Chapter Eight
Bram knew he had to settle down, because it was obvious Miranda had not only survived indignity at the hands of the Lawsons but flourished in many ways since that horrendous time. “Where did ye go after they threw ye out?” he repeated when she did not immediately answer.
She gave a wry laugh. “I resided in a hotel for several months until I purchased my townhouse on Duchess Square.”
Her admission only added to his quiet fury on her behalf. “Och, lass. Ye were so young.”
“Yes, young and foolish. Certainly too prideful for my own good. My mother and I corresponded frequently, and I never said a word about the mess I was in. My father’s solicitors might have told them, but they would only have reported the legal challenges, and we won those handily.”
For this, he silently cheered. “I’m glad that worked out for ye.”
“So was I,” she said, wrapping her hands around her cup of tea to warm them. “Not for the financial outcome, mind you.”
“I know, it was for the victory over those horrid Lawsons.”
She nodded. “My parents wanted me to join them in Italy once they learned I was widowed. But I knew I could not lie to them if ever I had to face them. So, I politely declined to go. They were coming home the following summer, so I thought all would be fine by then.”
“But it wasn’t, was it?”
She released a ragged breath. “No. They were caught up in a cholera epidemic on the journey home and both succumbed. That was another mistake I’d made, being too much of a coward to join them in Italy.
And now they were gone. It truly broke my heart.
Obviously, I was not a good wife or a good daughter. ”
“Och, ye couldn’t have known what would happen to yer parents. And ye might have died had ye gone to Italy and then returned to London with them. Did ye ever think of that? Ye survived and were here to protect Gwenys.”
She pursed her lips and cast him a forlorn look.
“I ought to have trusted my parents to love and support me no matter what they thought of my failed marriage. They would have, too. But I was too ashamed and stupidly believed all that the gossips were saying about me. I was also stubborn and much too proud. I refused to go running back to them, crying like a child.”
“What ye have is a propensity to blame yerself for things that are no’ in yer control.
And now ye’re afraid to put a toe out of line for fear ye’ll bring misery on yerself or others.
” He leaned in closer, wishing he could take her in his arms. But the breakfast room was filling up and he saw Gwenys now approaching with her typically dazzling smile.
“Look, Miranda. Ye’ve done something very right, for that is the happiest girl I’ve ever seen. ”
That brought a sweet smile to Miranda’s lips, and their conversation turned merry after that.
Bram excused himself upon finishing his breakfast to call upon his bankers. “My business won’t take me longer than the morning. I’d suggest touring York’s Minster afterward, but I think ye ought to spend the day at leisure, Miranda.”
To his surprise, she did not protest. Perhaps seeing the Lawsons had taken plenty out of her and revived awful memories. Still, he did not wish to see her sad.
“There’s an excellent shopping street just around the corner from the inn. I’ll take ye ladies out this afternoon if the weather clears.”
Gwenys was delighted. Miranda actually smiled at him again.
Was this progress?
The rain had slowed to a mere drizzle as he walked to the Royal Yorkshire Bank office where he had set up several accounts to deal with his local financial dealings.
Although he had made no appointment, the bank manager dropped whatever he was doing and rushed forward to greet him.
“Your Grace, how can we be of help?” the man asked, obviously concerned to see Bram, since he was not expected today.
“You must forgive me… Did we have an appointment? My clerk must have—”
“No, my decision to stop in was quite on the spur of the moment and no mistake on anyone’s part,” Bram assured him, for the only reason he’d dropped by here was because of the excuse he had made up for Miranda’s sake. But now that he was here, why not look over his accounts?
They were all in order, as he expected. “Thank ye, Mr. Grove. I hope I have no’ taken up too much of yer time.”
“It is always an honor and a pleasure, Your Grace.”
The man did not stop bowing and scraping until Bram was out the door.
But this was how most people treated him, with obsequious courtesy.
In truth, it often rankled him. He had never regarded the term “privilege of peerage” to mean he was the Good Lord’s gift to the world.
In fact, he’d always taken it to mean he had been assigned the privilege of serving his fellow Scotsmen in the best way he knew how.
