Page 27 of The Major's Mistake
Julian’s face creased in thought, then his mouth pursed in a rueful grimace. “Touché.” He leaned back on his elbows, thewind ruffling his long locks. “Tell me everything about him,” he said abruptly. “Hell’s teeth, I don’t even know his birthday! Was it a … difficult birth?” The questions were fairly tumbling out of his mouth. “What was he like as a baby? When did he take his first step?”
She staredat him in wonder.
“Please,” he added in a low voice.
Her eyes fell to the muted plaid of the blanket. “Yes,” she began slowly. “It was a difficult birth. I nearly lost him ….”
How long she talked she wasn’t sure. He interrupted often, eager for every detail of the little boy’s life. She avoided any references to her own circumstances, but at times, he paused to regard her with an odd look before asking of something else. Finally it seemed the subject was nigh exhausted.
“Well, milord, there is really little more I can tell you about your son.”
He grinned. “I know he loves frogs and hates Brussels sprouts?—”
“All little boys hate Brussels sprouts.”
The marquess feigned an injured expression. “I loved Brussels sprouts when I was little.”
Miranda quirked a tentative smile. “Oh, fustian, sir!”
“Well, maybe I didn’tlovethem.”
The sun had become quite warm, and as Julian spoke, he reached down to undo the cuffs of his shirt and roll them back from his wrists.
“Oh, Ju—sir!” Miranda sucked in her breath as she stared at the jagged white scar cutting across his forearm. “Why, that is from a saber?”
“Nought but a scratch,” he muttered, quickly turning back the soft linen.
Her eyes came up to meet his. “And your leg? Was that a saber too?”
“Shrapnel.” he answered curtly as he looked away. The laughter had drained from his face and a faint color rose to his cheeks. “As you see, I’m hardly the man I once was.” His lips twisted in a mocking smile. “Damaged goods.”
Miranda was shocked to hear him speak thus. Never would she have imagined that he, with all the advantages of position and wealth, could feel unsure and even a bit afraid. And yet, all too well she recognized the raw vulnerability beneath the glib words. It betrayed a very different side of the Marquess of Sterling, one that she had hardly expected.
Without thinking, she was moved to respond. “It seems to me, milord, that the man you once were has only changed for the better. The things you refer to are of no real importance at all.”
He looked at her with an intensity in his deep blue eyes that caused her own face to flame. She rose hastily to cover her embarrassment. What had prompted her to say such an idiotic thing, she wondered? No doubt he would think her a fool—or worse.
“It’s getting late. I must go check on Justin.”
She rushed of, leaving the marquess trying to digest all that had been said.
Sykes reinedhis mount to an easy walk, letting the big chestnut hunter cool down from the gallop over the moors. He fell to whistling a lively marching tune as he contemplated the bright blue sky and the scudding clouds?—
“Mr. Sykes?”
Miranda’s tentative greeting jerked him out of his reverie. He drew to a halt and tipped his cap. “Why, good day to you, Mrs.…” There was a noticeable hesitation before he added, “um, … Ransford.”
Her mouth set in a grim line. “It seems that His Lordship has informed you of who I am.”
He nodded.
“Well, I don’t know who else he has seen fit to tell, but I would be grateful for your discretion, at least. I must live in these parts long after you and the marquess have returned to London.”
Sykes slipped from his saddle to walk beside her. “I have never been known for loose lips, my lady. And you may rest assured that His Lordship has no intention of causing any unwanted talk.”
“Ah yes, naturally I appreciate his concern for my reputation.” She immediately regretted her obvious sarcasm. “Forgive me,” she murmured. “That was uncalled for.”
He remained tactfully silent.
