* * * * *
Inexorably, the house party moved closer, as the dowager took every opportunity to remind her. "Will you have a carved swan or a goose?"
"For what?" Miranda was puzzled. The food had been selected and preparations begun already.
"Ice sculptures, of course."
"Whichever you feel works best." She gave a standard answer to almost all these questions that the dowager put to her. She could not take interest in the upcoming weekend; the thought of it filled her with dread.
"I do wish you would take more interest, my dear."
The dowager's irritation showed and Miranda felt contrite.
"I cannot help but dread this event, as you well know. But even if I did not, I would be content to allow you to make all the decisions. Simon himself told me how skilled you are at such things."
"Did he?" The unexpected compliment from her son seemed to quiet her objections to Miranda's disinterest. For a moment. And then she sighed and reached out to pull a cobweb from the shoulder of Miranda's dress. "I suppose you did not forget to have a suitable gown made in which you might dance?"
"Of course not." Miranda had endured half a day of fitting, pinning, and poking, much to her sisters' amusement. "My gown is quite suitable." She remembered the warm flare of interest in Simon's eyes as he kept her amused during the tedious fitting. "Even Simon approved." Not enough to come to her bed, unfortunately.
"Well enough, then." The dowager seemed satisfied by that confirmation of Miranda's wardrobe. "And what jewels will you wear with your new gown?"
Miranda's heart sank. "Jewels?" She had nothing at all.
"Yes. I know that you were a young girl for your first Season, and that your parents were not wealthy. But that should not matter to the Duchess of Kerstone. Have you asked Simon about the Watterly jewels? There must be something suitable there." The dowager's hand had strayed to her neck, her fingers played with the plain locket that hung there.
"I do not know. I had not thought ... " Miranda remembered her mother's beautiful swan necklace, the one she would have pawned if that wretched beast of a thief hadn't stolen it from her, along with the candlesticks. That necklace would have been perfect for her new gown, which was a beautiful scarlet hue. But it was forever lost. She hoped whoever had bought it appreciated the fine workmanship as much as her mother had.
The dowager nodded briskly. "Well, then, see to asking Simon about it. We cannot have you starting rumors that the Watterlys are not well-set. Not with five girls to bring out in the next ten years."
A light masculine harrumph of laughter made both women look toward the doorway. The American stood there, smiling. "Five girls to bring out? I pity the duke."
"He needs no pity, Mr. Watson. He is an excellent duke." The dowager seemed unnecessarily sharp to Miranda's ears.
Mr. Watson merely nodded. "Don't mean anything bad by my words. Indeed, I envy him his family." His gaze swept over the papers on the dowager's writing desk and flickered to her face briefly. "I'm sorry to have bothered you ladies. I thought I'd find a little company for my walk."
Miranda smiled to herself. The man was obviously enamored of the dowager, although Simon's mother seemed completely unaware of his feelings. She grasped the excuse to leave the dowager's company with alacrity. "Indeed, we were just finishing for the day, Mr. Watson."
With a nod to the stiff-backed dowager, she added, "I shall ask Simon about the jewels immediately." Not, of course, that she cared about jewels or ice sculptures. She simply wanted to see her husband.
She headed toward Simon's study with a legitimate reason to interrupt him, finally, and visions of ice sculptures soon became replaced by notions of seduction.
The Fairy Tale Bride Page 29
