Page 87 of My Wicked Earl
My goodness, she’d forgotten how Colin sounded when that carefully controlled upper-class accent slipped. He’d need to be reminded to mind his speech when agitated or angry. No one, including Colin, should ever suspect he wasn’t exactly who he appeared to be. That particular revelation, however, could be saved for another time.
“St. Remy?” Alex sat back on the settee, regarding Colin as if he were a dangerous animal. “Oh, you mean the Duke of Langford. Why should Miranda ever have been interested in him?”
“You are the only person, Lord Kilmaire, to assume my granddaughter ever betrothed herself to Lord St. Remy.”
“The Duke of Langford.” Alex corrected.
Donata nodded. “Just so.”
Pushing back the thick strands of honey-colored hair, Colin scowled a bit more. He was altogether quite handsome, especially when he looked a bit anguished as he did now. While Colin was certainly aware that the female sex found him attractive, he had not a hint of the conceit her grandson did. Any woman seeing him at this moment would do whatever necessary to comfort him.
Except Donata. She felt he needed a stern hand just now.
“Don’t you dare frown atme, Lord Kilmaire. Nor behave in such an impolite manner or I will have you removed.” Donata adored Colin, but she would not tolerate his rude outburst, nor his scowling. She was trying to help him.
“Was she?”
“Tell me why you would think such a thing. Surely, it did not come from Miranda’s lips.”
Colin looked away, refusing to meet Donata’s eyes.
“Miranda never betrothed herself to St. Remy or, for that matter, anyone else. At the end of her first Season, she declined all offers for her hand and her father supported the decision. Her mother was livid as I recall. Jeanettewishedher to marry St. Remy, but there was never an agreement of any sort.”
“The Duke of Langford,” Alex muttered into her tea. Her eyes on Colin were not especially kind.
Colin turned to face them. He looked sobeautifullydistraught. That urge to comfort him rose up in her again and Donata pushed it aside.
“That’s impossible,” he choked. “She wrote me a letter telling me she wished to be a duchess.”
“I don’t believe it. Miranda detested the man.” Calmly, Donata sipped her tea as if Colin weren’t raging about the room. “You’ll forgive me for saying, Lord Kilmaire, but I fail to see who Miranda was or was not betrothed to could possibly be of interest to you. Especially now, when you are about to offer for Lady Helen.”
“I saw it in her own hand.”
“Impossible,” Donata thumped her cane for emphasis. “You say you received a letter. So be it. But are you positive it was Miranda who wrote it?”
“She told me she wished to be a duchess,” he insisted.
“I still do not know why this interests you-”
“Of course, youdo.” A stricken look fell over his face. “That’s why we’re all here at this house party, isn’t it?” His lips tightened. “Please. I need to know.”
“Very well.” Donata ignored his accusation knowing that he would forgive her machinations. Eventually. “You are sure that you would recognize Miranda’s hand if you saw it?”
The blonde head nodded. “I should not ever forget it. I remember every flourish.”
“Alex, I believe that Miranda was writing to Arabella just the other day in this very room.” Donata waved a hand towards the small desk hidden discreetly in an alcove. Donata often wrote her correspondence there as well for the position of the desk offered a lovely view of the gardens. “Let Lord Kilmaire see if this letter is written in the same hand he remembers.”
“Of course.” Alex rose and quickly made her way to the delicate mahogany desk and opened the top. The sound of shuffling papers echoed through the room until Alex held up a creamy piece of vellum. She looked down at it and nodded. “Her signature is at the bottom.”
Colin stood frozen as Alex approached Donata and held out the paper.
Donata examined the letter. “It’s to Arabella. That and her signature is all I can decipher.” She sighed and handed the letter to Colin. “You are so incredibly stubborn, Colin. Refusing to see what is before you.”
A mulish expression crossed his face, pulling the scar down in an ugly line. He took the letter from Donata, his expression never changing though his fingers trembled.
“Far from elegant, wouldn’t you say? Barely legible in fact. Miranda is naturally left-handed. Jeanette didn’t care to have a left-handed daughter and forced Miranda to use her right. Did she write to you of her desire to be a duchess in this hand, Colin?”
“No,” he whispered. “It was Jeanette, wasn’t it?” His skin went deathly pale as he shut his eyes. “Jesus.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I always thought she was too good for me. I saw her with St. Remy, dancing. I knew he called on her repeatedly. Miranda was so young and I thought…What have I done?”
