After The Storm (14 page)

Very well.
She spun back to leave him alone as she stepped into the corridor and closed the door with a soft click.
There is nothing I can do
but
step back. He is spoken for and no silly little kiss will undo
that
bargain.

It wouldn’t do to have anyone see her looking such a fright, so she hurried back to her chambers to take a quick peek in the mirror. Puffy from the force of Hugh’s kisses, her lips seemed redder. Other than that, there were no telltale signs of her moment of fiery passion. No indication he’d pinned her to his bed and teased her with his most obvious arousal.

If only I could but quell the fluttering in my belly.
She paused on the staircase, swallowing hard.
Fortunately for me, none can see it, but it isn’t at
all
comfortable.

Outside the drawing room, she paused again to take a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, she stepped in to find Elyse and begin her search for a suitable husband.

****

Hugh swore beneath his breath as the door clicked shut. What the devil possessed him to kiss Miranda that way? He stared at his reflection without really seeing it. Instead,
she
rose up in his mind’s eye, her body soft and warm beneath his, her arms tightened about him.
Bloody hell.

Why had he stopped? Desire, bordering on painful, scorched through him with a fire he hadn’t felt in years. If he had his way, he’d never have left them both dangling over the precipice, suffering with pent-up need and unspent desire. No, he’d have made love to her until her cheeks glowed with sated lust and they were both exhausted and spent.

He glared at his reflection. If ever there was a time when he wished he’d been born into a different family,
this
was one of them. If things were different, there’d be nothing to stand in his way where Miranda was concerned. If things were different, he’d be free to pursue her just as he wanted to, and feel nothing but the thrill of the chase.

But things
were
different, and he wasn’t free to do as he wished. Until now, it never troubled him. Until now, it simply hadn’t mattered.

Chapter Eleven

Elyse hummed as she waited for Miranda outside the ballroom. However, her humming melted into a low groan as Sally and Eloisa Hibbert approached, each one with a most determined look in her eye. “A good evening, Sally, Eloisa.”

“Oh, Elyse, I’ve been looking so forward to this party, I cannot even begin to tell you.” Sally’s eyes sparkled like sapphires in the buttery glow of the lamplight as she looked from Elyse to Eloisa and back. “And I’m glad we were able to catch you alone, as I need to speak with you before the others arrive. Well, we both do, don’t we, Eloisa?”

Eloisa nodded, her pale gray-blue eyes wide and watery, as was usual.

Elyse fought back a sigh. Though they had been close as small children, their lives had greatly diverged. Sally sought social prominence, while Elyse settled into marriage and motherhood. She suspected Sally’s push to renew their friendship was but a thinly disguised ruse to gain access to Hugh. Which was pointless, really. What Hugh did, and whom he wished to court was his concern and his alone. Still, politeness prevailed, and she replied, “What do you need? And please, do be quick, as the other guests have begun arriving and I need to greet them.”

“Oh, it won’t take but a minute.” Sally waved off Elyse’s protest. “Eloisa and I would like to offer up our services to you.”

Perhaps it made sense to them, but this pronouncement baffled Elyse. How typical of Sally, to grandly offer up her assistance, despite the fact it had not been requested and was not likely needed. “Services for what?”

Sally exhaled with a gusty sigh. “We want to help you with Miss MacDonough.”

Sally did so love the dramatic, and Elyse had little patience for such theatrics. But since it was plain to see Sally waited for her to ask, Elyse sighed. “I must confess, I am quite lost. What do you mean you want to help me with Randi?”

Sally groaned. “Randi? Tell me that is not what she asks people to call her.”

Her arms folded over her chest, Elyse stared hard at Sally. There were times when she wished her brother chose any woman
other
than Sally Hayworth, and this was one of them. Sally’s judgmental streak rubbed her wrong more often than not, and it did just that now. “I find it unusual and quite memorable, but that is neither here nor there, Sally. What the devil do you mean
help me
?”

Before Sally could answer, Eloisa pushed her way in, her pale eyes no longer quite so watery. “We know you’ve been trying to make a lady of her, and struggling quite a bit, I’ve heard. So, we thought you might make use of our—ah—expertise as well.”

