It just was.
“Penelope has been taking her duty much more seriously, though, since she returned to the ballroom.”
Miranda snapped back to attention at the mention of her sister’s name. “What?”
Her mother glared. “It seems she has realized her marriage could be our salvation. Look at her, surrounded by gentlemen.”
Her mother motioned with pride across the room and Miranda jolted. Indeed, her sister was the center of attention. Around her were rich widowers, titled bucks, and men publicly looking for legitimate heirs. Every one fit the financial requirements for saving their family. And every one made Miranda’s skin crawl for differing reasons.
And if Penelope’s hollow stare was any indication, she had some of the same thoughts.
“Mama, we cannot allow her to marry only for a purse,” Miranda insisted, clutching her mother’s silk-clad arm. “She could be so unhappy—”
Her mother shook her off. “There is no other choice, Miranda. You should know that better than anyone. And you will not use your influence over her to interfere. Do you understand me?”
As her mother turned and stormed across the ballroom, Miranda fought tears.
“I have no influence, Mama,” she whispered. “Not over my own emotions. And certainly not over Penelope.”
Fifteen
Ethan paced his chamber, unable to sleep although it had been many hours since he obeyed Miranda’s edict and left her home. His mind raced with memories, both the pleasurable and the disagreeable. Images of Miranda’s surrender. The vice of her body gripping his. And, inevitably, the pain in her eyes when he told her about Penelope’s spying. But one thing rose above the tangle of his thoughts and beat in his head like an unavoidable drum.
Guilt.
Ethan had cut off such emotions long ago. About the same time he accepted that his character had been built by his bloodlines. He couldn’t change it. All he could do was surrender to it and try his best to minimize the pain he caused others.
That was why he never kept a lover more than a few months. That was why he always chose experienced women who didn’t want more than a few passionate encounters. That was why he had never married and didn’t intend to.
But Miranda had stepped into his world and broken all his self-made rules. She was different than any other woman he’d taken to his bed. She’d given him mind-blowing pleasure, but also stirred the heart he tried so hard to ignore.
And how had he repaid her? By breaking the precious bond she shared with her closest sister. He had no doubt their relationship would be forever changed, and all because he’d lost his head and body in the pleasure of touching Miranda, consequences be damned.
He didn’t like the guilt. He’d forgotten how that feeling ate at him like poison.
He downed a swig of the whiskey he’d poured for himself and left untouched for nearly an hour. The lukewarm, stale liquid burned at his throat, but offered no respite from his turbulent thoughts.
If he were another man, he’d be a hero. He’d march back to Miranda’s house, kick down the door and demand he be given the chance to make right what he had destroyed. He’d…well, he supposed that meant marrying her.
With a shiver, Ethan poured another drink. Marriage. That was the second time he’d considered such a thing tonight.
Great God, what a thought. Yes, he’d have Miranda near him and that was a tempting notion, at least for now. But the “at least for now” part was the trouble. He knew himself far too well. He’d been infatuated with lovers before, but that desire always faded. Granted, he’d never felt for any of them what he felt for Miranda, but was he willing to take that chance? To bind himself to her forever only to bore of her within a few weeks or months?
He looked forward at the future that would be built if he did that. She would want children and he would likely indulge that desire. But he would be no father to them, he didn’t know how. His own father had certainly been no role model to follow.
And the old man hadn’t been an ideal husband, either. Over time, after a thousand tiny offenses and betrayals, Miranda would be hurt, then the hurt would turn to anger. Then despair. She was strong, so perhaps she wouldn’t turn to a bottle to drown her feelings as his own mother had, but the consequences would still be far-reaching and painful to everyone involved.
No, heroics weren’t the answer. But something. There had to be something he could do to fix what had been broken. Or at least give Miranda some kind of compensation for what had been lost.
The Seasons.
Ethan stopped pacing and set his drink aside. All this had begun because Miranda wanted those Seasons. He could give them to her without asking for any more than she had already given in return. It wasn’t a perfect solution. After all, he was anything but bored with her at present and it wouldn’t undo the fact that her sister had seen them together. Letting her go would be—
Impossible.
He couldn’t do it. Not yet. Ethan scrubbed a hand over his face and cursed. He was too selfish to sever the ties to Miranda, but how else could he save her? Help her?
He stopped pacing. There was one other offer he could make. It wasn’t perfect, but if she took it, he could have her and protect her without setting up a future that would pain them both.
It was something.
He strode to the door and yanked the bell pull for Winston. Within moments, the butler appeared.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Fetch me Brideson. I need to speak to him right away.”
Winston arched a brow. “The footman, sir?”
Ethan nodded and Winston bowed away to find the man. The footman who was having a secret affair with Miranda’s lady’s maid could send her one final message. And he could only hope that the gesture he was about to make could do something to ease her pain.
At present, that was the thing he wanted to do more than anything else.
Please come see me.
—Rothschild
Miranda stared at the simple note, reading it for the third, perhaps fourth time, since Angelica delivered it a few moments before. For once there was no innuendo to his message, no subtle threat. Just a simple request. He’d even asked it nicely.
