Willowswood Match

by Gayle Buck

  “I perceive that you are a lady of resolute character, Miss Wainwright,” said Lord Townsend.

  Miranda was not certain that his tone conveyed commendation, but nevertheless she inclined her head slightly. “So I should hope, my lord.”

  The viscount had finished his sandwich and now poured himself a second cup of tea. He leaned back in his chair. “I must tell you, Miss Wainwright, that however grateful my sister-in-law may be to you, I myself find it appalling that the care of my family should fall into the hands of a stranger, however well-intentioned she may be,” he said.

  There was a short silence while Miranda digested his statement. She bit back the impulse to retort that she was certainly no stranger to Anne. “I can understand your reservations, my lord. Indeed, your sentiments do you credit,” she said magnanimously.

  “Then you will also understand why I have decided to remain at Willowswood until my sister-in-law is quite recovered,” said Lord Townsend.

  Miranda was disconcerted. It was the last thing she expected to hear. Thoughtfully, she swept the gentleman across from her with a slow glance. Viscount Wythe, who appeared every inch the elegant gentleman, did not strike her as the sort who would willingly spend even a weekend on a country estate. “Of course you must do as you wish,” she said.

  Lord Townsend laughed at that. “I always do, Miss Wainwright, I assure you. Now as for yourself, I understand from my sister-in-law that your brother was also expected, but I do not recall seeing him about.”

  “My brother, Jeremy, was detained in port. His ship was unfairly seized for being in violation of your government’s Orders in Council and he has set in motion an official protest,” said Miranda shortly. She was unwilling to discuss the matter in any great detail with this cynically smiling gentleman.

  “I see. I must naturally wish Mr. Wainwright all success in his endeavor. However, it seems to me that we cannot expect his appearance at any time in the foreseeable future,” said Lord Townsend in a dismissing tone.

  “Perhaps not. I shall excuse myself now, my lord. As I mentioned earlier, there are a few matters that I wish to attend to,” said Miranda, rising from the table.

  The viscount flipped his hand at her in acquiescence and showed her the barest courtesy by only half-rising from his chair. Miranda’s eyes narrowed at this slight, but she said nothing. As she gathered up the tea tray and left the dining room, she thought that the arrogant, superior Viscount Wythe would quickly learn that she was not to be dismissed so lightly.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  Despite Viscount Wythe’s unexpected appearance, Miranda continued with her plan to tidy the rooms on the ground floor, sweeping them of dust and taking away the sheets that shrouded the furniture. She had her first inkling that the shopping party had returned when she heard Robert’s shrill voice.

  “Uncle Andrew! Uncle Andrew!” There was a man’s deep laughter and the sound of running footsteps. Miranda emerged into the hall just in time to see her young cousin fling himself into the viscount’s arms and be swung about in a wide circle. She was astonished by the warmth in Lord Townsend’s laughing expression as he spoke to his nephew. During their interview earlier she had decided that his lordship was a rather cynical, cold gentleman but the viscount’s obvious attachment to his nephew tempered the negative opinion that she had formed of him.

  Under cover of their laughter and the boy’s excited talk, she addressed her maid. “How did it go with the young ruffian?” she asked quietly.

  Constance chuckled. “Very well, Miss Miranda. Oh, there were a couple of incidents, to be sure. But overall Master Robert minded himself very well.”

  “I am happy to hear it. I trust also that the appearance of Master Robert and Mrs. Crumpet in the village excited the proper attention,” said Miranda with a glance at the cook.

  “Aye, it did that. We’ll have no more talk of plague and pox, I’ll warrant,” said Mrs. Crumpet with satisfaction.

  The enthusiasm of the fond meeting between uncle and nephew had dissipated a little, enabling the viscount to overhear what had been said, “What is that, Mrs. Crumpet?” he asked sharply.

  Mrs. Crumpet dropped a hasty curtsy. “Begging your lordship’s pardon, I am sure. It was Miss Wainwright’s thought, and a good one it was, for I and Master Robert to make an excursion into the village so that those who ought to know better would still their tongues about us here at Willowswood.”

