The Decadent Countess Page 22

  ‘My apologies, sir, but I did not want any harm to come to Mrs Fitzgibbon.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘There was a letter arrived from Mr Ealing, madam. As you can see, it is marked urgent, so I took the liberty of carrying it with me.’

  Miranda took the envelope from him with a frown and opened it. ‘Well!’ she gasped at length. ‘That is why Julian’s monies were delayed.’

  Leo raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Nancy Bennett and her father had made a claim upon The Grange. They swore that Julian had left all to them. Mr Ealing did not believe it for a moment, but he felt obliged to make an investigation. He didn’t tell me—he says he didn’t want to worry me.’ Miranda glanced at Leo, her expression conveying what she thought of that.

  ‘And?’ Leo said, trying not to smile.

  ‘It was all nonsense. Mr Ealing says he will now go ahead and send me a draft. I do not need to impose upon you any more, Duke.’

  Now Leo did smile, directly into her eyes. ‘I enjoy it when you impose upon me, Miranda.’

  Pendle sniffed.

  Leo gave his butler a long, searching look. His eyebrows rose. ‘You are somewhat dishevelled, Pendle. Did you walk?’

  ‘No, sir.’ Pendle grimaced horribly. ‘I rode.’

  ‘You rode? On a horse?’

  ‘No, sir. There was no horse at The Grange. I was setting out to walk when a—a tinker arrived. I believe he had come to sell beads and needles and other trinkets. For a small recompense, he allowed me to ride upon his cart.’

  Leo stared at him a moment more, but the image of the fastidious Pendle in such a situation was too much for him. He threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  Pendle, rather pink, ignored his master as best he could. He turned stiffly to Miranda. ‘You are not harmed, madam?’ he inquired politely.

  Miranda, gazing from one to the other in wonder, shook her head. ‘But thank you for your concern, Pendle.’

  ‘I am very glad, madam. Now, if you will forgive me, I think I shall leave The Grange and return to Ormiston. I believe I have reached the limit of my endurance.’

  Leo gave another hearty laugh.

  Miranda managed to retain her composure. ‘Please, feel free, Pendle. I quite understand.’

  ‘Do you, madam? That I very much doubt!’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The long-suffering Pendle had only just left The Grange, when an unfamiliar but modish carriage pulled up to the front door. Miranda and Esme exchanged puzzled glances, as they watched the footman jump down to hand out the vehicle’s occupant.

  ‘This is it? I have seen better ruins in Italy!’

  A droll voice, full of world-weary sophistication and yet with an underlying hint of mischief, drifted towards them. Miranda’s eyes widened in wonder and amazement as a small woman in a blue, fur-lined cloak stepped down from the carriage.

  ‘Adela?’ she whispered.

  ‘Ah, there she is, my stepdaughter!’

  Adela, the Countess Ridgeway, made her elegant way up the steps towards Miranda. The rich swish of her skirts was very loud in the silence and, when she tipped back the hood of her cloak, her dark hair shone with a trace of silver.

  ‘Dear Miranda. I came all the way from Italy to find you—so exhausting—and then found you had already left London, and disappeared into the wilds of Somerset. It was too, too vexing. But, you see, I have at last found you.’

  ‘Adela! I did not expect—’

  ‘I know you did not expect me to visit, my dear, but I was worried.’ Hazel eyes examined her frankly. ‘Although now I am here, I see you are perfectly well, blooming, in fact. I wrote to Freddie, you know, and told him to visit you, but he has never replied to any of my letters. What could I do but come and see for myself?’

  Miranda hugged her, tears pricking her eyes. ‘You are very kind to come all this way, but you can see I am quite well.’

  ‘Yes, in fine fettle, as your father would have said.’

  Miranda laughed with a little catch in her voice, and led her stepmama inside. Adela glanced about with interest, at the same time unfastening her cloak and slipping it nonchalantly from her shoulders.

  Esme caught her breath, her eyebrows promptly vanishing under the brim of her cap.

  Adela was wearing a very fashionable, but very sheer, gown over very little at all. Miranda was certain that, for a moment, as Adela turned about, she glimpsed her stepmama’s limbs through the gossamer cloth.

  ‘Adela, we are in the country,’ she reproved. ‘You cannot wear such things here.’

