"Okay." She shrugged. "Your wish is my command. Your grace."
He smiled wryly. "If only."
~*~
Devonwood watched Miranda exit his office. Why was he postponing the inevitable? He had to get rid of her, and the sooner the better. Look how foolishly he'd just behaved, almost losing his head and kissing her, when he'd sworn never to do so again. There was something about the woman that he simply couldn't resist.
The worst part was seeing her and Nicole together and realizing that the one he wished was going with him to the party was Miranda. Nicole was beautiful, fun, and sexy—an excellent potential wife. She had the background and the training to fulfill the duties of a duchess. She would never expect more of him than he could give.
Miranda, on the other hand, had disturbed his life from the moment she'd entered it. She didn't bow to his authority. She would expect things of him. Things he didn't know if he could deliver.
At the same time, she was often right. His lips curved in a smile of remembrance. He thought of her telling him that Jack needed a role in life. He should have noticed that himself. Jack had responded so well to even a simple compliment. Devon would have to bend his mind to the problem of finding Jack something suitable to do with his life.
Then there was Sarah. Miranda would undoubtedly expect him to finance Sarah's new determination to start a business. He didn't feel optimistic about that venture. But he had to admit that all three women – Sarah, Sharmie, and, most of all, Miranda, had looked wonderful last night. Sarah didn't understand anything about the hard work involved in actually running a business, but at least she had a base of talent.
He snapped his fingers at the dogs, releasing them, as he strolled toward the side door that led to his private dressing room and bath. His mind continued to enumerate the things Miranda would expect of him and the most important stared him in the face. If she remained in his life, she'd expect his devotion. The same devotion she would return in full measure.
He shook his head. No, Miranda was a complication he didn't need, and the more his emotions tried to sway his brain, the more he knew he had to send her on her way.
~*~
Sarah woke Miranda the next morning with a loud shriek as she burst into her bedroom.
"I just had a call from my friend, Tessa. Remember, the one with the television talk show? She loved what she saw at the cocktail party and she might want to feature my dresses and your hats on her show!"
Sarah threw herself on the bed and bounced up and down. "Do you know what this means for us?"
Miranda struggled to a seated position. "No one could call you the idle rich, Sarah."
Sarah sat up and laughed. "That's one trait I share with Devon. We get up and attack the day."
Miranda rubbed her eyes. Normally, she was the same way. But she'd tossed and turned late into the night, unable to sleep. Something about that meeting with Devon yesterday made her uneasy. She couldn't put her finger on it. Even though he'd almost kissed her, there had been an air of…finality in his treatment of her. Even his request to stay another day didn't banish that impression. Worse, images of Nicole and Devon together tormented her dreams when she finally did fall asleep.
The memory of Nicole caused her heart to falter right now. Nothing mattered, a little voice whispered, if Devon was engaged to Nicole. She wanted to lie back down on her bed, curl up, and seek the oblivion of sleep. But a glance at Sarah's bright face stiffened her spine.
She had to accept that she couldn't have Devon. But maybe she could salvage a way to remain in the orbit of Sharmie and the twins if she got a hat business off the ground here in England.
"That's wonderful, Sarah." It was an effort to inject the necessary enthusiasm into her voice, but she did her best. "Sorry I overslept and I'm still a little groggy."
"You need to get up right now. We have so much to do. Everything needs to be perfect!"
"Right." Miranda needed to brush her teeth and get a cup of coffee.
"I've invited Tessa to the ball and told Jack he must escort her," Sarah said gaily. "Wasn't that a brilliant idea?"
"Jack?" Miranda repeated numbly. She had hoped that Jack would escort her. Well, that wasn't totally true. She'd had fantasies of Devonwood—but of course, he would escort his fiancé. Mentally, she slapped the side of her own head.
"What's wrong?" Sarah peered at her. "You look upset. Aren't you happy? Isn't this what you want?"
"Can you and Charlotte really invite me to the ball if Devon doesn't want me there? I have a meeting with him today and I'm pretty sure he's going to give me my walking papers."
Sarah made a dismissive motion with her hands. "Don't worry about Devon. Why should he care what you do? Mumsie understands that I need you and he won't fight her on something that doesn't matter to him."
"Let me get back to you, Sarah, after I get presentable and speak with Sharmie and…" Her voice trailed off. The most important thing she had to do was speak with Devon and that fact filled her with resentment. It always came back to him. She did not like planning her life according to his dictates.
Chapter 25
Miranda didn't try to fight the summons this time when Baker appeared in the nursery. She was alone since Sarah had gone into the village to work with the seamstress who helped her. She unplugged the glue gun. Might as well get the discussion over with.
"Where?" she asked Baker.
"The library, miss."
She repressed a shiver. The office wing wasn't exactly cozy, but the library was where Devon issued his most unpleasant edicts.
She paused in the doorway. The duke was standing at the far end of the room, looking out the French doors. His hands were thrust in his pockets, and the two dogs were pressed against his long legs, one on each side, as if they were comforting him.
"Come in, Miranda." He turned, and she noticed his face was tired. Was that from too much partying, or from other problems?
