Page 62 of My Wicked Earl
Miranda.So brave. And apparently an expert marksman.A surge of protectiveness mixed with pride rose in his chest.
“Don’t you find her a bitflightly?” Ridley chuckled.
Ridley was oblivious to a great many things, including the fact that his life was currently in danger.
“Not in the least.”
“No? She’s always insisting on dragging me to lectures on topics far above any woman’s knowledge. I believe she is just parroting Lord Cambourne when she relates such tales to me. Her incessant chattering is like the buzzing of a thousand gnats in my ear. I fear I shall grow quite deaf once we’re wed.” Ridley frowned as the movement of his arm spilled a bit of the whiskey on his lap. He cursed under his breath.
“So, you are certain that Lady Miranda will accept you?”
“Yes. I told you. I’m her best choice.” He winked at Colin and reached into his pocket for a tin of peppermints. “Do you really think she wants to marry that old reprobate Hamill? She’s just attempting to make me jealous.” Popping a peppermint into his mouth he stood rather drunkenly and set his glass on a side table.
Colin regarded Ridley blandly, careful to conceal the revulsion he felt. There was absolutely no way in hell Colin would allow Miranda to marry this revolting, gold-digging dandy.
“Good evening, Lord Kilmaire. If you’ll excuse me, I must speak to Lord Cambourne before I retire.”
The viscount steadied himself against the arm of the chair while he ran his hands down his arms, releasing the small wrinkles in his coat. Moving a bit gingerly, as if to maintain his balance, Ridley moved towards Cam, Welles, and Carstairs.
“Whiskey,” Colin hissed to a nearby servant. “This time, just bring the bottle.”
14
“Don’t you think so, Lady Miranda?”
Truthfully, Miranda had no idea what Lady Dobson was speaking about. Her thoughts were on Colin and the way he’d looked at her over dinner. She hadn’t imagined the heat that flowed between them. But what did it mean?
Lady Dobson bestowed a toothy smile on Miranda, her turban dipping slightly as she nodded her head.
Miranda watched the turban tilt, silently begging the headgear to slide.
“I was saying that it is gratifying thatthisEarl of Kilmaire,” Lady Dobson trilled, “will not seek a bride from Ireland. The former earl as well as several of his predecessors showed an odd preference for women who were not English. Highly unusual.”
She winced as Grandmother pinched her forearm. “Indeed, Lady Dobson.”
“You’ve known Lord Kilmaire since you were a child. What traits do you think he values in a future wife?”
“I – well that is to say – Lord Kilmaire values intelligence.” Miranda spared a glance for Lady Helen who sat with her hands clasped demurely, a distant look in her cornflower blue eyes.
I bet she’s thinking of birds. Or feathers. Or possibly nests and eggs. She’s really rather strange.
Miranda bestowed a polite smile on Lady Dobson.
“Yes.” Lady Dobson smiled again. “And, Margaret,” she patted her niece’s hand, “has that in spades. I did despair that her love of books would prove a detriment. It is a happy occurrence that it will not.”
Miss Lainscott flinched slightly from her aunt’s touch, though her face remained passive.
Lady Cottingham pursed her lips, rising to Lady Dobson’s challenge. “He has promised Helen a walk so that she may introduce him to the joys of birdwatching. Isn’t that right, my dear?”
Lady Helen nodded, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Heinsisted,Lady Dobson, on assisting me in my search for the ruby-throated thrush. I’m told the thrush lives in the woods surrounding Gray Covington.”
Lady Dobson’s nostrils flared. “How lovely. I know that several gentlemen have mentioned to me how they’ve enjoyed birdwatching with you.”
A small puff of disbelief came out of Lady Cottingham at the comment.
Lady Helen paled slightly, but she lifted her chin defiantly.
Lady Dobson continued in a mellow voice, knowing her barb had met its mark. “Have I mentioned Margaret’s talent at the piano forte? She will showcase her talent for us tomorrow evening.”
