A Kiss from the Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  “So, you thought you could get away from me, did you?” he snarled, holding her wrist in his iron grip. “How stupid you must think I am if you did not believe that I would follow you here! Miranda, you have underestimated me!”

  “Stop, you are hurting me!” she pleaded.

  “Silly fool!” he spat, pulling her towards him.

  “I say, is everything all right here?”

  The Earl’s voice came ringing down the hall.

  Stringer had informed him that one of his guests was leaving early and he wanted to investigate the reason.

  Lord Brookfield swiftly let go of Miranda’s wrist, but seemed quite unperplexed to have been caught, as it were, red-handed.

  “Everything is well,” he responded. “Miss Whitby slipped on something and I managed to catch her. I do hope that I have not hurt you with my rather rough attempt at rescue, Miss Whitby?”

  The tone in which he spoke told Miranda that he would not expect any protest from her.

  Terrified of what might happen should she blurt out what had really transpired, she simply concurred.

  “Yes, that is correct. Please return to your guests, Robert, my carriage should be here in a moment.”

  The Earl hesitated.

  He looked first at Miranda and then back to Lord Brookfield.

  There was something unreal about the atmosphere between them that gave him cause for concern.

  “If you are quite certain – ” he replied, taking Miranda’s hand.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He kissed the silky satin of her evening glove and wished he could tear off the buttons and cover her wrists with kisses.

  Ashamed of having such craven thoughts, he turned on his heel and left.

  “Miss Whitby, your carriage is waiting.”

  Stringer loomed close by as if to protect her.

  He did not like the look of this interloper one bit! One minute a stranger and the next wheedling his way into the family!

  “Come, I will accompany you, miss,” offered Stringer and Miranda gratefully followed him to the door.

  She did not look back, but moved quickly towards the open carriage door that awaited her.

  All the way back to The Grange, she could not stop crying.

  ‘I thought I had managed to escape from him and now he has followed me here! First thing tomorrow, I must inform the Earl about what happened in London and throw myself on his mercy. I can only hope he will help me and protect me!’

  *

  Lord Brookfield made his way back to the ballroom just as the string quartet was finishing the first half of the performance.

  He clapped politely as he stood at the back of the room and noticed with a smirk that the Earl appeared to be very much engaged with Lady Waterton.

  Or so it appeared at first glance.

  “You have ignored me all the evening,” she pouted, unfurling her Chinese fan and waving it vigorously in front of her face. “I am broken-hearted!”

  “Lady Waterton, no offence is meant. It is simply that I have been occupied with my guests, some of whom I have not seen for five years or more.”

  “But I am your guest too,” she continued to press the matter. “I was hoping that we would spend some time alone this evening. Instead I find you have been chasing after that Whitby girl. What a fuss she caused at the dining table!”

  “She felt a little unwell and asked for her carriage. I don’t see how that constitutes creating a fuss,” retorted the Earl with irritation rising in his throat.

  “I fail to understand why you concern yourself with such a dull little thing,” said Lady Waterton waspishly. “I have seen the lovesick eyes she casts at you and it is quite plain that the poor child has developed something of an infatuation for you. As if you could view her in that light – the very idea!”

  Lady Waterton laughed a brittle laugh and then snapped her fan shut. Her eyes now glittered with the challenge she had thrown at him and she was fully confident that he would join in the joke and agree with her.

  “I have known Miss Whitby since we were both children,” snapped the Earl, trying hard not to lose his temper. “And I do not see what is so outrageous about the idea that I might return her feelings! She is no child, Lady Waterton, she is only a few years younger than I.”

  Her face was a look of utter astonishment.

  “But surely you would not consider her – ”

  “What, as a potential sweetheart or wife?” he spat, as he turned his fury upon her. “And why should I not? Because she is not you?”

  There was no stopping him now, all the resentment that he had felt over the past weeks while Lady Waterton swanned around his home as if she was about to inherit it herself, boiled over.

  He lowered his voice.

  “Do not think for an instant that I don’t know what you and Mama are up to,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I am well aware that she invited you here with the sole intention of you ensnaring me. Well, I am afraid that you are to be sorely disappointed, madam. Is there anything I could say to convince you that I do have not the slightest interest in you or what you are saying? Or are you deaf as well as unable to take a hint when one is dropped?”

  Lady Waterton’s mouth fell open and her bosom heaved.

  A slow flush of scarlet started up her neck and spread across her cheeks. Her eyes darted back and forth and it was all she could do not to behave like a common trollop and spit in his face.

  “Well! I have never been so insulted!” she cried, shaking with humiliation.

  “Then I suggest you depart from Ledbury Hall at your earliest convenience in order to protect yourself from further insult!” he added in a voice like ice.

  Unable to contain her temper she brought her silk-gloved hand smartly up and smacked him squarely across the face.

  He did not react, but took the blow with composure.

  “I am leaving here at once!” she shouted, jumping up and storming across the ballroom. “I have no intention of staying under this roof a moment longer!”

  The Countess stared after the furious woman and then tried to disperse the tense atmosphere by signalling to the quartet to begin playing again at once.

