Page 60 of Refining the Debutante
Miss Withers reached for the dress closest to her. “These are stunning.”
“Yes, I know,” Miranda said. “I have expensive taste, and my father lived to indulge me. There will be a few subtle changes to styles this Season, but these are still the latest and greatest, in my opinion.”
“I agree,” Miss Withers said, fingering a pretty yellow ball gown—Miranda’s favorite. “But I cannot borrow one. You saw what happened.”
“I saw a complete accident,” Miranda argued.
Miss Withers turned to face her head-on. “Why would you do this? I was convinced you did not care for me in the slightest. We are not even friends.”
Miranda ducked her head for a moment. Ethan had been ever so right about her. Miss Withers could see the truth just as plainly as he had. “Please, do me the honor of wearing one of my dresses.” Had her icy heart thawed a little? She actually wanted to see how beautiful Miss Withers would look in her favorite buttercup ball gown. “This one. You and I are similar in size. I imagine it will complement your coloring perfectly.”
Miss Withers looked cautious but finally gave a nod of acceptance. Once she changed, they returned downstairs. Several oohed and awed over the dress. Miranda stepped back into the corridor, content to let Miss Withers shine without stealing any attention for herself.
“That was very kind of you,” Ethan said, stepping into the passage with her.
“Did you find Hannah?” Miranda asked, sidestepping his compliment.
“She is in the carriage, absolutely mortified. That blasted Captain Grant whipped her around so fast that her light frame spun right into the server. I would not be surprised if she refused a Season altogether. You know her shyness.”
Miranda nodded. “I am sorry to hear it.”
“Jane is saying her goodbyes. We are to leave for London the day after tomorrow. I received a letter from Mother before we left for the ball, urging us to hurry. She is impatient to oversee last-minute preparations for Hannah’s debut.”
“Oh,” Miranda said quietly. Only one more day. Lady Callister had said they wouldn’t leave for another week. “I wish you luck, then.”
Ethan’s somber face matched hers. He stared at her for a moment, then reached down and ever so softly took her gloved hands in his own. A touch so light and gentle should not stir Miranda, but it did. Her heart pounded in her chest.
“I was wrong about you,” Ethan said softly. “Unforgivably wrong.”
“No, it is the other way around. You must forgive me. I’m ashamed of my behavior back in London. I never should have acted the way I did, especially at the card party with your friends.” Miranda dipped her chin. “I should not have been so rude to Miss Withers either. I felt threatened by her presence. I guess you could say I was jealous. I was reckless with my words.”
“Jealous?” Ethan’s brow furrowed. He shook his head in disbelief.
Miranda waited for him to drop his hands and walk away, but he tightened his hold on her and stepped closer.
“You had no reason to be jealous. Not one. No one could hold a candle to you.”
His thumbs caressed her hands, sending gooseflesh up her arms. Miranda’s dreams and reality seemed to be fusing into one, but it made no sense. He did not love her. He loved Miss Withers.
But his eyes said otherwise. “You should despise me for walking away when you needed me most, yet your grace astounds me. I wish...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes fell to her lips. He swallowed, and she trembled under his heady gaze. “I wish...” His head lowered, and she closed her eyes.
“Ethan!”
Ethan dropped Miranda’s hands like they were hot coals and whirled around to face Jane.
“Hannah is expecting us,” Jane snapped, tugging at the tops of her gloves. She turned to Miranda, her eyes and whole expression softening. “Oh, I thought you were Miss Withers. She frightened Hannah, and I... never mind. I know Hannah will be sad she cannot say goodbye, so I will say it for the both of us.” Her expression turned sheepish. “I hope you will find happiness with Lady Callister.” Jane’s words were stilted but not insincere.
“Thank you.” Miranda would treasure her words, even though they were hardly a white flag of peace between them. The butler approached with their cloaks, and a panic doubled inside of her. They couldn’t go. Not yet. Why could she not contrive a reason for Ethan to prolong his departure?
“I, ah...” Ethan’s features seemed just as conflicted. She sensed there was more he wanted to say. He pressed his eyes closed momentarily and then accepted his cloak. “Until the spring, then.”
Miranda’s hands already ached to be held again. Ethan could not just leave. Not like this. There was too much to be said—too much unresolved—too much she needed to apologize for.
“Hannah is probably beside herself,” Jane said, as if unaware of the tension between Miranda and Ethan. “We had better hurry.” She slipped out the door and left them alone.
Ethan’s dark eyes met Miranda’s, the intensity of his gaze like a sweet caress, filling her with longing. “I... had better go,” Ethan finally said. “Goodbye, Miss Bartley.”
His uncertainty compounded her own. “Goodbye,” she whispered. It was all she could think to say. No other words came to mind until it was too late and the door had shut behind him.
