by Gayle Buck
When next Jeremy Wainwright saw his wife, thought Daggett, he would learn that he had been cuckolded. He strolled away on the satisfying thought.
“How I detest that man!” exclaimed Miranda in a low, trembling voice. Her fingers were clenched on the ribs of her fan.
“But how can you say that? You have but just met him,” said Anne. “I do not know what can possibly have gotten into you, Miranda. I have never before known you to deliberately offer unprovoked insult.”
“Unprovoked? Little do you know of the matter, cousin! That man is the very same who unlawfully seized Jeremy’s ship and impressed our American sailors. No, I do not offer unprovoked insult, Anne. If I had my way, Captain Daggett would be made to pay dearly for his temerity,” said Miranda furiously.
“Oh!” Anne threw a startled glance after the departing officer. “That certainly puts a different complexion on the matter. But then how is it that Captain Daggett is so friendly? I would have thought that he would be appalled to be recognized by you.”
“His arrogance carries him forward, Anne!” said Miranda in hasty judgment. “It is like taunting a gored bull. Captain Daggett obviously dares me to expose him for the cad that he is.”
Anne shuddered. “Really, some of the things you say!”
Miranda looked at her a moment in bewilderment and then she laughed. “I am sorry, Anne. I did not realize that I was being indelicate. Come, let us forget the loathsome man and enjoy ourselves. There is our kind hostess free of her duties at last. I should like to discover which of the young ladies so effectively routed Miss Burton.”
Anne gave a gurgle of laughter. “Indeed. Andrew said that Mrs. Earlington was puffed up like a partridge with pride. It was quite a triumph. I should have liked to have been present.”
Mrs. Earlington received the ladies’ attention with graciousness. She was particularly gratified when Mrs. Townsend complimented her on her daughter’s extraordinary skirmish with the beauty. “Yes, it was quite a victory for my Tabitha. I don’t mind telling you that it did my heart good to have a certain young lady set down for once,” she confided. “I am sure I am as tolerant as the next person, but I have thought for quite some time that Miss Mary Alice Burton was too puffed up with her own consequence, if you will pardon the expression. And I am certain that you, Miss Wainwright, have every reason to feel pleasure. It is well known that Miss Burton bears you ill will, though I cannot think why, as kind and good-mannered as you are.”
“I cannot say that I am sorry for Miss Burton, but it is an uncomfortable thing to have one’s dignity cut up in public. To that extent at least I sympathize with her,” said Miranda.
“That is just like you, I am sure,” said Mrs. Earlington, nodding. She turned to Anne. “Where is the viscount tonight, Mrs. Townsend? I had quite thought to see him with us.”
Anne shook her head. “My brother-in-law is too conscientious by half. He said that he wished to finish up some paperwork this evening that Richard’s solicitor had brought. I never before realized how much was involved in—this sort of thing.” Her voice cracked and tears entered her blue eyes. She reached quickly for a dainty handkerchief.
Mrs. Earlington was distressed. She certainly had not meant to discomfit Mrs. Townsend in any way, she stammered. Miranda eased smoothly into the breach. “Mrs. Earlington, perhaps you will be able to tell me. I have talked to the gardener and Mrs. Crumpet about candying violets, but they cannot agree on the best way to go about it.”
Mrs. Earlington seized with relief on the change of topic. She spoke animatedly on the proper time to harvest the violets and what she had discovered to be an admirable recipe for the delicacy. After a few moments Anne had recovered herself and was quite able to contribute to the conversation.
Dinner was announced and the small party of guests went in to a well-prepared repast of barley soup, meat pies, new potatoes, peas and scallions, and roasted game hens. Miranda and Anne partook of coffee afterward in the drawing room, but Miranda soon recognized that her cousin was drooping and it was not long afterward that the ladies took leave of Mrs. Earlington and the squire and returned to Willowswood.
* * *
Chapter 20
Lord Townsend heard their entrance from the study and opened the door. “How was the squire’s dinner?”
“It was quite nice, for the most part. You were missed, however, and Mrs. Earlington read me a short lecture on allowing you to become a hermit,” said Anne. She stood on her toes to place a kiss on her brother-in-law’s cheek. “If you do not mind it, Andrew, I am on my way to bed. It has been a tiring evening.” She turned from him and after a brief good night to Miranda, she went up the stairs.