Still, Miranda couldn’t detect his underlying meaning. Did he want her to come to him to discuss what had happened the night before? Did he want her to come in order to continue their affair as if last night had never happened? Or perhaps he wanted to end it all in person.
With a shiver, Miranda got to her feet and tossed the note into the fire. Dread filled her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Ethan. In fact, the opposite was true. Despite her attempts to block all images of him from her mind, he had been in the forefront of her thoughts since last night. She’d hardly been able to attend at all as the soiree went on, images of him were so powerful.
Of course, she had remained at the party, doing her duty and watching in dismay as her sister’s intentions became more and more clear, but her head and heart had been elsewhere. She’d never felt so alone and she found the person she wanted most was Ethan.
All of those reasons were why she dreaded going to see him today. She knew full-well how foolish it was to love him, to want his support, to want him for anything more than the shattering pleasure he could provide. Facing him, with his smug smirks and overpowering sensuality, would only slap her in the face with that reality even more.
And she was a little afraid that she’d launch herself into his arms and beg for comfort and love. Which would only serve to ruin everything even more than it had been ruined already.
But there was no avoiding it. Ethan beckoned and she couldn’t refuse, so she had to get to it and do her best to keep her emotions in check, as he always did.
She looked at herself one final time in the mirror. Even she could see that she looked tired from her sleepless, troubled night. There was nothing she could do about that, either.
Miranda went downstairs and plastered a smile on her face as she e
ntered the breakfast room, but as she passed through the door, she saw it was only Penelope who sat at the table, reading the morning paper while an untouched plate of eggs, muffins, and sausages went cold beside her.
Miranda’s heart lurched as her sister spared her a fleeting glance then went right back to her paper without any attempt at a greeting.
“Good morning,” Miranda tried as she shut the door behind her and went to the sideboard to serve herself a bit of food. Not that she was hungry anymore. Still, this was a chance to make some attempt to reconcile with her sister now that emotions weren’t as raw as they had been last night.
Penelope made no answer and didn’t acknowledge Miranda when she took her usual place at her sister’s side. With a sigh, Miranda shook out her napkin and laid it in her lap.
“Where is everyone else?” she asked.
Penelope didn’t look up from her reading. “Mother and the girls are still abed after their late night. I couldn’t sleep.”
Miranda shut her eyes at her sister’s accusatory tone. “Yes, I had difficulty sleeping myself.”
Only the clock tick was her answer.
She turned in her chair to look at her sister straight on. “Penelope, please, you cannot mean to utterly ignore me for the rest of your life. I know you are upset and confused-”
“I’m not confused,” her sister said, her gaze finally meeting Miranda’s. “I know exactly how I feel and exactly what I saw. I also know exactly what to do now.”
“Yes, your intentions were quite clear last night. You have decided to marry for money, perhaps just to spite me?” Miranda threw up her hands. “What kind of future is that?”
“The future I need to fulfill,” Penelope said on a sigh as she turned the page of the paper and returned to reading. “And as I said last night, I do not wish to speak to you about it. I don’t want your advice on how to manage men.”
Miranda’s fists clenched reflexively under the table as anger filled her. She did truly understand that her sister was shocked and even disappointed, but her attitude was beginning to grate. Penelope wouldn’t even try to understand her side of the situation.
“Perhaps I should simply go before we each say hurtful things,” she sighed. “Even more hurtful than have already been said.”
Her sister’s gaze met hers again and narrowed. “Where will you go?”
Miranda flinched. She intended to go see Ethan, of course, but saying that would only make this situation so much worse. But she didn’t want to lie any more.
“I’m going for a walk,” she finally said and hoped her sister wouldn’t press further.
Her hopes were dashed when Penelope rolled her eyes. “You’re going to him, aren’t you?”
Miranda got to her feet and walked to the window across the room. “Yes,” she admitted softly. “He asked to see me.”
“Well, you must be off, then. You wouldn’t want to make Rothschild wait, would you?” Penelope shook her head. “God knows what he would demand of you if you did that.”
“That isn’t the way it is,” Miranda cried, but the words sounded hollow. It had been that way in the past. And in truth, she had no idea what Ethan would or wouldn’t demand now.
“It doesn’t matter.” Her sister leaned back in her chair like she had been defeated. “Just go and do whatever it is he asks of you. I don’t want to think about it. I must keep my mind focused on what I must do now.”
Miranda dipped her head. She was in an untenable situation. Her sister was likely to make a terrible mistake by throwing herself headlong into whatever marriage presented itself first, yet Penelope wouldn’t hear any advice from Miranda. And it wasn’t as if she would get better counsel from anyone else. Their mother would endorse the scheme and their other sisters were too young to properly help.
With a sigh, Miranda moved to stand at her sister’s shoulder.
“Penelope—”
There was no acknowledgment, but Miranda pressed on regardless.
