After The Storm (10 page)

Mrs. Anderson flipped through her music and came up with a yellowed page. “My lady, why don’t you try a quadrille whilst His Grace rests? Perhaps we might fetch Captain Ashton?”

Hugh didn’t miss the darkness that flashed through his sister’s eyes, nor did he miss the brief slump of her shoulders. However, she caught herself. “That won’t be necessary. I am quite capable of teaching Miss MacDonough myself.”

Mrs. Anderson didn’t look so certain. “If you think so—”

“Yes, I think that is best,” Elyse interrupted briskly as she moved out to the middle of the floor. “Come along then, Randi. I know I do not hold a candle to my brother, but I am as accomplished as any gentleman for these purposes.”

Hugh sat back and watched as his sister and Miranda dissolved into giggles time and time again on the floor. Elyse’s mood brightened tenfold as they seemed to enjoy themselves immensely, like children playing a silly game. If Miranda didn’t step on Elyse’s toes, Elyse stepped on hers. During one complicated step, Elyse’s feet wound up completely tangled in themselves and she fell, taking Miranda with her. He smiled in spite of his blackening mood, their infectious laughter enough to make him forget his increasing discomfort.

It was most enjoyable to sit there and watch the fun. He didn’t realize how much time had passed, until Josephine returned to announce tea in the drawing room. Time passed on the most mercurial of wings, and he was reluctant to rise from his seat.

“I thank you for a lovely afternoon, Miss MacDonough,” said Hugh as she and Mrs. Anderson readied for departure. “I look forward to seeing you and my sister entertain at the house party. You will have the crowds roaring with approval.”

Miranda’s dark brows knit in a frown. “House party?”

Elyse slipped her arm through Miranda’s. “Worry not. I’m certain your aunt will advise what you to wear and the like. If she doesn’t, please feel free to come and seek me out. I adore the latest fashions and I’d wager they will look simply smashing on you.”

Her forehead creased, Miranda nodded and eased her arm free to follow Mrs. Anderson out of the music room. Hugh watched until she rounded the corner and vanished from sight, then twisted about to find Elyse in full smirk aimed at him.

“Do I wish to know why the smile?”

“You know, Hugh. Think you I am blind? If Sally were here, she’d be pea-green with jealousy. I cannot recall the last time I saw you flirt with someone. What the devil was that about?”

“I was hardly flirting, Elyse, and you need to learn to mind your own matters.” Hugh gripped his cane by its silver eagle’s head. The thought of rising pained him, but he took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and stood. “And Sally has no cause to be any shade of green. Miss MacDonough and I are but friends.”

As he spoke, he stumped toward the door. His leg was stiffer than normal and protested both his morning ride and the dance lessons. Hot spears drove up into his hip, down into his ankle, and he swallowed a rising groan at the thought of the stairs awaiting him.

“Friends? Bah!”

Halfway through the doorway, Hugh paused and slowly turned to face her again. “Bah? Bah what?”

“Since when do
you
have lady friends?”

He managed a bland smile, though he really wanted to wring her neck for her nosiness. There were those times when he wished she didn’t think everyone else’s concerns were hers as well. “Do not trouble yourself by meddling in my affairs. I can assure you, I’ve done nothing improper and have nothing to hide. I find Miss MacDonough to be a breath of fresh air. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I should hope so. From what I hear, Sally spends much of her time planning your
wedding, you know. If you do not ask her soon, she might burst.”

He waved off her concern. “She will have no one to blame but herself for putting the cart before the horse. As for now, I do not have to answer to anyone, least of all you, Elyse, so I will say this only once. Stay out of my affairs.”

“Very well, Hugh. I will respect your wishes. It is just that I like Randi. And I see how she peeks at you when she thinks no one else is looking. I should hate to see her hurt.”

“She knows about Sally. And I’ve no intention of taking it beyond friendship. And I daresay, a friend is exactly what she needs.” He shot her a pointed look. “I must ask, how did your boorish husband managed to weasel his way out of assisting today.”