  Miranda thought she could interpret the viscount’s sudden frown. “It seems that my cousin’s illness was rumored to be the pox, my lord. That is why the servants fled so precipitously.”

  “Good God, what ignorant fools,” said Lord Townsend impatiently.

  “Quite, my lord,” said Miranda with a faint smile.

  He eyed her for a moment. “I must bow to your ingenuity, ma’am. It was a masterful stroke.” He held out his hand to his nephew. “Come, Robert. We shall go out to the stables, you and I. I drove down my gray team, you know.”

  “Oh, did you, uncle? How famous!” said Robert. With the boy skipping alongside, the viscount left the hall.

  “His lordship seems a nice gentleman,” said Constance.

  “Does he? I suppose so,” said Miranda with a marked lack of enthusiasm. Her companion threw her a wondering glance which Miranda chose to ignore. She turned to the cook. “I have made the drawing room habitable, Mrs. Crumpet, so that we may have our coffee in there this evening.”

  “Oh, miss! You shouldn’t have bothered. Why, it isn’t fitting,” said Mrs. Crumpet, somewhat distressed.

  Miranda laughed, her blue eyes dancing a little. “I do not think that a little dusting will harm me, Mrs. Crumpet. It was so badly needed, there and in the other rooms as well. However, I shall want a bath before dinner is served, Constance. I have gotten myself quite untidy this afternoon.”

  “Of course, Miss Miranda. I shall attend to it at once,” said Constance, preceding her mistress up the stairs.

  After making ready for dinner, Miranda looked in on her cousin. Anne had just been served a tray by Mrs. Crumpet and seemed much more cheerful than she had previously. “Miranda!” She stretched out a hand to her cousin and urged her to sit beside her bed. “I am so glad you have come to see me. I have been dying to hear your opinion of my brother-in-law, Lord Townsend. Is he not a superb example of a true gentleman?”

  Miranda was hesitant to disagree when Anne appeared so eager, so she hedged a little. “I think his lordship could be said to have an imposing personality.”

  Anne laughed at her. “What a quaint way you have, Miranda! If I did not know Andrew better I would suspect that he had set your back up in some way. But I know that cannot be true. He can make himself so very agreeable. Now tell me how you have spent your day. I am anxious to hear all about it.” She settled herself more comfortably against her pillows and looked at Miranda expectantly.

  Miranda obliged with a humorous account of her dealings with the Crumpets and Robert and her endeavors as a housekeeper. She also gave Anne a highly colored version of her meeting with the viscount. Anne laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh do stop, Miranda! I shall die laughing at another word,” she gasped. “To think that Andrew could make such a mistake. It is appall—appalling!” And she fell into a fresh peal of laughter.

  “Well! I had thought to have my insult treated with more respect than this,” said Miranda with mock affront. She frowned lugubriously at her cousin, who attempted and failed to sober her expression.

  “I am sorry, Miranda. It is too—too bad of me,” said Anne, wiping her face and still chuckling. Mrs. Crumpet had come in to take Anne’s tray and nodded approvingly at how much had been consumed. She also beamed to see her mistress in such good spirits.

  “I am only happy that I have been able to make you laugh,” said Miranda. She leaned over to place her cool cheek against her cousin’s in a tender display of affection. “I must go down to dinner now. I do not think that I shall visit you again this eve
ning; but Robert will come up afterward, I am certain.”

  Anne nodded. She was still smiling as Miranda left her bedroom in company with Mrs. Crumpet. “The mistress has been done a wonder of good by your attention, Miss Wainwright,” said the cook. “She has eaten two full meals since you have come and is livelier than she’s been since the household servants deserted Willowswood. At this rate she’ll be up and about in no time.”

  “I do hope you are right, Mrs. Crumpet,” said Miranda, entering the dining room.

