The Earl and His Virgin Countess (3 page)

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.

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.”

Andrew crouched before her and asked the maid, “Do you have any ice?”

“Oui.”

“Fetch some, please.”

“No!” the injured lady said. “I mean, it isn’t proper for us to be left alone.”

Raising an eyebrow, he tried hard not to scoff. “I hate to bring up the obvious, but did you think there would be a maid with us the whole evening?”

“No, of course not, I thought—that is, I didn’t think—it would be you.”

“I see.” Standing, he took a few steps back, but never took his eyes off her. What had he done to this woman for her to be so opposed to spending the evening with him? He wasn’t the town’s most notorious rake, and he had no recollections being with her before, at least not long enough to have offended her.

The maid returned with a bowl of ice and a cloth, and handed them to him. “Monsieur.”

“Thank you. Would you have the prepared food brought into this room?”

“Yes, sir.”

He placed a few chunks of ice into the cloth then, turning toward his
maiden in distress
, he asked, “Shall I place this on your ankle, or do you wish to do it yourself?” Andrew could not imagine how she planned to do it without his help.

She took a minute to debate her answer. “Would you be so kind as to assist me?”

“I am yours to command.” He smiled, her words must have tasted like crow. “So what exactly happened?”

“With the carriage, you mean?”

“Aye.”

“Honestly, I can’t say for sure. We hit a bump and, the next thing I knew, I was bounced into the air, and we were sitting at an odd angle. The rear wheel—” She hissed as the ice touched her stockinged leg.

“Continue,” he urged, although he already had a good idea what had happened. But he wanted to take her mind off her injury.

“What—oh right, the rear wheel was in pieces, smashed beyond recognition.”

“You are lucky.”

“How so?”

“You might have been killed or thrown from the carriage. People have died of lesser accidents.” He knew firsthand, as a cousin had died in that very manner.

The blood drained from her face, leaving a greenish tint. Without thinking, he lifted her into his arms and walked the few steps to a nearby chaise lounge. He laid her down so her foot rested on the back and her head lay where her feet should have been.

“Do you need me to call for a maid to ease your corset ties?”

“No…maybe.” She sighed. “I am not usually one to fall into vapors.”

“I never thought you were.” In truth, he believed she wasn’t. “You have had a bit of a shock tonight. When did you last eat?”

“This morning,”

“Is the room spinning?”

“Not so bad now that I am lying down. Thank you.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t have done for any lady in need.” He smiled. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. The maid entered then paused. “What is it?” he asked.

“The servants are uncomfortable entering when you are both present, milord. It’s the policy for no one to see both persons. Tonight we have broken that rule. They—we would all like to amend that now.”

“I understand. If you will leave the food on a trolley in the hall, I will bring it in. Thank you.”

“Merci.”

“Wait. Before you leave, let me step out so that you may help….” He paused and looked at the lady on the chaise. “It occurs to me I have yet to acquire your name.”

“Miranda.”

“Miss Miranda is in need of some assistance.” He bowed before leaving them alone for the maid to release her stays. A butler met him as he walked out and Andrew asked, “Have you arranged for her ride home?”

“We are working on repairing the wheel. It appears to be the only damage. But that will take a few hours. We do not want to send her home in your carriage, as it’s marked with your family seal, and a hackney can’t guarantee secrecy.”

“Understandable. The lady will also require assistance into her residence, as I do not believe she can walk on that ankle.”

“We will send a servant or two to assist her.”

“Very well.”

The butler left him in the hall to his thoughts, Miranda being the main one.
Hell
. There were seven Mirandas of his acquaintance in the ton alone. So her name, though not as popular as some, was still common enough. And while her voice caused a sizzle of recognition, he’d never seen her face. He would have remembered her. It did seem unfortunate she knew him and hated the association. None of this helped him understand her any better.

The sitting room door opened, yet no one emerged. Pushing it wider, he spotted a hidden panel at the other end close. He lifted the tray of food off the trolley and brought it in, placing it on the table in the corner. Miranda had moved and sat on the chaise with her foot propped on a large bolster.

“Feeling better?”

She nodded. “Yes, thank you for asking.”

“What can I get for you to eat? Something light, I think, easy on the stomach.”

Nodding again, she shifted slightly. He imagined she was quite uncomfortable at the moment, both emotionally and physically. After filling her plate with a slice of bread and some fruit, and, pouring her a cup of tea, he considered adding a glass of wine, but decided she needed something solid first. Handing her the cup of tea, he pulled a small spindle table toward her with his free hand.