Sally shot Eloisa a dirty look, but nodded as she faced Elyse once more. “I’m not at all certain I’d have phrased it quite
that
way, but I do believe Eloisa captured the essence perfectly. Eloisa and I both know some of the eligible suitors who will be here tonight. I thought we might help you by introducing...
Randi
...to a few of the more appropriate ones.”

“Appropriate?” Elyse echoed with obvious doubt.

Sally smiled and laid a gloved hand on her arm as if to put her at ease. “By appropriate I mean, handsome, well-off men who may not mind a woman of Miss MacDonough’s...background.”

Her first impulse was to say no, but she hesitated. It was a bit enticing, actually, as she’d be busy tonight making the rounds to the many people attending. And Sally knew single men of title on a more familiar basis than she, a married woman, did. Besides, the other guests were due to arrive any moment and she wanted only to usher Sally and Eloisa into the ballroom. What harm could come of it? Still, she frowned and tapped her forefinger against her pursed lips. “Why are you so eager to help?”

Sally was all innocence and utmost sympathy as she waved an airy hand. “Well, I feel for the poor creature. I mean, she’s lost the only family she’s ever known.”

“She could use a couple of friends, wouldn’t you say?” Eloisa asked.

“Well…” Elyse hesitated. She wanted to think their motives were as pure as they claimed, but she had her doubts. Still… “I don’t suppose it could hurt.”

Sally slipped her arm through Elyse’s. “I suggest we begin at once.”

At Sally’s slow smile she regretted her words. A tiny knot formed in the pit of Elyse’s belly as she and the two women started below. She tried to shove away her silly apprehension.

Sally squeezed Elyse’s arm against her side. “Oh, don’t look so troubled, Elyse. Trust me, you will not regret this a whit.”

Elyse wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t, but Sally offered her no chance to say it aloud. Instead, she tugged on Elyse’s arm and said, “Come along, won’t you? We have some
wonderful
suggestions for you to share with Miss MacDonough and I’m afraid they will slip my mind if I don’t tell you now.” Sally nudged Eloisa in the ribs with her free arm. “Don’t we?”

“What? Oh, yes…indeed we do.”

****

Miranda paused at the ballroom’s threshold. Only a violinist and a harpist played, so the mingled voices were loud and intimidating. Her stomach fluttered, her mouth was dry, and her lips still tingled from the force of Hugh’s kisses. She didn’t want to go in, she wanted to turn heel and hurry back to the safety of her chambers.

Guilt twinged inside her at the sight of Lady Sally, who seemed so happy, chatting gaily with Elyse and a slight, dark-haired young woman dressed in lime green silk. Her happiness would fade if she had even the slightest inkling Hugh held another woman in his arms not thirty minutes earlier and kissed her as if his life depended upon it.

Where had Hugh got to, anyway? If he was in the ballroom, she neither saw nor heard him. It was just as well. Hiding her feelings wasn’t at all easy, and was going to be even more difficult now. After experiencing the fiery desire behind his kiss, the exquisite delight of his touch, it was quite possible she’d melt into a puddle at the very sight of him. “Oh, stop that,” she scolded herself and glanced over her shoulder as footfalls sounded behind her.

“Good evening.” A lady dressed in crimson satin smiled and bobbed her head at Miranda as she glided by on the arm of a dandy clad in bright green silk breeches. His crimson velvet frock coat clashed something terrible with the unfashionable breeches, but neither he nor his escort seemed aware of the fact.

She bobbed her head in greeting. Had they heard her talking to herself? Most likely not, but she had better join the party before her hostess and aunt began to wonder what happened to her.

It was quite nerve-wracking, to step into the ballroom, but she managed, and nary a head turned. Emboldened, she looked about for Aunt Arabella, only to find her deep in conversation with Countess Hevingford and a woman Miranda didn’t recognize.

“Are you lost, my lady?”

Miranda jumped as Gerard stepped up alongside her. She turned toward him, relaxing as a smile lifted his lips. He looked quite dashing in dark blue breeches, a stark white shirt, and a royal blue velvet frock coat. Beneath his coat, a dark burgundy waistcoat peeked through. His cravat was snowy-white, and expertly tied. Quite the dashing gentleman, indeed.