She crossed the room and sat in one of the hard-backed library chairs without waiting for an order to do so. "How was London?"
Devonwood raised his eyebrows. "Fine."
Okay, this was not going to be a cordial conversation. She bit her tongue to keep from asking where Nicole was. Or, more importantly, where Nicole had spent the night. But the temperature in the library was glacial. Miranda didn't need to be told this was a business meeting and no personal questions would be tolerated.
He had something to say that he didn't seem to want to spit out. The words hovered, just out of reach.
"What is it, Devonwood?"
He met her gaze. "I've decided to advance you the money for the wedding."
She gasped. Just like that? After weeks of ignoring her emailed requests, and then adamantly refusing her in person, he'd changed his mind? She bit down on the word struggling to be said. Why?
Because it would be stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth merely because she'd been surprised.
""Th—thank you," she managed. "I know Sharmie will be pleased as well."
A small printer hummed on the far side of his desk and he reached over to pick up the sheet of paper it spit out.
"Here." He pushed it across the expanse of his desk. "I hope this will satisfy you."
She hesitated before picking it up. What did she want it to be? Enough money for a reasonable wedding? A pittance, which would force her to resume hostilities? A sum large enough that she'd have to accept it, even if it wasn't enough for a big wedding?
When she finally picked up the paper, her mouth dropped open. She was looking at a receipt for a wire transfer of sixty-two thousand pounds sterling into a bank account in Sharmie's name.
"That's equal to the hundred thousand dollars you wanted," Devon said. "I opened an account for Sharmie in London. Since she's to be married in this country, this is where she'll spend the bulk of the money."
Miranda's head was spinning, as if all the zeros were dancing around in there. She desperately needed an explanation.
She stared at him across the immense desk. "Why?"
He shrugged. "I finally realized this was the one surefire way to, ah, speed you on your way. I don't have time for these endless battles with you."
No time for you. That was the real message. She heard it loud and clear. And it stung. Pretty badly, all things considered.
She stared at him, as if, by holding his gaze, she could avoid seeing the black hole beginning to yawn at her feet. She stared and stared. But the hole continued to grow, spreading across the floor, thick and viscous, like spilled blood. It curled up to lick her feet and climb her legs and suck her in to its vast heart of loneliness.
"Miranda!" The duke's sharp voice tried to penetrate her fear. "I'm giving you what you want."
No, she thought, in a daze. No, he wasn't giving her what she wanted. He was abandoning her. She was too much trouble, she'd been too demanding and, ultimately, he just didn't care. He had enough people to worry about without adding her to the list.
She understood how that worked. She was, quite simply, the type of person whom people left. Nothing new. Nothing to be upset about. She simply had to stand up and move on with her life.
She pressed her hands to the top of the desk, hoping the move looked casual. She needed just that bit of support.
"You're right, Devon," she said. Her heart immediately contradicted her. No, you're wrong, Devon. You aren't giving me what I want. But it wasn't his fault she'd allowed herself to fall in—no, to become emotionally dependent on him. She couldn't be 'in love' with him, because he didn't love her. You didn't send away people you loved. You kept them with you.
Damn it. When would someone love her enough to stay with her?
With sheer determination, she forced herself to her feet. "Thank you, again." Her mind whirred as she tried to accommodate the sudden need to change her plans. "I'm not sure if we can leave tonight—" She needed to spend as much time as possible with Sarah making plans for the auction, and the TV show, and—
"Tomorrow morning will be perfectly fine," the duke said.
She finally got the message. He was done with her. And who was she kidding about the auction? If Devonwood didn't want her here, she had no chance of attending the ball. She stared at him for a long moment while all her hopes and plans crashed around her.
Here she was with the money for the wedding in her hands – and it turned out that wasn't what she wanted at all. But she still had some pride.
"I'll say good bye now," she said. "Thank you for your hospitality."
Devon nodded his head, his gaze holding hers for one long moment. His face was shuttered, but there was an expression in his eyes she couldn't decipher. It almost looked like regret.
Shaking off her stupid fancy, she turned and put one foot in front of the other. On trembling legs, she walked down the endless length of the library. The carpets muffled her footsteps. Nothing muffled the pain in her heart. But she kept her back straight, her head high, and her hand light as she closed the door behind her.
She halted in the foyer, her feet uncertain which way to go.
If she went upstairs, she'd have to start packing. Her mind skittered away from that idea.
If she went forward, she'd find herself exiting the house. She didn't want to do that. It would be too final, too real. Even a temporary departure could only be a forerunner to the real departure that could no longer be postponed.
She'd gotten what she came for – the money for Sharmie's wedding. Why didn't she feel happier?
~*~
Devon watched Miranda leave the library.
Damn. That had been tough.
Of course she'd been shocked. As hard as she tried, she hadn't been able to hide the hurt he'd dealt her. But this was the only possible ending to their short-lived liaison. Cursing under his breath, he strode over to the window and looked out at the late afternoon sunshine slanting golden rays over the garden. Indulging in an unusual fancy for him, he acknowledged that it didn't seem right for the world to be so beautiful when he was so miserable. The dogs padded silently beside him, but even their warm bodies pressed against his legs didn't improve his temper.
