The Earl and His Virgin Countess(6)
“Strict confidence. I trust her. I wouldn’t send you to anyone I didn’t trust. I love you as if you were my own daughter.”
“I love you the same.” Sarah had been more of a mother to her than Miranda’s own mother. Sarah had attended every major event in Miranda’s childhood. And, although she continued Miranda’s training to be the impeccable countess, she never bit her tongue about how she felt. “How much do her services cost?”
Waving her away, her aunt approached the yellow floral brocade drapes, pulling them closed. “Consider this a gift from me. An independence party. Besides, the pittance of an allowance your brother gives you to keep you on tight reins wouldn’t pay for it, even though, of course, it is your money and not his.”
“I can’t ask you….”
“You aren’t asking, I am offering. I think this might be the best thing to ever happen to you. How long would you have waited for the earl, had your eyes not been opened? And how many young ladies has he pulled into gardens with the intention of debauching them?”
Miranda’s knuckles ached, and unlike her aunt, turning away the responsibility, even one the earl didn’t seem to acknowledge or care about, wasn’t as easy as simply saying so. Exhaustion seeped into each and every pore.
“Get some sleep, Miranda. I will send a missive to Madame Eve, as well as the lawyer. But do me a favor and promise me you won’t punch your date the way you obviously did the earl.”
“How…?”
“Your knuckles are red and puffy, and the earl, though discreet, returned holding a bloody nose. Did you think I would allow you to stroll into a dark garden with any man, even your betrothed, and not have my eyes open for your return?” Sarah smiled then gave her a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.
Miranda stared at the ceiling molding, then closed her eyes and prayed for a new life, whatever that new life might be. A tear fell, and she let it. It would be the last one for a life she’d thought she would have. When she woke, she would brave her new life head on. For the moment, she needed to bury her countess fantasies and face a new reality.
Chapter Two
Andrew searched the elegant rooms one at a time. The suite included a small, private dining room, bedroom with a bed that rivaled the Bed of Ware, and a bathing chamber. Checking his pocket watch, he groaned. His companion for the evening was now a full hour late. He’d had a feeling in his gut that from the beginning the meeting had been a bad idea.
When he opened the door, a servant stepped forward. “Milord?”
“Call for my carriage.”
Bowing, the servant excused himself, right before a commotion caught Andrew’s attention.
A woman’s voice floated toward him. “I can walk.”
He made it down to the ground floor in time to see a man in the livery of the house carrying the woman into the first sitting room. “What happened?”
“My apologies, sir. The young lady was involved in a minor accident.”
“Accident.” Andrew pushed past the lingering servants and looked over the scene, before his gaze rested on the new arrival. To his surprise, the beauty was both everything he’d expected and nothing. In the brief moment he’d had to hear and observe her, she’d emanated a feistiness to match her hair color. Even as she shooed away the servant who’d been trying to assess her injuries, she did so with the decorum and grace of a well-bred woman.
“Sir, remove your hand,” she demanded, trying to pull her foot from the servant’s grasp.
“You heard her ladyship,” Andrew said. “Now, someone fetch a maid for the lady, and everyone else get out.” He approached her. “Someone needs to tell me what the hell happened.”
“You!” Her eyes widened with recognition. “What are you doing here?”
Something about her seemed familiar, yet he doubted he had ever seen her before. Mayhap it was her voice or the way she held herself. He could not pinpoint what it was but he knew he knew her. “Have we met?”
“No.” she said. “You aren’t the gentleman I was meeting here are you?”
A nearby maid appeared and gave him a nod.
“Apparently,” he replied.
The gentlewoman addressed the maid. “There has to be a mistake.”
The woman shook her head. “Mademoiselle, I apologize. It is highly unusual for a servant to see both people. But, I assure you, no one will talk. Now, allow me to assess your ankle.”
She lifted the right foot, and Andrew’s mouth dried as the maid raised the hem of her light-green gown to expose a dainty ankle. Unfortunately, even under her stockings, the ankle appeared swollen and bruised. “Ouch.”