“I beg your pardon for startling you, Miss MacDonough.” He bowed low before her. Straightening up, he added, “Have you no gentleman to lay claim to this eve?”

His direct gaze and playful manner put her at ease, and she managed a laugh of her own. “I’m afraid not, my lord. In fact, I know not a soul in this room.”

“Oh come now.” He wagged a teasing finger at her. “Do not tell falsehoods. You know me.”

He made it so easy to forget her jangled nerves. The weight lifted from her shoulders and she nodded. “We have been introduced, true, but I’d never be so bold to claim I know you.”

Gerard’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he offered his arm. “Please, I should be quite honored being seen with the loveliest woman in the room.”

She slid her arm through his, her fingertips resting on his sleeve. Perhaps it would help to quell her nerves. “You are too kind, my lord.”

“Ah, but not so kind as to allow you to keep addressing me as ‘my lord’. I am not so vain as to insist you use such formality.” He guided her into the ballroom. “I assure you, Gerard is quite acceptable. Gerry even more so. I far prefer it over such stiff formalities.

“If you are concerned with what someone might think should they overhear you taking such liberties, Bridgeton is fine as well. Or Monty, if you’re feeling particularly saucy,” he added with a devilish wink.

She laughed, ignoring the curious stares and turning heads as they glided past. Those stares no longer mattered as they approached Elyse, but her ease eroded a bit, when faced with Lady Sally.

Determined not to be troubled Miranda forced a smile to her lips as they drew near the gathering. Gerard lowered his voice to murmur, “I do wish to warn you, Miss MacDonough, my name
will
be appearing on your dance card. More than once, I daresay.”

She smiled at him as they reached the ladies. “I look forward to it.”

“Good evening, Elyse. Miss Hibbert. Lady Sally.” Gerard bobbed his head at each woman before turning his attention back to Miranda. “May I fetch you a glass of punch or some champagne, Miss MacDonough?”

“Punch would be lovely. I thank you.” The last of her nervousness flittered away. Perhaps she wouldn’t make a spectacle of herself. Perhaps things were going to work out just fine after all.

“You are most welcome.” Gerard dipped his head in the direction of his sister. “Ladies.”

As he took himself off, Miss Hibbert sniffed. “He might have offered
us
a bit of refreshment.”

Sally chuckled and tapped the slight woman with her fan. “Come now, Eloisa. It is quite clear Lord Bridgeton is staking a claim on our Miss MacDonough.”

Miranda held back a shiver when Sally’s blue eyed stare alit on her, cold and flat. Her voice rang with false cheer as she said, “And may I be the first to offer up congratulations. True, he is only a younger son, but he is still quite the eligible bachelor and quite the catch.”

Sally’s words did nothing to reassure her. Rather, they mocked her, served as a reminder she wasn’t one of
them
, but an outsider still. The urge to shrink down, to slouch and hide, came roaring back, and dragged with it the twisting knots of uncertainty in her stomach she thought she’d left behind.

Elyse cleared her throat. “If you’d not mind, I’d rather
not
gossip about my brother.”

“Unless you wish to spill secrets regarding the
older
son, my lady,” Miranda blurted without thinking.

Sally’s fair cheeks blazed pink. “I would never…”

“I am but jesting.” Miranda wished she had some way to capture the image of the fiery blush as it burned its way up into Sally’s elegantly coiffed blonde hair. She glowed a red shade which clashed rather spectacularly with her robin’s egg blue gown. It almost made up for her snide remark. “And I am sorry to disappoint you, but Lord Bridgeton and I are only friends. Nothing to congratulate, I’m afraid.”

Elyse looked relieved as she turned to her. “Gerry is quite the devil.”

Sally sniffed as the color faded from her face. “It was most fortunate I met Thorpeton first.”

“Yes. Indeed, it was.”

Tightness edged Elyse’s words, but the lady smiled serenely and Miranda thought she must have imagined it. Why wouldn’t Elyse agree? She and Sally were dear childhood friends. She had to be happy, didn’t she?

Miranda forced a smile to her lips. “Oh, come now, Lady Sally. Lord Bridgeton is hardly undesirable, really. He cuts a fine figure and has a most wonderful sense of humor.”