  As a treat, Robert had been allowed to have dinner downstairs in the dining room with his uncle and Miranda. Constance also graced the table, though she appeared somewhat uncomfortable to be doing so whenever the viscount’s glance happened to fall on her. When dinner was done, Constance took Robert back upstairs to visit his mother before going to bed.

  “You are fortunate in Mrs. Graves. She is a woman of many talents, not the least of which is a firm hand with young boys,” said Lord Townsend in an idle voice.

  “Indeed, I do not know how I would go on without her. She has been the greatest support to me, especially during this visit,” said Miranda. She watched as Crumpet brought a bottle to the table. “I see that it is time for your wine, my lord, so I shall make my exit and leave you alone to enjoy it.”

  “Pray do not go, Miss Wainwright. I detest drinking alone. Your presence will be a boon to me,” said Lord Townsend.

  Miranda hesitated, then acquiesced. She shook her head when he offered to pour a glass of the amber liquid for her. “Thank you, my lord, but I do not care overmuch for wine. I much prefer tea or coffee.”

  “Then you shall have it. Crumpet, a pot of coffee on the instant,” said the viscount. The butler took the pot from the sideboard and placed it on the table before he bowed and left the dining room.

  Miranda served herself a cup of the hot, fragrant brew, aware all the while that Lord Townsend was studying her face. A slight flush rose in her face under his scrutiny.

  “You are an unusual young woman, Miss Wainwright. I have already seen the results of your efforts in the house and I speak not only of the housekeeping. I have spoken with the Crumpets and they have nothing but your praises to sing. Mrs. Crumpet in particular was determined to make me aware that Mrs. Townsend has shown improvement since your arrival,” said the viscount.

  “If that is the case I am heartily glad of it,” said Miranda. “Anne is very dear to me, though we have not seen one another since we were girls, and in the intervening years have remained close through our letters.” She coolly met the viscount’s eyes. “You seem to be quite a favorite of my cousin’s, my lord.”

  Lord Townsend smiled slightly, aware of the reserve in her tone. “And does that surprise you, Miss Wainwright?”

  “Not at all. I think that you are too clever to expose Anne to a taste of your bad temper when she is ill,” said Miranda promptly.

  The viscount threw back his head and laughed. “I see that I shall never live down my error in thinking you a slatternly housekeeper! I apologize again for my gross misjudgment, Miss Wainwright. There! Is that not done handsomely enough to allow us to be friends?”

  “Perhaps, my lord. Your manners are very agreeable when you wish it,” said Miranda, smiling.

  Lord Townsend stared at her. He was reluctantly impressed with the dancing look in her extraordinarily blue eyes. It was not often that he found himself on the receiving end of such teasing. It was a new experience from a woman and he was not certain that he particularly enjoyed it, but certainly he had not been bored for a single moment in Miss Wainwright’s company. “Allow me to return the compliment, ma’am. I was quite taken aback at what I shall term your graceless colonial manners. I am not at all used to receiving an upbraiding from a lady,” he said with a bow from the waist.

  “I can well imagine,” murmured Miranda.

  The viscount gave her a wounded look and threw up his hand. “Truce, ma’am! Let us agree on a truce, I implore you. I do not know if my sense of self-worth can withstand much more.”

  Miranda laughed outright. “Very well, my lord. I shall agree to such, if only to allow you to lick your wounds,”

  Lord Townsend bowed once more, thinking as he looked at her that he had never met a more infuriating female. But there was something about Miss Wainwright that went beyond the annoyance that she engendered in him with her spirited remarks. He had already taken note of the heavy, glistening chestnut hair done up at the back of her head. The chignon was unusual when short curled hair was the fashion, but it suited Miss Wainwright admirably. He had appreciated as well her deep blue eyes and creamy skin, her slender, swift hands that handled all that she touched with competence, and her trim, attractive figure. But it was her personality that most intrigued him. She was different from other ladies of his acquaintance. Her expression was completely lacking in the come-hither look to which he was accustomed when a woman’s eyes dwelled on his person. It struck him suddenly that Miss Miranda Wainwright had not exhibited one iota of interest in him or his social status. And if that irks me, then I am sadly wanting in character that I must have a colonial nobody’s admiration, he thought with something like chagrin.

