by Lyn Stone
Life had been so sweet and promising only a fortnight ago.
Chapter Six
Miranda paced the parlor, impatient with waiting, her mind swinging from anger to worry and back again. Where the devil was he? They rode every morning, yet he was not here. She glanced at the clock again. Two hours late and he had sent no word of canceling their outing. No word at all, about anything.
She tapped the crop against her gloved palm for a moment, then tore off her hat and set it aside. Obviously he’d had what he wanted of her last evening and now would go on his merry way. What a fool she had been.
“Madam, Mr. Tood has come. Are you at home?”
She flapped her hand at the butler. “Yes, of course.”
The solicitor appeared distressed. Miranda’s heart almost stopped. “Is it Mr. Morleigh?” she demanded. “Has something happened to him?”
“Not exactly,” Tood said with some hesitancy. “But I feel I must speak to you about that gentleman.”
Miranda steeled herself for the worst. Tood had discovered the man was a cad and a bounder. Perhaps he had a wife already. Or he might be out in town advertising his success in the lonely widow’s bedroom last night.
“Let’s have it, Mr. Tood. What do you know that you did not when you sent him to me two weeks ago?”
Tood stared at the floor like a guilty schoolboy. “He will most likely inherit the earldom of Hadley quite soon, ma’am. At present he is at the earl’s bedside and cannot leave to explain this to you himself.”
Miranda felt deflated. “So he lied to me? He was the heir all along? I asked him and he said it was his cousin!”
“So it was, ma’am. But Captain Morleigh has sustained what is probably a fatal wound in last week’s battle. Word of that came last evening. They fear it has affected the earl’s old heart. He’s quite ill.”
“Oh, my!” A relief, certainly, that she had not misjudged Neville’s honesty. However, if he was to be an earl, a most eligible and sought after bachelor, he would surely wish to make a better match than a widow of twenty-eight. Not when he could have his choice of every young, virginal debutante in London.
“Events suddenly have gone quite beyond Mr. Morleigh’s control,” Tood said. “He sends his regrets and hopes you will forgive him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tood. I appreciate your coming to inform me.” She watched him leave, all her hopes dashed.
There would be no marriage, not to Neville or any other man because no one else would do. She would bear no children. All she would have was the small fortune sweet old Ludmore had left her, his properties and the memory of an entrancing two week romance that ended with one perfect night of passion.
“No regrets!” she said with a sigh of resignation. “None.”
* * *
On the third day of his attendance on the earl, Neville decided to take a few hours’ respite from his vigil and visit Miranda. The prospective deaths of the earl and Caine profoundly affected Neville. He realized now that the life of any man was too brief to waste a day of it on games.
Miranda deserved far better than a role-playing rake. And so did his family. The time had come for truth and acceptance of responsibility, wherever that might lead.
He had sent Tood to explain his absence to Miranda. Now she knew of his conundrum. Well, not all of it, but certainly his being the probable heir was enough to make her rescind her offer of marriage. Somehow he must convince her that his potential rank, his wealth and his former dishonesty were nothing compared with his love for her.
And it was love, he was certain now. Lust did not weather a two year separation without waning, nor did it extend to worrying over a woman’s happiness and well-being. It did not cause heartbreak when the object of it might be forever lost.
Neville took a deep breath, shored up his courage and rapped the lion’s head knocker on her door.
He expected the butler to answer, but Miranda herself opened the door. So the servants were out again, he reckoned. That was good, because he and Miranda would need privacy for this conversation.
She wore a look of resignation. “Lord Hadley, I presume,” she said. Her voice broke slightly and she stepped back for him to enter.
“Not a lord yet,” Neville assured her. “In fact, the earl has improved and we’ve had no further word with regard to Caine. Both could recover and live for years, God willing. “But there are things I must tell you, Miranda.”
Wordlessly she turned to lead the way into her parlor and sat down in one of the armchairs. Neville took one of the others and turned it so they sat knee to knee.
He reached for her hands, caressing the backs of them with his thumbs. “First of all, I would have you know that I love you above everything,” he said. “That is an undeniable fact.”
She looked grave, sadder than he could have ever imagined. Still she said nothing.
Neville smiled at her, hoping to engender one in return. When he did not succeed, he sobered. “It seems I’ve had a resounding attack of honor and feel I must tell you the truth about myself and my intentions.”
She stirred a little and tried to withdraw her hands as she finally spoke. “Not to worry. It was I who proposed to you and you are quite free.”
“No!” Neville shook his head and clenched his eyes. “Let me have my say before you dash my hopes.” He inhaled and released it slowly. “Randal Tood is also my solicitor and my friend. I convinced him to add me to your list of potential suitors because I have admired you for years and wanted us to meet now that you were free.”
“Years?” she asked frowning. “But I never knew you!”
“I know, but I saw you several times at various affairs with Ludmore. After you were through mourning, I thought to set up an…arrangement. I had no wish to marry then, you see, given my father’s disastrous experience.”
“Yes, I do see,” she muttered, glancing off into the distance, “so you would have said anything, even agreed to marry, in order to take me to bed.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Though I had resigned myself to wed you if that is what was necessary to have you.”
“So now you have had me without having to, thanks to my foolish little trial.”
