But perhaps not again with irrigation.
She took a deep breath of patience. “Those all happened years ago.”
“The mercantile fire,” he reminded.
“Most happened years ago,” she corrected. “Besides, no serious damage was done.” When he silently arched a dubious brow at that rationalization, clearly remembering the destroyed bolts of cloth that had been the fire’s only victims when the lamp she’d accidentally kicked spilled oil over them, she added, “I won’t do anything to cause problems for you in London, Sebastian. In fact, I doubt we’ll see each other very much at all when we’re there. So you’ll be free to attend Parliament and court all the ladies you want, while I’m with your mother and—”
She stopped in mid-sentence as a thought popped into her head. A perfectly wonderful, amazingly brilliant idea. Her lips parted as she considered…Oh, it would be perfect!
Sebastian’s eyes flickered in a combined expression of trepidation and alarm at her enthused expression. When her smile widened as she contemplated what she was about to do, his alarmed trepidation only deepened.
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Will Robert be staying with you in London?”
“Yes, at Park Place.” His face darkened with full-out suspicion. “Why?”
She nearly laughed. Oh, a perfectly amazing idea! “Then I’ll be on my best, perfectly proper behavior,” she boldly agreed. Her toes tingled at how flawlessly her season was coming together when only a few moments ago she’d been certain it was ruined. And another chance with Robert right along with it. “In fact, I’ll even help you with the ladies if you agree to—”
“How could you possibly help with that?” There was no heat behind the question, only open disbelief. And more apprehension.
She sent him a pitying look. “You have no idea of the true power plays which take place within women’s retiring rooms, do you?”
Sebastian only stared at her, his lips parting slightly and his sapphire eyes widening, obviously having no idea how to respond.
“Bachelor,” she chided with a shake of her head, softly clucking her tongue at his naïveté. “And you men think you run the country.”
“We do,” he replied and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Some of us more than others, in fact.”
She brushed that off with a wave of her hand. “I will behave myself”—although she knew that was an unnecessary promise because she was certainly capable of avoiding trouble for six months, for goodness’ sake—“and I will help you however I can in finding a wife.”
A smile of relief tugged at his lips. “Thank you for—”
“If you agree to help me with Robert.”
He froze, stunned by that. Then he sent her a dubious look, as if she were a bedlamite. Or foolishly in love with a man who had yet to notice her as a woman. “What kind of help, exactly?” he asked deliberately.
“Just to get noticed by him as someone other than me…Well, other than the person he thinks is me, anyway.” She grimaced at herself and at the impossible task she was most likely setting for herself. But she had to try. She would never be able to forgive herself if she didn’t try one last time to make Robert love her. “To give me a fair chance against Diana Morgan, that’s all.”
He blew out a weary sigh, his doubting thoughts about her crazy bargain evident in every inch of him. “Miranda—”
“You won’t have to do much,” she assured him, rapidly trying to persuade him into agreeing and to convince him that she wasn’t mad. Or at least, not very mad. “The time I’ll have together with him will be limited anyway.” Especially since she would be staying with Josie and her family. “Just help me be noticed, that’s all.”
He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “But I’ve seen how you try to get yourself noticed when it comes to Robert.”
“That was a mistake,” she whispered.
“Then you agree that you were wrong to sneak into—”
“Oh no,” she corrected, blinking. He had it all completely wrong. “I meant that it was a mistake to trust the footman. Next time, I’ll ask the butler.”
He stared at her, his eyes narrowing, and she suspected he wanted to throttle her right there in the rear garden. “This is madness.”
A terrible thought struck her, and her stomach plummeted. “Because you don’t think I’m good enough for your brother,” she accused, her eyes stinging at the words. “You don’t approve of me for him.”
“That isn’t it at all.” His eyes softened sympathetically. “We’re all fond of you, you know that. Including Robert. We only want the best for you.” He paused. “I want the best for you.”
Something about the way he said that made her heart skip. “The best isn’t Robert?”
“I love my brother, and I trust him with my life. He’s a wonderful man who would be fortunate to have you.” He arched a brow. “I’m just not certain that he’s the best man for you.”
“He is.” She said the words with all the conviction she could muster, yet they still sounded thin to her own ears. “You’ve met Diana Morgan, and you know me. Which one of us do you think is better suited for your brother?”
He stared at her hard for a long moment as he considered that. Then he shook his head. “You’ll have to do exactly as I say. Are you willing to do that?”
Hopefulness surged inside her. “You’ll help me, then?”
“I won’t allow any kind of scandal to damage the family’s reputation,” he warned, “or to prevent me from finding a proper wife.” His blue eyes trained on hers, leaving absolutely no room for misunderstanding on this point. “Not even if it costs you Robert.”
“I would never do anything on purpose to harm your family,” she told him, her voice filled with enough raw honesty that the doubt in his eyes vanished. “I love your family as much as I do my own, and I would never want to see them hurt. Especially by something I did.”
He blew out a long breath. “All right,” he agreed, succumbing to her negotiations. “I’ll help you with Robert if you behave yourself.”