  Adela smiled and tossed her glossy head. ‘Why not? I have a reputation to maintain, after all.’

  And suddenly Miranda remembered exactly how appalled Leo had been when he believed her to be Adela.

  She had been aware of this impediment to her happiness with him, but she had thought Adela far away in Italy. An impediment was not so serious when it was far away. Only now Adela was here, at The Grange. How could Leo possibly marry her when the Decadent Countess was right here in Somerset? He would recoil at the very idea, just as he had recoiled when he believed Miranda to be Adela.

  And what was the alternative? That she never see nor speak to Adela again? That from henceforth she pretend Adela did not exist? Miranda knew she could not agree to such a thing. She may disapprove of Adela, but she also loved her, and Leo would break her heart if he forbade her contact with her stepmama.

  Adela was speaking. ‘Your house is nicer inside than out, darling, but it is still too cold for me. I could never live here.’

  Miranda cast her a bewildered glance. ‘No?’

  ‘No, Miranda. I have not come to stay with you. Is that what you thought?’ she asked, with an intelligent glint in her eye. ‘I was worried about you, so I have come to set my fears at rest. Are you happy?’

  Miranda smiled. ‘I am. I am very happy. There is a man who… I think I am in love, Adela!’

  ‘You only think it?’ Adela replied, but she was smiling too. ‘What is his name?’

  Miranda stiffened her spine. ‘It is the Duke of Belford.’

  Adela’s eyes widened and then she laughed. ‘Oh no, not the proper, frozen Belford whose heart is ice? But, my dear, that is a triumph! I see I have been concerned for no reason. I can return to Italy forthwith.’

  ‘Oh, but won’t you stay for a little while, Adela?’

  Adela smiled and patted her hand. ‘It is too cold for me here. I am afraid I prefer the warmth, darling. And I am to marry again. A nice man, a widower. You would like him, for he scolds me just like you. I find I cannot live on my own, Miranda. Oh, I did try! Truly, I did. I did all the things you suggested, I made all those little economies you listed for me. But it would not do, Miranda. Life became insupportable. So I have offered the Villa Ridgeway up for sale, and I will marry Guido and move to Rome. I think I will be happy in Rome with Guido.’

  And she said it with such contentment, Miranda could not doubt her.

  ‘But you will stay a little while?’

  Adela smiled. ‘I will stay a week, Miranda. Long enough to frighten your beloved with the thought that I may remain permanently to make his life a misery.’

  Miranda tried to frown. ‘You are very naughty, Adela.’

  ‘Well, dear, they do not call me the Decadent Countess for nothing!’

  Oak House was a blaze of light, a beacon in the soft twilight. Miranda, approaching in the carriage, felt as if she were nearing a long-sought-after goal. The end of a journey.

  She had worn the gold dress. It was made of silk, one of Adela’s more extravagant purchases, and the heavy cloth whispered about her. It was rather low cut, too, daring for Miranda. Adela had insisted she wear it, but where as once Miranda might have hesitated, she no longer did.

  She realised then that she had grown in confidence since she arrived in England. Her tribulations had strengthened her. Besides, tonight she wanted to be daring. She wanted Leo to admire her. To burn for her as she burned for
him.

  Perhaps there was a little bit of the Decadent Countess in her after all.

  ‘No, darling, I will not come with you,’ Adela had told her, with a shrewd glance. ‘I do not want to frighten your Duke away so soon.’

  Guiltily, Miranda had been glad that she would have a chance to break the news to Leo first. And her stepmama had seemed quite happy to be left toasting her feet before the fire.

  Thinking of Leo now, Miranda felt her heartbeat quicken. He loved her, there was no doubt about it, and she loved him. But there was more to it than love. She needed to know how he would react when she told him Adela was at The Grange, no matter how short the visit might be. She needed to believe he would put aside his own prejudices for her sake, because of his love for her. She needed to be able to speak freely and honestly to him, without forever fearing the consequences.

  Miranda sighed. It seemed even true love had its complications.

  Sophie, pretty in a gown of white muslin with pink rosebuds in her hair, met Miranda at the door and pressed her fingers in a warm greeting. ‘Jack,’ she said firmly, with a glance over her shoulder, ‘here is Miranda.’

