Chapter Eleven
Miranda felt exultant walking into the dining room on the Duke of Solway’s arm. He had gone out of his way to dress in formal attire and had even attached several medals on his chest to convey the impression of elite power that few in England could ever match.
She had no idea what those medals represented, but some were in the shape of a cross and had jewels encrusted in them. Those probably proclaimed his appointment to some elite royal order in honor of his outstanding contributions to the protection of king and country.
He did strike her as a man of outstanding valor. He was fierce, brave, and yet not a cold man by nature, as Miranda had quickly learned after mere days in his company. The scorching kisses she had received from him proved he was not icy at all.
He had certainly done a good job of thawing her. He had only to look at her and she melted. Merciful heavens, his last kiss had left her wild and practically climbing and clawing his brawny body.
She chased away the thought of what might have happened had they continued. She needed to concentrate on this evening’s supper.
Solway had been full of compliments when he’d come to their door to escort her and Gwenys to the dining room, giving a long, low whistle upon catching sight of them. “Ye ladies look beautiful.”
Gwenys had beamed. Miranda had thanked him and told him he looked quite dashing himself, which he had. She could not take her eyes off him because he was that strikingly handsome.
“Are ye ready to conquer those dragons?” he asked, holding out his arm to escort her to their table.
She nodded, hoping to convey a confidence she did not really feel. But Solway appeared to have his wits about him and looked magnificently daunting.
The frosty look he cast across the room toward the Lawson party could turn the candle flames on the massive chandeliers above them to ice. Quite a remarkable change from the heat he had ignited in her with his fiery kisses.
The innkeeper took it upon himself to lead them to the best table. He then offered them the finest champagne and made certain they lacked for nothing before he handed them over to his servers.
“This is lovely,” Gwenys said, brightening the room with her smile and the sparkle in her eyes. She looked lovely in her peach silk, and Miranda was not surprised that every man in the room was gawking and smiling at her niece.
As for her, she hoped to make an impression in the dark-red silk she now wore. It was a bold color she could get away with wearing, since she was a wealthy widow in her mid-thirties and could do whatever she pleased.
In a nod to Solway, she had worn the silver heart necklace he’d purchased for her earlier in the day at the market square.
It was perhaps too simple for this gown, since there were no diamonds or sapphires embedded in the silver, but the point was to show her appreciation of his gift.
She had no doubt the two witches staring at her knew exactly why she had worn it and who had given it to her.
True to form, Gwenys’s father was oblivious to all the undercurrents. Montrose, Louisa’s new husband, was smirking and appeared to be quietly enjoying the set-down his overbearing mother-in-law and her malicious friend, Lady Trowbridge, were receiving.
As for Louisa, her eyes were beady with jealousy. This gave Miranda great satisfaction. If only Douglas Lanark could have been here for Gwenys. Then the night would have been perfect.
Once seated, Miranda tried not to stare at those two crones, Lady Lowery and Lady Trowbridge. However, it was hard to resist because this was such a rare moment of triumph for her.
The pair looked so unhappy and were obviously seething with frustration. Their cat claws were unsheathed, and Miranda knew they would take the first opportunity to scratch her eyes out if they could.
Perhaps they would try another time.
Not tonight, though. Tonight they were outranked and outmaneuvered by Solway, who also had his eyes on them discreetly while doing his best to regale her and Gwenys.
She was so grateful to him.
“This is the best night I’ve ever had,” she admitted as they were finishing their meal with a delicious lemon syllabub.
Solway nodded. “I’m glad. I hope we’ll have many more nights like this.”
Gwenys squealed. “Yes, Your Grace. I hope so too.”
Their supper soon came to an end. As they were preparing to leave, Montrose rose from his seat at the Lawson table and strode to theirs. “Pleasant journey, Solway. We’ll be staying on another day or two, so you are likely to reach London before us.”
“Dinna take offense, Montrose. Much as I like ye, I hope our paths never cross again on the road.”
He nodded. “I know. Lady Lowery and her unpleasant friend are unbearable, and a bad influence on Louisa. I hope to keep her away from those two once we are settled in our own home. She can be pleasant when outside their company. But right now, they are two hissing snakes whispering all sorts of bad advice in her ear.”
