“Who is your betrothed?”
Flabbergasted, she could only stare. His face showed nothing but questioning concern, and, for the first time, she realized he knew nothing of her existence. He truly had no idea they were betrothed, that she was his future countess. Miranda wanted to cry. She’d spent her whole life being reared to be his ideal bride. And in most things, she’d succeeded. Yet, unlike what she’d believed in the garden during the duke’s ball, it wasn’t that Andrew hadn’t bothered to learn her name; he genuinely had no idea of the contract between his father and hers. A contract signed days after his birth and years before hers.
“Andrew,” she started. His flinch at the use of his given name surprised her. “It’s you. You are my betrothed.”
“I see.” He began to pace, before sitting again, then repeated the action several times. Only his clenched fists remaining at his side showed any sign he had comprehended her words. But, when he opened his mouth to speak, she noticed his hands shook. “I…we…that is, this is the first I have heard of this.”
“I believe you.” She had no choice but to do so, as the color in his face had drained, leaving him with an unhealthy green tinge; his eyes, always so warm, appearing cold. He was not a man denying her claim, but in shock that she had made it. Empathy filled her, and, if her blasted ankle were not an issue, she would have gone and thrown her arms around him in comfort.
“I do not blame you, now, for punching me, or even throwing a dish at my head. Though I am thankful your aim isn’t as good as your fist. If I had been in your shoes, I might have run you down with a carriage.”
“The thought did occur to me,” she said, in jest, trying to lighten the dark mood because his admission of being ignorant about the contract had done a great deal to mend the pain her soul had suffered with each passing year he hadn’t arrived to claim his bride.
He walked to a writing desk at the far end of the room. Sitting down, he opened it, and scratched out a note then, by the sound, she assumed he sanded the ink. Only when she smelled the wax did she know he had sealed the letter with the signet ring on his pinkie. Her mind raced at what and to whom he had written. He stepped outside into the hall and spoke to someone, but, try as she might, Miranda couldn’t hear the conversation.
A moment later, he stuck his head in the room again. “Are you comfortable, or do you wish to move to a more private room?”
Surprised by the question and unsure how to answer anyway, she shook her head to show she was not uncomfortable then nodded that she would indeed like to move.
Propping the door open, he headed her way. He leaned down and put one arm under her legs and the other around her waist. “Wrap your arms around my neck, my sweet.”
Without thinking, she did as he asked, but protested, “I am too heavy.”
“You are quite perfect.” He maneuvered through the room, careful not to bump her ankle.
Clutching his shoulder, she found it hard to believe he could lift and carry her weight with so little effort. “What about your coat and my corset?”
“Someone will collect them for us later. For now, the two of us have some serious talking to do.”
“Perhaps you can tell me to whom you sent that letter?”
He paused in the entryway, glanced about to ensure no one lingered, then headed up the stairs. On the top landing, he said, “I summoned my solicitor. I am hoping he has the paperwork pertaining to our marriage contract.”
“Oh.” Miranda couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He stared down at her. “I love the delightful way your mouth forms an O.”
Nearly doing it again, she stopped and said, “It’s rather late in the evening to summon someone, isn’t it?”
“It’s about ten, I should think, but I pay my solicitors a damned good amount of money to do very little. They had best come when I call.”
“Very lordly.”
He laid her down in the center of a gigantic bed. “Just efficient.”
“Is there not another room for us to wait in?”
‘If you are concerned that I plan to breach your virginal barrier tonight, put your mind at ease, I have no such aspirations. But with your ankle, you will be far more comfortable here. There is a private dining room which will allow me to speak to my lawyer and you to remain comfortable.”
“I see.”
“You sound disappointed.”
Was she? Perhaps so. Since the reason to hate him had been taken from her, the charming man she’d kissed had become the man of her dreams once more.
“Perhaps I am.”
“Rest assured, once I get to the bottom of this, I hope to make love to you, but it won’t be in a strange random room, but in a marriage bed.” Heat filled his eyes and laced his words, and then he turned away. “If you plan to break the contract, which I will not contest should you wish to, I will not take from you what is a gift for your future bridegroom.”