Page 45 of My Wicked Earl
“IBLAME MYSELF.”Cam continued, his gaze focused on the flames leaping excitedly in the fireplace. “I am the cause of my sister’s unsuitability. I should have protected her and her reputation. My efforts were not successful.”
Colin stopped rolling the glass between his hands. Cam had been in Macao at the time of Miranda’s debut. Missing. Gone heathen. How in the world could he blame himself for a broken engagement to St. Remy, if that were the case? A feeling of unease soured the whiskey in Colin’s stomach. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I should have written you, Colin. Told you what happened, but I didn’t wish to burden you with it. You had your brother’s death and Runshaw Park to contend with. Then,” Cam’s brow wrinkled, “well I just assumed Nick would tell you and I wouldn’t have to.”
“Will you tell me now?” It occurred to Colin that the sadness in his friend’s voice and face could not be because Miranda was the victim of a betrothal gone wrong. This was not about St. Remy.
Before Cam could speak again, a soft scratch came at the door.
“Come.”
A small, compact man marched into the study and executed a precise, exacting bow
before straightening with ramrod precision.
“Lord Cambourne, forgive the interruption.”
“What is it, Zander?”
Zander, the Gray Covington butler, was known far and wide as the most exacting of
masters. He ran the estate with meticulousness that was legendary, much to the envy of many in theton, for no lord’s house was as well staffed or maintained as Gray Covington. The discipline and correctness with which Zander managed the estate of the Marquess of Cambourne would challenge the best of His Majesty’s generals. Close cropped red hair with just a glint of silver surrounded a sharp, but pleasant face. Not so much as a wrinkle was visible on his uniform, nor a spec of dirt. Zander reminded Colin of a toy soldier that had miraculously come to life in order to take command of Gray Covington.
Zander’s age and origin were of great debate. Sutton’s father had hired Zander years ago, claiming the diminutive man was from Brussels. The Dowager, however, insisted Zander was of Russian descent. Cam claimed the butler hailed from a small town in France. Regardless of his background, Zander was intensely loyal to the Cambourne family, with the exception of the former marchioness, , a woman who was not missed by the staff of Gray Covington, or anyone else.
“My lord, Lady Cambourne requests your presence,urgently. Lord and Lady Cottingham, along with their daughter, have arrived from London. And Lady Dobson,” a small note of distaste crept into his voice as if it pained him to say the name, “is,” he paused searching for the right word, “roaming about.”
“Good God. Lady Dobson is wandering through the halls of Gray Covington without supervision? Please inform Lady Cambourne that reinforcements are on their way.”
“Very good, my lord,” Zander snapped his heels together and bowed again.
“And Ridley? Zander, where have you put him?” Cam leaned in to Colin. “It’s times like this that I wish my father had a guest cottage built.”
Zander’s face remained as smooth as glass, but Colin noticed the small tic in the butler’s cheek at the whereabouts of Miranda’s suitor.
“I personally saw to his comfort, my lord and have shown him to a lovely room in theeastwing.”
Colin lips twitched in amusement at Ridley’s plight. Zander placed the viscount in the little used east wing, as far from the family’s suite of rooms, and Miranda, as possible. The Cambourne’s only ever put their least welcome guests there as the rooms all faced away from the magnificent gardens. It would take Ridley at least ten minutes to reach the main part of the house from his chambers.
“Very good, Zander.”
The butler bowed, twisting his head to give his employer a rather pointed look.
Lady Cambourne’s instructions were clear it seemed, and the marquess was not to delay in following them. Zander strode from the study and in a telling move, refrained from shutting the doors behind him.
“Not very subtle, is he?” Cam said. “Alex probably threatened him with a lack of starch for his shirts. He always lookspressedas if someone took a large hot iron to his entire form.”
“About Miranda, you were going to tell me what happened.” Truthfully, Colin was rather desperate to know, and he certainly couldn’t ask Miranda. Not after her anger in the coach.
“Later,” Cam set down his glass, running a hand through his hair as he stood. “If you’d ever seen Alex in a temper than you would know that it is in my best interests to hurry to her side. I’ve faced down a Chinese warlord and felt less fear.”
10
Helping himself to a glass of wine, Colin winced with distaste as he took a sip.French. Probably expensive. Still tastes like sour fruit.He’d never developed a taste for the stuff, though he dutifully tried. He preferred whiskey or even brandy, but neither was currently being served in the drawing room.
After Zander’s interruption earlier in the day, he’d had no time to resume his conversation with Cam. The Marquess of Cambourne had dutifully gone to fulfill his responsibilities as host. After being introduced to the Cottinghams and barely sparing them more than a cursory glance, Colin excused himself. He was not presentable, he explained, after the journey and needed to retire to his rooms before dinner.
Secretly, Colin wished to catch a glimpse of Miranda. And unlike Ridley, Colin’s chamberswerein the family wing.
