“I want to meet her trainer.” Wolfe laughed and lifted the feminine hand on his shoulder to his lips before placing it in the crook of his arm. “Andrew, I don’t think you have had the pleasure to meet Lady Elizabeth Hamilton—Llysa, my future duchess.”
“It’s a pleasure, milady.” His bow, normally graceful and low, had to be cut short by the pounding behind his eye. In the course of twenty-four hours, two of his closest friends had fallen to the parson’s trap. Yet Andrew’d had no idea either had been interested in, let alone courted, a woman. The adoration plain to see in both his grace and Llysa showed theirs was not an arranged marriage, and Andrew suspected they knew each other far better than they should.
“Lord Windenshire, it a pleasure to meet another of Wolfe’s friends. I am sure we will be seeing much of you after the wedding.” Her attention remained on Wolfe, the pure love and joy brightening the room before she turned her attention to Simon. “Simon, your bride is ready.”
“Time to get your leg shackled,” Wolfe added, but his gaze focused on Llysa.
“Happily.” Simon headed for the door then paused. “Andrew, in the left-hand drawer of my desk is a writing set. Can you bring it so we can sign the marriage registry for the clergyman?”
Waving them off, Andrew approached the opulent baroque-style desk at the far end of the room. He opened the drawer, pulled out the quill set, but with his perception off, managed to brush quite a few papers to the floor. Crouching, he ignored the throb in his head and collected the scattered pages. An expensive envelope with a deep red wax seal caught his attention. Though broken, the embossed E on the seal stood out. He placed the letter back on the table and the name on the envelope jumped out at him. Madame Evangeline.
Leaning back on his heel, he glanced through the open doors to the other room. Simon stood before the parson with his bride at his side. Next to him, Wolfe played second, his attention moving back and forth from the clergyman to Simon’s fiancée on the other side of Chandra, herself soon to be the new Marchioness of Breckinridge.
Two lords, both engaged within a short time, and at least one had acquired the services of the elusive and expensive 1Night Stand service. Andrew suspected Wolfe had, too. If one had enough money and was in need of a discreet liaison for a night, no one did a better job of arranging one than Madame Evangeline. Not that Andrew knew much more about the secretive woman than a reputation only whispered about, other than her uncanny ability to bring two people together for an unforgettable evening that often went beyond that night. Since first learning about the woman a few weeks prior at a weekly poker game with the other lords, he had let curiosity get the better of him. Unfortunately, not many would admit to contacting Madame Evangeline, let alone using her services. But the few who did said she was the best.
Picking up the card that had fallen out of the envelope, he pocketed it. Since his friend obviously no longer needed it.
After making sure he’d put everything back in its rightful place, Andrew joined the wedding party in the other room. With the previous night’s ordeal still fresh in his mind, perhaps he should follow Simon’s lead, stop trying to find a woman within the ton, and let a professional handle it for him.
Eventually, luck had to be on his side.
Right?
***
Tears flowed, but whether from the pain in her knuckles, or the sadness in her heart, Miranda couldn’t say. After arriving alone back at her aunt’s house, she’d spent the rest of the evening under the covers, crying into her pillows in hopes no one would hear her. Embarrassed and feeling betrayed, she didn’t think she could handle the servants’ gossip as well. Since Miranda had snuck off the night before with Lord Windenshire into the garden, her whole sense of who she was had collapsed. Everything she had ever done or been taught had been a lie. She had wasted her life on a dream, been a naïve fool to believe what everyone told her without question.
“There you are.”
“You found me.” Wiping the tears from her face, Miranda smiled with what she hoped would pass as anything other than heartbreak and disillusionment under her Aunt Sarah’s watchful gaze. “You’re up early.”
“Silly gel, I have only just arrived home.” Sarah sat on the edge of the bed. “So how did your walk in the garden go?”
Easing up in the bed so her back rested against the cushioned headboard, Miranda plucked at a thread on one of her pillows. “You saw that?”
Her aunt rolled her eyes. As if Miranda could have left the ballroom without the notice of the woman. “Of course I saw it, and I would have been worried if you were in the same room with the earl and didn’t take the opportunity to speak with him. I suppose you got an answer from him.”