Lord Townsend stared after his sister-in-law with a sudden frown. He glanced at Miranda, who was giving her cloak and gloves into Crumpet’s care. “What happened to upset Anne tonight? ‘
“When Mrs. Earlington asked your whereabouts, Anne mentioned the papers that you were toiling over. It reminded her of Richard, of course, and overset her for a few moments,” said Miranda.
“Damn! I had wondered if even attending a private dinner party was entering society too soon,” said Lord Townsend.
“I do not think it would profit her to remain entirely secluded, my lord. She would dwell too much on her loss,” said Miranda.
“You are right, of course. Anne needs the support of others when she is troubled,” said Lord Townsend. “Do you also go up to bed, Miss Wainwright, or would you condescend to join me for a cup of tea?”
“I should like that very much, actually,” said Miranda.
Lord Townsend glanced at the butler. “Crumpet, be so good as to bring Miss Wainwright and myself some tea. We shall be in the study.”
“Very good, my lord,” said Crumpet, and withdrew from the hall.
Lord Townsend gestured, inviting Miranda into the study. She walked inside and seated herself in a wingback chair. With a sigh Lord Townsend threw himself into the chair opposite her. He ran his fingers through his thick hair. “I did not realize the task Richard set for me when he named me executor of his will. It is a wretched business,” he said.
“Is the will not clear, then?” asked Miranda with concern.
Lord Townsend gave a tired laugh. “Oh, it is clear enough. But other than naming Robert his heir and making me guardian until Robert’s majority, Richard blithely left it to my discretion how the estate is to be handled and how Anne is to be provided for. He actually penned that he had no patience for such things and that I had a much better head for it than he,” he said.
“Oh no. I cannot believe that Richard would leave such loose ends,” said Miranda.
“I have discovered since coming to Willowswood that my brother was prone to leave any and all paperwork to others. Hence the mess that I found with the working papers of the estate and the discovery that his bailiff had been robbing him blind. I had hoped that the will, since it was drawn up with the guidance of Richard’s solicitor, might be different. But Mr. Garrison informs me with much regret and obvious disturbance that Richard brushed aside his advice and would not add one more word than what he had written,” said Lord Townsend. “These papers here involve Anne’s future. I must make provisions for a pension for her out of the estate. But what with the estate tied up in trust for Robert, I do not yet see my way to how it is to be done.”
The door opened and Crumpet entered with the teapot and cups on a tray. After serving them and accepting their murmured thanks, he left again.
“Surely there are other monies than those tied up for Robert,” said Miranda.
Lord Townsend’s eyes suddenly sharpened. “What did you say, Miranda?” She repeated herself, stuttering a little because he had used her Christian name. The viscount did not seem to notice her flush. “By God, you have hit it exactly! As Robert’s guardian I may set aside proceeds from the estate for investments that are to his benefit. I think that a mother may be counted as a benefit for a small boy.”
Miranda stared at hi
m and then laughed. “I wish I may see Anne’s face when she learns that you have invested in her as a mother.”
Lord Townsend grinned. “It is an odd way of putting it,” he agreed. “But I think that it may fly with Mr. Garrison, who is quite as anxious as I am to settle the question. He is a devout family man and it pained him that Richard made no clear provision for Anne other than to remand her to my discretion. I suspect also that he feared what form my discretion might take. I am a London gentleman and therefore must be assumed to be careless of life’s more sober considerations.”
“I cannot condemn Mr. Garrison for his prejudices. I once thought you a cold and frivolous gentleman and took you in the greatest dislike,” confessed Miranda.
“Good God! What had I done to warrant such an opinion?” asked Lord Townsend, disconcerted.
“It was your announcement that you had come down to Willowswood not in answer to your family’s distress but because you were in disfavor with the Prince Regent,” said Miranda.
Lord Townsend looked at her, his gaze suddenly intent. “And what is your opinion of me now, Miss Wainwright?”
Miranda felt a hint of danger on the air. She slowly replied, “I believe you to be a most caring gentleman, my lord. Certainly you have shown such consideration to Anne and Robert, and indeed to myself, that…” She could not continue then because the viscount had left his chair and come over to her.
He raised her out of her chair, his brown eyes holding her gaze. Still retaining a gentle grasp of her shoulders he stared intently into her eyes. “Your opinion of me is quite accurate, Miss Wainwright. I am definitely a caring gentleman,” he said softly. He bent his head to kiss her with a tenderness that Miranda had never before experienced. It was like tasting a heady wine. Afterward Lord Townsend folded her quite naturally in his arms, his cheek resting on her hair.
