The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor)

by Alexander, Victoria

  Adrian winced. “That is awkward.” He got to his feet, crossed the room and poured two glasses of whisky from a cut glass decanter. “You’re telling me they ended the engagements? All three of them?”

  “One found someone with better prospects. Another decided I was too frivolous for her. And the third . . .”

  “The third?”

  “She was the only one that I truly regretted losing.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t in love with her, but I could have been, quite easily. Indeed, with all three I assumed love would come.”

  “Very reasonable of you.”

  “But the third, well, with the third I came close. As it happened, she was in love with someone else and while she was entirely willing to marry me, I was no longer willing to allow her to do so. She was a lovely woman and she deserved to be happy.”

  “Quite noble of you.”

  “I have my moments.”

  “In truth,” Adrian said slowly, “I have never heard anything really objectionable about you.” He returned and handed a glass to Win. “You look like you could use this.”

  “It’s not my first today,” Win muttered and took a long swallow.

  Adrian took his seat. “Indeed, aside from the string of broken engagements and somewhat wild reputation that appears to have lingered from your youth—as it does with all of us, I might add—you are well respected in business and finance. Your fortune is sound and your family connections excellent.”

  “I gather you’ve been asking a few questions of your own.”

  “She is my sister after all.”

  “The other night, you forbid her to leave with me.”

  “As I said, she is my sister. And it’s not as if she listened to me.” He nodded at the whisky. “Dare I presume you are having difficulties with the most remarkable woman in the world?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Probably not, although I have known Miranda all of her life. But I fear I have not been a very good brother.” Adrian sipped his whisky thoughtfully. “Until the other night, I never imagined what it might be like to be the youngest girl in a family such as ours. We can be a bit . . . overwhelming.”

  Win snorted.

  “We all feel rather protective toward Miranda, as the youngest, you see. She was always so quiet and reserved. I had no idea she was actually running her business. No idea really that she was capable of doing so. Apparently, there is quite a lot about my sister I don’t know. Why, I don’t think I have ever heard her raise her voice before.”

  “She seems to have no problems raising it with me.”

  “And isn’t that interesting?” Adrian sipped his whisky. “But then one could say she started fresh when she met you. You had no expectations of who she was or who she appeared to be. She could be completely at ease with you. Completely herself.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “It speaks well of you.” Adrian paused. “I suppose it’s too soon to welcome you to the family?”

  “As that outcome remains a matter of some dispute, entirely too soon.”

  “Tell me, Stillwell, why did you wish to know about Tempest and the debt?”

  He met the other man’s gaze firmly. “I wanted to know about anything that could bring Miranda harm.”

  Adrian nodded. “Excellent answer. I would expect nothing less. As much as you don’t need my permission to marry my sister, you have it.”

  “I appreciate that. Unfortunately, you’re not the one I need to convince.” He shook his head. “But she doesn’t trust me enough to agree to an engagement and she certainly doesn’t trust me enough to confide in me.”

  “That is a problem.” Adrian thought for a moment. “Although you might wish to force her hand.”

  “And how would you suggest I do that?”

  “I’m not sure.” His brows drew together and he considered the question. “Perhaps it’s time she met Mr. Tempest?”

  “You?”

  “No.” Adrian smiled. “Her architect.”

  Nothing was far more difficult than it had sounded. At least when it came to what to do about Winfield. Now that she had realized she loved him, it did seem she should do something. She certainly wasn’t sleeping, she had no appetite and she had the most absurd desire to simply gaze unseeing into the distance and sigh. She couldn’t remember feeling this way about John, but then everything about John had been so very easy. Winfield was the very definition of difficult.

  But Lady Fairborough did have a point. And at least Miranda had work to keep her busy. She immersed herself in the Fairborough construction during the day. She’d discovered the moment she wasn’t busy, her thoughts would return to Winfield as surely as if they were a compass and he was true north. Good Lord, she missed the man. Missed talking to him and laughing with him and arguing with him. And wasn’t it a shame they’d only had one night in his bed? Why, if the man had lived up to his wicked reputation, he would have seduced her long ago. And the unbidden thoughts and dreams of writhing bodies and skillful caresses that had filled her restless nights would have much more substance. Although admittedly, she wasn’t sure how.

  Still, she couldn’t fill every waking moment. And she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be so bad to let him have his way on this. After all, hadn’t she spent her entire life acquiescing to other people’s wishes? It would be so easy and it hadn’t been so bad, really. What was one more?

  No. She dashed the traitorous thought from her mind. She would not live her life that way. Not anymore. But she was willing to compromise to a certain extent. And she did need to prove to him that she trusted him. She wasn’t entirely sure how, but it seemed the only way to do that was to admit to her work. Perhaps if she could just talk to him . . .

  “And I think there should be flowers in large urns here, here and here.” Lady Fairborough tapped the point she referred to on the bird’s-eye view drawing of Fairborough and its grounds, the one Miranda had shown Clara.

