The Decadent Countess Read online

  ‘Of course,’ soothed Miranda. ‘Such care does you credit, sir.’

  Sophie stamped an impatient foot. ‘I think you both must have windmills in your heads!’

  But Jack, that easy-going character, was already thawing. ‘I dare say I have been somewhat zealous, ma’am.’

  ‘You have been very rude, Jack!’

  Jack cleared his throat and smoothed his neckcloth. It was intricately arranged in a creation which must have taken him at least two hours to accomplish. ‘Well, Soph, I only ever act in your best interests. You should know that.’

  Sophie appeared disinclined to believe anything of the sort, but Miranda assured him again that she understood only too well and that there were far too many unscrupulous people in the world eager to take advantage of the innocent.

  ‘There are, aren’t there?’ Jack declared, struck by this statement. ‘My thoughts exactly, Mrs Fitzgibbon. One imagines the country to be a quiet, civilised sort of place, doesn’t one?’

  Miranda agreed that all seemed well in the country.

  ‘Yes, but you see it isn’t so! All a sham. Worse here than it is in town.’

  This struck a chord with Sophie, and she proceeded to tell her brother of Miranda’s servants and the manner of their leaving, as well as Leo coming to her rescue. ‘So Miranda has had to put up with Pendle for weeks,’ Sophie ended dramatically.

  Jack turned and stared at Miranda in the manner of one who had just heard that his new acquaintance wrestled with crocodiles.

  ‘I say!’ he breathed admiringly.

  ‘Mrs Fitzgibbon?’ Sir Marcus strolled up, smiling, and after taking her hand and asking how she did, proceeded to introduce her to the two ladies in tartan shawls with whom he had been conversing.

  ‘The Misses McKay are the daughters of Admiral McKay,’ he finished.

  Miranda supposed by this that she would be considered very ill mannered if she admitted that she did not know who the good admiral was, and made appropriate noises.

  ‘Julian was a dear boy,’ one of the Misses McKay avowed, her smile at odds with her gimlet eyes. ‘The admiral would have liked him, I am sure.’

  ‘Oh, yes, the admiral would have liked him very much.’

  ‘As I wrote to his dear mother only last week, Julian understood his duty to the village. He attended our small church whenever he was in the country. A common courtesy other members of his family do not adhere to.’

  ‘Do you mean Leo?’ Sophie asked tactlessly.

  Shocked by such plain speaking, the Misses McKay dissembled. ‘Of course, we understand he is a very busy man. Very grand.’

  ‘Yes, very grand,’ agreed the other.

  ‘And yet your church is not at all small.’ Miranda smiled, unable to resist a little mischief of her own. ‘Quite large enough for the grandest of men.’

  ‘It was once very important,’ said one Miss McKay. ‘It was part of an abbey which was torn down during the Reformation. The land was then given over to the first Mr Fitzgibbon by Henry the Eighth. He had performed some service for him, I believe,’ she ended rather primly.

  ‘One of Henry’s ladies was hoping to be his wife,’ explained Sir Marcus, ‘and Fitzgibbon took her off his hands.’

  ‘Oh, if Henry had married her, he would have had seven wives!’ laughed Sophie.

  ‘But he did not wish to have seven wives, Sophie, that was the whole point,’ Sir Marcus retorted. ‘She married the Fitzgibbon, and he was well rewarded for his service to his king. He received the land the monastery had stood upon, and being, I think, an insensitive sort of fellow, proceeded to build The Grange with the same stone. He left the church; I imagine it saved him the trouble of building another.’

  Miranda thought the first Fitzgibbon sounded practical rather than insensitive, but couldn’t help but laugh at Sir Marcus’s sketch of his character.

  ‘It is the Fitzgibbon family’s luck,’ Jack added, and then looked as if he had said something he oughtn’t.

  Miranda glanced about, surprised. ‘Their luck? Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Did Julian not tell you?’ Sophie was astonished. ‘The Grange must stay in the family; it is a talisman of sorts. The Fitzgibbons’ good luck piece. Like a very large rabbit’s foot.’

  ‘Oh,’ Miranda said. ‘I see.’ And looking from Sophie’s surprised eyes to Jack’s guilty ones, she suddenly did.

