Page 36 of My Wicked Earl
The fingers drummed again.
She raised a brow and waited. When he didn’t respond, Miranda continued.
“So I’m to guess at your motives. Well, I’ve no interest in doing such. So, let’s move on shall we, to your question about Lord Ridley. Lord Ridley and I have been acquainted for several years. He is a viscount, with a lovely estate in Surrey.”
Ridley was attractive with impeccable manners. He was a bit of a dandy and tended to dress somewhat flamboyantly but he insisted on being fashionable. Ridley could also be a bit pompous, but he did find Miranda lovely.
Healsofound Miranda to be a bit of a chatterbox. And since he openly equated chattering with a lack of intelligence, he mostly behaved as if Miranda could not grasp simple concepts. If she were honest, Ridley probably found her dowry as attractive as Miranda herself was, though she cared not to examine that last bit too closely.
A knowing smile crossed the firm lines of his mouth. “He’s managed to gamble away most of his inheritance, I’m told. The duns are beating at his door. Ridley is looking for an heiress.”
“Then you and he have much in common, Lord Kilmaire,” Miranda snapped back, stung at being reminded that Ridley did not want her for herself.
The scar tightened down the length of Colin’s face at her retort. His hands curled into fists on top of his thighs. A savage, freezing look shot from him.
Miranda didn’t care. Not a bit.
“Surely, Lord Kilmaire, my brother has relayed the reason why I have a ratherlimitedfield of suitors. Good God, the entiretonis rife with gossip concerning theincident. One would have to be deaf and dumb,” she gave him a pointed look, “not to have learned about it.” Leaning forward, she peered at him across the coach, no longer interested whether or not she woke her grandmother. “You speak in riddles. You accuse and glare at me as if I were guilty of some offense.” Miranda had spent several sleepless nights trying to determine the source of Colin’s anger towards her. If he thought she would tell Sutton, or anyone, of their previous affection for each other, he was mistaken. Perhaps he assumed she sought to ruin his chances with Lady Helen out of spite. Absurd. Her humiliation was so acute she had difficulty evening admitting to her childish adoration for him. “Do you fear that I would inform my brother of our previous relationship and thus put your relationship with him at risk? Or are you worried I would try to hinder your pursuit of either Lady Helen or Miss Lainscott out of malice?” She gave a short bark of laughter. “Out of nothing more than a regrettable indiscretion? I’m certain I am not the only woman to have experienced such. Besides, I would not wish to harm my own chances of a suitable match. Well not completely, she thought Ridley would likely marry her regardless.
A combative look came over his face. “A regrettable indiscretion?. As you wish.”
“No matter your feelings for me, Lord Kilmaire, I amstillthe sister of the Marquess of Cambourne, a powerful man and your friend. My father went out of his way years ago to assist you in some foolish venture.”
“I owe your father much. And, it was not foolish.”
“I don’t care what it was. Likely it was the only reason youlingeredat Cambourne House so long ago. There was certainly no other compelling reason for you to lurk around London for so long. You’ve made your feelings on that matter abundantly clear.”
Miranda shrank back against the squabs and moved her feet to the wall of the coach, not even wincing as she heard the small sound of her skirts tearing where it caught on his boot.
“I will thank you not to insult me or plague me further with your veiled accusations. I can attend any event in London if I wish to be insulted and provoked. I’ll not endure it in the shelter of my family’s coach.” She shut her eyes, no longer wanting to look at his beautiful, damaged face. Was he so devoid of feeling for her that he found enjoyment in tormenting her?
“Miranda.” The low growl vibrated in the air of the coach. His elegant fingers fluttered against her knee.
She pulled back violently from his touch.
“Leave me be, Lord Kilmaire. I assure you, I am not your concern.”
Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, she turned her attention to the passing countryside, forcing herself to focus on the beauty of the rolling hills. Gray Covington was a large estate. She could avoid Colin until this ill-advised house party was over. She had to, else she might not survive it.
8
CAMBOURNE HOUSE 1830
Miranda giggled in the darkness, the sound echoing down the parquet floor hallway. She should be more careful, but the only witnesses to her laughter were the marbles that littered the hallway of her family’s London town home. Surely, the bust of a former Roman general would not complain.
Mother often traveled abroad to Italy to visit her cousin, Mr. Runyon who lived in Tuscany. Whenever she was gone, various works of art, pottery, sculpture and the like, would arrive on the doorstep of Cambourne House. Sometimes Mother was gone for months.
Father didn’t mind when Mother traveled, in fact Miranda thought he was relieved, although he detested Cousin Archie. In fact, her father barely tolerated her mother. Sutton hadn’t cared for Cousin Archie either.
A small ache crossed her heart. She desperately missed Sutton.
Mother’s Marbles, as Miranda liked to call the statues of Roman gods, and the odd bust of a bewigged gentleman, were exquisite though. Guests to Cambourne House raved about their beauty. Unfortunately, the statues held more warmth than Mother herself did.
Miranda halted her thoughts of her mother and smiled up into the face she loved most in the world. Colin Hartley. She adored him. Worshipped him like the Romans did the statues sprinkled around the hallway. Colin rivaled the beauty of the marbles. The candlelight lovingly caressed the sculpted planes of his beautiful face, while his eyes, the color of a burnt piece of toffee cake that Cook once made for Miranda’s birthday, roamed over her in appreciation.
He caught her around the waist, pressing her up against a small statue of a satyr. The marble was cool against her back.
“You are forever pulling me into a dark corner, Mr. Hartley,” she laughed, nervous and exhilarated at the same time. The most delicious sensation rolled over her skin when Colin looked at her as he did now. “Although I don’t suppose he minds,” she nodded at the satyr who regarded them both with a lascivious grin.