  “I am touched by your devotion to your family, my lord. Crumpet said that he had written to you of Anne’s illness and the situation at Willowswood. It says much that you left your own pursuits to come down here,” said Miranda.

  “I was due for a rustication in any event,” said Lord Townsend with a shrug. “I am presently out of grace with the Prince Regent and it is better that my face not be seen about London to remind his highness of his irritation.” He leaned forward to pour himself another glass of wine and thus missed the expression of outrage and aversion that crossed Miranda’s face.

  “I will say good night now, my lord,” said Miranda, rising from the table. She allowed no sign of the anger she felt to show in her expression at Lord Townsend’s offhand confession that it was as much convenience that brought him to Willowswood as it was consideration for the well-being of his sister-in-law and nephew. But she could not control the darkened color of her eyes.

  Lord Townsend was startled by the coolness of her tone and the abruptness of her move to depart. “But it is early, Miss Wainwright. Surely you do not wish to end the evening so quickly.”

  “I have had a rather fatiguing day and the coffee has had time to cool to indifference. From that stand-point alone, I think it a good moment to take my leave,” said Miranda. She made a slight curtsy and had left the dining room almost before the viscount had collected himself enough to rise in courtesy from his chair.

  He thought he saw a flash in Miss Wainwright’s amazingly dark blue eyes as she swept out of the room. For a moment only he wondered what he had done to irritate her, then he shrugged indifferently. It was none of his concern, after all. He settled back into his chair to finish his wine.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  The following morning Miranda rose and dressed with an eye to utility. She wore a stuff gown of indifferent color and fit and from somewhere produced an apron. Looking at herself in the mirror she was satisfied that she presented the very picture of an upstairs parlor maid. Constance stared hard at her mistress’s outfit but she knew better than to comment when Miss Miranda held such a challenging look in her eyes. Instead she meekly accepted Miranda’s suggestion that they clean the upper rooms after breakfast.

  “An excellent idea, Miss Miranda. I shall join you directly after I have seen to the boy,” said Constance.

  “Of course. I had forgotten Robert,” said Miranda with a small frown. “Do you take him in to see Mrs. Townsend this morning?”

  “Oh no, not until luncheon. I expect Mrs. Townsend will appreciate a peaceful morning and after a few hours exercising the horses under Jenkins’s strict eye, Master Robert will not be quite so feisty,” said Constance wryly.

  “I understand completely. You have it well in hand, Constance. I admit that I had my reservations in turning Robe
rt over to the groom, but if he is able to curb my small cousin’s exuberance he is an excellent man indeed,” said Miranda with a laugh.

  “Indeed he is, ma’am,” said Constance.

  Miranda went downstairs to the dining room. Crumpet was serving breakfast and his bow was all that was correct. However, there was a slightly shocked look in his eyes at Miranda’s chosen form of dress. He recovered quickly and nothing could have exceeded his civility as he asked her what her preference would be from the sideboard.

  Miranda requested poached eggs and toast. There was a dancing fun in her eyes when she glanced at the butler. “I am disappointed, Crumpet. Do I not sufficiently look the part of a housemaid for you to scold me for my presumption in coming to breakfast?”

  “No one could ever mistake you for a housemaid, Miss Miranda,” said Crumpet staunchly. But there had been the briefest hesitation before he replied that spoke volumes.

  “Thank you, Crumpet,” said Miranda, her lips quivering. She knew at least one person who would say otherwise. At the thought of Lord Townsend, she wondered whether she had already missed him. That would be a pity because she had anticipated that her outfit would provoke that gentleman to comment and she had a particular reason for wanting him to do so. She picked up the coffee pot to pour a cup of the hot brew. “Has his lordship come down yet?”

  “No, Miss Miranda. His lordship was up very late and indicated that he would not be requiring breakfast,” said Crumpet. His countenance and his voice were wooden.