In fact, viewing the garden was a form of self-torment. He could almost smell the pool from here, and that reminded him of the night he'd found her there. He still wasn't sure if she'd planned that whole event. But he was sure he'd lost his head right then, when she'd so adorably seduced him, only to end up with more than she'd bargained for.
Of course, he'd ended up with more than he'd expected, as well. It had taken all the self-discipline he had to walk out of the spa that night while her uptilted eyes flashed and told him they were finished.
He hadn't intended to be finished with her, not by a long shot. But she'd become too important to him too quickly. Not just her hot body and inviting lips, although they had him up nights dreaming about her.
But he also liked her hard-driving work ethic, her independence, her kindness toward Daisy. Most of all, he enjoyed watching her agile mind jump around, looking for an advantageous way to help her family.
He shook his head, smiling a little. That was one thing she and he had in common – their absolute devotion to family. He thought she enjoyed taking care of her little tribe a hell of a lot more than he enjoyed taking care of his, but he respected the fact that she made such an effort. It was one reason he'd finally given in on the money issue, against his better judgment. It seemed so important to the two women to have this fancy wedding.
To hear them talk, the family would fall apart without it. He hoped Miranda hadn't miscalculated. She was a lot more likely to drift apart from her step-mother and step-siblings when they were living in England, and she'd returned to the U. S. He figured she hadn't thought of that likelihood yet, and he wasn't going to be the one to point it out to her.
But he was damned if he didn't feel more than a bit of dismay over the thought of her returning to the states himself. He'd gotten used to having her around, with her sharp retorts and take-no-prisoners attitude.
She wasn't a habit yet, but he would miss her. However, he didn't need to add emotional turmoil to his life. It was best to remove her from his life before it became impossible to do so. The mere idea was unacceptable – that someone might become so important to him that he'd find it difficult to let her go. He couldn't let any relationship get to that point.
His unwelcome thoughts were interrupted by Jack, who burst into the library with all the finesse of an overgrown puppy.
"You're done with her." Jack snapped out the words as he strode toward the big, mahogany desk.
"Clearly," Devon said, turning from the window and letting irritation into his voice. He didn't intend to discuss Miranda with anyone. She was gone, and that was the end of it.
"Thought you two had something going on there." Jack yanked one of the uncomfortable guest chairs away from the desk and plopped down into it.
"Don't think, Jack. It's not your strong suit."
"Guess she didn't like the nasty side of your tongue, either."
"This discussion is over." Devon sat down and opened his laptop.
"It's good to know you're not interested in her." Jack leaned back, and lifted his feet to the corner of the desk. "She's coming to the ball as my date."
"No. She's not." The three syllables were as small and compact as bullets, and Devon intended them to be as lethal.
The two dogs lifted their heads, sensing the violent emotion swirling through the room. One of them whined briefly.
Devon reached out a hand and placed it on the dog's head. But his gaze was fixed on Jack's. "She is not welcome here."
"Not by you," Jack said. He crossed his feet on the desk. "I'm happy to welcome her."
"I've already slept with her, Jack. You don't want my leftovers."
Jack sprang to his feet and leaped across the desk, his arm swinging. Devon barely ducked the blow.
"That's crude, you bastard," Jack snarled. "Even for you."
Devon rose, keeping
a tight hold on his temper. "Look at you. A knight in shining armor. Right here in an actual palace. You're only missing a sword."
Jack jumped lightly off the desk. "You know what, Devonwood?" He brushed his hands together. "I'm beginning to think you're pretty twisted up about this chick."
"This is my home, Jack," Devonwood said, as evenly as he could manage. "I don't expect to entertain women I have no further use for."
Jack stared him down. "This is my home as well. I believe it's stated in our father's will that I have the right to live here for as long as I wish."
"Damnit." Devon shook his head. "You'd hold that over me?" As always, he had the responsibility to provide for all of them, but no authority to ever do as he wished.
"I like her," Jack said. "She also needs to be at the ball for some kind of a business plan she and Sarah are working on."
"Christ on a crown." Devon leaned back and closed his eyes. "Save me from these women and their fashions."
Chapter 26
Miranda woke early on Tuesday morning. She'd decided the best approach was to slip away without fanfare. Rather than requesting the help of a maid, she was packing up herself, leaving these last quiet moments to reflect on her adventure here. Perhaps she was extending her time in the ducal palace a bit longer than necessary, but who would know?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. Daisy poked her head in, her eyes rounded in shock. She stared at the open suitcase. "It's true?"
"Come in, Daisy." Miranda beckoned to the little girl. "I presume you've heard I'm leaving and yes, it's true."
"Why?" The simple word was loaded with stark accusation.
Miranda didn't want to criticize Devon to his little sister. She'd have to stick with the excuse she'd devised in the sleepless hours of the night.
"Sharmie is getting married, and we have a lot of planning to do for the wedding."
"I thought you were staying for the ball." Daisy's lower lip trembled.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 130