The Decadent Countess Page 18

  ‘No,’ she wailed. ‘I cannot speak to him!’

  ‘M-madam?’ Pendle actually stammered.

  ‘I will not speak to him, Pendle! Do not ask it.’

  ‘But, madam, the Duke…’

  ‘No, Pendle!’

  And with that, Miranda turned and bolted.

  Leo should know that her wounds were still too painful and raw. How could she bear to have such fresh hurts pressed and prodded? He should have the sensitivity to realise! But, of course, there was the rub. Leo Fitzgibbon had no sensitivity. He had nothing but cold, heartless, ruthless, arrogance.

  Miranda had reached the top of the stairs before the ridiculousness of her action occurred to her. This was her home. If she did not wish to see the Duke of Belford, then she need not. She could send him away, or better still, she could ask Pendle to send him away.

  And yet Pendle was Leo’s servant, loyal to Leo. Why should he protect her privacy from his real master? Miranda groaned and clutched her head, slumping against the wall in the upstairs gallery. Why had he come anyway? What more could they possibly have to say to each other?

  Didn’t he know it was over?

  ‘Where is she?’ Leo’s voice echoed from below. He sounded as though he was speaking through clenched teeth.

  Miranda stilled, her heart battering against her ribs so hard it seemed to be trying to escape.

  Pendle’s voice was stout but a little high. Remembering Leo’s expression, she could understand his alarm. ‘Your Grace, Mrs Fitzgibbon is not able to see you just now.’

  Miranda took a ragged breath. Good old Pendle. She would never doubt him again.

  ‘Not able to see me!’ Leo shouted. Though, thought Miranda, shouted was too polite a word for it. He roared. ‘I don’t believe it, Pendle! I know she’s here. Fetch her at once. I want to speak with her. I want to ask her why she lied to me. She is no more a countess than I am!’

  He knew the truth about her. Tina must have told him. Even as she cringed, Miranda could not in her heart blame Lady Clementina. Leo was her brother and her first loyalty was to him. However, the truth coming out had complicated an already mind-bogglingly complex tangle.

  Or had it simplified matters?

  Down in the hall, Leo was still ranting like a man possessed. At least I will no longer have to pretend to be Adela, thought Miranda. I can be Miranda now, I can be myself. The acknowledgment was comforting, and gave her back the courage which for a moment had deserted her. With a silent prayer, Miranda stepped up to the gallery railing and peered down into the hall.

  ‘Your Grace.’ Pendle was actually wringing his hands. ‘Please, you must go. Go home and recover yourself. I will tell her—’

  Leo prowled back and forth like a large caged beast.

  ‘I will not go home! I want to speak to her now! I want to know why she did not tell me the truth when she had numerous opportunities to do so! I want to take her by the neck and—’

  ‘I did not tell you the truth because I was afraid of just such an outburst as this.’

  He stopped in mid-stride, so abruptly he might well have been shot. He looked up, and his blue eyes were blazing. She stood in the shadows, but her face was clear enough, a pale, lovely oval as she gazed down upon him.

  Leo felt something deep within himself catch and hold its breath, as if time itself had stopped. When he spoke his voice was hoarse with emotion.

  ‘And do you think you do not deserve to be abused, madam, after what you have put me through?’

  ‘I think it only fair you suffer as you made me suffer with your rudeness and arrogance.’

  ‘Oh, it is I who am rude and arrogant, is it?’ he burst out in evident disbelief.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, stop shouting! What must the servants think?’

  ‘I don’t care what they think. They are my servants anyway.’

  ‘Yes, and you can take them away with you. I don’t want your help anymore. I do not need it. I am sure Mr Harmon will assist me in engaging the services of replacement staff.’

  His face went a violent red. She thought he was going to fly up the stairs at her, he was so enraged. Instead he gave a heartfelt groan and drove his hands into his hair.

  ‘You are driving me mad!’ he said.

  Miranda raised her eyebrows. It was strange, but the angrier Leo became the calmer she felt. ‘You are certainly in the throes of madness, but whether it was I who caused it is open to speculation.’