  ‘But you are a Fitzgibbon, so everything is all right,’ Sophie went on, quite unaware of the undercurrents circling her.

  ‘I’m sure it will be.’

  ‘You might have noticed the gentleman on the wall inside the church,’ Sir Marcus said. ‘That is your original Fitzgibbon.’

  ‘I did notice it,’ Miranda replied, smiling. ‘And I do believe I saw a resemblance to—to the Duke.’

  And then, for no particular reason, she blushed.

  Her companions eyed her with varying degrees of interest while Miranda attempted to escape her embarrassment by murmuring that it was rather warm.

  Sir Marcus saved her by continuing on with his tale of the first Fitzgibbon. ‘He lived to a hoary old age, I believe, and died with his head still attached to his neck, which was unusual for those times.’

  ‘And his marriage?’ Miranda rallied enough to ask. ‘Did it prosper, sir?’

  Sir Marcus smiled. ‘You will have to ask Leo that, my dear. You have quite exhausted my store of knowledge on the subject.’

  The Misses McKay began a conversation between themselves on the extent of their father, the admiral’s, knowledge. ‘I’m sure he would have known the entire history of our village!’ one of them finished triumphantly.

  ‘If he had ever removed here to the village,’ the other added with painful honesty.

  ‘Which he would never have done, for he could not bear to live away from the sea.’

  ‘No, he must always have a view of the sea from his window.’

  Sir Marcus nodded thoughtfully. ‘I believe it is often so, ladies, when a sailor comes to retire on dry land.’

  The Misses McKay sighed and said that the admiral had not been particularly happy in his retirement, and, on that sombre note said their goodbyes.

  Sophie offered to take Miranda home in their carriage, but she politely refused. Jack Lethbridge gave her a sheepish smile, saying he was pleased to have made her acquaintance.

  ‘You are not at all as I had expected,’ he burst out, when they were briefly alone, Sophie being assisted into the carriage by her father.

  Miranda bit her lip, but her dark eyes danced. ‘I think I shall take that as a compliment.’

  Jack, realising his error, floundered in a morass of half-completed apologies, until his father told him to hurry up and stop making a cake of himself.

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Fitzgibbon,’ added Sir Marcus. ‘We plan to hold our party soon, and will send out invitations.’

  ‘Yes, yes, you must come!’ called Sophie.

  Miranda assured them that she would, and waved as they drove away.

  The churchyard was all but deserted, and she stood a moment more admiring the church, remembering what she had been told. It was interesting that the Fitzgibbons had been having problems with disreputable ladies as far back as the sixteenth century. Did Leo know the history of his family? She supposed he must. Perhaps that was why he was so wary of troublesome women. Although, Miranda recalled, that particular troublesome woman had brought them much land and glory and, if the Lethbridges were to be believed, their good luck.

  Good luck which would be taken away if The Grange were ever to leave family hands.

  It partially explained Leo’s eagerness to regain the house. Miranda would not have thought him a superstitious sort of man, but possibly his relatives were. Being the head of his family, it would be his duty to please them.

  It all sounded very wearing, but did not entirely explain Leo’s behaviour towards her.

  Miranda allowed herself, briefly, to remember his rescue of her from Nancy in front of Thorne’s c
ottage. The wave of relief she had felt when he appeared, the feeling of joy, when she had looked up into his blue eyes. It had quite taken her breath away, and she was aware that she had gabbled on foolishly for quite some time. And then he had persisted on calling her Miranda.

  The sound of her name on his lips! Even now it made her feel quite flushed and uncomfortable. More so than the memory of his kiss, for any man might kiss a woman he thought not quite respectable, and Leo imagined her practised in such matters. Although, afterwards, he had seemed as shaken as Miranda herself.

  The problem was, this was all unknown territory to Miranda. Considering the part she was playing, it was an irony not lost on her. She was not at all experienced in kissing, or any other aspect of the relationship that existed between a man and a woman who were wed, or…or close, so to speak.

