and you have indeed been here before.”

  “Not when you were here.”

  “Then my initial assumption was correct.” Miranda rose to her feet. “You are only here to annoy me.”

  Bianca gasped. “You wound me deeply, sister dear.” She moved to the mechanical table and studied the drawing of Fairborough. “Is this Fairborough then?”

  Miranda nodded.

  “It’s very large, isn’t it?”

  “And very old and quite grand. Once.” A firm note sounded in Miranda’s voice. “And it will be again.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” Bianca murmured.

  Miranda circled the desk. “If you have seen enough . . .”

  “Oh, but I haven’t, and don’t think you can be rid of me that easily.” Bianca huffed. “I am really quite offended that you think I have nothing more to do with my time than annoy you. I am curious, and I do wish to le
nd you my support, that’s all. Besides, it seems to me if I am to keep a secret of this magnitude for you, I should know all the details.”

  “I would think the less you know, the less you are likely to reveal.”

  Bianca ignored her and glanced around. “It’s very small, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Miranda crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, what particular details do you want to know?”

  “I have no idea.” Bianca’s curious gaze wandered over the room. Not that there was much to see. It struck Miranda that perhaps they should do something to improve the look of the office. It had never crossed her mind before, but then she had never seen it through the eyes of her sister. “I would think you would know what sort of details I should know.”

  “I think you know entirely too much already.”

  “Perhaps.” Bianca glanced at her sister. “Is there more to Garret and Tempest than this?”

  “You saw the reception room. There is another large room with desks and tables and files for draftsmen and clerks. Including Miss West and Mr. Clarke we have seven employees.”

  “How very interesting,” Bianca said in a tone that indicated she wasn’t the least bit interested. “Although it’s not, is it?”

  “It’s not what?”

  “Interesting.”

  Miranda blew a long breath. “It’s a business, Bianca. It may not look especially interesting, but I find it all fascinating. The designing, of course, is something I have always loved, but the rest of it—managing employees, overseeing accounts, balancing finances . . . it’s really the most interesting thing I have ever been involved in.” She sighed. “I shall hate to give it up.”

  Bianca’s brows drew together in confusion. “Why would you have to give it up?”

  “When my role here is revealed . . .”

  “Of course. That slipped my mind for a moment.” Bianca studied her thoughtfully. “Will you really give it all up then?”

  “If I have no clients, no new business, I’ll have no choice. I shall hang on as long as I can, but . . .” Miranda shrugged. “Who would knowingly hire a woman?”

  A sharp knock sounded at the door and it opened at once. Clara poked her head in. “Lady Garret, there is a gentleman asking to see you.”

  “Why would a gentleman be asking to see me here?” she said slowly. In truth, she was rarely at the office. Indeed, aside from her employees, no one really knew of her continued affiliation with Garret and Tempest. Other than Lord Stillwell, of course. She narrowed her eyes. “Is he somewhat handsome?”

  “He is undeniably attractive,” a voice called from behind Clara.

  Clara cast her an apologetic smile and opened the door wider. Winfield stepped into the already crowded office.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Roberts, Lady Garret.” A devilish grin curved his lips. “And might I say, you are looking especially delightful today.”

  “I was going to say that,” Bianca murmured and looked at her sister. “You are, you know. Amazing what a change of wardrobe can do.”

  “Thank you both.” Miranda narrowed her eyes. “What, may I ask, are you doing here?”

  “Perhaps you have forgotten, but my cousin, his fiancée and her sister left for America today. Grayson asked me to take care of some things here in London while he was gone.”

  “Yes, of course. I had forgotten.” She paused. “Which explains why you are in London, but not why you are here.”

  “I had planned to attend a play tonight and I wondered if you would like to join me.” He smiled down at her and her heart fluttered.

  “That would be most—”

  “Oh, but she can’t,” Bianca said with an innocent smile.

  Winfield frowned. “She can’t?”

  Miranda stared. “Why can’t I?”

  “It is fortunate I came by to remind you as it is so obvious you have forgotten,” Bianca said.

  “Forgotten . . .” Miranda shook her head, then sucked in a hard breath. “Good Lord, I had forgotten. Dinner, tonight, with the family at my mother’s house.” She glanced at Winfield with more than a little regret. “I am dreadfully sorry. One cannot fail to attend one of my family’s dinners without an exceptionally good reason.”

  “Death and the like.” Bianca nodded.

  “I would like nothing better than to accompany you to the theater, but it appears I have other plans.”

  “Ah, well, it is probably one of those plays that I would have liked and you would have hated.” His blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

  “Unless, of course, it was one of those that you would have hated and I would have adored.” She studied him for a moment. “Dare I ask which play you had in mind?”

