The Price of Indiscretion (18 page)

However, before she could open her mouth, there was a knock on the door and, God help her, Miranda welcomed the intrusion. She hated disappointing Charlotte.

“Come in,” she called.

Isabel entered the room. Her gaze met Miranda’s as if she was willing to pretend nothing had happened last night. For a moment Miranda thought perhaps she didn’t know, and then dismissed the idea. Isabel and Michael were too close not to share such an important secret.

“Have you met my sisters?” Miranda asked.

“Yes, last night.” Isabel seemed relieved to have someone else to focus on other than Miranda. “How did you sleep?” she asked them.

“Very well, thank you,” Charlotte answered. “Your home is lovely.”

“Thank you.” Isabel turned to Miranda. “I had a note from His Grace, the Duke of Colster,” she said, her voice sounding slightly strained. “He asked if it would be possible to pay a call at eleven to meet ‘his intended’s’ sisters.”

Miranda heard the subtle challenge in her voice, but her sisters didn’t. “What time is it now?”

“Half past nine,” Isabel responded, and Miranda realized it would take her every minute of an hour and a half to prepare herself for the coming interview. Here was her chance to talk to His Grace and cry off.

Cry off.
It sounded terrible and yet it was what she must do.

“A duke wants to meet us,” Charlotte said, more excited that Miranda had ever seen her before. “I can’t believe this is happening. What does one say to a duke?”

“And do we curtsy?” Constance wondered, sounding a bit panicked.

“You talk about the weather,” Miranda replied, answering the first question with the standard Lady Overstreet answer, and added, “Yes,” to Constance’s question. “Isabel, is Lady Overstreet up?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Perhaps she can give my sisters a quick lesson and then we shall have to have clothes.” Miranda jumped out of bed and walked over to the wardrobe.

“But we have clothes on,” Charlotte said. “If these dresses aren’t fine enough, we have another. We purchased them in New York the day Lady Overstreet took us out to shop for you, remember?”

Miranda stopped. She looked at her sisters’ dresses, which now seemed so completely out of fashion. That was how far she’d come. She realized her mind had become filled with inconsequential details.

She thought she liked her old self better…and, with Alex’s help, she would reclaim that woman.

But for now she wanted her sisters to make the excellent impression they wished to present. She threw open her wardrobe and grabbed two of her best day dresses. One was emerald green and the other a bird’s-egg blue. She offered the blue one to Charlotte. “Here, wear these, and no one will know you are from America.”

Constance whipped the green dress out of Miranda’s hand and turned to the mirror, holding the dress in front of her. “I like this.”

“I’ve never felt such fine material,” Charlotte said. She was the one who sewed the best. She also did all the spinning and knitting. She looked past Miranda into the wardrobe. “How many dresses are in there?”

“Quite a few,” Miranda answered.

“And you could afford them with the amount we had in the chest?” Charlotte asked.

Here was a touchy subject. “I did,” Miranda said, not wanting to go into Alex’s role in her largesse.

Charlotte looked to Isabel. “I’d been led to believe prices were high in London, but obviously not if Miranda could afford all that and of this quality.”

“She was careful with her money,” Isabel said dryly. “Come, let us go and find Lady Overstreet and give your sister a moment to dress.”

As she started for the door, there was a knock, and then Alice came in carrying a tray of hot rolls and tea, Miranda’s customary breakfast.

Both Charlotte and Constance stared at such decadence as dining in one’s room, but Miranda was more relieved to see Alice. For a moment, she was too overcome for speech.

The maid set the tray on a side table and said, “Shall I help you dress now, miss?”

Miranda nodded.

Isabel seemed to know what Miranda was thinking. The look she gave Miranda told her that neither she nor Michael would sack a maid for Miranda’s foolishness. “Let us go,” she said to Charlotte and Constance. “We must prepare you, too.”

She went out of the room, and Constance followed, but Charlotte lingered a moment. “You’ve changed,” she said quietly.

Both Isabel and Alice froze.

“What do you mean?” Miranda asked.