Miranda was surprised he spoke so openly in front of her and Gwenys. Those two vindictive crones must have been too much even for him to bear. Also, being no fool, he was not about to enrage Solway by siding with the Lawson family.
“Watch over these lovely ladies,” Montrose said, shaking Solway’s hand.
His words ran like a shiver through Miranda, for they sounded more like a caution than a casual farewell.
She turned to Solway once Montrose had left their side. “What do you think he meant by that?”
“I dinna know.” His frown encompassed her and Gwenys. “But the two of ye will be sleeping in my bed tonight.”
Miranda’s eyes widened. “What?”
Solway groaned. “Och, dinna make a thing of it. What I mean is that we’re going to switch rooms. If anyone attempts to break in and cause ye mischief, they’ll find themselves dealing with me.”
“An excellent idea,” Gwenys said, nodding.
Miranda did not think so, but she voiced no protest, since she would have been outvoted anyway. Solway had a point, for the two ladies were vicious and truly hated her. But would they be so foolish as to attempt something underhanded when they knew she and Gwenys were under Solway’s protection?
Better safe than sorry, she supposed.
She and Gwenys returned to their quarters, her niece all the while chattering excitedly about this bit of intrigue while the two of them changed into their nightclothes.
“Just leave everything here,” Miranda told her.
“We are merely going to switch beds. No need to move everything around just for one night. We’ll come back in here to wash and dress in the morning. ”
“All right, Aunt Miranda.”
Solway knocked at their door a moment later. Miranda hurried to open it, surprised to find him still wearing his trousers and shirt. “Are you going to sleep in your clothes?”
“Perhaps. I’m still debating whether to or no’.”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a nightshirt? Where is your nightshirt?”
He arched an eyebrow and grinned wickedly. “I dinna own one. Nor did I think to bring along a robe.”
“Then what are you wearing to…?” She sighed, realizing he wore nothing at all to bed. “What do you wear in the winter? Surely you must get cold.”
His eyebrow was still wickedly arched. “No, lass. My blood runs too hot.”
“Dear heaven,” she muttered.
She noticed he also had not removed his boots, and thought he intended to take them off now as he sank onto her mattress. But he merely checked the pistol sheathed in the lip of his right boot. She noticed he had a knife in the left.
“Get to my suite now and latch that door securely,” he said, obviously taking Montrose’s caution quite seriously. “I want ye to then lean a chair against the door precariously so that it will topple and make a noise if anyone tries to enter.”
“Very well,” Miranda said, taking Gwenys’s hand, and the two of them scooted into his quarters. “Sweet dreams, Solway.”
“And to ye ladies,” he replied, standing like a gorgon watching over her until she closed the door.
The suite was quite grand and the bed large enough to easily accommodate her and Gwenys.
She settled on the right side and Gwenys took the left, curling beside her like a little pup.
Miranda had taken a fire iron and propped it against the wall beside her pillow.
She gave another of the fireside implements to Gwenys to keep beside her, but she doubted her niece would ever use it.
The sweet girl did not have the heart to squash a bug.
Solway had accused Miranda of being soft, but Gwenys was truly the soft one, with a good and pure heart.
It pained Miranda to think how badly Lady Lowery might have abused Gwenys had she remained in their household.
Well, it did not matter whether Gwenys could wield a fire iron if their lives were in peril.
There was no serious peril tonight. Lady Lowery and Lady Trowbridge cut people down with words, not weapons.
They took malicious enjoyment in heaping ruin and scandal on innocent souls with their barbed innuendos and accusations.
Miranda was still worked up over encountering that pair, so it came as no surprise when Gwenys fell asleep before she did.
Her niece’s light breaths brought a smile to her face.
She chuckled softly when Gwenys shifted so close to her that Miranda was almost shoved off the bed.
But this was what happened when a little girl grew up deprived of a loving mother.
Gwenys yearned for any sliver of maternal warmth and touch of affection.
“Gwenys,” Miranda whispered, and shook her niece lightly when Gwenys shifted again and this time did push Miranda halfway off the bed. But she did not move a muscle after that, so Miranda decided it was best to leave her sleeping.
There was a sofa in the parlor portion of the suite where she could curl up for the rest of the night. It was for the best, since the musk and male heat scent of Solway on the pillow had her yearning for his touch.