“I know you’re hurt right now and upset at me. I do understand that, whether you believe me or not. Clearly, you won’t let me talk you out of your schemes, or give me any chance to redeem myself or explain my own actions. At least not at present. But I do want to say one thing to you.”
Her sister continued to stare at her paper, but Miranda sensed she was listening.
“Penelope, I cannot stop you from accepting the first offer of marriage from a man who can assist our family financially. But I do hope when you marry, that you find passion.”
Her sister’s shoulders bunched with tension.
“I may not be happy that you were hurt by what I did, but when it comes to the time I spent with Ethan, I won’t apologize for that.” She sighed. “Passion and desire are powerful, wonderful things. And I still believe, in my heart, that a life lived without them is a life not truly lived. You may not agree at present, but someday I think you’ll understand. Or I hope you will.”
Penelope didn’t look up and Miranda stepped away toward the door. “I’ll see you when I return later today.”
Then she left her sister and the house, determined to face her fate with the man who had taught her everything she knew about passion and desire. And, like it or not, love.
“Good morning, Winston,” Miranda said, hoping she didn’t look utterly petrified as the butler opened the door and allowed her entry.
“Good morning, Miss Albright.” The butler nodded in greeting. “Lord Rothschild is expecting you.”
Miranda’s hands began to shake and she shoved them behind her back. God, she needed some time alone to regain her composure. The walk over hadn’t served to calm her nerves like she hoped it would. If anything, each step had increased her anxiety.
“You needn’t show me upstairs. I know where to go.”
The servant tilted his head. “Actually, miss, his lordship has not requested that you be sent to your normal meeting place. Do you know where the lake on the property is?”
Miranda’s heart lurched to her throat. Did she know where the lake was? Quite intimately, though she had no intention of making that admission to the butler. She regretted making it to Ethan. What must he think of her?
“Miss?”
She forced herself to nod. “Y—Yes.”
“Lord Rothschild will join you there in a short time. Do you need any accompaniment?”
Miranda shook her head as she followed him to a parlor and the double doors that led to a veranda and down into the gardens behind the house. “No, I can find it on my own.”
“Very good, miss.”
Miranda tried to focus her thoughts as she stepped outside and made her way toward the lake. Instead, her wayward mind buzzed with memories of what she had witnessed from her secret hiding spot in the woods around the water. And of more recent memories of Ethan touching her so passionately.
As the lake appeared in the distance, she sighed. Ethan was clearly trying to send her a message with his choice of meeting place, but what the message was, she couldn’t decipher. It could be an olive branch, an attempt at seduction—or a way to rupture the ties that bound them.
She sat down by the edge of the water to wait. Her gaze slipped to the woods. From this position, they seemed heavier than they were within. She wasn’t certain where exactly her hiding place had been. The branches and leaves had fully cloaked her, certainly. No wonder Ethan was shocked by her admission.
“Where did you hide?”
She started at Ethan’s voice and got to her feet. She turned to find him slowly making his way down the final hill to stand beside her. She looked him up and down, drinking in the sight of him, just as she always had. Today he looked more pulled together than the first time she came here a month ago, making her request for his help, but not as crisp as he had been at the ball last night, when he had been every inch the proper gentleman.
No, despite his tied cravat, there was a tiredness in his eyes and the hint of scratchy stubble on his well-defined chin.
&nbs
p; Miranda wanted so desperately to touch him, but instead she kept her hands fisted at her side.
“I was trying to determine that very thing, but I can’t see it.”
He smiled. “Then it was the perfect spot. Here.” He motioned to the place where she’d been waiting for him. “Sit down again. We might as well be comfortable.”
Miranda nodded. This wasn’t what she expected after last night. Ethan had been taunting toward her in the past, he’d been dominant. He had been tender. But he’d never been like this. Friendly, like he was trying to make her comfortable.
Perhaps he was. Perhaps he, too, recognized the strangeness of their current situation. And though she appreciated the attempt, she secretly longed for that dominant seduction again. That she understood and knew how to respond to. This…this was confusing.
“I wish I hadn’t told you the truth,” she said as she turned her face to look at the water. “I never wanted anyone to know what I…did.”
He reached out and his warm fingers caressed her jaw before he turned her face to look at him. “I’m glad to know it. It explains so many things.”
Hot blood flooded her cheeks, but Miranda made her gaze stay even. “Such as?”
He smiled. “Like why you always looked at me like you knew my secrets. That was why I was so drawn to you, even though I knew I could never pursue those desires.”
She tilted her head. “I still don’t understand how you could read my thoughts so clearly, long before we really knew each other.”
He sighed and dropped his fingers away from her face. “I don’t understand that, myself. But it’s true. I noticed you, Miranda. I watched and wanted you, but I never thought I could have you. Perhaps I never should have.”
A vice of pain gripped her heart and squeezed until she could scarcely breathe. But somehow she kept her tone measured.
“You regret what we did? Because of the trouble my mother and my sister caused. I know it—it complicates things. I’m sure your other lovers never caused you such turmoil.”
Everything Forbidden Page 17