“Your hair,” Charlotte said. “You didn’t braid it last night before bed. You always braided it because you hated pulling out the tangles. Your scalp was so sensitive.”

“It still is,” Miranda answered. And she usually did braid it—except for last night after being with Alex. She was relieved that Charlotte had not noticed more. “It’s just that I have Alice now.”

Charlotte glanced at the maid and smiled, her expression sober. “Constance and I will have much to become accustomed to.”

“Yes, you will,” Miranda said vacantly, knowing that once she spoke to His Grace, there would be no servants…or dresses…or spectacular matches for her sisters.

She sat on the stool in front of her dressing table, unable to bear the guilt of her actions.

The door shut.

Alice was pouring water in the basin the way she had every morning since she’d first started serving Miranda.

“I’m glad you are all right,” Miranda said.

The maid didn’t answer.

Miranda turned toward her. “You
are
all right, aren’t you?”

Alice paused in her work. “I will be. Please don’t fret, but I can’t help you anymore. The master was more than kind but very clear.”

“I understand.” She was alone.

Miranda stood. “Very well. Let us dress to meet His Grace.”

Alice had just put the finishing touches on Miranda’s hair when a footman knocked on the door to inform her that His Grace had arrived and was waiting for her in the sitting room.

Miranda had taken great care with her dress. She wore a somber brown day dress trimmed in lace, and her hair was pulled back in a chignon.

She told the footman she would be there momentarily and took one last look at her reflection. She appeared older, wiser. She prayed she had the courage to do what she must.

Her sisters’ room was down the hall from hers. She gathered them up, and the three went downstairs. Miranda heard Lady Overstreet’s twittering laugh and knew she was entertaining His Grace. When she reached the sitting room, she found Isabel there, too.

His Grace came to his feet as Miranda and her sisters entered the room. He wasn’t alone. Miranda was surprised to see Sir William Jeffords in the gaudiest uniform one could possibly imagine. It had gold braid everywhere. Miranda had heard that officers could embellish their uniforms when in town, but he had gone a step too far.

She came to an abrupt halt.

The duke looked from her back to Sir William. He smiled. “I thought it would be a surprise. My cousin had told me the two of you met in the Azores.”

Miranda had forgotten he and Sir William were cousins. And his manner toward her stiff and decidedly formal. She forced herself to speak. “How nice to see you again, Sir William.”

“It is my pleasure, Miss Cameron.” He looked at her sisters expectantly. It was the prodding Miranda needed to gather her wits and perform introductions, all the while wondering how she could maneuver a moment alone with His Grace.

She sensed Sir William hadn’t said a word to his cousin about his pursuit of her in the Azores. Indeed, he refused to look at her and focused on her sisters, who were more impressed with the Duke of Colster.

Miranda could understand why. Phillip was handsome, polished, and well-respected. Since they were her sisters, he was doing all he could to charm them. Indeed, he came across as excited about his wedding, which would certainly be the event of the season. He was everything a duke should be.

But he wasn’t Alex.

Almost as if her thoughts had conjured the topic, Sir William, who had been boasting about his naval career without any interest from Charlotte or Constance, said, “I heard an interesting tidbit the other day that I found amusing.”

“What was that, Sir William?” Lady Overstreet asked.

“Remember that Captain Haddon we met in the Azores?” Sir William said, his gaze on Miranda. She wondered if he tested her. Did his loyalty to his cousin go that deep?

Her Ladyship’s smile tightened. She did not give so much as a glance in Miranda’s direction. “I don’t know if I remember him.”

“
You
must,” Sir William said to Miranda.

“I do,” she answered, her own voice carefully level.

“Then you might like to know what I learned,” he continued. “Turns out our Captain Haddon is the son of a General Alexander Haddon. Man deserted his post. Turned his back on king and country for a Frenchwoman.” He spoke as if finally putting Alex in his place.

“A man would do that?” His Grace said.

But Charlotte had heard something else. “
Alex
Haddon?” she repeated sharply, and turned toward Miranda.

“W
hy yes,” Sir William said in answer to Charlotte. “Do you know him also?”