  Even Miranda’s evenings were busy, filled with plans for the ball. Lady Fairborough made certain of it. Tonight, as she had every night in the ten days since Winfield had been in London, Miranda joined Winfield’s mother in the breakfast room the older woman had commandeered for purposes of planning the event. At least one of them was having a grand time.

  Miranda had explained the idea to hold the ball itself out-of-doors on the terrace off the ballroom and construct a floor for dancing on the lawn below. Tables would be placed on the croquet and tennis courts. The musicians would be off to one side of the terrace, overlooking the lawns.

  “Let me think.” Lady Fairborough glanced at the notebook she held in her hand. “We have sent out the invitations, arranged for flowers and decided upon menus.”

  Miranda nodded. “It seems to me, aside from all those fine points that can’t be attended to until the day before the ball, we have everything well in hand.”

  The older woman stared at her as if she had just said something blasphemous. “Don’t be absurd. Why, there are any number of things still to be decided.” She shook her notebook at Miranda. “We are not nearly prepared as of yet.”

  “Still, it does appear—”

  “Nonsense, my dear girl.” She pinned Miranda with a firm look. “I have learned from past mistakes that the only time one can truly relax is when the last guest has departed and not before they have arrived. As we have no actual ballroom in which to hold the ball this year, there are any number of additional details to attend to. You must trust me on this. I plan this ball at Fairborough every year and have since I first arrived there as a bride. In addition, I have planned three weddings at Fairborough.” Her attention turned back to the drawing of the grounds. “Although only one actually did take place.”

  “Oh?”

  “It was Winfield’s last fiancée,” she said absently. “A lovely young woman. As it turned out, she had already given her heart to someone else. When Winfield discovered that, well, what could he do?”

  Miranda
stared. “I have no idea.”

  “He was quite fond of Caroline, that was her name. So he arranged for her young man to take his place and the wedding did indeed occur as planned, even if it was not Winfield’s wedding.”

  “How very kind of him.”

  “It was indeed.” Lady Fairborough nodded. “He is a very kind man and something of a romantic too, I suspect.”

  And his kiss curls my toes. “I believe I should go into London tomorrow.”

  “Do you?”

  “Well, I do have matters of business to attend to. . . .”

  “And if you should happen to cross paths with Winfield?”

  “I really hadn’t thought about that. . . .”

  Lady Fairborough slanted her a disbelieving look. “No? And here I suspected you have thought of nothing but that.”

  “Well, perhaps . . .”

  “Absolutely not,” Lady Fairborough said firmly. “I know my son. I have never seen him like this. He’s being stubborn and he’s being foolish. It’s entirely out of character, which indicates to me he cares deeply for you. Of course, that comes as no surprise to me.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “Oh my, no.” She scoffed. “I knew it the moment he agreed to electrification. Furthermore, he has never had to expend any effort for a woman before. Indeed, it has been my observation they have fairly fallen at his feet. If he wins this battle, you have lost the war. No, he needs to come to you and admit his mistake.”

  “What if it was my mistake?”

  “Was it?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps I was a bit unyielding about the idea of an engagement. And then there is the whole question of trust. . . .”

  “He fears that you don’t trust him enough to agree to an engagement?”

  She nodded. “That’s part of it.”

  “It seems to me the first step is to trust that he cares enough for you to come to his senses.”

  “What if he doesn’t come back?”

  “Oh, he’ll come back,” Lady Fairborough said with far more confidence than Miranda had. “One thing you can count on is Winfield’s sense of tradition. The Midsummer Ball is as much a part of his heritage as Fairborough itself. It’s only a scant week and a half away now. He’s never missed one before and he will not miss this one.”

  “It’s been nearly two weeks since he left.”

  “Nonsense, it’s been barely over a week.”

  “It seems much longer,” she murmured.

  She couldn’t deny Lady Fairborough’s point. If she gave in now, it would set a precedent for the rest of their lives. No, she could be just as stubborn as he was. Annoying man.

  Admittedly, compromise might well be in order. And hadn’t she already decided she could indeed give up Garret and Tempest? If only to prove to him she had put her past behind her and was ready to move ahead. And Winfield was the man she wanted to move ahead with.

  Yes, she was willing to compromise.

  But was he?

  Chapter 23

  “What, my dear boy, do you think you’re doing?” Mother said the moment Win stepped into the parlor of the Mayfair house.

  “And what do you intend to do about my daughter?” Lady Waterston stood at his mother’s side.

  Win’s gaze shifted from one irate lady to the next. As Prescott was in the country, his duties at the house in London were being managed by an underbutler. A competent young man who nonetheless apparently did not understand that one could not simply announce there were ladies awaiting him in the parlor without a warning as to exactly who those ladies were. At least when those ladies were older women with a cause.

  “Good day, Mother,” he said cautiously. “Lady Waterston.”

  His mother surveyed him with a critical eye. “You look dreadful.”

  “I was not unaware of that, but thank you for noticing.” He nodded. “Is Father with you?” Obviously, he could use an ally.