  She and Julian had been married, but there had never been more than a chaste kiss between them. Julian was too ill, and Miranda, although she would have been prepared to do her duty as a wife, had been secretly, guiltily, relieved. Yes, she admitted now, she had been relieved that she did not have to pretend to love where she felt only gratitude and affection.

  If he had been well and strong, perhaps she might have grown to love him? Miranda wanted to think so, but in her heart she doubted it.

  For no particular reason, Leo Fitzgibbon’s face rose before her.

  Miranda wondered what he thought of his Fitzgibbon ancestor, who had married at the king’s bidding, to a woman he did not love. Probably Leo thought it a canny match, considering what his ancestor gained from it. Leo himself would seek just such a match for himself. Miranda imagined him setting out to find a bride with much the same attitude as he would a new horse.

  Now that she had made herself angry again, Miranda felt more comfortable. She dismissed Leo from her mind. Her morning had been pleasantly and fruitfully spent. She had made new acquaintances and, she hoped, at least come part of the way in conquering Jack Lethbridge’s suspicion of her. And she had Sophie’s party to look forward to! Life at The Grange, she decided, could be very agreeable indeed.

  If Leo Fitzgibbon would allow her to enjoy it.

  The Lethbridge’s carriage rolled along sedately. Sir Marcus, who had earlier this morning been the recipient of his son Jack’s doubts in regard to Miranda Fitzgibbon, had held a thoughtful silence for some time. Jack had been content to allow it to continue, knowing that his father was a safe judge of character and was presently pondering the matter of Julian’s young widow. If Sir Marcus decided Miranda was the harpy Leo believed her, the Lethbridges would cut her acquaintance forthwith. If not…

  Sir Marcus cleared his throat in preparation for speech.

  ‘It is my opinion that Mrs Fitzgibbon is one of the nicest women of our acquaintance.’

  Surprised, Jack said, ‘She is certainly very attractive—’

  ‘No, I do not refer to her looks, Jack, although I agree she is very pretty. It is her manner, her character I am concerned with here. She is what is known, bluntly, as a good woman.’

  Jack eyed him with a startled air. “‘A good woman”, eh, sir?’

  ‘Most definitely, Jack.’

  Silence again fell, while Sophie, who was not privy to the secret, watched her two menfolk with puzzled amusement. At last Jack released his breath, ridding himself of his struggles at the same time. ‘I believe you’re right, Father,’ he said in his usual amiable voice. ‘You know, I feel much better now. I always find it quite exhausting being at odds with people.’

  ‘I know you do, Jack, I know you do.’

  Miranda had only made it as far as the Misses McKay’s residence. A neat, pretty cottage, it stood within an equally neat and pretty garden. The Misses McKay were awaiting her at the gate, eager to usher her inside and refresh her with tea and prune cake.

  ‘The Admiral’s favourite! My dear Mrs Fitzgibbon, you simply cannot walk all the way home to The Grange without taking tea with us.’

  Although the old ladies were renowned gossips and would probably pump her dry, Miranda still felt it would be churlish to refuse. And she was in no hurry to return home. It would do Pendle good to suffer some slight unease as to her whereabouts—Miranda had found within herself a mischievous quality she had not known existed until the Duke’s man came to stay at The Grange.

  She was making her way down the path, hemmed in by the two gossipy old ladies, when a horse drew to a clattering halt on the laneway outside. All three turned, and gasped in unison.

  Belford sat, handsome if a little windswept, upon his mount. He was obviously startled to see her so cosy with the Misses McKay. Miranda raised her chin and glared back at him, daring him to utter a word of censure. After a moment he pulled himself together, saying in a cheery voice, ‘Mrs Fitzgibbon! Miss McKay and Miss McKay. A fine morning to be visiting.’

  The elder Miss McKay gave him a reproving look. ‘A fine morning to be in church, Duke. I collect you were unable to attend.’

  Belford looked startled at her rebuke but, to Miranda’s amusement, soon rose to the occasion. ‘I was engaged on estate matters, Miss McKay. Unavoidable.’

  The lady nodded, grudgingly allowing him the excuse.

  ‘Will you join us for tea, Duke?’ her sister asked, fluttering a little, obviously more affected by his presence than her sibling. ‘We have prune cake. As we were just now saying to Mrs Fitzgibbon, it was the Admiral’s favourite. He would never set out on a sea voyage without an adequate supply of prune cake.’