Elyse pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I do not wish to discuss that now, if you’d not mind.”

As she spoke, her eyes reddened and Hugh’s belly kinked at the tears gathered there. She was not a crier, had never been a crier. That she welled up at the mention of her husband’s name sent his protective instincts screaming to life.

“What is your trouble?” he asked as gently as he could manage, swallowing the ferocious growl threatening to erupt. He stumped over to her and cupped his hand against her shoulder. “Lyssa?”

She shook her head emphatically. “It is nothing, Hugh. A matter between my husband and me.”

“Elyse.”

“No. You need not worry, Hugh.” She took a deep breath. “And do not think to approach Derek, either.”

He lifted his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of approaching him. The temptation to break him in two would be impossible to resist.
Especially
if he is the reason behind your tears.”

“Well, he isn’t, so you need not concern yourself.”

He sighed. There was little use in prodding. They were very much alike—stoic almost to a fault. “Very well. But if you ever wish to unburden yourself I do hope you’ll seek me out.”

She turned away. He stared at her back for several minutes as she busied herself with tidying up the scattered sheet music at the pianoforte. When she remained silent, he patted her shoulder once more, and left her to her thoughts.

Chapter Eight

A house party. The hunt. The ball. Miranda frowned and sipped her tea. “I hadn’t realized I had but days to learn everything necessary for such things. This was a terrible idea. A horrible idea, even. I’m afraid I am going to be a disaster. An absolute mess. I’ll muck everything up and ruin my chances entirely.”

Elyse tucked her legs up beneath her, waved an airy hand, and smiled as she replied, “Oh, pish. You are doing wonderfully so far. I see no reason for you to fret. Why, no one would ever guess you weren’t born and raised right here.” She jabbed her forefinger into the arm of the sofa for emphasis.

Miranda was already exhausted. There was simply no end to the list of things she need know. “I still have so much to learn and it seems to me rules exist for everything. Rules for standing. Rules for sitting. Rules for conversation. I cannot possibly remember them all.” She shook her head. “I will fall flat on my face.”

Elyse set her cup on her saucer and offered up an airy wave. “Don’t be silly. Why do you think you’ll do any such thing? As I said, you’ve been doing wonderfully.”

Miranda wished she felt so certain. “What about my unfortunate habit of speaking exactly what I think? I’d wager
that
will land me in a spot now and again.”

Arabella set her cup on her saucer. “You simply need to take care. There is nothing wrong with speaking your mind
if
you take care in how you say it.”

The duchess tapped her spoon against the rim of her cup. “You must be mindful and choose your words with the utmost of care. Most of the gentlemen you meet will expect you to behave a certain way. Remember to mind what you say and you will
not
forget your tongue.”

It wasn’t said at all harshly, but Miranda felt as though she’d been roundly scolded just the same. She shot Aunt Arabella a nervous glance, but Arabella gave a subtle shake of her head, meant to put her at ease, but it didn’t quite help.

“Nonsense.” Elyse shot a hard glare at her mother. “Why, both Hugh and Gerry remarked upon how refreshing her candor is. Do you not consider
them
to be gentlemen? Rather fine gentlemen, if I may be so bold. Surely, if the Duke of Thorpeton isn’t offended, I should think a baron or a viscount has even less reason to be, wouldn’t you?”

The duchess stared at Elyse for a long moment and Miranda held her breath, waiting to see if she’d take Elyse to task for her candor. Much to her relief the duchess said nothing but pressed her lips tightly together.

Elyse reached for the silver tea urn. She poured a small amount into her cup and offered it to Miranda. “More tea?”

“Thank you.” Her stomach rumbled to remind her she hadn’t eaten since just after her dawn ride. She held out her cup with one hand and reached for the plate of scones with the other.

“I think not. Two scones are more than enough.”

Heat flooded Miranda’s face as the duchess continued, “You need to take care and not
shovel
food into your mouth as if you were a starving guttersnipe. Little is as unappealing as a watching a lady stuff herself to the point of bursting.”