“I supposed I did.”
“Well?” Aunt Sarah huffed. ”Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“His lordship had not an inkling of who I was.”
“He hasn’t seen you since you were…honestly, I can’t remember how old you were.”
Shaking her head, Miranda pulled the quilt tighter around herself. “No. I meant he didn’t know who Miranda Beauchamp was.”
Sarah gave her a perplexed frown. “That can’t be correct. There is a signed contract stating the two of you were betrothed as infants.”
Yes, but signed when Andrew had been but a week old, and Miranda yet to be born. “Have you ever seen the contract?” she asked.
“No, but I can’t imagine your mother lying about it. It made sense, and your father spoke at length that combining the two estates would lead to all those great things men care about; it would right a wrong, and other such drivel. To be honest, I rarely listened past the first few words. My brother bored saints. And I am no saint. And, neither was your mother. She was more of a—”
Miranda had grown up hearing how despised her mother had been by anyone who knew her. “Aunt Sarah, please, not today.” Changing the subject, she said, “I wonder if Daniel can locate the contract?”
“If anyone can tell us where it might be, it would be your idiot brother. Or the family solicitor here in London would surely have it. Shall I send a missive asking a representative to come meet with us?”
“Would you?”
“Of course, dear. Although I don’t see what difference it might make.”
It would make all the difference in the world. “I need to discern if I am free to live my life, I suppose. Am I free of my obligation to Lord Windenshire?”
“Now that is something I might be able to help you with. Are you sure you want out of the contract?”
Nodding, Miranda moved closer to her.
“Very well. The best way to get out of this marriage contract is to compromise yourself—” Aunt Sarah frowned. “Don’t look at me as if you are shocked. And you can close your mouth while you are at it, not at all ladylike. If you aren’t pure, no one will fight the legality of the agreement made between two foolish men. I am familiar with a woman who helps set up evenings between the well-to-do.”
Miranda stopped her jaw from dropping, but only just, not sure if the shock came from her aunt being aware of such a woman, or because she spoke about it so openly with her. “How do you know of this?”
“I might be your maiden aunt, but I am no maiden. I decided years ago life would be easier without a man to be chained to, and I am one of the few women of our time blessed with freedom and money to live my life the way I choose. I, too, had an aunt once. Aunt Milly left me everything she owned so I would not need a man to be reliant upon.”
“I’ve never heard of Milly.”
“You wouldn’t. My brother thought it unfair for her vast estate to go to me, a simple bluestocking. Milly’s name never crossed your father’s lips once she died.” Sarah waved a hand. “Now back to what’s important…I have actually used Madame Evangeline’s services twice. Both resulted in long-term, mutually satisfying relationships for me and the men.”
“Aunt Sarah....” Miranda’s cheeks burned, the heat of embarrassment threatening to engulf her
. “I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having.”
“Don’t be a ninny. Who else is going to have this talk with you? Your mother, who ran off with that officer to the wilds of Australia? Perhaps your brother. No? Darling, if you want to get yourself out of this asinine contract, then you have to do some things you might not be comfortable with. I support you either way.”
“This Madame Evangeline…she won’t tell anyone?”
“Strict confidence. I trust her. I wouldn’t send you to anyone I didn’t trust. I love you as if you were my own daughter.”
“I love you the same.” Sarah had been more of a mother to her than Miranda’s own mother. Sarah had attended every major event in Miranda’s childhood. And, although she continued Miranda’s training to be the impeccable countess, she never bit her tongue about how she felt. “How much do her services cost?”
Waving her away, her aunt approached the yellow floral brocade drapes, pulling them closed. “Consider this a gift from me. An independence party. Besides, the pittance of an allowance your brother gives you to keep you on tight reins wouldn’t pay for it, even though, of course, it is your money and not his.”
“I can’t ask you….”
“You aren’t asking, I am offering. I think this might be the best thing to ever happen to you. How long would you have waited for the earl, had your eyes not been opened? And how many young ladies has he pulled into gardens with the intention of debauching them?”
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.
Chapter Two
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.”
The Earl and His Virgin Countess Page 2