  Jack gave her a sheepish look. ‘Oh…oh, yes, Mrs Fitzgibbon. So glad you could come. I—I fear I might have—’

  ‘Mistaken me for someone else?’

  Jack gave a hefty sigh of relief. ‘Yes, that’s it. Mistaken you for someone else. So glad you weren’t that other person.’

  Miranda smiled.

  Sophie also smiled, with profound relief. ‘There,’ she said, ‘now we can all be comfortable!’

  ‘Mrs Fitzgibbon.’ Sir Marcus appeared behind his son and daughter, reaching to take her hand in his firm grip. ‘I am glad to see you. Our little party wouldn’t be complete without you.’

  Miranda would have been hard to please indeed if she had not been flattered by their attention. ‘You are very kind, sir.’

  ‘There are only familiar faces here tonight. No one of whom to be nervous. Isn’t that so, Jack?’

  Jack shuffled his feet. ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘We are all friends here.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Just so, Father. Never a truer word said.’ His gaze shifted uneasily across the room to one of those familiar figures, and Miranda’s followed it.

  Her heart swelled and her golden-heeled slippers seemed to be floating above the polished floor. Leo was standing by the window, speaking with the Misses McKay. He did not look up, but a smile tugged at his lips and Miranda was sure he was aware of her presence, just as she was aware of his.

  They had agreed to keep their secret to themselves, just for a little while. Not because Leo feared Tina would not be overjoyed by their news, but rather because their happiness was so fresh and new. They wanted to enjoy it, just the two of them, for as long as possible.

  Tina, in a pale lemon gown which had London modiste sewn all over it, joined her. The other woman seemed a little uncertain of her welcome, but Miranda soon put her mind at ease.

  ‘I do not blame you for telling him the truth. In fact, I am thankful. If it had not been for you, we may still be at cross-purposes.’

  ‘And you are not now?’ Tina asked, one arched brow raised. ‘My brother’s moods have been so violent of late I did not trust my own judgment when he arrived home for luncheon looking as if all his horses had won the Derby.’

  Miranda laughed.

  Tina’s other eyebrow lifted to join the first. ‘If I am right, I should congratulate you both, but I expect I am not supposed to know.’

  ‘He hasn’t…that is, he hasn’t… Yes, it is too early.’

  Tina put her out of her misery. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell. And Miranda, he will ask you.’ She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I am so glad it has ended well between you.’

  ‘You have been missing your own family,’ Miranda guessed.

  ‘Yes, I have. But I could not have been happy if Leo was not. People think because he is a duke he should be happy, but that is not the case. When our father died and Leo took upon himself the mantle of being the head of the Fitzgibbon family, he put aside his own feelings. He changed from the passionate boy he had been into a cold man; I see now that it was the only way he could bear it. But now the time has come for him to look again to his own heart. Oh, Miranda, Leo deserves to be happy. You both do.’

  Miranda hardly had time to consider Tina’s words, which were near enough to a blessing, when Sophie escaped her duties as hostess to skip to her side. The girl leaned confidingly close, her breath stirring the auburn ringlet that lay against Miranda’s cheek.

  ‘Mr Harmon is gone, did you know? Jack says he will not dare to return. The sight of him upset me so but, in a way, seeing him again, reliving the nightmare he put me through, has taken away much of the pain. I have spoken to Father, and he has agreed to another season in London.’

  Miranda turned and stared at her. ‘Oh, that is good news, Sophie. You are so pretty and so bright—it would be a shame to rusticate forever.’

  Sophie’s green eyes shone, and for a time they discussed London and the pleasures to be had there.

  ‘Of course, you must come and stay with me,’ Sophie said with a determined air. ‘You are far too young to be a widow.’

  ‘Oh, no, Sophie. You are very kind, but—’

  Sophie gave an impatient little sigh, glancing towards the window where Leo was still held prisoner by the Misses McKay—literally, if their gloved hands on his arms was any indication. ‘I did hope you and Leo might fall in love,’ she said wistfully. ‘You seemed so ideally suited. Jack said it was a case between you.’

  Miranda stared. ‘Jack said that?’