Though she had quite a ways to go before being in danger of bursting, Miranda dropped her hand to her lap. “As I said, I will fall on my face.”

The duchess took a small bite, chewed and swallowed, and then said, “I highly doubt it will be a concern. But you need to watch how you eat. Small bites. No gulping. No chewing with an open mouth.”

“Mother, you worry too much.” Elyse shook her head as she set the urn down. “Miranda will do fine. I only wish dancing came as easy.”

Miranda bit back a sigh. Dancing was not one of her strengths. She was far too clumsy to ever be graceful, no matter how she might concentrate. “Perhaps I should watch over the refreshments instead?” she offered up with a slight grin. “Keep ladies from bursting all over the ballroom?”

The duchess glowered, even as Elyse and Arabella burst out into a peal of giggles. Elyse pressed a fist to her chest, gasping, “Oh, that’d be a sight, wouldn’t it? You could growl at anyone who dared have more than two treats.”

Despite the duchess’s stormy expression, Miranda couldn’t hold back her own giggles. It was so wonderful to share a joke with a friend, so liberating, and she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “I could pounce upon them and wrest it from their grasp, thereby preventing any overeating tragedies.”

Sarah Thorpeton slammed her cup and saucer down onto the table, cracking the saucer in two. “That is quite enough!”

She rose from her chair and stormed to the doorway, where she paused to toss out, “I do hope you think it as amusing when you receive not one proposal this Season.”

Miranda’s good humor faded as she stared up at the duchess. Hot shame burned her insides. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I meant no harm.”

Twin red spots appeared on Sarah’s pale cheeks and her voice was chilly as she said, “I do not think you realize how important this all is, Miss MacDonough. If you fail to secure a marriage proposal from an acceptable suitor this Season, you will be resigned to accepting spinsterhood. Do you understand? Do you understand the magnitude of this one Season?”

“Yes, but—” Miranda replied, but Elyse broke in angrily.

“She was but making a joke, Mother. It is enough others will judge and snicker and gossip. Must you do so as well?”

Sarah turned her glare on her daughter as the silence turned frigid. “I know you think I am being cruel and unkind, but I speak of the reality of the situation. I do not wish to see you fail, and that’s what will
happen, if you are not careful.”

With that, she swept from the room and left Miranda and Elyse to stare at the empty doorway as her words echoed about them.

But Elyse brought Miranda’s attention back as she said, “She is wrong, Randi. You’ll be considered quite the catch, you know. Worry not. You have a skilled tutor. Well, several skilled tutors, actually. It will all work out in the end. You’ll see.”

“I wish I had such faith in myself.” Miranda’s mood soured even further. The path to success wound around and around, and then grew into a steep, uphill journey. But she still had Elyse as her champion, and that meant something. She smiled at her and said with false bravado, “I’ll put your fine English ladies to shame, no offense.”

Elyse reached for her teacup and held it up in a salute. “I say, that’s the spirit!”

****

Hugh tossed down his cards and sat back. “Harry, I believe I’ve lost quite enough to you this eve.”

Harry smiled as he set down the glasses in his hands. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you play so badly, old man. Where the deuce is your mind?”

“I do believe the question ought to be, what is her name?” Edward chimed in as he lifted a glass and swirled its contents about the bowl.

“Come now…her name is Sally. Remember? This bloke is marrying for love.”

Hugh reached for the remaining glass, focused on the way the amber liquor caught the light and split it into a rainbow of glittering color. He knew what awaited him, and savored the moment. “Love? Not exactly.”

In the midst of swallowing, Harry choked, coughing and sputtering as he fought to clear his throat. Edward clapped him hard on the back, all the while gaping at Hugh. “Since when? That’s been the story since you took up with Sally, old man! Every lass in London has been sighing and making cow-eyes over the ‘childhood sweetheart’ silliness. And now, you tell us otherwise?”