“Start with this, and if you can keep it down and want more, I can make you another plate.”

Over the edge of her teacup, she looked at the table then back at him. She certainly had the grande dame haughty stare down to an art form. “I don’t expect you are used to serving others.”

“If you mean....” He paused to ensure she paid attention, not relishing having to explain to her again, that unlike her, acting a snob, he was anything but.
Madame Evangeline has failed miserably on this match
. “I am able to serve myself, if necessary, but I feel it’s more important to put people to work. And as I can afford to pay someone to make my meals and another to serve them to me, that is two more people who can bring money home to families who need them.”

A rosy flush spread across her pale skin. “I beg your pardon, milord.”

“Please call me Andrew.” Placing food on his plate, he filled the last empty spot with a piece of quail. He swirled the red wine in his glass and wished it were something stronger, but, in the end, alcohol in any form was welcome. Nothing about the evening could be described as planned.

“It wouldn’t be proper to call you by your given name,” she said.

“And I suppose coming here to meet with a strange man for a clandestine evening is proper? Did you plan to call me milord while we made use of the large bed upstairs? When you screamed your pleasure, would it be ‘milord’ on your lips?”

Her perfect lips formed an O and then began to tremble.
Christ, she’s about to cry
. To his utter surprise, she threw her head back and laughed out loud. Not a delicate giggle, but a laugh that started from deep within and engulfed her entirely. Even more surprising: she enchanted him.

Her eyes filled with tears of mirth. He hadn’t taken the opportunity to truly look at her. Tears of laughter streamed down her freckled cheeks, and he gave in. Her reddish hair, a hue that would never make her the envy of the ton, fell in disarray around her delicate face, framing her green eyes. But the fiery color suited her, brought out a rose tint in her lips and cheeks that made her seem more alive.

There was no pretense to her, and certainly she had been less than impressed with him. He doubted, even were he a prince or a king, it would make any difference to her. She hadn’t held back her disenchantment of him, yet apologized honestly when he’d corrected her. This Miranda intrigued him in a way he hadn’t felt in a while.

“You must think me a complete prig.” She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. An action in no way
de rigueur
, but which nevertheless didn’t make her appear any less ladylike.

Taking pity on her, he handed her the linen handkerchief from his inner coat pocket. “No, I think you a lady who has been through much this evening.”

She snorted, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Some lady.”

“You appear to be perking up.”

She utterly charmed him with her unfettered enjoyment. Most women of his acquaintance only let men see them in the best light. A lady in public was always dainty and would never laugh until tears poured down her cheeks, and certainly wouldn’t point out her own faults. “Perhaps you would like something more substantial to eat.”

“Yes, please. Perhaps it’s unladylike to admit, but I am starving.”

He smiled, taking her plate. “It’s actually quite refreshing. I grow tired of petite young things who eat nothing and pass out at a drop of the hat.”

“I am neither young nor petite.”

No, she had curves in all the right places. Making sure it wasn’t ignored, his cock twitched as it hardened. “You seem perfect to me.”

“Ha! Far from perfect.” Again her lips formed the tantalizing O before she asked, “Did you put something in my tea?”

“I did not.”

“Then I have no excuse for my behavior.”

He laughed that time, filling her plate with a bit of everything. “You have done nothing in need of excusing.”

“But I would have thought you’d prefer a perfect woman.” Her eyes clouded with what appeared to be confusion. He supposed it wasn’t too hard to believe; a peer of the realm would be looking for what society considered would be important in a mate. He handed her the plate laden with delicacies and far more food than he had ever seen any woman eat.

“Thank you, milord—Andrew.”

“You’re welcome. Now, indulge me.” he said, retaking his seat in the high back chair. “What do you think is perfection?”

“I believe....” Taking a bite, she contemplated the question. “Perfection for you would be a woman who is well-mannered and carries herself with decorum at all times. She is the perfect hostess. She does delicate needlework, plays the pianoforte, and sings beautifully. She would complement you, if on your arm, and would never argue.”

What she described sounded like a paper doll. A woman with no thoughts of her own. He didn’t want a vacant vessel in his bed only for the purpose of begetting children; he wanted a partner. Andrew yearned to have a woman look at him the way Llysa and Chandra looked at their men. Both women stood up to their lordly men, all the while complementing and supporting Wolfe and Simon. “Sounds bloody boring, if you ask me.”

“Really.”

“Might as well be with a living statue. I’ll bet this woman would also stare at the ceiling and think about England while I drive into her.”