Page 39 of Refining the Debutante
Ethan tried to see thebest in people; only once had such an endeavor brought him ill will. Being kind to Miranda had awakened his attraction for her, making him vulnerable to her manipulative ways. He only wanted to help her, but without realizing it, he had found himself in an awkward position.
While her silly declaration about wanting to live forever at Stonebrook Hall was said in jest, others were whispering. And why not? His own parents would surely object to an association with Miss Bartley. Heaven forbid they discover the identity of their houseguest. Fortunately, those in their neighborhood seemed unconnected with the Bartley family, buying them all a little time to rectify the situation.
Not that he hadn’t begun to entertain ideas of his own. The woman was far too beautiful for her own good—or, rather, his. He was a fool to think she had changed because of her reduced circumstances. The night before, Miranda had acted much like she had at past parties—like a diamond of the first water—primarily concerned with her own well-being.
Ethan groaned, realizing how easily he had been sucked in. Back in Folkestone, he’d believed Miranda to be different, but apparently one’s character needed far more time and opportunity to change than she had been given. His friend Stephen had hinted that their peers had mocked Ethan for his generosity. He could see now why a soft heart could be construed as a weakness. He had even begun to crave chocolate with his breakfast.
“Dear Brother, you seem ill at ease this morning,” Jane said, waltzing into their father’s study, where he had been hiding. “Might I guess the source of this dark mood?”
Ethan scowled at her. “Not today, Jane. Are you not needed elsewhere?”
“I am needed in a great many places. You are fortunate I choose to be here, eager to hear your woes.” She floated into the seat across from him and tossed the long, thick curl that hung from her bun over her shoulder.
Ethan gave her a bored look and drummed his fingers across the mahogany desk. “Fortunatewould not be my word choice. Perhaps ill-fated?”
“How dare you!” Jane drew up her shoulders. “I’m going to write to Father and tell him straightaway of your rudeness!”
“And I shall write and tell our parents of your haughtiness,” Ethan countered. Then he heaved a great sigh. “Come, let us not do this right now. As you have said, I am in a mood.”
“This is all Miranda’s fault.” Jane folded her arms across her chest. “You never should have welcomed her here. She has put you against me. She ruined the party last night. I believe she is beginning to get to Hannah too. Really, she must go.”
Ethan didn’t meet her gaze. “Very well.”
“What?” Jane blinked rapidly. “Did you just agree with me?”
“I never agree with you,” Ethan clarified. “I simply meant that it would be prudent for Miranda to leave.”
Jane’s expression turned almost gleeful, and she clapped her hands. “Wonderful! I want her gone by teatime.”
Ethan was already exhausted by this conversation. “I am not pushing her out the door and throwing her trunk out after her. Give me a little time to look for an alternate situation.”
Jane stood with a pout. “Very well, but please hurry. Captain Grant just left here, and I will expire if a romance develops between them.”
“Gladly. Now, leave me in peace for a while. I need time to figure this out.”
Ethan dropped his head on the desk and moaned. He had rid himself of Miranda once before, and now he must do it a second time.
He lifted his head once the grain of the wood felt like it was making an impression on his forehead, and he caught sight of a piece of stationery addressed to him. Ah! Here was the solution to not just one but two of his problems.
* * *
“I have found a position for you,” Ethan said to Miranda a mere two days after the dinner party. His expression was guarded, but Miranda observed his heavy-handedness with the salt on his eggs as a sign of his discomfort.
She had prepared herself for this, but still she had to school her features. “What sort of position?”
“A lady’s companion. I think you will find the position offers many of the comforts you enjoy—Society, pretty dresses, and even a chance to secure a reputable husband.”
His aloofness rubbed her wrong.
“You have thought of everything,” Miranda said. She had been foolish to think he had softened toward her at all. Like the boys he helped at the reform school, she was just another project.
Ethan scratched at the back of his neck. “Not everything, just the position and the carriage ride to deliver you there.”
“Where exactly is it?”
“Not five miles from here, at Crowfield. My mother wrote to me explaining Lady Callister’s need for a companion. She is a widow of some years, and her children are often too far away to be of assistance. I think you will take to each other with time. In fact, I think the situation is quite providential.”
Miranda wanted clarification. Was it providential she was leaving Stonebrook Hall or that she would be only five miles away? Relief battled worry, and the worry won.
