Page 5 of The Major's Mistake
Lady Thornton couldn’t refrain from wrapping her in a tight hug. “My dearest Miranda,” she whispered. “I don’t think I have ever been prouder of you.”
It was a few moments before either of them could speak. Then Lady Thornton fumbled for a handkerchief in the pocket of her gown and blew her nose rather loudly. “Well, I saw Angusis waiting with the gig. Best be off so that you’ll be back before dark.”
Miranda nodded, not trusting her voice. She took up the pile of papers and tucked them under her arm, bestowing a quick peck to her great aunt’s cheek as she left the room.
The gig was indeed waiting outside, the shaggy Highland pony harnessed in its traces nearly dwarfed by the tall, burly man who stood holding its bridle. At the sound of the door falling shut, he turned, a hearty smile spreading across his broad face. His beefy hand ran through his unruly blond locks as he dipped his head in greeting.
“Hello, Angus. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I shall never be able to make all the visits I would like if I go on foot.”
He reached out and took the willow basket from her hands. “Tain’t no trouble at all, Lady Miranda. I wish you would let me take ye more often. It’s not right fer a wee slip o’ a lassie like you te be trudging over these rough hills with such a heavy load. Wear yerself right down te the bone, ye do.”
Miranda tucked her head to hide a smile. With her tall, willowy form, she couldn’t remember ever having been referred to as a ‘wee slip.’ But then again, to Angus, most everyone looked rather small. “I thank you for your concern, but I truly enjoy walking. I have grown to love the moors and the wild beauty of the lochs and the colors of the heather and gorse.”
He helped her into the gig and spread a coarse woolen blanket over her lap. “You’re never dressed warm enough either.” With a shake of the reins he urged the pony into a brisk trot. “If ye like it here, why do ye have to go down … there?” A jerk of his massive head indicated the direction of the English border.
“Because Lady Sophia has inherited her childhood home and wishes to live there once again.” Her voice tightened. “Andremember, my son is English. He must, at some time, learn his heritage.”
Angus nodded slowly. “Well, I suppose those be fair enough reasons.” He slanted her a sideways glance as he guided the gig around a tight corner. “But I can see ye ain’t overly happy about it.”
She picked at a bit of chaff caught on the blanket. “My feelings are not important. After all the kindness Aunt Sophia has shown to me, it is the very least I can do for her.”
“Aye, then.” His eyes narrowed. “Well, all of us know there ain’t a disloyal bone in yer body, m’lady.”
The color rose to Miranda’s cheeks.
“I’m sorry if I’ve said something to put ye to blush. It’s?—”
“No, it’s quite all right.” She took a deep breath and sought to deflect the conversation away from herself. “But what of you, Angus? You should not feel in the least obliged to uproot yourself from here. You have more than repaid any debt you might feel you owe to us.”
Miranda paused as she recalled the night nearly five years ago when she had spied the half-starved young man poaching rabbits in the neighboring squire’s wood. Hunger had driven him to be careless and the gamekeeper was quick to have him at gunpoint. She had acted without even thinking. The evidence disappeared into her basket before the two men returned to the traps. Without any real proof, and with her assertions that the stranger was their new groom, merely helping her forage for herbs, the squire was forced to let the matter drop.
“Well, seeing as I ain’t from around here, it don’t make too much difference to me. Jem and Ian feel the same.” He grinned. “And the way I figure it, England is a whole lot closer than the South Seas where by all rights is where I should be, save fer ye, Lady Miranda.”
She couldn’t hide her look of relief. “As I said, any debt you might feel you owed me has been paid long ago, but I am most happy to hear your decision. We should have missed you, especially Justin. You have been extremely kind to him, and believe me, I know how trying a boy of that age can be at times.”
“Oh, nay, he’s a good bairn, he is. No trouble at all.” A sudden chuckle erupted from his throat. “But what are ye going to do with all them creatures he’s got collected? Be a mite difficult to take them along.”
Miranda laughed as well. “Indeed, I convinced him that Mr. Toad and the rest of his menagerie will be much happier foregoing a long carriage journey. And I have promised that he may find a number of new friends when we reach England.”
The gig stopped in front of a stone crofter’s cottage, and Miranda climbed down to deliver a recipe for warding off chilblains, as well as a fond goodbye to a wizened little woman with several skinny grandchildren clinging to her woolen skirts.
She was heading off to a new life and leaving the past behind her.
Or was she?
As the laststrains of the waltz died away, Julian moved even deeper into the shadows cast by the arrangement of potted palms and took another long swallow of champagne. He watched the elegantly dressed crowd move across the polished parquet to exchange partners as well as the latest tidbits of gossip. The vast ballroom, aglow with the light of a myriad of candles glinting off the costly silks and jewels, echoed with the trill of laughter and the lively notes of the violins and cellos adjusting their tune to the next melody. A mood of heady gaietyseemed to float in the air, along with the lush scent of mixed roses and wisteria.
So why, he wondered, did it all leave him feeling rather flat.
“Good Lord, Julian, your expression is nearly as black as that fine set of evening clothes you’re wearing. Don’t Weston’s well-tailored creations feel a damn sight more comfortable than sweatstained regimentals?” The gentleman who appeared at the Marquess’s side took a sip from his own glass as he surveyed the crowd. “I would have thought you would be enjoying the delights civilization has to offer, now that you are back.”
Julian pulled a face. “You call matchmaking mamas and breathless chits fresh from the schoolroom a delight?”
Lord Atwater gave a chuckle. “Ah, is that what has driven you into hiding? My title is neither so august nor my pockets so plump that I would know of such things.”
“Well, you may take satisfaction from the fact you are doing something useful, Fitzwilliam.” He gestured towards the swirling dancers. “I can’t help but find the interests of most of those present so ….” Julian’s voice trailed off as his mouth compressed into a tight line. “How goes it at the Home Office?” he asked abruptly. “At least with you, I can expect to have an intelligent conversation.”
His friend shot him a look of concern before answering. “Don’t take what I am about to say amiss, my friend, but I’m concerned about the note of cynicism I hear in your words. During the time we were together under Wellesley, I always admired your good sense, as well as your courage.”