It was a responsibility and a duty, not a free pass to doing and getting whatever he wanted.
Perhaps this was why he liked Miranda as much as he did, for she did not judge others by rank alone but on the strength of their character. For this reason, he knew she was never going to be false with him.
This only made him want to marry her all the more. Was it not a blessing to have a wife who was true in all her thoughts and deeds? If she was angry, he would know it. If she was worried about something, he would hear her comment about it. If she loved him… Ah, that would be sweetest of all.
The streets of York were bustling, and although the sky was still overcast and the air damp, it appeared the rain had ended. The puddles he had skirted while walking to the bank had now mostly seeped into the cobblestones and made for an easier stroll back to the inn.
The spires of York Minster, the massive cathedral dedicated to St. Peter, could be seen as he approached the inn. He glanced up to admire the soaring spires and noticed patches of blue peeking out from the thinning gray clouds.
This pleased him, because he hoped to spend a quiet afternoon with Miranda, perhaps taking her out to see a little of the city if she felt up to it. An easy amble along the lively streets with stops at a tea shop in between if she tired.
Or was he being ridiculously protective of her? Miranda was hardly frail.
He noticed her and Gwenys on their way out of the inn just as he happened to arrive.
He tried to mask his disappointment. Why had they not waited for him to escort them to wherever they intended to go? Nor was he pleased that Miranda intended to run around the city when she ought to have taken the day to rest.
Never mind that he had just been contemplating a similar outing for her. It was just that he’d wanted them to do this together.
Miranda noticed him approaching and must have seen the slight fade of his smile, for she hurried toward him and placed her arm in his.
“You are right on time,” she said, leading him away from the inn.
“We only meant to stop in at the bookshop around the corner. The innkeeper said it was quite excellent, and I was eager for reading material.”
“I see.”
His tone must have remained brusque, because she sought to further assuage him. “We were going to come right back and wait for you to join us for the day. I know how eager you are to browse the knitting yarn shops with me.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Aye, it is all I have dreamed about.”
She smiled and her eyes lit up with mirth. “How was your meeting with your bankers?”
“All went well.”
He did not know why he felt so extraordinarily pleased as he escorted Miranda and her niece the short distance to what turned out to be quite an impressive antiquarian bookshop. But it felt so good to have Miranda by his side.
Odd—he had not felt the lack of a woman’s touch in his life until now, for women made themselves available to him whenever the bedding urge struck him.
But this was not at all the same thing. This present urge was about permanence and sharing his days and nights.
Having now been traveling with Miranda, and before that, caring for her in his home, he did not want to go back to his old ways.
Nor did he wish to waste time courting her, for he had made up his mind and knew what he wanted…her.
Miranda could not be rushed, however.
This was not going to be easy for him, since patience was never one of his virtues.
A bell above the doorway tinkled to announce them to the bookshop’s owner.
A little man with thin gray hair bustled forward, his smile broadening as he assessed the elegance of their clothing and recognized they had money to spend.
“Are you looking for any reading matter in particular?” he asked.
“I have several beautiful manuscripts of rare quality that—”
“We are just browsing,” Miranda replied.
Gwenys smiled at the elderly man. “You have a lovely shop. Would you happen to have books of poetry?”
“I do,” he responded brightly. “Although we are known for our antiquarian books, we also have many popular selections. In fact, I have an entire section devoted to the romantic poets. They are quite popular with the ladies. May I show you?”
“Oh, yes. Please do.” Gwenys followed him to the opposite end of the shop. It was a large enough establishment that one could find privacy behind the rows of bookshelves.
Bram realized what Gwenys was doing in occupying the shop’s owner. She meant to give him time alone with Miranda.
Yes, the sweet lass was definitely his ally when it came to wooing her aunt.
Unfortunately, he was not very good at courtship, since he was used to getting whatever he wanted merely upon request. Not that he considered himself a rogue with any particular prowess in bedding ladies, for most were like Lady Wharton and offered their bodies to gain advantage for themselves.
He had no idea if their cries of pleasure were feigned or real.
But if he ever got Miranda into his bed, her sighs and passionate moans would be his assurance that she had enjoyed the moment.