After The Storm (26 page)

His words chilled her fury, replaced the boil with ice. “Think so, do you?”

“I know so.” The hand gripping the silver eagle’s head was white at the knuckles and his back was ramrod straight. “I have been fooling myself, my lady. This was a mistake. One I am grateful I realized
before
it was too late to rectify it.”

“And what of those sweet nothings you once whispered to me? The promises you made of a happy, wonderful life together. What were those?”

“The words of a man who confused duty with love. The words of a foolish man who thought he wanted the same as what was wanted for him.” He stumped toward the door. “I will not humiliate you by ending our courtship now, while this party goes on. Even I am not so great a cad. But know this, if you insist upon forcing my hand, I will speak those vows, but I will not mean a word of them. Nor will I honor them in the slightest. And I will not care when the whispers begin.”

Humiliation poured into her, her face burned by it. This was
not
happening. It couldn’t possibly be real. This was
not
her Hugh who stood before her, but a stranger. Her Hugh adored her, didn’t he?

No. Perhaps he had, once upon a time, but he did no longer, thanks to that Scottish
bitch
. Her belly kinked, twisted and roiled as she sputtered, “Well, Thorpeton, you may sleep well at night knowing, when I’m finished, your little
whore
will not be received in any home in all of London! I only hope your sorry little tryst was worth it!”

Hugh turned to face her and she shivered at the look on his face. “Hear me and hear me well, lady. Should you think to slander Miss MacDonough, should you even do so in your
sleep
, not only will I end this farce of a courtship, I will end it as publicly as I can. And I will make damned certain that the whole of London knows it. And when
I
am finished,
you
will be the one with doors slammed in her face.”

The blood drained from her cheeks in a heated rush. As she stared hard at him, the motions in her belly had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with very real fear. She’d never seen him so furious, and had no doubts he’d make good on his threats.

Still, that didn’t mean she had to back down. Not yet, anyhow. There was always the chance he was bluffing. “You don’t frighten me. You would never do something so low.”

Icy fear returned as a smile crept across his face. “Try me.”

He turned on his heel, but she wasn’t about to let him get the last word. “Don’t you dare turn your back to me. She is nothing.
Nothing!
She is dirt, and that’s all she will ever be.”

He didn’t halt, did not so much as pause as she lost complete control over her emotions and shrieked the last part at him. Choking back tears, she swiped up a china duck decoy and hurled it at the fireplace, where it shattered against the black marble. It did very little to relieve her fury. Only one thing would.

Miranda was about to learn what happened when one crossed Sally Hayworth.

Chapter Twenty-One

The rap on the door startled Miranda as she bent over her trunk to stow away the ruby-colored silk gown she’d planned to wear to the ball marking the end of the house party. It spilled from her fingers as she spun about, and crumpled in a heap alongside the bed.

It was the longest of days, spent packing as she readied to leave Thorpeton Hall in absolute disgrace. Outside her door, two footmen also waited. The duchess could not be rid of her and the scandal quickly enough.

So who knocked on her door now? Frowning, she crossed over and twisted the key to unlock it. As it swung open, she was unpleasantly surprised to find Sally Hayworth on the far side of the threshold.

“Why are you here?” Miranda turned to return to her packing. “You should find satisfaction in knowing the duchess has ordered me out of Thorpeton Hall. I’ll not be here much longer.”

“As if that mattered,” Sally sneered as she banged the door shut behind her. “You have already ruined everything. You
knew
he was mine, and yet you still tried to steal him away from me. That you’ve been soundly tossed out on your ear is no less than what you deserve.”

Her belly twisted, but she refused to give Sally the satisfaction of knowing how her words stung. With what was hopefully a careless shrug, she replied, “If you are referring to Lord Thorpeton, may I remind you he is not a book or a painting, or a stick of furniture. I do not believe he is the possession of another.”

“Hush. I care not for anything you might have to say.”

Miranda bent and swiped the wrinkled gown from the floor. She was exhausted, and in no mood for Sally or her nonsense. Her thoughts were heavy enough as it was and she was uncomfortably near tears, which only darkened her mood further. “I am sorry you feel that way.”

“I know what happened. I know you opened your legs for him.”

Panic flapped wild wings through Miranda, and icy dread filled her belly. Still, she shook her head, determined to remain calm. “You are mistaken. Very much so.”