  He grinned. “Absolutely not.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment, and she wondered if he was thinking about what might have happened after the play. Here, in London, where they were, for all intents and purposes, quite alone. God knew she was. The oddest sense of what might have been desire rippled through her.

  “I say, I have an excellent idea,” Bianca said abruptly, and the moment between them vanished.

  “Do you?” Winfield smiled.

  “I doubt that,” Miranda said under her breath.

  “Why don’t you join us for dinner?” Bianca cast Winfield her brightest smile.

  Miranda stared in horror.

  “It’s just our family,” Bianca continued, “but I believe you do know our sister-in-law Veronica.”

  “I am acquainted with her husband as well, although it has been a long time,” Winfield said slowly.

  “But you were intending to see that play tonight,” Miranda said quickly. “So we will understand entirely why you won’t be able to join us. Another time perhaps?”

  “On the contrary, my dear Lady Garret, I should like nothing better than to meet the rest of your family.” His gaze met hers and he smiled. “Indeed, I wouldn’t miss this dinner for anything in the world.”

  Chapter 19

  Win stepped out of the door opened by the footman at his family’s Mayfair house and came face to face with Miranda. “What are you doing here?” He studied her suspiciously. “If you have come to dissuade me from joining your family for dinner, I warn you, I consider it rude to fail to appear when I have accepted an invitation. And I am never rude.”

  Her brows drew together over her enchanting brown eyes. Brown? She was obviously concerned about something. “I don’t want you to be rude. Indeed, I want you to be at your most charming.”

  “You needn’t have come here to tell me that.”

  “I didn’t.” She wrung her hands together. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her quite so distraught. Or distraught at all. Angry perhaps, but not worried. “But there are things that you should be aware of before you meet the others.”

  “What sorts of things?” Was she going to take him into her confidence? Was she going to confess all? Since he’d learned the truth yesterday, he’d thought of a dozen different things he might say and another dozen various reactions he might have, but at the moment he couldn’t think of one. It all depended on exactly what she had to say.

  “I can’t tell you here, on the street, where anyone might eavesdrop.”

  “Excellent point.” He took her arm and steered her toward a parked carriage. “I have a cab waiting. I suggest you confess all to me on the way to your mother’s.”

  “Are you mad?” She stopped and stared up at him. “We can’t possibly arrive together.”

  “We can’t?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if we came together they would assume we were together.”

  He had given a great deal of thought to that as well since yesterday. It was not an unpleasant idea.

  “Here’s a suggestion. It’s not far to your mother’s house and one could reasonably walk if one were not already running behind,” he added under his breath. “Why don’t we take the cab together and I shall get out a block
before we reach our destination. Therefore I shall arrive on foot. You will arrive by cab and no one will be the wiser.”

  “That’s very good.” Her brows pulled together. “You’re very good at deception, aren’t you?”

  As are you, my dear Miranda. “It’s one of my many charms.”

  She nodded. “I like it.”

  “The idea or my charms?”

  She grinned. “Both.”

  He helped her into the cab, gave the driver the address, then took his seat beside Miranda.

  “You are quite clever, you know.” She studied him curiously. “But then you’ve probably had a great deal of practice at it.”

  “At what? At arriving separately at a dinner so that a lady’s family would not know I was—what? Having an affair with the lady?”

  She nodded. “Yes, indeed, let’s go with that.”

  “You’re mad, aren’t you? Your family would never think such a thing.”

  “You would be surprised.” She leaned slightly closer to him and he caught the faintest whiff of her scent. He had missed that as well. “We seem, on the surface, like an extraordinarily proper family, but there are all sorts of secrets flitting about. Why, I daresay if one did little more than scratch the surface, any number of scandals would pop out and run amok.”

  “About virginal governesses and wicked scoundrels?”

  She scoffed. “At the very least.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re making that up.”

  “Not all of it,” she said under her breath and he bit back a laugh.

  “I don’t want to hurry you, but if you still intend to tell me whatever it is that brought you to my door, perhaps it would be wise to—”

  “Yes, yes, of course. We are nearly there.” She drew a deep breath. “You see . . . that is to say . . .”

  “Go on.”

  “I am going on, I’m simply trying to find the right words.”

  “Straightforward and forthright is always best. Go on then, say it.”

  “Very well.” She paused, obviously to summon her courage. Pride in her surged through him. She was a remarkable woman. It was never easy to confess one’s sins. “My family doesn’t know that I have taken an active role in the rebuilding of Fairborough Hall. Nor do they know that I have any involvement in Garret and Tempest whatsoever—aside from owning the firm, that is.”