  Pendle made a sound and tottered towards a chair, but they both ignored him.

  Leo, who was looking up at her again, appeared to lose some of his wildness. When he spoke it was in a harsh but much more moderate tone.

  ‘I can only think that it amused you to pretend you were something you were not. That you thought to teach me a lesson in some childish, ill-considered manner.’

  ‘As it amused you to try and drive me from my home, in between pestering me with your unwelcome attentions.’

  An echo of his previous rage kindled in his eye, but he mastered it. ‘You alter our past history to suit your own purposes, madam.’

  ‘We have no past history. Go away, I do not want to see you today. I do not want to see you any day.’

  He stared at her a moment longer, but even he could hardly drag her screaming down the stairs. With a muffled curse that brought stinging colour to her cheeks, he turned and left as abruptly as he had come.

  Leo did not go home.

  He could not face his sister, not yet. She had told him not to come, that it would be best to wait a day or two and allow Miranda to cool down and reconsider. Had he listened to her? No, he had not. Patience no longer seemed to be one of his virtues.

  When he had learned last night that Miranda was not, after all, the Decadent Countess, he had wanted to ride immediately to The Grange, though it was past midnight. He had wanted to drag her from her bed and shake her until her teeth rattled.

  Tina had prevailed upon him then. Perhaps she had thought that waiting would cool his hot head? If so, she had been mistaken. The long hours had only increased his sense of grievance, for he kept remembering more and more instances of her perfidy. Until, when he set out this morning, his anger had been near ungovernable.

  As he rode swiftly towards his objective, he had thought that he would find the necessary words when the time came. He had never lost his temper before he met her—he was famous for his forbearance. He was confident his good breeding would enable him to give her the sort of polite but freezing set-down she deserved.

  But as soon as Leo had stepped over the threshold all breeding, good or otherwise, had failed him. In short, he had become a raving lunatic.

  He groaned aloud.

  He had behaved in a manner that was an insult to his name and position. No one who had seen him this morning could possibly recognise the urbane and tranquil Leo Fitzgibbon. Was Miranda right? Had he run mad? Well, if indeed he had, it was her fault. She had driven him past sanity. He did not think he would ever be sane again! Unless…unless he could have her.

  Leo sighed and slowed his stallion as he accepted the painful acknowledgment.

  He wanted her.

  Even last night he had wanted her, even then, when he had believed her totally ill suited to partner a man in his position. But still he would have pigheadedly gone against all good sense and good advice, and married her. Done anything, just to be with her.

  Why could he not have told her so this morning when he had the chance, instead of once more abusing her so thoroughly? And if somehow, overnight, she had found it within herself to forgive him…why would she want to align herself with a lunatic, be he a Duke or otherwise?

  The point was moot—she wouldn’t forgive him.

  How could she, after his treatment of her since she had arrived in England? She was Julian’s widow and, according to Tina, a girl of gentle nature making the best of a difficult position. She had come to him for his help and support, just as Julian had advised her. And what had he done?
/>   ‘Oh, God.’

  Leo could hardly bear to recall what he had done. It did no good to remember that Tina had shared the blame equally between himself and Miranda. If he had behaved better, then she would have been able to disclose the truth to him sooner, and last night would never have happened. Instead he had driven her into a corner, and she had fought him valiantly with the only weapons she had in her possession.

  No, she would never forgive him now. And he could not even warn her against Harmon—God knew how such a man had got his hooks into her!—without her believing he had some ulterior motive.

  Leo lifted his head. Perhaps he could do some good in that quarter, after all. He looked around him, as though coming out of a dream, and realised he was not too far from the village. He would visit the Rose. If he could no longer help Miranda directly, then he would do so indirectly.

  It was time he and Mr Harmon had words.

  It was close on midday when Sophie Lethbridge called at The Grange.

  Pendle came to inform her of it, and appeared a good deal recovered from this morning’s episode. Miranda, less well recovered, replied that, yes, she was at home to Miss Lethbridge, and it was only the Duke who was forbidden entry.