“Not foolish, Miranda. Making love with you stirred me to the depths of my soul. It made me admit what you are to me. Everything.”
She sniffed imperiously and lifted her chin. “Since you insist on perfect honesty, the trial bedding was simply an excuse. I wanted you…immediately. So how does it feel to be used, sir?”
Neville concealed his surprise with another smile. So his girl could give better than she got. “I rather loved it if you must know. But there is more.”
“Do tell.” She was attempting to sound disinterested. He had hurt her pride.
“I have gambled, bedded more women than any man should and I’m damn good in a fight. Tood told me at the outset that these are qualities you dislike in a man, but I figured then that you need never know. If you will believe me now, I am quit of all that. Whatever sort of husband you wish, that is the sort I will be.”
She gave a little smirk. “Why? Soon you will have all the wealth you can use and you shan’t need mine. Though, I daresay, no man ever thinks he has enough.”
“I’ve never needed it, Miranda. Even if I am never earl, I could buy everything you own several times over and still match your fortune pound for pound. It was never about money.”
“You pretended to be poor!” she accused, losing that edge of anger to sharper dismay. “You said you didn’t even own a horse!”
“I don’t. I never needed a horse until you wanted to ride, and we never discussed my holdings, but that’s neither here nor there.” He clasped her hands so fiercely, he feared he might hurt her, but could not let go. “Can’t you see? It is you I need. The rest is beside the point. I truly want to marry you. On my honor, Miranda, I swear you will never regret it if you say yes.”
She yanked her hands from his and sat back, refusing to look at him. “O
n your honor?”
“Yes, honor. I grant it’s a bit late in rearing its head, but there it is. I will never lie to you again, by commission or omission, I vow it.”
He saw her tears, knew she would come round. She needed him as much as he needed her. She loved him. And he couldn’t bear to see her cry. Better if she were angry.
Neville decided to put them on equal footing since she seemed to thrive on that. “Now then.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been painfully honest with you and I suggest you do the same if this is to work.”
“What?” The anger was back. She pounded her palms on the arms of her chair as her wide-eyed glare met his steady look. “How dare you! I have always been honest with you!”
He pursed his lips and inclined his head. “Oh, well, I suppose so, if you don’t count the ruse to get me here in the first place. Travel planning, indeed. Oh, and the bit about my necessary trial under the covers to see if I would do.” He held up a finger to forestall her protest. “That one, you just admitted.”
He watched her eyes narrow as she crossed her arms over her chest. How beautiful she was when riled.
“You want to marry me, Miranda. You know you do,” he said with a sly smile. “I can give you babies! I know you want babies.”
“With a man who hates children?” she demanded.
“I do not! I said I simply don’t know any, so you’ll introduce me. We’ll have dozens! Two at the time, if you like.”
“That’s absurd! You are absurd!” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “I can be and frequently am, but this is seriously true, Miranda. You want someone who loves you for yourself, not just your fortune or beauty.”
“Someone I can trust!” she snapped. “Besides, I don’t love you.”
He feigned surprise. “Oh, dear. Lie number three!” But the time for levity was over and her anger should be by now. Neville was certain she did love him, or at least as certain as a man could be when assessing the workings of a female mind. However, it never paid to take such things for granted. He had to know.
Neville stood up, gave her a short bow and spoke seriously, “When you decide to admit you care, we will talk again. Meanwhile, remember our night, how you trusted me then with your body, if nothing else. Think how well we got on during all our days and evenings together. Those were the times when truth prevailed and there was no pretense between us, Miranda. Just a growing love and you know it.”
He walked out of the room without a backward look, hoping with all his heart that he had not overplayed his hand and burned a bridge that could not be reconstructed.
“Wait! Neville?” She stopped him at the front door.
He turned and she approached, stopping not a foot away, her heart in her eyes. “Very well then, I do love you,” she admitted in a tortured whisper. “Truth be told, I really do. So I must trust you or else lose you. Nothing else matters.” When he only smiled, she added, “So yes, I will marry you.”
Neville couldn’t resist. He quirked his mouth to one side as if thinking about it for a second. “Glad you’ve confessed, but to be fair, I think I should demand a trial of my own to see whether you will do.”
“That’s merely an excuse,” she said, laughing as he swept her into his arms and headed up the stairs.
“Yes. Because I want you,” he admitted, “immediately, if not sooner.”
“And to think, I meant to buy you,” she said with a huff of exasperation, probably thinking her plan had failed. “As if anyone could purchase the likes of you.”
“Ah, but you have, with love, with the most valuable coin imaginable.” He kissed her soundly and plopped her down on her bed. With a grin he began removing his coat. “Consider me yours.”
* * * * *
About the Author
Lyn Stone a painter and writer, finds many similarities in the two creative efforts. She admits, “There’s nothing like losing yourself in a story, whether you’re putting it on canvas or computer. And completing either work is a wonderful natural high nothing can replicate. It is a real joy to do what you love.”
After living for four years in Europe, Lyn settled in north Alabama. She enjoys an enduring romance of her own and is currently dreaming up more happy endings.
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ISBN: 978-14592-3111-5
The Widow and the Rake
Copyright © 2012 by Lyn Stone
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