Sally stepped in front of her, her forefinger extended as if she thought to poke her in the middle of her chest. “Am I? I find
that
amusing, as it was Hugh himself who told me.”

Hugh
told
Sally what happened in the cottage? What about his solemn,
‘I will carry the treasured memory to my grave’
?

Given his parting comment to her, she wasn’t so certain he even cared whether or not her secret stayed safe. Perhaps he
had
told Sally. Perhaps not. Either way, she’d not divulge anything. She’d not give Sally the satisfaction of more fodder for the gossipmongers.

She resisted the urge to swat away Sally’s hand, to shove it aside like the pesky annoyance it was, and stepped around her to put her gown in the trunk. “Believe what you will, then.”

Sally tore the gown from her grasp, balled it up, and hurled it into the farthest corner of the room. “Did you not hear me? I
know
. Hugh told me.”

“Then he has lied to you, my lady.” Miranda swallowed hard as she fought to keep her voice calm and even. Her serenity seemed to rattle Sally even more, for her fair skin flushed an ugly, mottled red and her elegantly arranged blonde curls quivered as if they were living beings. “You might wish to ask him why.”

“He did no such thing. He wouldn’t. Hugh would
never
lie to
me
, of all people.
However, I’d not put it past you, you…
commoner
.”

Sally planted both hands firmly in the middle of Miranda’s chest, and shoved. Miranda stumbled back, and pain flared through her right leg as her ankle slammed into the bottom of the mahogany bedpost. Her jaw clenched to hold back her pained yelp. As quickly as she stumbled, she regained her balance. “Really, Sally, is that the
worst
you can think to call me?”

She drew up to her full height, which had her looking down at the petite English lady. “For if it is, I’d be more than happy to supply you with stronger words. Especially after you did so much to aid me in my search for a husband.”

The crimson glow in Sally’s face grew redder, until it looked as if flames might erupt from her eyes. Her chin trembled as she snapped, “I
did
try to help you. I brought you some of
the
most eligible bachelors in London. You were simply too…
stupid
to realize what a favor I did for you.”

Sally’s self-righteousness might have been amusing, if Miranda had a whit of humor left. But she was thoroughly exhausted at being thought of as sport, and being treated as though she were an unusual creature on exhibit in a private zoo.

“How ungracious of me to not be falling to my knees and kissing your feet to show my eternal gratitude.”

“That only shows the depth of your idiocy,” Sally sneered, hands balled into fists as she pressed them to her hips. “I presented perfectly acceptable gentlemen. You might have been a marchioness, you silly twit. A common farm girl and you might have become a marchioness.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “You are the greatest fool ever to walk the earth.”

“Why? Because I look for more than what I might gain? The title means naught if I cannot tolerate the man who bears it. Tell me, would you have accepted His Grace’s proposal, had he
not
inherited a dukedom, but was no more than a
commoner
? Would you have looked past the fact that he is not perfect? That he is
lame
and most likely scarred?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are a silly creature, Miranda. Silly and jealous and you have been since the first time we met. You’ve been jealous of me since you learned
I
am to be Hugh Thorpeton’s bride.” Sally made an odd sniffing sound, as if her explanation was fact and that was all there was to it.

It took much effort for Miranda to hold back her shout of laughter. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am
not
jealous. Why on earth would I have cause to be jealous of
you
, of all people? You’re a twit. A bubble-headed twit wrapped in pretty packaging.” She smiled as Sally’s features twisted and creased into a mask of hideous disgust. “I wish I might stay, that I’d see your husband when he tires of your mindless chatter and endless cotillions and begins whiling his time away in some
common
lady’s bed. Where he will not merely be going through the motions, but rather truly loving the woman he is with—mind, soul,
and
body.”

“How
dare
you?” Sally seethed, eyes red and shiny with tears. “You little—”

Miranda never saw the lady’s hand move, but white lights exploded inside her skull and pain burst through her cheek.

Pure instinct guided Miranda’s fist as she swung back, and fury powered the blow. She struck Sally square in the nose. Through her own pain Miranda heard the lady’s horrified shriek mingled with a sickening crunch. Blood burst from her nose in a scarlet torrent.

