Chapter 10
Excitement from the fencing match died down, and most of the party dispersed back into the house. Honoria, of course, fretted over her brother’s injury, and Burwood delivered a healthy setdown to the footman who had brought the wrong épées.
It appeared Lord Grouch would be no worse for wear other than perhaps sporting a small “battle” scar.
Heat that had nothing to do with the sun warmed Anne’s cheeks as she wondered if he would appear as dashing as Mr. Grey.
Speaking of the handsome captain, Mr. Grey bowed before her. “Your kerchief, Miss Weatherby.” He frowned at the initials CAB embroidered in the corner.
Anne’s face flamed even more as she plucked it from his fingers. “I borrowed it from Charlotte.”
A lopsided grin spread across Mr. Grey’s face.
“I see. Well, it did bring me luck, so my thanks to both of you. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I think I’ve done enough damage for the day.
” His gaze jerked toward Miranda before returning to Anne.
“I think I shall peruse Burwood’s library for a book. I hear he has quite a collection.”
Only Miranda remained on the terrace with Anne, and the way Miranda studied her set Anne’s nerves on edge. “Are you interested in Mr. Grey? As a potential suitor, that is.”
Anne wanted to say yes. She liked Mr. Grey.
He was handsome and, truth be told, a bit dangerous, which normally would have increased her interest. But no flare of heat sizzled up her arm when they’d touched.
Her stomach didn’t do a strange little wobble when he looked at her.
She had no desire to bait him into an argument just to watch his lovely green eyes flare.
She gave herself a mental shake. Green? Mr. Grey had amber eyes, like Burwood’s.
And speaking of Burwood, Anne had learned her lesson. She had felt none of those things with him either. But then again, at that time, she hadn’t experienced them with anyone.
Until Lord Grumpy-Trousers.
Ugh.
“Anne?” Miranda’s brown eyes narrowed. “Are you paying attention to me, or are you daydreaming about Mr. Grey?”
Not quite.
“What if I am interested in Mr. Grey as a suitor? He has been attentive and kind. He’s the first man to show real interest in pursuing me in . . . in . . . well, in quite a while.”
The wicked little voice inside her whispered in ever.
Suspicion remained on Miranda’s face. “Ever? You’re not counting Burwood?”
Good grief, did that slip out?
“Must everyone bring that up? No. I am not counting him. He was never really interested in me, and we all know it.”
Am I really so undesirable?
“Anne, you’re not undesirable. You simply haven’t met the right man, but it’s not Mr. Grey.”
If this was Miranda’s idea of helping, she needed to find another method. “And why ever not? You sound so certain.” Apparently, Miranda expected Anne to simply accept her pronouncement and move on.
“Well.” Miranda peered down at the handkerchief, and a frown creased her brow as if she struggled to find a reason. “Well. He’s a gaming hell owner, for one. And he was born on the wrong side of the blanket. Your brother would never approve.”
“Wrong side of the blanket. That is such a stupid expression. And Andrew is so desperate to marry me off to someone that at this point, I don’t think he’d give a donkey’s behind who it was. He even tried to arrange a match with Lord Fairchild.”
“I presume you turned Fairchild down?”
The little bit of pride Anne clung to crumpled. “Not exactly. He decided I was too old.”
“The nerve! As if he’s in his prime!”
“Exactly.” Unexpected though it was, the camaraderie forming between them spurred Anne onward. “I do like Mr. Grey, and he has the support of Burwood. So surely Andrew would consider him.”
The brief connection snapped like a dry twig, and the look in Miranda’s eyes grew lethal.
What did I say?
“Even if your brother does consider him a suitable match, has Mr. Grey shown a genuine interest in pursuing you? Other than being kind and attentive, which any true gentleman should do.” Although they were the only two left on the terrace, Miranda leaned closer.
“Has he taken liberties? Tried to kiss you? You two were alone for a while during our ride this morning.”
“Kiss me?! While we were on horseback? Miranda, what’s possessed you? And might I remind you, while I was alone with Mr. Grey, you were alone with Lord Manning.”
“Lord Manning is a gentleman!”
“And Mr. Grey is not?!” Goodness, when had their voices raised to near shouting?
Miranda rose, her hands fisted at her sides. “I caution you, Anne. Do not play games with Mr. Grey.” She stomped away, slamming the terrace door behind her.
Anne had never seen Miranda in such a huff. Was there some information about Mr. Grey Miranda was privy to? Something nefarious?
