Page 18 of My Wicked Earl
“I’ve taken to heart your very specific needs, Lord Kilmaire and given the whole of itverycareful consideration. It’s a bit late in the Season, of course, but that will likely only make things easier in some respect.”
A small choke sounded from Miranda.
“I appreciate your efforts, Lady Cambourne.”
“Youshould. I am known far and wide for my matchmaking skills.”
Another sound emanated from Miranda. It sounded as if she were being strangled.
“Why, did you know that a steady stream of young ladies and their mothers consult with me on a regular basis? My opinion is relied upon in these matters.”
“Grandmother, please excuse me as it appears you and Lord Kilmaire have business to discuss.” Miranda stood, frowning as several crumbs rolled down her dress to dot the carpet around her stocking feet. She bent and reached for her discarded slippers.
“Nonsense, Miranda. Do sit. I feel certain you can be of assistance to Lord Kilmaire as well.” Donata winked at Colin. “After all,whobetter? I feel she owes you.”
A small thump sounded as Miranda sat back down forcefully against the couch cushions. The slippers slid from her hands. “I—”
“I am not aware of any debt that Lady Miranda may have incurred.” Colin’s gaze, the color of molten chocolate, wandered over Miranda, following the path of an errant curl moving against her bodice. He seemed oddly fascinated by it.
“Do you not recall, Lord Kilmaire, how Miranda used to trot after you at Gray Covington? It was good of you to indulge her. After all, she could be quite a nuisance. You were so kind to her, chattering little sprite that she was. Do you not remember when she made you a crown? Declared you her prince?”
Miranda was beginning to turn an alarming shade of red.
“I believe her adoration was not for me but for the pastries I stole for her from the cook at Gray Covington, my lady.”
Donata ignored him. “And, I do recall, during her own first Season, when you offered your assistance in escorting her about to the Royal Museum in order to view,” Donata fluttered her hand, “somethingancientwhen no one else offered.”
“A mummy.” Colin murmured.
Miranda blinked, clutching the book she held tighter.
“Howkind. I believe you endured a boring lecture or two as well.”
Donata leaned over her cane and leaned towards Colin. “No doubt you refused many more interesting invitations in order to squire Miranda about. Now it is her turn to offeryou,assistance. High time. After all it is a debt many years in the making.” Donata put her finger to her lip as if she couldn’t quite remember, which of course was ridiculous. She remembered everything. “Three years does seem to go by in the blink of an eye.”
“Six.” Colin’s gaze never moved from Miranda and that dangling curl. “Begging your pardon, Lady Cambourne.”
Was there a hint of anguish in his answer?
Miranda squared her shoulders and turned away, suddenly absorbed by the rain pelting the Cambourne garden.
Donata nodded and gripped the head of her cane. “My word, so long ago? I’m afraid that’s one of the failings of old age, the days and months roll into one another so quickly. Of course, my own debut feels as if it were just yesterday. My father, the Duke of Shefford, sought to marry me off at the beginning of the Season, before I’d even enjoyed myself. But my mother wouldn’t have it.” She winked at Colin. “Oh, how I danced. The drawing room of our house on Mayfield Square was full to bursting with my suitors. As a duke’s daughter I had my pick, of course. The Marquess of Cambourne pressed his suit most forcefully and the match was advantageous. A duke’s daughter and the owner of an ancient title like Cambourne. Two powerful houses combined. Such are the makings of a successful marriage.”
Lord Kilmaire shot her a look of what one could politely call resignation. “Your assistance is deeply appreciated, Lady Cambourne. With all that has happened—”
“Yes. You’ve stayed away from your duty for far too long, Lord Kilmaire. First brooding at your kin’s house in Ireland … ”
“Not brooding. Uncle Gerald took me in after a disagreement with my father.”
“Slaving away like a common day laborer.”
“Since I expected never to inherit, I thought it best to learn a trade.”
“Sheep farming.” She could not keep the distaste from the words. The thought of this handsome earl before her shoveling sheep dung was beyond her comprehension.
“Farming is an honorable profession.”
“Humph. An earl does not work with his hands. He has tenants which do such for him.”
