Page 39 of The Major's Mistake
Good Lord, she would have thought that seven years—each and every day punctuating the wrongs she had suffered—would be enough to inure her to the mere superficial charms of ahandsome face. Surely she was not so foolish as to imagine there was any real warmth behind the fleeting expression.
And surely she wasn’t so foolish as to allow any flame to rekindle in her own breast. She would only end up badly burned once again.
Still, Miranda couldn’t help but think on vignettes of her erstwhile husband and their son. He appeared to truly care for the boy, and for that she felt a rush of happiness. They made a touching picture together—the dark locks, the shape of the chin, the color of the eyes, one so reminiscent of the other. She had feared ever having to share Justin with him, but rather than feel diminished in any way, she found it only brought her greater satisfaction. And there was no doubt it was the best thing for their son.
But what of her?Was this reacquaintance the best thing for her?
There was no question that the Marquess of Sterling had thrown her emotions into a welter. She must learn to steady her resolve and not let his presence affect her so.
Yet even with that admonition, she found she could not tear her thoughts away from him quite so easily. His recent behavior had been so … confusing. Though she knew it could not be so, it was almost as if there still existed a shred of tenderness towards her. At times, he had seemed to truly care—about her well-being, her hopes, her fears, her future.
Nonsense! she cajoled herself. She mustn’t mistake a sense of duty for anything more meaningful. He would feel honorbound to see his son cared for properly, and if that meant he must evince a concern for her, he would do so, no matter how onerous he found it. The past afternoon had made that only too clear. He had pressed such a generous gift as the gray filly on her so that Justin would be sure to have proper supervision in his rides.
If he had seemed hurt by her refusal to accept the magnificent animal, it was only because his pride was wounded, not his heart. She could be sure of it because that was a feeling she knew all too well.
She shook her head, as if such action could banish the lurking image of that brief, fleeting smile. Now what could explain that? Her lips curled upward in self mockery. Mere illusion, she answered herself. She was simply giving way to flights of fancy to imagine there was any special meaning there.
After all, he had certainly not found it difficult to take his leave of them. She couldn’t stop from wondering what why he had rushed off so abruptly. Had he an engagement for which he must not be late? Perhaps he was entertaining guests for the evening? Her mind drifted off, imagining the trill of laughter over dinner, the clink of crystal, the shimmer of silk and jewels in candlelight.
And the tilt of a lovely face, hanging on his every word.
Despite his denial, she couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t remarry. She read the papers from London and was not so far removed from Society that she couldn’t decipher what was said between the lines. He was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the realm and had could have his pick of any lady he wished.
What possible reason could he have for not choosing a bride from among them?
And why did the notion of it make her feel so?—
“Miranda?”
A candle glimmered near the open door and Lady Thornton stepped softly into the room. “Is something wrong, child?”
Miranda gave a wan smile. “Only the fact that I am a bigger fool than I imagined,” she murmured.
Her aunt took a seat in the facing armchair. “And why is that?” she asked slowly, her keen eyes taking in the hint of wetness on her niece’s cheeks.
“I … I fear that of late I cannot help but let thoughts of … His Lordship disturb my sleep. I had thought I was well over such foolishness.”
It was some moments before Lady Thornton made any reply. “I can’t help but find myself agreeing with your first assessment—but not for the reasons you think.”
Miranda looked up in shocked surprise. “Whatever do you mean?”
Again, there was a long silence before Lady Thornton spoke. “I think, my dear, that perhaps it is best if I leave it to you to puzzle out my meaning. You seem to be doing a good amount of thinking on the matter already and I have no doubt that your innate good sense will eventually win out.”
“But—”
Lady Thornton raised her hand. “You know quite well my feelings about meddling in another’s personal life. I vowed from the beginning I would not seek to influence your feelings. I have always felt that it must be you, and you alone, who decide what is right for you. And much as it has been difficult at times, I have abided by that promise to myself. I see no reason to change now.”
Miranda looked rather dazed. “But—you truly think me a fool?”
Lady Thornton relented only enough to say one last thing. “I think it foolish to refuse to consider that things are not always as they seem. I also think it foolish to mistake stubborn pride for reason.” She gathered her heavy silk wrapper closer to her frail form and rose from the chair. “And now if you will excuse me, this foolish old lady is feeling very sleepy. I shall see you in the morning.”
It was quite some time before Miranda rose and made her way back to bed.
There wasno clink of crystal at supper the follow evening, only that of cut glass, and the light caught only muslin and the simple chain of garnets at Lady Thornton’s throat rather than figured silk and cut emeralds.
Miranda almost smiled to herself as she took a sip of wine and regarded the marquess from across the simple pine table as he conversed with his aunt. No doubt the evening was as different from those to which he had become used to as chalk was to cheese, but he seemed to be keeping any dismay he might have felt at the simple surroundings well hidden. She, too, had managed to mask her own unsettled emotions enough to appear outwardly unaffected by his presence at the supper table.
If truth be told, she was not as indifferent as she appeared. Despite all efforts to convince herself otherwise, she had actually been looking forward to his visit. The sound of his stallion’s hooves on the drive had only echoed the quickening of her own heart. Why, she could not begin to explain.