He was a gaming hell owner after all. Anne was not a complete ninny. Although Andrew said the establishment was respectable, she was well aware that gambling did have a seedier side. Was Mr. Grey known to be a rake? Seduce women?
A naughty shiver of excitement tripped up Anne’s spine. However, the image of Mr. Grey didn’t form in her mind when she thought about stolen kisses and inappropriate touches.
No, the demon who coalesced in her mind had lovely, sea-foam-green eyes and a thick head of auburn hair.
Who detested her.
Colin searched the second-floor parlors for Lady Miranda to no avail. When he peeked outside to the terrace, the only person remaining was Miss Weatherby, who appeared rather agitated about something.
Best not to go out there and enquire about Lady Miranda.
Next, he checked the morning room, which was also empty. As he turned, the book he’d laid on the table the day before snagged his attention. Picking it up, he decided he would return it to the library.
Located down the long hallway, Burwood’s library was an extensive room, with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books of every variety.
Colin smiled as he pictured Honoria and Burwood curled up in the wingback chairs, enjoying a quiet evening.
The two had bonded over their mutual love of books during their youth.
Who would have thought things would work out the way they did?
But not everyone had such a happy outcome. At most, Colin hoped for companionship and some affection, and he had every belief Lady Miranda would supply that. If he could only find her.
As he neared the library, raised voices rang out through the slightly ajar door.
“Miranda, don’t do this.” The deep baritone of the man’s pleading voice sounded familiar.
Grey? And what was he doing with Lady Miranda?
“I should slap you!”
Colin quickened his pace. If Lady Miranda was in trouble, he would be her knight in shining armor.
“Be reasonable.” Grey’s voice escalated.
“Reasonable! Who am I supposed to believe? You or Anne?”
“I promise you, there is no reason to be concerned.”
Colin’s steps halted, and he waited outside the door. What was going on?
“Why should I believe you?”
Something slammed, and Colin drew to attention, ready to spring forth and intervene. “Because I’m not the one who is dragging their feet,” Grey shouted.
What the deuce?
Pain flared in Colin’s cheek as his jaw tensed.
“Miles, you know very well why I’m hesitant.” Lady Miranda’s voice softened considerably, and the muscles in Colin’s shoulders eased. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. Will you forgive me?”
“Perhaps. On one condition.”
Did Grey chuckle?
As Colin stepped around the door, he froze at the sight of Grey and Lady Miranda in a passionate embrace.
He should have turned away and respected their privacy.
And had they been any other couple, he would have.
But if Grey was taking advantage of the woman Colin had decided to court, well, that was another matter entirely.
“Ahem.” The one word filled the silence and sent the trysting couple apart several feet.
“Lord Manning!” Lady Miranda’s face flushed. “We didn’t see you.”
Colin bit back the word obviously perched on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just returning this book.” He held up Emma. “But I was also looking for you, Lady Miranda. When you have finished your conversation with Mr. Grey, may I have a word?”
“We’re finished,” Grey said, shooting Lady Miranda a look loaded with hidden meaning. “If you would both excuse me.” As he brushed past Colin, he whispered, “Please come see me in private later.”
Suddenly feeling quite foolish for the flower clutched in his hand, Colin placed the book on a nearby table, then laid the flower on top of it.
Lady Miranda’s gaze followed his movements, then lifted to meet his. “You said you wanted to speak with me? Was the flower for me?”
More than foolish, Colin shifted on his feet like a nervous schoolboy. “It is . . . was . . . is. If you would like it.”
“It is lovely. And thoughtful. May I?” She held her hand out, and Colin lifted the bloom and, with tentative steps, approached her and placed it in her upturned palm. “I’ve always loved dahlias.”
“Is that what it is? I know precious little about flowers. My wife enjoyed them, and these were her favorites. Honoria had a vase of them placed in my room.”
“How is your wound? Is it terribly deep?”
Her concern touched him. However, the question was: was her concern for his injury or Grey’s part in delivering it? “A trifle, Ashton assures me.”
Warm brown eyes studied him, and the question of how much he had witnessed practically shouted from their depths. Many women would blush and make quick excuses. But not Lady Miranda. Yet, as a gentleman, he hurried to put her mind at ease and remove any possible embarrassment.
“Forgive me for interrupting what appeared to be a private . . . conversation. My purpose for seeking you out was to suggest we spend more time together to see if we suit.”
“You wish to court me?”
Colin respected her forthrightness.
“That was my intention. However, it would appear I’m too late, and your affections are already spoken for.”