  ‘Jack!’ Sophie called. Her brother approached, his head held at an unnatural angle because of the height of his starched collar. ‘You did tell me you thought it was a case between Leo and Miranda, didn’t you?’

  Jack twitched his cuffs, embarrassed by his sister’s plain speaking. ‘Keep your voice down, old girl. Leo will hear you. I only said I thought it was. Leo’s been as mad as a kite since Mrs Fitzgibbon arrived in town. Up and down and all over the place. Never saw the like. Completely head over heels. Can’t help it if she doesn’t feel the same. Nothing to do with me, Soph! Anyway, I always hoped you and he would…well, so convenient, what?’

  Sophie sniffed. ‘You are a fool, Jack. Leo and I would never suit. He’s far too bossy for me and I am far too fidgety for him. Find yourself a wife, and then you might stop trying to play matchmaker with me and Leo.’

  Jack seemed to be struck forcibly by this piece of advice. ‘Why, there’s a thought! I believe I know just the girl, too! Nice little thing. Blue eyes. Brown hair. The sweetest smile! Can’t remember her name, but it’ll come back to me.’

  ‘Just the girl for what, Jack?’

  The deep, smooth voice precipitated a short and uncomfortable silence. Jack started and gave Leo a rueful smile, while Sophie hurried off with the excuse that she had other, pressing duties to perform. Miranda met Leo’s quizzing glance with her own warm one, and wondered again, with a frisson of pleasure, that such a man should be mad with love for her.

  As usual Leo was elegance itself, at ease in whatever surroundings he found himself. Beside Jack, his good taste was even more noticeable, and he held himself with supreme confidence. And yet—Miranda felt tenderness well into her heart—with her he had been as unsteady as any youth in the first throes of love.

  ‘Sophie tells me I should marry,’ said Jack without the least trace of embarrassment. ‘What do you think, Leo?’

  Leo pretended to consider. ‘Are you prepared to settle down, Jack, and forgo all of your bachelor pleasures?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jack shuffled uneasily. ‘My club? Would I have to give up my club? Been a member since I first came to town, Belford. Not something to give up lightly, a man’s club.’

  Leo looked thoughtful. ‘Whether you have to give up your club will depend upon your wife, Jack. What do you think, Mrs Fitzgibbon? Would Jack ha
ve to give up the pleasures of his club in order to devote himself entirely to his lady love?’

  Miranda took his lead, her expression pensive. ‘A certain amount of devotion is important, Duke.’

  ‘Yes, and the club would interfere in that devotion.’

  Jack glanced from one to the other with growing dismay. ‘What does this “devotion” thing consist of?’ he demanded nervously.

  ‘Well, there are compliments to be paid,’ Leo returned smartly. ‘At least one compliment a day, more if you can manage it. And quiet dinners at home, just the two of you. What else, Miranda?’

  ‘Kissing,’ Miranda replied promptly.

  Leo’s eyebrows rose slowly, and an appreciative gleam deepened the blue of his eyes. ‘Yes. Kissing. Much of that, do you think?’

  Miranda’s cheeks felt a little hot, but she was able to reply calmly, ‘Definitely.’

  ‘There you have it then, Jack.’ Leo clapped his friend on the back. ‘Do you think you’d be able to manage all that?’

  Jack was very uncomfortable. ‘Good gad! I don’t like the sound of it. Quiet dinners at home? No. No, I don’t believe I have the time for a wife after all. Just as well I never popped the question to what’s her name, eh?’ And he moved off at a brisk pace towards the supper table.

  Leo hardly waited until his friend was out of earshot, before taking Miranda’s arm firmly in his and drawing her into a small, secluded antechamber. It contained a sofa and a huge green plant in an ornate pot, and was divided from the drawing room by a heavy curtain. They were quite private.

  Leo settled his love on the sofa, and placed himself beside her, turned slightly, so that he could see her face. She was gazing up at him with brilliant eyes.

  ‘Kissing, Miranda?’ he asked darkly.

  Miranda laughed softly. Maybe it was the dress, but tonight she felt as beautiful and fascinating as he obviously thought her. And there was that odd sensation again, as if she had known him forever, as if she had been waiting all her life just for him.

  ‘Poor Jack,’ Leo murmured. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s missing.’ And bending his dark head, he firmly captured her lips with his.