Hugh didn’t answer, but sipped his brandy. It was warm and soothing, and flooded his gut with a burst of heat. He lowered the glass. “I’m afraid I’ll have to dash all of the cow-eyed hopes. This is hardly a matter of childhood sweethearts. Our families have known each other for eternity. As for love? I am not so certain such a thing even exists.”

He ignored the surprised looks bouncing amongst his mates and finished his drink as they stared at one another.

Silence reigned until Edward rested an elbow on the gleaming oak tabletop. “Yes, but this is Sally Hayworth…easily the most unattainable creature in all of England. What’s
that
to do with love?” Edward slapped his hand against the table. “A silly notion, indeed. Especially for a man so desired by the entire female population of London.” He nudged Hugh sharply in the ribs. “Only a fool marries for love, right, old man?”

Harry butted in before Hugh could answer. “For the ladies, a tumble
is
love. It’s the promise of a rosy future together, with the gent pledging his undying love forevermore. At least, it is for
certain
ladies. Do tell, Hugh, old man. How is it you’ve
not
found your way beneath the lady’s skirts?”

Hugh reached for the decanter standing in the middle of the table. “Because I will ask for her hand when
I
choose to. I will
not
have the shackles clapped on under the shadow of scandal.” He poured brandy into his glass and set the decanter down. “And I am hardly a boy, needing to pounce on any warm, willing body. Not to mention, Lady Sally isn’t some dockside trollop, but a lady, and I’ll thank you to
not
speak of her as if she was anything but.”

“That’s getting a bit high and mighty, don’t you think, old man? You never much cared how we spoke of any lady before now. Getting a bit soft, are you, Thorpeton?” Harry chortled, coughing on yet another sip. “Has the lady paid a visit to your bed? Did she disappoint you? Is that the reason for your sudden attack of discretion?”

Hugh shot him a dirty look. “I’ll not dignify that with an answer.”

“And there’s a no, old man,” Edward broke in, shaking his head. “Pity. I think one should always sample before one buys.”

“Why do I trouble myself with you two?” Hugh grumbled as he rubbed his forehead. Somehow, he didn’t think the headache threatening to level him had anything to do with the brandy. Sometimes, his friends were every bit as bad as a gaggle of ladies with nothing better to do but gossip.

Clearing his throat, Harry tried to force his expression into one of seriousness. “Do tell why you are so glum, then?” He elbowed Edward in the ribs. “Buck up, Eddie. Can’t you see how glum he is? We needs find him a wench to put a smile on his puss.”

Hugh sighed again. Perhaps he ought to have stayed in this evening. “I am hardly glum.”

“If you say so.” Harry picked up Hugh’s cane, propped against the table, and tapped it against the floor. “Leg giving you trouble? Or are you in need of a baser comfort? Shall we call Maggie over?”

Irritation flared as Harry shot up from his seat and waved a wild arm at one of the pub’s serving wenches. Before he caught Maggie’s attention, though, Hugh dragged him down by the back of his breeches. Harry fell into his chair as Hugh snarled, “Quiet, jackass!”

Hugh leaned forward and snatched his cane back, slamming it against the table as he returned it to its resting place. “Leave off, Harry. I need no woman. I assure you, I am quite capable of finding one on my own, should the need arise. Have another drink. Edward, why don’t you try to see what’s keeping Derek? Can’t play another hand without a fourth.”

Harry sat there, stupefied by his rough landing. “You needn’t be so savage, Thorpeton. I was but trying to help.”

Hugh scowled at him, growling, “You are a drunken fool with the manners of a low-born sailor, Harry. A bar wench, indeed.”

“At one time, they were
all
you fancied,” Harry shot back, his ruddy cheeks ruddier still with indignation. “All of the fun, all of the frolic, and none of the hassle.”

“That was quite some time ago.” Hugh glared at him a moment longer, then turned to Edward. “Go find Derek, won’t you? I’m a bit weary of fending off wenches and
helpful
mates.”