  Leo glanced at Miranda. He could see the glint of laughter in her eyes and knew exactly what she was thinking. She was envisioning the famous Admiral McKay, proud aboard his ship, secure in the knowledge that he had enough prune cake to last those many long months at sea.

  His own lips twitched.

  She is a witch, he thought. A sweet and delightful witch. The Misses McKay, chronic gossips and notoriously hard to please, had been won over already.

  For a second he was tempted to agree to their invitation, to follow them into the cottage and sit with them over their tea and cake. Just so that he could be in her radiant presence a little longer, so that he could share with her another smile… But no, it would not do. He had an appointment, and the fact that the breaking of it seemed suddenly so necessary to his happiness, made him all the more determined not to do so.

  ‘I’m afraid I cannot. Excuse me, ladies. Mrs Fitzgibbon.’

  When he had gone, the elderly Misses McKay settled Miranda in their best chair and lavished her with refreshments. A kitten climbed upon her knee and settled for a nap. Listening to their chatter, Miranda felt quite at home, relaxed enough to daydream.

  Had Leo really shared with her that brief moment of amusement? His eyes had appeared to be alight with laughter, although his expression had remained politely enquiring. Instinctively she knew he would never laugh aloud in such circumstances, never allow himself to hurt the feelings of the Misses McKay, and neither would she. And yet, Miranda was quite certain, in those brief minutes outside the McKay cottage, she and Leo had been perfectly attuned.

  And what of the look on his face when he said goodbye? He had gazed at her as if she were all he held dear, all he had ever wanted. As if he would give anything to stay… Surely she was mistaken in that belief? Surely she was imagining it? Why on earth should the Duke of Belford want her? He hated her, and she had worked hard to make him do so.

  When Tina had finally set out to call upon the cause of her brother’s turmoil, it was with a very clear idea of what she meant to say. First she would confront this woman, informing her that she knew exactly what she was up to. Not content with Julian, this Decadent Countess was planning to ensnare the far more wealthy Leo in her sticky toils.

  Well, Tina would never let that happen. She would do anything in her power to save her brother from that fate. Belford, married to such a woman! He would be the laughing stock of the ton, the butt of every joke. She could not abide to see her brother made so ridiculous.

 
Or so unhappy.

  Pendle happened to be in the hall when Tina arrived, and she wasted several moments answering his stilted questions and assuring him she was in the best of health. This news did not seem to please him, judging by the expression on his face, but then one could never tell with Pendle. Tina did not think she had ever seen him smile. Perhaps it was a physical impossibility?

  Her cogitations were interrupted by a soft sound above her in the gallery. Turning to glance up, Tina was struck by the sight of a woman gracefully descending the curving staircase. Her auburn hair would have shone bright enough in the shadows, but a single beam of sunlight piercing the gallery windows picked out the colour so that it appeared to burn.

  Tina felt as if a hand had reached in and squeezed her heart. Good Lord, if Leo had fallen for this goddess…

  The woman descended further, beyond the sunbeam, and Tina could see that she was just a woman. Lovely, yes, striking, yes, but only flesh and blood. Her fears receded, and she drew herself up for the coming confrontation.

  Julian’s widow had reached the hall and now stepped forward, her skirts rustling as she walked, her hand outstretched in a friendly if tentative manner.

  ‘Lady Mainwaring? Pendle said you wished to see me?’

  Tina’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh, good Lord, is it…can it be…? Miranda!’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘I—I beg your pardon?’

  Miranda blinked, trying to place the face before her. Dark hair beautifully dressed, a gown made by one of the best dressmakers in London, a woman with deep blue eyes and a smiling mouth…

  It came to her then.

  Lady Clementina.

  Her mind spiralled back. She had been sent to school in Hampshire after her mother died and before her father took her to live in Italy. Miranda had been full of grief and so desperately lonely. She had made few friends, but one of those friends had been Clementina.

  Though more than a year older than Miranda, Tina had been kind enough and generous enough to help her through those first difficult and bewildering months. She had never forgotten the kindness of the other girl.