Goodness, were they back to this again? She jabbed a finger into his chest. “If you behave yourself—”
But the sudden harsh narrowing of his eyes cut her off in mid-sentence, and she slowly pulled her hand away. There were times when she knew she shouldn’t push Sebastian, and this was one of those times. Especially since he’d just agreed to help her.
“I mean it, Miranda. I’ll only help you with Robert if you don’t cause any problems.” He added meaningfully, “Like scandalously sneaking into gentlemen’s bedrooms wearing masquerade costumes.”
Oh, that. Again. “That wasn’t scandalous.” She waved it away. Surely he knew scandals only occurred when people found out what happened. After all, no one had yet found out that she’d also accidentally flooded the butcher’s shop when she was thirteen, and she had no intention of telling him. “I made certain no one would know. It was just—”
“Surprising as hell,” he admitted with a bewildered frown, “to find you of all women in my bed.” He dropped his gaze down her front and murmured, “In that costume.”
Everywhere his blue eyes lingered, heat prickled beneath her skin, the same way he’d warmed her body when he’d stared at her bare breasts last night in the firelight. Was he thinking about that, remembering…Impossible. Not Sebastian. He certainly wouldn’t flirt with her. He’d made that perfectly clear last night. When he thought she was Lady Rose, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. But when he found out that his enticing Rose was Miranda Hodgkins, he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
Men. Would she ever understand them?
“If I had known it was your room, I never would have gone there.” She sniffed peevishly. “After all, you weren’t the brother I was looking for.”
His face darkened. Instead of being relieved at that, he seemed even more annoyed.
Which only worked to make her more annoyed at him. “You and I wouldn’t suit at all, Sebastia
n.” She folded her arms crossly over her chest. Reaching for the wooden sword was simply too tempting. “At least Robert knows how to have fun and enjoy himself.”
His eyes flared, and a deep heat flickered in their depths. “Make no mistake.” He took a single step toward her, suddenly reminding her of the predatory panther from last night as he closed the distance between them until he could whisper in her ear simply by lowering his head. “I most certainly do know how to enjoy myself.” His husky voice poured through her like a warm summer rain as his hot breath tickled against her ear. “A few more masked minutes last night, and you would have discovered exactly how much.”
She shivered, an unexpected tingle flaring low in her belly. Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. What she wanted was another one of those low, throaty whispers of his, another rush of liquid heat through her body landing right there, in that private place between her legs. He’d clearly meant his words as a warning, but her foolish body heard an aching promise. From Sebastian, of all men.
Oh Lord—she’d gone mad!
Her slipper still rested in his hand. She made a grab for it, wanting nothing more than to seize it and run, but he jerked it higher just as her fingertips brushed against it.
Propelled forward by the force of her lunge, she fell against him. Her body pressed only briefly against the front of his, but long enough to feel the hard muscles of his chest and thighs against her softness. Long enough that his free arm rose up to encircle her waist and catch her, holding her against him. Long enough for her to remember the warmth of his caressing hands on her hips and breasts, the delicious heat of his mouth on her body—
She shuddered at the electrifying contact and pushed herself away, retreating quickly to put several paces between them.
“I’ll agree to the terms of our deal,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his despite the frantic pounding of her heart. Did he have this same effect on other women, this same unsettling pulse of confusion whenever they came too close? The same flash of fear that they might lose themselves in him? If so, then he needed her help in finding a wife more than he realized. Obviously, the man didn’t know the first thing about how to behave around women.
Wordlessly, he held out the slipper.
Taking it from his hand, careful not to accidentally touch him, she hid it in her jacket pocket. “And its mate?”
“I’m holding it hostage.”
Dread sank through her. “Hostage?”
He nodded, his blond hair shining golden in the sunlight beneath the brim of his beaver hat. “I’ll use it to reveal your feelings for Robert if you don’t hold up your end of our bargain.”
“You wouldn’t!” she gasped. Telling Robert how she felt about him had to be done at the right time, in the right way. Being shown proof that she’d been in his brother’s bedroom, accidentally or not, was certainly not the right way.
He quirked up a brow in challenge, leaning toward her to bring his eyes level with hers. “Blackmail isn’t just for Chinese vases.”
Her mouth fell open at his audacity, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as her eyes darted toward the wooden sword, now hopelessly out of reach. “You are the most infuriating man who—”
“Who currently possesses your slipper, Lady Rose.” At that, he moved back a single step, just far enough to be out of punching range. And rightly so, since he was the one who taught her fisticuffs when she was ten. “You’ll get it back when I’ve found a bride and the marriage offer has been accepted. Not a moment before.”
She arched a dubious brow. “And you won’t renege on your promise to help me with Robert?”
“I’ll help however I can.” His eyes softened sympathetically. “But I cannot control his heart.”
She glowered at him, knowing she had no choice but to agree. Not if she wanted Robert to fall in love with her. No wonder Sebastian excelled so brilliantly in Parliament if this was how he maneuvered his opponents.
“All right,” she forced out grudgingly. “We’re agreed, then?”