  With a glare at her son she left the room to follow Lady Waterton to offer her apologies.

  He watched his mother’s back with a sense of bitter triumph and then left the room as well.

  Whilst he had removed the cause of his anger, he knew that he would now be in deep trouble with his Mama.

  But it had been Lady Waterton who had caused a rumpus by slapping his face publicly and whom he felt owed him an apology for such a loss of face.

  He was not prepared to climb down.

  ‘Women, eh?’

  Lord Brookfield had insinuated his way over to where the Earl now stood and clapped him on the back.

  “A fine-looking woman but I could never stand one with a temper!”

  He did not reply, but looked at Lord Brookfield searchingly. His heart was thumping as he recalled the scene in the hall and his earlier words which might have created the allusion that he was now on intimate terms with Miranda.

  “Quite an evening, eh, Templeton,” continued Lord Brookfield archly. “And such a pity that Miss Whitby was taken ill and had to leave early. I had quite forgotten that you were such old friends until your mother mentioned that you grew up together as children.”

  “We were indeed great friends,” he replied coolly.

  “Then I am even more surprised that she has not yet told you how she and I were sweethearts in London!”

  He paused for a moment waiting for some reaction from the Earl, but could not discern anything underneath the inscrutable gaze that held his own without wavering.

  “In fact most of my friends assumed that we would be married,” he rambled on, twisting the knife in slowly. “And then she dashed-well disappeared! Of course I put it down to a dose of last minute nerves. An announcement was to be made any day and she must have got cold feet.”


  The Earl forced himself to control his emotions.

  Even though his head was now telling him that what Lord Brookfield was imparting could well be no more than fabrication, something made him uncertain.

  Miranda had never disclosed why she had returned to Malvern that summer, when she had not been expected back for at least another six months.

  And the scene he had witnessed in the hall that evening had made him uneasy about what their connection might be –

  But any chance that he might have had to discover more was now dashed when he suddenly saw his mother bearing down on him with a face like thunder.

  Even at a distance he could tell she was furious.

  Lord Brookfield noticed as much and quickly made his escape, leaving the Earl alone in the hall.

  “Robert!” she scolded in the same tone that she had used to admonish him when he was a child. “You will go to Lady Waterton at once and apologise for your shocking behaviour! She is threatening to leave.”

  “Mama,” he now riposted, returning her steely blue gaze, like for like. “I don’t care a fig if Lady Waterton leaves, in fact, I shall welcome it!”

  “I can see that in spite of appearances, you have not changed as much as I had hoped. You are still foolish and wilful and what is more you have ruined all my plans! I suppose you will tell me that you prefer that little tomboy Miranda Whitby to a fine lady such as Florence Waterton!”

  “Actually, Mama – I do!” he replied, moving away to pick up a drink from a passing footman.

  “Well!” she snorted as he walked back towards the ballroom sipping from his glass.

  The evening wore on uneventfully. The Countess was forced to leave the proceedings at one point to say her goodbyes to a still furious Lady Waterton, who informed her that even if her son were the last man on earth, she would not consider him as a suitable marriage partner!

  “I do not blame you, my dearest friend,” she said, with a dramatic sniff. “It is as if his position has suddenly gone to his head. I shall return to London tonight and write to you again soon. I do hope that you will come and visit me. I shall not be returning again to Ledbury Hall.”

  The Countess glared at her son as she returned to the ballroom, but refused to allow the episode to ruin the evening.

  Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves and she shielded a little yawn behind her glove as she noticed it was fast approaching midnight.

  Eventually the guests began to dwindle away and by quarter-past midnight there remained in the drawing room only her son and Sir Peter Robey.

  Lord Brookfield had some moments earlier bidden farewell to the Countess and the coolness between him and her son had not escaped her attention.

  As Sir Peter was finally helped to his carriage, the Earl stood by the fireplace and swirled the brandy around his glass thoughtfully.

  Ever since their strained encounter in the hall, he could not stop thinking about what Lord Brookfield had said about Miranda. Could it be true? Had there been some understanding between them and then Miranda had run away?

  He found it just impossible to believe that Miranda could have been involved with such a man. Even though he owned a title and estates, a gentleman could still be a bounder, could he not?

  And then there was the hint of nuptials that he had mentioned when they had first met. Surely Miranda could not be the hoped-for wife of whom he spoke?

  He drained his glass and asked Stringer to replenish it. He was fast becoming quite drunk and it felt pleasant.

  He wanted for nothing more than that weird Lord Brookfield to be a complete liar. Yet, even he could see that there was some kind of connection between the two. Staring into the empty grate he sighed heavily and came to a conclusion.

  ‘I loved her as a boy and now that very love has resurfaced,’ he finally admitted to himself. ‘But if she is definitely involved with Lord Brookfield and is more or less betrothed to him, then there is no hope for me! I must discover the truth!’

  With the last guest gone and the drawing room empty, he told Stringer to go to bed and leave the rest of the clearing up till morning. Stringer gratefully bowed and wished him goodnight.