  ‘If you do not begin packing now, Pendle, you will not reach Ormiston before dark,’ she added, as he turned to leave.

  Pendle cleared his throat. ‘I think after this morning I must ask you to allow me to remain a little longer, madam. I would prefer his Grace regained his good humour before I resumed my duties at Ormiston.’

  She took pity on him. ‘Very well, but only a little longer, Pendle.’

  ‘Thank you, madam.’ It was heartfelt.

  Miranda’s mood lightened. She even found a smile as Sophie entered the parlour. Ever the optimist, she hoped that in Sophie she would find a true friend, one who would not judge her as harshly as Leo for her foolish and ill-considered behaviour.

  ‘Sophie, how do you do?’

  They were the only words she was able to utter for several minutes.

  Sophie began to speak, her words falling over each other in their hurry to get out. She caught Miranda’s hands in hers, squeezing them so tightly it was almost painful. Miranda, secretly wondering if it was her fault all her neighbours had run mad, managed to make soothing noises while at the same time struggling to make sense of the garbled recital.

  It went something like this.

  ‘Jack has said that that dreadful Mr Harmon is here and that you are his friend! More than his friend, although I cannot…I will not have it so. Tell me it is not true, Miranda, for I cannot believe you would encourage the attentions of such a man? He is vile. Jack says that if it is true, then we may no longer be friends, and that, besides, you are leaving The Grange to return to Italy. Oh, please say you are not going! Why are you returning to Italy? Jack says that Leo has sent you away because you are “not as you ought to be”, but he will not tell me more. He can be so stupidly stubborn sometimes. Oh please, please, answer me, for I cannot bear to be held in suspense any longer!’

  Miranda, who had turned pale and then pink in turn during Sophie’s speech, found her voice.

  ‘I will answer you, Sophie, if you will but give me a chance to do so! Firstly, I am not going back to Italy. No one is sending me anywhere. Secondly, you say that your brother has told you that Mr Harmon is here in the village? Does he too know Mr Harmon? Were they also at school together? Oh, Sophie, then you must know about Leo?’

  Sophie gave her a curious look. “‘Know about Leo”? I do not understand you, Miranda. We all know about Mr Harmon! He is a terrible man. How could you possibly be his friend?’

  The girl was almost in tears. Sophie might be a trifle flighty, but Miranda had never doubted her respectability. If Sophie said that Mr Harmon was terrible, then he was.

  Miranda sat down abruptly on the sofa.

  ‘Mr Harmon is a relative of my stepmama,’ she explained. ‘He has come to visit because he is concerned for me, that is all.’

  Sophie shook her head, and arranged herself neatly on the sofa by Miranda’s side. A solitary tear slid down her cheek. She searched in her reticule with trembling hands and found a small scrap of lace.

  ‘He is a horrid man, Miranda. It is his fault that my season was a disaster. He made up to me, you see, and when Jack learned of it, he warned him off. Jack had known him at school, and he was very bad even then. But when he told me I did not believe it, or rather I thought it did not matter. Mr Harmon made me feel that I could change him. I could save him. That, without me, he would sink into the pit. They were his words, Miranda, “the pit”!’

  ‘I see.’ And she did. Such romantic nonsense would appeal to a girl like Sophie.

  A second tear had joined the first. Sophie mopped at them ineffectually. ‘I was very silly. I thought it was all right to do such things, because he loved me and I loved him. Of course, it all came out. I was lucky, because he had not quite persuaded me to run off with him, not yet. In a day or two, I might well have done, because there is something very appealing about running for the border. Leaving all behind for love. Riding pillion in the snow…though of course one could not be sure it would be snowing. It would depend upon the time of year one went, I suppose.’

  She sighed and shook her head.

  ‘Jack and Leo made certain there was no scandal, although really it was Leo who did everything. Jack was so angry he could hardly speak, which is most unusual for Jack, and just shows you how deeply he felt the whole thing. Don’t you agree?’

  Miranda hardly knew whether she agreed or not. She sat staring at the other girl as she dabbed at her eyes, and for a time was quite unable to reply. She felt that she should strongly refute such allegations. That she should explain that Mr Harmon had been nothing but kind to her and that she would no longer listen to such accusations.