“We’re agreed.” He gave her a slow, confident smile.
Miranda stared at him, a riot of emotions bubbling inside her. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted—his help with Robert. So why did she feel as if she’d just struck a deal with the devil?
CHAPTER FOUR
Mayfair, London
One Wintry Month Later
Miranda stared through the window at the grand town house that fronted the wide, tree-lined avenue and somehow kept her mouth from falling open in utter astonishment.
“We’ve arrived,” Elizabeth Carlisle announced from the seat beside her in the carriage that had carried them for the past several days all the way from Lincolnshire. She leaned over to give Miranda a welcoming squeeze of her hand. “Park Place.”
“Thank God,” Robert muttered as he leaned forward on the bench across from them, where he had spent most of the trip slumped in sleep.
Miranda barely heard his grumbling, her attention rapt on the beautiful house. Four stories high and six bays wide, the house sat right upon the avenue, its red Georgian brick contrasting with its freshly painted white trim and tall portico. It was so much more inviting than those other houses they’d passed as they’d driven the last stretch of the trip by Hyde Park. Those houses, which sat back from the street behind wrought-iron fences, were grand, truly, but they held an air of arrogant inapproachability, while Park Place was inviting, bright…simply perfect.
So was London, every last filthy, congested, smelly inch of it. Oh, it was fabulous! They’d ridden for over two hours through the city, giving her wonderful views of the Thames and the dome of St Paul’s, the imposing Tower and the narrow warren of streets and alleys in the City that gave way to the wider roads and avenues as they drove on west toward Mayfair with its tree-lined streets, beautiful open squares, and grand town houses. She’d never seen anything like it. It took her breath away.
She’d been to Lincoln when she was fourteen, on a trip with Uncle Hamish to settle a tax issue, but even that city with its great cathedral and castle was barely a village in comparison to London, with all its houses and large buildings, the crush of carriages and horses in the streets, the bustling pedestrians, and bobbing boats on the river. The city pulsed with excitement and energy, and she could hardly believe that she was finally here. London! Her heart sang with it all.
A glance at Robert’s tired face as he waited on the edge of his seat for the footman to open the carriage door told her that he did not share her excitement.
But then, nothing during the trip from Lincolnshire had seemed to catch his imagination. He’d been more caught up in the drudgery of the travel than the excitement of it. So after a few attempts at conversation with him that led nowhere, and certainly not to any kind of intimate tête-à-tête that would indicate that he’d actually noticed her, she’d given up and spent her time staring out the window at the passing scenery.
Of course, he also had only his mother and her for company, so she couldn’t blame him too much for wanting to sleep away the hours. Sebastian and Quinton had gone down to London a week before, leaving Robert to accompany the ladies. Miranda suspected he wasn’t happy about being trapped in a carriage for four days with the two women, although she was secretly thrilled to have so much time in his company. And more grateful to Sebastian than she wanted to admit for arranging this time with his brother.
The footman opened the door and moved aside with a shallow bow.
Blowing out a weary breath, Robert stepped to the ground and turned back to offer his hand. “Mother.”
The duchess placed her hand into his, and he helped her from the carriage, across the footpath, and up the marble steps to the front portico.
Unable to tamp down her enthusiasm and wait for him to return for her, Miranda hurried to her feet and stuck her head out the open door to stare up at the house. Oh, it was grand! And so beautiful. Mesmerized by the splendor o
f the façade, her eyes trailing from tall window to window, she moved down onto the step—
And missed.
With a soft gasp of surprise, she tumbled forward off-balance toward the ground.
Strong arms swept around her and caught her, lifting her gracefully and placing her gently onto the footpath.
With her view blocked by her new bonnet, she couldn’t see the hero behind her who had rescued her, but it must have been Robert. Oh, it simply had to be! Her heart raced with equal amounts happiness and embarrassment that she’d fallen into his arms, although…should she feign a faint just to remain there a while longer?
Then she saw Robert on the portico, still at his mother’s side, and her heart sank. So it wasn’t Robert who had rushed to her rescue after all. It must have been the footman, then, who had been kind enough to save her, except that the man had already moved to the back of the coach to help with the luggage. Which meant…
Oh no.
“Already causing problems, Lady Rose?” a familiar voice whispered teasingly at her ear. “And with your first footstep in London, no less.”
Sebastian.
Ignoring the odd flutter he stirred low in her belly, she rolled her eyes, mortified that he of all people should be the one who saw her stumble. She muttered, “At least now I know why they call them slippers.”
He laughed. The soft sound rumbled into her back and made her heart race just as fast as before, although this time with equal parts embarrassment and…well, something else that she didn’t dare admit to.
As he carefully righted her and set her away from him, Miranda was suddenly very conscious of the duchess’s eyes on them, watching them curiously. But Sebastian didn’t seem to notice as he smiled and formally greeted her with an incline of his head. “Welcome to Park Place, Miss Hodgkins.”
She curtsied with a smile, grateful for his kindness even though it came with a great deal of teasing. “Your Grace.”
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