Charlotte recovered nicely. Seeing she had everyone’s attention, she sat back in her chair. “I’ve heard of his father. It was terrible scandal.” She addressed this last to Miranda, who could feel it being silently seconded by Isabel and Lady Overstreet.

Yes, it would be
. Miranda understood. She returned Charlotte’s pointed stare without flinching. She had no choice. She loved Alex.

Constance had recognized the name, too. Her reaction was different. She dropped her eyes to the floor, suddenly fascinated by the pattern in the India carpet.

The duke was not a stupid man. He could not have risen to the heights he had without learning to notice every nuance. “What is it?” he asked, looking from one woman to another, his tone saying louder than words that he expected to be answered.

Miranda rose to her feet. The gentlemen stood, too. There would never be a good time to break this news. She might as well do it now. “Have you seen the landscapes in the dining room, Your Grace?”

“No, I haven’t,” he answered, his interest obviously piqued.

“Then let
me
show them to you,” Isabel replied, also standing.

“I’d like to see them, too,” Lady Overstreet agreed. She came to her feet.

“As I,” Charlotte announced boldly, also rising.

Constance and Sir William looked at each other as if confused why anyone would want to traipse around for some landscapes, but then they also rose.

Miranda didn’t know what to do. She had to talk to His Grace privately.

She was surprised when help came from the duke.

With a smile that had charmed the crustiest soul in Parliament, he said to Isabel, “Please, I beg your indulgence. I would like to share a moment alone with my intended.” He took Miranda’s arm as he spoke and didn’t wait for approval, but guided her out of the room.

Behind her, Miranda could sense Isabel and Lady Overstreet’s fears. A glance over her shoulder revealed that Charlotte watched her closely, her own doubts clear on her face.

Sir William began talking about himself again, providing a distraction of sorts.

The dining room was directly across the hall. It was decorated in warm rose colors, with a huge mahogany table that could easily seat twenty taking up the middle of the room.

The duke closed the door, leaving a crack open for modesty’s sake. Miranda walked to the landscape over the sideboard, her mind churning over the best way to approach the delicate subject of crying off when he startled her by asking, “Where were you last night?”

She turned. He stood by the door. Gone was the easy man who had been in the sitting room. This man had asked a question and expected answers.

“I was with you at Lord and Lady Oglethorpe’s musicale.”

“Later. When you left the house.”

Her heart stopped. “How do you know I left?” she asked.

“I’m not a fool, Miranda.” He pushed away from the door to cross over to her. His voice low, he admitted, “I have people who watch for me. A man in my position can never be too careful.”

“‘Who watch for you’?” she repeated. “Have you bribed one of the servants?”

His Grace shrugged. He’d not answer that.

Miranda could have pretended innocence. She didn’t. If he knew she’d left, he could find out the rest, and she wasn’t the sort to evade telling the truth. Perhaps this was the best way.

“I was with my lover.”

Dear God, did I truly say those words?

Yes, she had, and she felt a sense of power. She’d not denied Alex. She held her breath, waiting to be denounced, welcoming it.

His Grace grew very quiet. He walked up to her until they stood toe-to-toe. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “You will never say what you just said to me to anyone else in this world.” The tone was soft, but there was steel behind the words.

“I know you must be furious with me and you should be,” she answered just as quietly. “I understand your reasons for crying off.”

“I’ll not cry off,” he said.

Miranda took a step back. “You won’t.”

“No.” That one word held all his resolve.

“Why not?” Miranda shook her head. “You have every reason to. Nor can I marry you. I love someone else. Someone I’d give all for.”

“All?” he questioned. “What do you have of value? Oh yes, your sisters,” he said, answering his own question. “And your friends, including Lady Overstreet, to whom I’ve already paid a deposit for her services.”

“She’s very bold,” Miranda observed. “You shouldn’t have paid anything. What did she do?”

“Nothing. But better to hush her up now than have her start rumors.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she said. Alex had money. He would help her.