  “We parted company a few hours ago. I believe he muttered something about going to his club.” Mother huffed. “We did not see eye to eye on our purpose for coming to town.”

  “And what is that purpose?” Win braced himself for the answer.

  “Why, I came to renew my acquaintance with my dear old friend, Lady Waterston.”

  “We have let entirely too much time pass since we have seen one another,” the other lady added. He didn’t believe them for a moment.

  “Then I hope you both have a lovely visit.” He edged toward the door. “I have matters that demand my attention, so if you will excuse me.”

  “Absolutely not.” Mother fairly sprinted across the room and plastered herself against the door. He didn’t know she could move that fast. He would have to physically remove her to escape. Tempting, but perhaps not a good idea. “You are not going anywhere.”

  “The only matter that should demand your attention at the moment is the question of Miranda.” Lady Waterston glared. “What do you intend to do about her?”

  He stared at one lady, then the next. “I had intended to marry her, but apparently her intentions and mine are not the same.”

  The ladies traded glances.

  “It is my understanding,” Lady Waterston began, “that the question is not so much one of marriage as it is one of engagement.”

  “That’s part of it.” He narrowed his eyes. “How much do the two of you know?”

  “We know that, while she refused your offer of engagement,” Mother said, “she did not say she wouldn’t marry you.”

  “Might I point out she did not say she would?”

  “A minor matter.” Lady Waterston waved off his comment. “And you do not strike me as the sort of man who would take no for an answer.”

  His jaw tightened. “She did not say no. Nor did she say yes.”

  “Well then, there you have it.” Mother smiled in triumph.

  “Have what?” He stared in confusion.

  “It’s obvious to us,” Lady Waterston said, “that you have not given this sufficient effort. Or any effort at all.”

  “What?”

  “Goodness, Winfield, instead of staying at Millworth to convince her of the suitability of this match, you have fled to London like a frightened rabbit.” Mother cast him a look of disgust.

  “I have not fled to London like a frightened rabbit!”

  “It’s rather cowardly, if you ask me,” Lady Waterston said under her breath.

  “It is not!”

  “You’re behaving like a child,” Mother said.

  “I am not,” he said although he did feel rather childish at the moment. “And frankly . . .” He cast a hard look at one woman, then the next. “This is none of your business.”

  “You are my business.” Mother pinned him with a determined glare. “As is your future. I have never interfered in your difficulties with one of your fiancées before—”

  “I do not have a fiancée, which, might I point out, is one of the problems.”

  “What happens to my daughter is most certainly my business.” Lady Waterston huffed. “Surely, you don’t think I wouldn’t be concerned given all she revealed at dinner?”

  He studied her closely. “She didn’t say anything at dinner.”

  Lady Waterston rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Goodness, Lord Stillwell, do you honestly believe, after your announcement to the entire family as to the regard in which you hold my daughter, that I would not follow my sons to hear what you had to say?”

  “Then you heard . . .”

  “Every word. Of theirs and of yours, some of which was most improper I might add.”

  He winced.

  “And every word of hers.” She squared her shoulders. “Miranda has come into her own, quite unexpectedly, I might add. Indeed, I never imagined she had the strength she obviously has. I must admit I was both shocked and impressed with the revelation that she is running a business. And I was quite proud of the way she stood up to her brothers and put them in their place.”

  “As
was I,” he muttered.

  “And I was as well struck by the two of you together.” She studied him for a moment. “You seemed, well, right together. As if you were partners of some sort. Halves of the same whole, as it were. As I said, it was most impressive.”

  “Every day you stay away, Winfield,” Mother said, “is another day for her to realize she might well be able to live without you.”

  Lady Waterston nodded. “Which brings up the question of whether you can live without her.”

  “And do you really want to?”

  His gaze shifted from one woman to the other. They were obviously of one mind. One would think they had rehearsed their arguments as one lady’s comments flowed without pause to the other’s.

  “After all, it’s taken you this long to finally find the right woman.”

  “Three engagements?” Lady Waterston shook her head. “Really, my lord. How extravagant.”

  “Give her what she wants.”

  “It seems a small enough price to pay.”

  His gaze bounced from one mother to the other.

  “Do not allow this one to get away, Winfield.”

  “Any fool can see you were meant for one another.”

  “You will resolve nothing as long as you keep your distance.”

  “Arrange a special license, ask her to marry you without an engagement, then whisk her off and do so.”

  “There’s more to it than that.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust me with her secrets.”

  “Nonsense. Miranda doesn’t have secrets.” Lady Waterston paused, obviously remembering the revelations of the other night. “Well, she can’t possibly have any more.”

  “And she does not trust me with her future. She has not yet let go of the past.” He paused. “And while I know the answer the two of you will give me, I will ask nonetheless. What about what I want? Shouldn’t I have some say in all this?”

  The looks the two women gave him were nothing short of pitying.

  “If you want her, you will have to do something about it,” Lady Waterston said.

  “And, my dear boy, you need to do it . . .” Mother shook her head. “Before it’s too late.”