“You bitch!” Sally screeched as she fell back and plunked hard onto her backside, both hands clutching her face. “You
whore
!”

“What the devil—?”

Miranda groaned as Aunt Arabella stormed into the room, her face scarlet with fury. “What goes on here?”

“She hit me,” Sally gurgled through the blood dripping between her fingers to stain the carpet beneath her. “I did nothing and she hit me.”

“The devil you did nothing.” Arabella rounded on Sally and her voice bounced off the walls as she thundered, “Do you think I am deaf? That you cannot be heard beyond this room? You little fool, the
entire
floor heard you! How
dare
you? How
dare
you think to raise a hand to Miranda. Take yourself off this instant before
I
think to pummel you!”

Arabella grabbed Sally by the ear and pinched until the lady squealed. Bloodied and humiliated, she scrambled to her feet, and yelped again as Arabella yanked on that ear to toss Sally from the room.

“Good riddance to rubbish.” Arabella slammed the door soundly on Sally’s look of utter shock and brushed her hands together as if to dust off the taint of touching her.

Miranda knew her expression had to mirror Sally’s, for nothing ever shocked her quite the way her aunt’s reaction did. She stared hard for a long moment, wondering if Aunt Arabella had quite lost her mind. Until today, she’d never heard Arabella so much as raise her voice in anger, never mind manhandle a lady of the peerage.

“Come. Our coach is ready and we haven’t much time.” Arabella’s voice was brusque as she marched over to the wrinkled ball of ruby red silk and swiped it up to hurl into the open trunk.

“But…you…I…that is…” Miranda caught herself from any further stammering by clearing her throat. “I cannot believe you did that, Aunt. I—I am shocked, truth be told. Beyond shocked, actually.”

If her loss of temper embarrassed her, Arabella kept it hidden as she shook her head. “You did nothing to deserve such treatment. I heard she tried to match you with Stephen Pemberton and Lord Mahoney. Is that true?”

“Yes. She tried to convince me both men would make the
perfect
husband.”

“That settles it—she
is
as foolish as I’ve always thought her to be.”

Arabella glanced toward the closed door and disdain weighted her sniff as Sally’s sobs echoed along the corridor, fainter by the moment. With a disgusted frown, she said, “You ought to have but hit her twice, then. Pemberton is quite the lecherous goat. I personally saw him attempt to proposition the Duchess of Shatsford once. He honestly believes no one knows his family is just this side of financial ruin, and I pity the lady fool enough to succumb to his charms. Money is
all
that one will ever love.”

Miranda cared very little for the future Marchioness of Saintsbury, whoever she might be, but since it seemed Arabella awaited a response, and she made an appropriate mewing noise and said, “A pity, to be sure…”

Arabella’s surprising chuckle quickly died out as she lifted a hand to touch the sore spot on Miranda’s cheek. “You’ve a bit of a bruise.”

“That does not surprise me.” Miranda flinched at her aunt’s gentle poke. “She sucker punched me.”

“Which does not surprise
me
.” Arabella clucked her tongue against her teeth as she lowered her hand. With a drawn-out sigh, she turned back to the trunk. “Is there anything else?”

“No. That is everything.” Heavy sadness rolled in like a thick gray fog.

“Good.” The trunk lid dropped into place and Arabella clicked the lock. “I will tell Gilbert to bring it posthaste. We’ve a long journey ahead.”

She gestured to the door with one hand and with the other motioned for Miranda to follow. “There is no sense in lingering. I prefer not to dwell where I am not wanted.”

The gray fog no longer had anything to do with Hugh, and all to do with the knowledge she’d hurt her aunt, both publicly and privately. Her throat tightened and she had to clear it to offer, “Aunt Arabella, you do not know how very sorry I am this happened.”

Arabella shook her head and caught Miranda’s hands in hers to squeeze. “You need not apologize. You are young and have so much still to learn.
I
am the one who failed. I failed you, Miranda.”

“What do you mean,
you
failed?”

Arabella didn’t reply, but gave a quick squeeze of her hands, and then released them to step back. She pulled open the door and crossed the threshold, leaving Miranda to stare after her for a long moment.

As Arabella swept down the corridor, Miranda shrugged. “And that is that.”

From somewhere down the corridor, Sally wailed mournfully until her mother hushed her. Most likely around a mouthful of chocolate.