His brows came together. “It’s not the money that matters.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I was so trusting. After all these years, and every eligible woman in London pursuing me,
I chose you
. And
now
you are saying you don’t want me?” He paused a moment, the line of his mouth grim before deciding, “That’s not the way it is going to work. There are those who would have a field day with comeuppance. No one ever says no to the Duke of Colster. Not even you,” he finished, looking directly into her eyes.

“But I don’t love you,” she said as gently. “My heart is not my own. I’ll never be able to give you anything but friendship in return.”

In reply, His Grace picked up one of the elegant chairs at the table and threw it across the room. It broke against the wall, right over one of the lauded landscapes, and fell to the floor in pieces.

Miranda moved around the corner of the table from him, suddenly wary.

He turned to her, his expression surprisingly sober. “You created this. I had achieved a certain peace with my life until I met you. You made me long for what I thought I’d lost.” He sounded almost pleasant. “All I’ve had, all that I’ve valued since Elizabeth died was my good name. If you cry off to run away with another man, I will hound you to the ends of the earth for disgracing me. Do you hear? There will be no place you can hide. I can reach that far.”

From the hall came Charlotte’s voice, “Miranda, are you all right?”

“Yes, is anything wrong?” came Isabel’s.

The door started to open. The duke looked at Miranda. “You know what you must do. I expect to see you at my house this evening.” He went to the door just as Isabel and others entered. “We must be going, cousin,” he said to Sir William. “Mrs. Severson, the landscapes are lovely. I shall have to show you the ones I have in my dining room this evening.”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Isabel replied, frowning. She had to sense something wasn’t right.

Charlotte went directly to Miranda and almost tripped over the broken chair. She stopped and looked back to the duke.

He smiled at her, nodded to Lady Overstreet, who was craning her neck to see what had been the sound in the room, and left without a passing glance at Miranda. Sir William double-timed his steps to catch up to him.

There was a moment of silence after he left. Charlotte picked up a broken leg of the chair. “He wasn’t sitting in it, was he?”

Isabel made a soft sound of alarm and hurried over to take a look.

“I’m sorry about the chair,” Miranda said stiffly.

Rounding on her, Isabel said, “I don’t care about the chair. He knows, doesn’t he?”

“Knows what?” Lady Overstreet demanded.

Miranda looked at the women. She could see the concern in Isabel’s eyes, a sense of foreboding in Charlotte’s. Constance had an idea, too. She hung back by the door, her expression filled with uncertainty.

Her poor youngest sister had never had an easy life. She could barely remember their mother or a time when their father had been happy…and sober.

“It’s Alex Haddon, isn’t it?” Charlotte guessed.

“Captain Haddon?” Lady Overstreet said, alarmed. “Is that why Colster broke the chair?” She hurried around the table to look at the damage. “Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” She frowned at Miranda. “You can’t do this to me. You did it once—”

“What are you talking about?” Charlotte asked.

“Miranda took up with Captain Haddon in the Azores,” Lady Overstreet said with a sniff. “It would have ruined her if I hadn’t been quick-witted enough to cover for her. I even returned her money.” She came around the table toward Miranda. “But I won’t do it again. Do you hear? You may throw your reputation away, but I won’t let you ruin mine, especially now when I’m in such demand.” She brought a hand up dramatically to her forehead. “You didn’t tell the duke you wouldn’t marry him did you?”

All eyes in the room turned to Miranda. She released a breath slowly before admitting, “I did.”

Lady Overstreet almost swooned right where she stood. “I can’t believe this. All my hard work for nothing.” She whirled on Charlotte. “See what an ungrateful hussy your sister is? She ran off with Captain Haddon in the Azores—”

“I did not,” Miranda interrupted. She attempted to explain to Charlotte, “Alex kidnapped me—”

“So you say!” Lady Overstreet said and snorted her true opinion.

Isabel, obviously tired of the histrionics, stepped in. “Please, Lady Overstreet, you are not contributing to the discussion. It is true, Charlotte, that Alex kidnapped Miranda. He admitted as much to my husband and myself.”

Charlotte pulled out a dining room chair and sat, obviously too overcome for words.

