Page 61 of Refining the Debutante
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Jane hurried toward the carriage, but Ethan couldn’t pull himself away from Crowfield. His breath came in quick bursts. All night he’d not been able to keep his gaze from straying to Miranda—her beauty was unparalleled, her actions utterly selfless. Not once tonight had she tried to steal any attention for herself, even knowing that a husband would be the surest way to further her position. Ethan wanted to tell her how he felt. How he had spent months trying to deceive himself that he did not need her. He knew now that Miss Withers was not for him—and not just because she had frightened Hannah. No, it was because he could never love her like he did Miranda.
He put his hand up to knock on the door to end his torment but stopped. He might finally know his true feelings, but he still had an obligation toward Miss Withers. It would not be right to act on anything until he freed himself from the expectation Miss Withers had every right to have. He had made that mistake once before, and he knew now the damage of such a deed. If only he had given Miranda more of a chance those many months ago. He had judged her much too harshly. How could he have been so foolish? In agony, he ripped himself away and shuffled toward the carriage. It was simply too late.
* * *
The pace of Ethan’s life sped and slowed at all the wrong intervals. Invitations to social events and demands from his mother filled his nights, but his mornings slumped with uselessness. London’s poverty overwhelmed him, his friends bored him, and his blasted cravat refused to lie straight. Worst of all, he could not make a plan to save his life. After taking his horse out for some light exercise, Ethan received a note from his mother demanding he visit her. He rode over straightway, having little else to pass his time.
“You seem preoccupied as of late,” his mother noted.
He sat across from her in his family’s town house. His eyes strayed to a golden statue of the Roman god Mercury. This room was overdone, in his opinion. It had never bothered him before, but it certainly did now.
“Is that why you summoned me? To lecture me?” Ethan asked in a laconic tone. He finally focused on his mother. Her ebony hair still looked youthful, with a few strands of gray, but there were wrinkles in her face that Ethan could not remember from last spring, especially around the mouth—worry lines. His gaze sharpened. Was Father the source? His sisters? Or him?
“I never worry about you, dearest,” his mother answered.
His concern relieved, he smiled. “I hope to keep it that way. Tell me what is on your mind.”
“You.”
“Me?” Ethan furrowed his brow. “Well, if you are not worried, then you must be pleased with me.”
His mother took on her famous look of superiority, one Jane had clearly inherited. “I am neither worried nor pleased. Indeed, I find myself perplexed. I received a letter this morning from Lady Callister.”
“Lady Callister?” Ethan gulped. He had hoped to avoid this moment a little longer, but Lady Callister was nothing but forthright.
His mother’s pointed eyebrows arched ever higher. “There is truth to this, then? Miss Bartley is Lady Callister’s new companion? How did this come to be? And why did you not tell me?”
Ethan shrugged. “You know I never gossip, Mama.”
“And did this affect your courtship with Miss Withers? Jane refuses to tell me anything.”
Nothing could have surprised him more. Jane had had the chance to slander Miranda’s name to their mother and had resisted?
“Miss Withers and I get along well enough, and Miss Bartley is aware of my intentions toward our neighbor. There are not any complications to speak of.” Just the small matter that he had almost kissed Miranda, and instead of feeling ashamed, he was disappointed. Acutely so.
How could he explain that he had made a fool of himself months ago by shamefully rebuking Miranda? Then, once she had proven herself opposite of what he had accused her to be, he had been too cowardly to fix the problem. If he did anything about it, he would be embarrassing Miss Withers by prematurely ending a courtship with her. Nothing rankled him more than being less of a man than he expected of himself. He had acted rashly and must be forced to pay the consequence for the rest of his life.
“I see. And Miss Withers travels to London after Christmas?”
Ethan crossed one leg over the other, relaxing now that he had successfully evaded his mother on the point of Miranda. “Yes, or so their family planned to do last I spoke with them.”
“Excellent.” His mother poured him some tea, and he accepted. “Now, what tasks are you furrowing away with these days? I expect you have been searching for another young lad to sponsor at your charity school.”
“The school? Oh, ah, actually, Ihavebeen thinking a little about the food shortage with the terrible harvest and all.”
“Your father speaks of little else these days.” His mother handed him a plate of almond tea cake. She could never resist feeding him. “There is another matter I hoped to bring to your attention,” she said in a lower tone.
“Hmm?”
“Your sisters.”
Ethan sighed. “I did my best this summer, like I promised.”
“Yes, and I had hoped that, without my presence, Hannah would no longer be able to hide behind me and Jane would be less temperamental. I am afraid Hannah is worse than before, and Jane is sullen and contemptible, brooding over every disappointment she meets.”
Ethan rubbed his hand across his jaw and earnestly pondered the situation. He cared deeply for his sisters, but heaven knew he was enjoying a break from living with them. If Miranda were here, she could coax Hannah from her room and force a truce with Jane. But that woman had far too many hands in the pot as it was. He had missed his chance, and now he needed to extricate himself from her. His mind was too consumed as it was.