  ‘I must now discover the truth about Miranda and Brookfield!’ he repeated to himself over and over again. ‘I could not bear it if she was to marry another!’

  *

  As soon as Miranda had returned home, she had gone straight to her room, torn off her finery, flung it to the floor and then lay sobbing on her bed for hours.

  ‘I did not think I would ever see him again!’ she wept. ‘That evil, slimy man! How dare he track me down as if I was mere quarry! And to make those insinuations in front of Robert!’

  She remained thus prostrate, until her father came to look in on her some hours later. He was most upset to see her in such a state.

  “Does your mother know about this problem?” he whispered, as he held her in his arms and smoothed her hair.

  “No, Papa. I did not wish to wake her. She had gone to bed by the time I returned home.”

  “We must inform her first thing tomorrow morning and I will order one of the grooms to patrol the grounds to ensure that Lord Brookfield does not try to put in another appearance.”

  “Another appearance?” repeated Miranda.

  “Yes, my dearest, I did not want to tell you, but Mervin informed me that he was here just a few days ago. He arose Mervin’s suspicions when he offered to inform me that we had a visitor and Lord Brookfield hotfooted it away. I did not tell you this, darling, but Mervin caught him snooping around the gardens. Miranda, do you think it wise to keep on working at the Hall under such circumstances?”

  “Lord Templeton will surely protect me,” she answered fervently. “He will not allow me to come to any harm.”

  Sir George sighed.

  “It may well be that tonight’s episode was designed merely to frighten you. He strikes me as the kind of man who derives his thrills from terrorising those weaker than himself. Now go to bed and do not worry.”

  He retrieved his candle and kissed his daughter on her head. As he moved towards the door, he stopped and turned to Miranda.

  “Perhaps you might now concede that staying at The Grange and not working for Lord Templeton might be a wise choice at the moment. I am sure he will understand. We shall discuss this subject again in the morning. Now goodnight, darling.”

  As he closed the door behind him, Miranda began to weep again.

  ‘But I love him! I could not bear not to see him every day and not be involved in his plans for the future!’

  But she knew that her father’s words were wise.

  He did not know what Lord Brookfield was capable of, as she had diluted the facts when presenting them to him upon her return from London.

  Only she understood how ruthless he could be.

  Yet the thought of not seeing Robert Templeton for weeks on end was unbearable.

  She cried herself to sleep as she tossed and turned long into the night –

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lord Brookfield had not wasted his time at Ledbury Hall by just enjoying the entertainment his hosts had laid on for their guests.

  After Miranda left he had quickly located the study and found what he wanted.

  The plans for the new dairy were all laid out on the Earl’s desk. He smirked as he took a clean sheet of paper from the desk and copied the map of the estate on to it. He then folded the paper and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

  Then he noticed a pile of letters Miss Jenkins had written, some of which the Earl had signed.

  ‘A signature could be most useful,’ he muttered to himself, secreting the topmost letter into his pocket.

  Before he left, he took a sheet of headed notepaper from the desk.

  He now patted his jacket pocket with a great deal of satisfaction before slipping out of the study, hoping that his absence had not been noted.

  Much later that evening, while Miranda still sobbed into her pillow and th
e Earl was pacing his room mulling over the words that had been so poisonously tossed at him, Lord Brookfield was busy plotting in his hotel in Malvern.

  With a sketch of the Earl’s estate in his possession and the positioning of the new dairy, he soon concocted a plan to abduct Miranda.

  As he ran over in his head what he would do, he went over to the small suitcase that he had hidden beneath the bed and took it out.

  Inserting the key into the lock, he snapped it open and lifted the lid. Inside the red velvet lining was an object wrapped in a piece of black material.

  Weighing it gently in his hands, he unwrapped it with a sinister smile playing about his lips.

  ‘She will give me no trouble with this in my hand,’ he murmured, staring at the small pistol. ‘And with the aid of the chloroform I have with me, she will not know a thing about it until we are in Gretna Green!’

  With a hollow laugh he replaced the gun in its case and then carefully locked it. ‘Tomorrow!’ he whispered to himself. ‘Yes, I shall put my plan into action tomorrow!’

  *

  Sir George did not allow the servants to wake up Miranda the next morning.

  “Leave her be,” he told them. “She must rest.”

  But Miranda was not asleep. She had opened her eyes when the first servant began moving around the house and then she lay awake staring at the ceiling going over and over the previous evening’s events.

  ‘Why did Papa not inform me that Lord Brookfield had already been to the house? I could have run away and hidden!’

  But she realised that there were precious few places left for her to run to and that he would persist in pursuing her, even if she fled to another Continent.

  ‘I don’t wish to live my life as a prisoner,’ she said to herself. ‘Papa and Robert will not allow any harm to come to me.’

  She sat up in bed and thought about the Earl.

  Had it been her imagination or had his manner last night been a little more than just that of a concerned friend or employer?

  His timely intervention in the hall had prevented Lord Brookfield from harming her anymore.

  She rubbed her wrist that still bore the red marks from his fingers. Had the Earl not arrived on the scene at that moment, he would have broken her delicate flesh.