Page 6 of Refining the Debutante
It irked him to no end how Jane had helped herself to his private papers and had seen such revealing details. “Plans change.” Ethan pulled on his cloak. She might be staying, but he was leaving.
“You despise change,” Jane said. “Besides, why alter a course set for success?”
Ethan pulled at the cravat his valet always tied insufferably tight, no matter how many times he insisted otherwise. How could he explain to his sister? There had been a million little reasons for his decision. He knew women in Miranda’s station often refrained from participating in discussions of worldly topics such as political or economic struggles, but the final straw had been her complete ignorance and lack of human sympathy for those affected by the rioting around England. News of the Ely and Littleport riots, and the subsequent deaths, had reached their ears the morning of their last carriage ride. It was the talk of thetonin every drawing room, and Ethan knew Miranda had at least overheard the gossipmongers at Gunter’s tearoom discussing the report. Yet all she could speak about was her silly bonnet.
Jane would never understand. He folded his arms across his chest. “Perhaps I am wise enough to acknowledge when a course correction is needed.”
“Oh, get off your high horse and see reason.” Jane slumped into a chair by his bed in a very unladylike fashion. “I need Miranda to help me find a husband. What if she abandons me now that you are no longer interested in her?”
“Jane,” Ethan huffed. “She cares for your friendship. That won’t happen.”
Jane’s mouth turned down into a pout, an expression saved for when she spoke to her family. “It is so unfair. Why can you not find peace with her? She adores you, and you recently adored her. I know you consider yourself too principled a man to prize your bachelorhood over a woman’s good name. What happened?”
“Ididcare for her.” More than he could even admit. He stopped in the doorway and rested his hand heavily on the post. “But it was not a good fit. Surely you cannot argue away a man’s conscience.”
“What man today has a conscience?” Jane put her hand over her eyes. “If you insist on being a gentleman, don’t misapply it.”
Ethan’s scowl deepened; he knew her surliness was her way of coping with the situation, but he found he had little patience for her under the circumstances. It wasn’t just Miranda’s heart breaking. “Maybe that is a failing in your sight, but not for me. When you are ready, please see yourself out.” He spun on his heel and marched down the single flight of stairs, right by his sister’s maid, and through the front door. To his relief, he found his horse saddled and waiting for him. He wasn’t walking away from his problems. Fleeing, more like. But a man of conscience had a level of pride. There was no way he would face anyone after jilting Miranda. Besides, he had more important matters on his mind—like saving lives.
Chapter 3
July 1816
Dancing normally cheered Miranda, butnone of her partners pleased her—too boisterous, too short, or too desperate. She moved to a corner of the room where she would have a moment of respite. It was a miracle she had secured an invitation to the duke’s ball at Grosvenor Square, and this was her last opportunity to salvage her reputation. What was wrong with her tonight? Had she eaten something that disagreed with her? As she looked over the glittering ballroom, she knew the answer. It was Ethan. His hurtful departure over a month before still felt fresh in her mind.
Jane, who had become her dearest friend, saw her escape and came to her side. She lifted her fan to hide her words. “First, Lord Byron and Beau Brummell flee England, and soon you will be gone too.”
Miranda sighed. “It is already July. With Parliament at an end, you and most of Society will be leaving London anyway.”
“I suppose,” Jane said, “but a tour of Europe will keep you away from London for two whole years! There will be no one to talk about or talk to when my family returns from Stonebrook. It’s cast a pall over the party tonight, and I know I am not the only one to feel it.” Jane’s dark hair gleamed in the low light, reminding Miranda of Ethan with his similar coloring.
“Others missing my society is precisely the point,” Miranda explained. “It will make my return all the sweeter.” Besides, she needed to get away... to forget. She had never been one for making plans, but this seemed like the best course under the circumstances. Thankfully, it had not taken much begging to get her father to agree.
“If only my brother were here.” Jane’s lips turned down into a pout. “I have written to him twice a day since he left. You are going to be snatched up, and we will never be sisters. If he loves me at all, he will come back and marry you. How you must despise me! I swear—”
“Jane, stop!” Every reference to Ethan felt like salt to her wound.“Some-one might hear you, and then what? Your brother was...” She paused, pushing back the deep hurt creeping into her voice. “Not who I thought he was, but our friendship will not suffer because of it. I will secure someone else’s affection, and just like I promised, I will help you win over whomever you choose. Your husband will be a rich Adonis.”
Jane seemed to hang on her every word, and Miranda couldn’t understand how such a beautiful woman could be so lacking in confidence. Jane could find a husband without Miranda’s help, but she would never believe it. Her presence felt smothering now and again, but moments like this made Miranda grateful for a true friend.
“We can’t let anything hold us back, Jane.” Miranda realized now why women schemed and plotted for suitors. She had failed abysmally that dark evening of the card party, but she had learned her lesson. She would not fail twice. She put up her fan like Jane, but it gave her pause. She had taught Ethan the secret language of the fan, and they had shared many laughs through the subtle gestures. A sudden onslaught of tears threatened to break her composure. She would be strong tomorrow. Tonight, however, she was not quite ready for matrimonial games.
With a subtle hint or two to the right gentleman, Miranda sent Jane off to dance and made her escape. She found her father in a back room playing cards and reaching for a drink.
“Papa, I feel a headache coming on.” She looked at him pointedly.
“Oh, ah...” Her father wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Give your father a few minutes, and I will see you home.”
With her emotions shredding to pieces, she wanted to demand they leave immediately, but something was off. She felt the awkward stares before she saw them. “Of course, Papa.” She retreated outside the game room and heaved a sigh.
Several minutes passed, and her father came out pale and wiping his forehead again.
“Are you well?” Miranda laid her hand on his arm.
“Well enough.” Her father shrugged off her touch. “It’s that blasted volcanic eruption in the Dutch East Indies last year that ruined all my crops. Nothing has been right in the world since then. Not the weather, not the circumstance, not my luck. Never mind, dear, let’s return home.”
She welcomed her father’s comforting arm. She wished she could blame her mood on a volcano, but it was a broken heart that had blown her world off its axis. Neither one of them would be happy until they left Town. The sooner they were on their tour of Europe, the better.
* * *