“He has tried to make it right,” Isabel continued in Alex’s defense. “He paid Lady Overstreet handsomely for her services—”

This was news to Miranda, who had suspected Alex had done something of the sort to win Her Ladyship’s cooperation.

“—as well as all of Miranda’s expenses,” Isabel finished.

“But what did he expect in return?” Charlotte asked, leaning toward Isabel as if unable to face Miranda.

That hurt.

And yet the truth would not make her happier.

“He asked nothing I wasn’t willing to give,” Miranda said quietly.

Silence met her words. Lady Overstreet crossed her arms and placed a disapproving hand against the side of her face, as if she hadn’t spent the trip across the ocean in Captain Lewis’s cabin. Isabel dropped her gaze to the floor. Charlotte could have been carved from stone.

The only one who showed any sympathy at all was Constance. “You must love him very much,” she whispered.

“I
do
,” Miranda replied.

“And it will ruin all of us,” Lady Overstreet declared. “I’m leaving. I don’t know if I will be there tonight. Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.” She looked to Charlotte and Isabel. “You must dissuade her from following this insane passion for that Indian. Colster is not one you cross!”

With those prophetic words still ringing in the air, she turned and left the room, pausing at the doorway to say stiffly to Isabel, “I shall pack. I assume I may have use of a footman and coach.”

“Yes, of course,” Isabel said distractedly, and Lady Overstreet fled so fast, she forgot to close the door behind her.

Isabel crossed over to shut the door. “You can’t do this,” she said, her tone firm. “Colster will destroy both Michael and Alex. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Miranda confessed, “but I know of no other way.”

“No other way for what?” Charlotte asked. She looked down at the wreckage of the chair. “The duke did this after you told him you wanted to cry off.”

“Yes,” Miranda said.

Charlotte raised her hands up to her head as if fighting a headache. She closed her eyes a moment, the lines of her face tense. When she opened them, it was to say, “Isabel, may I have a moment alone with my sister? You go, too, Constance.”

Their youngest sister opened her mouth as if to argue, but one look at the set of Charlotte’s face convinced her otherwise. She followed Isabel out the door, giving Miranda a backward glance of sympathy.

“Our poor sister,” Charlotte said once the door was shut and they were alone. “She dreams of love. We’ve done well, Miranda. We’ve protected her from how cruel the world really is.”

Miranda didn’t speak. She crossed her arms against her waist, waiting.

Charlotte did not waste time. “You must marry the duke.”

“I love Alex,” Miranda said, searching for strength in those words. “The duke doesn’t care about me. He pursued me because I remind him of his dead wife. He doesn’t even see
me
, Charlotte. It’s not that he is a bad man. He’s very nice…but I don’t love him.”

“And it is all about love, isn’t it?” Charlotte said flatly. “Family doesn’t matter. Honor is unimportant. Constance and my reputations are completely expendable.”

“That’s not the way I feel,” Miranda countered, coming around the table to face her. “You know it isn’t. I wish it could be different. It isn’t. I love him, Charlotte. From the moment I first met him, he has been a piece of me.”

Charlotte came to her feet. “You haven’t seen him for ten years! How can he be a piece of you? How can he be
anything
to you?”

“
He just is
,” Miranda said, pleading with her to understand. “I don’t know why. I know all the reasons why I should not love him, and they don’t matter. It’s as if the heavens had preordained we must be together.”

“Or your own selfishness,” her sister flashed back.

“I didn’t ask for this—”

“Do you think I asked for the life I’ve led?” Charlotte swept the broken chair leg off the table. It clattered to the floor. “It wasn’t enough that no one had any respect for Father, but then you had to take up with that Shawnee. They all called us the drunkard’s daughters. I had one chance for something better, and I gave him up for you.”

“I’m sorry about Thomas,” Miranda said. She held out her hands. “I hated that he left you because of me.”

Charlotte shook her head. “He didn’t leave me, Miranda, I left him. When he heard about you and Alex, he told me he was revolted by the idea of a red man and a white woman together. He told me I had to leave my family and not have anything to do with any of you ever again. And I told him he could walk out the door and not come back. I’d not turn my back on my sisters for anything in this world. I thought you felt the same.”