  But she didn’t.

  Apart from the fact that she had no reason to doubt Sophie was being completely honest with her, something in the other girl’s recital struck a chord in Miranda. There had been moments when she was with Mr Harmon when she hadn’t quite believed him either.

  ‘Do you mean to say,’ she said, ‘that Mr Harmon is the sort of man who would make up to a young girl in order to marry her for her fortune?’

  Sophie gave a watery giggle. ‘You don’t mince words, do you, Miranda? Yes, he is.’ She stopped, struck by a new thought. ‘He has not been trying to make up to you, too? I did not think of that. Perhaps you will be glad I have warned you, even though Jack told me that I must not speak to you any more, or come to see you, or be your—your friend, because of Mr Harmon. But I do so much want to be your f-friend, Miranda.’

  Sophie’s lip wobbled, and then she burst into noisy sobs.

  This time it was more difficult to comfort her, though Miranda did her best, reassuring Sophie that she was still her friend and had not been made up to by Mr Harmon. Although he had been pretending to be respectable, and it now appeared that he certainly was not. Perhaps, in hindsight, Mr Harmon’s lack of respectability was not so surprising, considering that he was Adela’s cousin.

  ‘He came to see me because my stepmama asked him to,’ Miranda went on, when Sophie was quiet. ‘She was worried about me.’

  Sophie gulped and her eyes flashed angrily. ‘You make him sound almost chivalrous, but he is not, Miranda! Oh, I am so glad you do not like him either. I’m so glad we can still speak to each other and see each other and be friends!’

  Miranda patted her hand, and wondered if Sophie was up to more questions. The ravages of her tears had almost faded already, and apart from a slight pinkness about the eyes, she seemed remarkably pretty for a girl who had just cried her heart out.

  ‘Sophie, I must ask you something.’

  ‘Oh!’ Sophie straightened herself, smoothing out her skirts and touching at her hair. ‘All right, I’m ready.’

  ‘Sophie. Is Leo a loose fish?’

  Sophie’s mouth opened in a perfect O.

&nb
sp; ‘Is the question too blunt? I have not shocked you?’

  Sophie shook her hand. ‘No, I am not shocked.’ And indeed she did not appear shocked, only thoughtful. ‘I believe I do know what a “loose fish” is, because I have heard Jack use the expression, so I can answer your question. No, I don’t think he is. He has had love affairs, of course. He is quite old, you know. But he has never been the least bit ungentlemanly, and Jack would never have wanted me to marry him if his character was in doubt. Jack may be silly sometimes, but he is a very good brother. Why? Do you think he is one?’

  Miranda took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. I can’t believe now that I ever did. Perhaps I didn’t believe it, not really, although I tried very hard to.’

  Memories of last night flashed into her mind, but Miranda forced them back. No, she would save the self-flagellation for later.

  ‘Why did you believe Leo was a—a loose fish, Miranda? Did he tell you so himself?’

  Miranda met Sophie’s curious green eyes. ‘No. Mr Harmon told me he was. I think he did it because he believed that I…that I would repeat what he said. He wanted to cause a fight between us.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that just like him! He hates Leo, you know. He’d do anything to made Leo uncomfortable.’

  ‘Was Mr Harmon very angry with Leo and Jack for spoiling his runaway marriage to you?’

  ‘Oh, prodigiously!’

  Perhaps that, then, had been his reason for the mischief he had made. Miranda felt oddly calm and collected, which was a strange thing to feel when she had just ruined her entire life because of a pack of lies told to her by a fortune-hunter with a grudge.

  Sophie rose to her feet with a bounce.

  ‘Do you know, I feel so much better! I knew Jack could not have it right. He even told me that you were not a proper lady!’

  ‘He has me confused with someone else,’ Miranda replied with an effort. ‘I am sure he will soon tell you that himself.’

  ‘If he does not, then I shall certainly tell him he was wrong, don’t you worry! Oh, Miranda, I nearly forgot. How silly of me. I wanted to give you this.’