Page 13 of The Major's Mistake
Miranda turned absolutely ashen.
Before she could answer the marquess’s cutting words, Lady Thornton quickly spoke up. “I believe we have finished discussing what concerns Justin, my dear. Pray, let me have a word in private with Julian.”
Miranda’s chin rose a fraction and she stood up and left the room with a quiet dignity that no rags could disguise.
Julian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that he had not shown to advantage. It was some moments before Lady Thornton spoke to him. This time, her tone was more one of sorrow than anger.
“Julian, have you any idea of what became of Miranda’s dowry when you divorced her?”
The question took him by total surprise. “Why, er …” His brows drew together. “No,” he admitted. “I never really thought on it. But what?—”
“It sits in your banker’s hands, along with the rest of your considerable wealth.”
He made to speak but she held up her hand. “Have you any idea what happened when she returned to her parents?”
He shook his head.
“They disowned her—threw her into the street,” she replied bluntly. “As her own husband had denounced her as little better than a whore, they refused to have anything to do with her, saying she had disgraced the family name and might as well be dead, for all they cared.”
Julian’s hand came up to rub at his temple.
“Aside from a small yearly income that came down to her through her grandmother—one, I might add, that would scarcely purchase a pair of those elegant York tan gloves you wear—she has nothing. I repeat,nothing. And every paltry farthing she receives, she spends on Justin.”
Lady Thornton folded her hands in her lap. “So whatever anger and resentment you still harbor should not be given voice in cruel sneers and petty taunts. I would have thought that the suffering and hardships you have seen in the course of war might have taught you to have a modicum of compassion.”
His eyes pressed shut. “I … never knew any of this.”
“There is a great deal you didn’t know,” she said softly.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
When it became clear she didn’t mean to answer, he frowned slightly but went on. “Surely you know I never intended that she live in such poverty. I … I shall contact my man of affairs immediately and arrange for a generous sum to be put at her disposal.”
Lady Thornton shook her head sadly. “I’m not terribly plump in the pocket, my dear, but you certainly can’t think that I would willingly let Miranda want for anything. She will not accept any money or gifts of so-called luxuries from me. She most assuredly will not accept them from you.”
His mouth compressed in a tight line and he turned to stare at the flickering flames. “Why did you never write to me of—any of this?” he asked after some minutes.
“It was not my right to do so.”
There was another lengthy silence before he got to his feet and made his goodbye. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath as he started for the door, walking with slow, deliberate steps to conceal the worst of his limp.
“My sentiments exactly,” whispered Lady Thornton as the door fell shut.
Five
Sykes gave a tug at the girth and cinched it in another notch or two. “Riding out alone again, guv?” he inquired. “Must be finding something of interest out there,” he added under his breath, making little attempt to hide his pique at not being invited along.
Julian made a noncommittal sound as he tied a small package at the back of his saddle. “Perhaps you might wish to put that new hunter to the test this afternoon and let me know what you think. See if he takes the fences as well as Squire Paxon claims.”
Sykes pulled a face, only slightly mollified by the generous offer. “Very well, seeing as I don’t seem to be of any use to you in the field.”
The marquess smiled slightly at his valet’s bruised feelings. “I’ve told you, it is prudent to get people used to our presence here before we appear to be asking too many questions You may rest assured that when the time is right to get on with our mission, you will be involved. I am merely paying a social call—which I know you cannot abide.” He mounted and set his spurs to the big stallion.
The aroma of freshly baked shortbread wafted out in their wake, leaving the other man even more puzzled than before. He knew that it was the marquess who could not abide the tedium of paying social calls, so he couldn’t help but wonder just what had Julian haring off in such a hurry.And with a package of cakes?He scratched his chin, wondering whether he was cut out for life among the swells.
There lookedto be no one about the stable and barn. Julian reined to a halt, debating whether to wait here for a bit or to simply ride on to the main house and fetch the lad. Now that the moment had arrived, he felt butterflies in his stomach.
Surely facing a six-year-old boy was not nearly as intimidating as storming a Spanish artillery position, he reasoned with himself. Nevertheless, his mouth was slightly dry and a trickle of sweat etched a slow path down his spine at the prospect of taking his own son in his arms for the first time.