Miranda blinked, coherent thought returning to her slowly. She felt warmed and secure. Something most important had just occurred between her and Lord Townsend. Before she could form the question that had risen in her mind, Lord Townsend had released her and gone over to the fireplace. He picked up the poker and prodded the burning log so that a shower of yellow sparks went up the chimney. “I did not ask you earlier, Miss Wainwright. How did you find Squire and Mrs. Earlington’s dinner party? ‘
Miranda, of a sudden abandoned, had to gather herself together before she could reply. “As always the company was most pleasant,” she said. “With the exception of one gentleman.”
The quality of her voice was such that Lord Townsend turned his head, his heavy brows raised. “I discern a positive dislike for the gentleman. Who was he?”
“I met the naval officer that everyone has been speaking about with such approbation. I do not share the general favorable opinion of Captain William Daggett,” said Miranda.
“So I gather,” said Lord Townsend dryly. “What has Captain Daggett done to offend?”
“He was the commanding officer of the sloop that seized Jeremy’s ship. I hope that I need not explain what my feelings were upon meeting him here,’ said Miranda.
“No, I can well imagine them. I wonder what the man is doing in this neighborhood? It strikes me as peculiar that he happens to appear in the same district as yourself,” said Lord Townsend. “You did say, did you not, that in your brother’s last letter he wrote that he had won his case? I wonder, did he happen to mention Captain Daggett in any regard?”
Miranda shook her head. “Jeremy said nothing. Why, should he have?”
“Perhaps it would have helped explain why Captain Daggett chose to take his holiday in this particular neighborhood. Miranda, I would prefer it if you gave Captain Daggett a wide berth. There is something about this that gives off a foul odor. And I think that you should write Jeremy. I am most curious to discover what was the outcome of the complaint against Captain Daggett,” said Lord Townsend.
“Of course I shall write Jeremy. But I do not think that Captain Daggett poses much of a threat to me, as you so obviously fear,” said Miranda with a smile. But in that she was to be proven wrong.
* * * *
In the weeks that followed Miranda was surprised and angered when Captain Daggett seemed to single her out for attention. She could not understand his motive. It was as though he were taunting her to denounce him for the scoundrel that he was. This in itself made Miranda wary of doing so and so she kept her own counsel on what she knew of the naval officer. She had a strong wish that Jeremy would answer her letter so that she would know better what she ought to do; but Jeremy seemed to be in no hurry to reply.
Others noticed the dashing captain’s attentiveness toward Miss Wainwright and began to speculate upon it, wondering if they were to see a match. Miss Burton was extremely disturbed by the gossip. After her clandestine rendezvous in the rose garden with Captain Daggett, and its unexpected intimate culmination, Mary Alice had assumed that the gentleman was a serious suitor for her hand. Since then she had shown him marked partiality over her other suitors, so much so that there had been several laughing remarks made even within her hearing that the capricious Miss Burton had at last been snared and not a title in sight.
It was a surprise to everyone, and no less to Mary Alice herself, that she did not care what was said. Her haughty pride seemed to have deserted her where Captain Daggett was concerned. She had eyes only for him. Her thoughts revolved around the maddening gentleman, who treated her with much the same negligence he had before that fateful assignation. But despite his unfeeling manner, Mary Alice gravitated to him at every function. Hers was not a particularly reflective nature and she accepted Captain Daggett’s coldness as part of his personality.
However, the business of Miss Wainwright was more than she could stand in silence. Miss Burton decided that she had to confront Captain Daggett and discover exactly what his actions meant. She went boldly to Willoughby Hall under the pretence of issuing an invitation to one of her brother’s sporting parties and requested a private interview with Captain Daggett. With a shrug, he led her outside to the gardens. Miss Burton waited only until her maid had discreetly dropped back before she taxed him over his attentions toward Miss Wainwright.
Captain Daggett laughed. “It is no concern of yours, Miss Burton,” he said.
“But what of us, sir? Surely—” His glance silenced her for an instant, then she said in a pleading voice, “Captain Daggett—William, please! I gave all you demanded of me in this very garden. Surely I deserve an answer!”
Captain Daggett reached out to catch a blooming red rose between his thin fingers and plucked it from its stem. “A rose in full bloom is at its loveliest and most alluring. The bees hover about it in the warm sunshine, dipping to catch a taste of its sweet nectar.” He dropped the rose and crushed it underfoot. He looked at Miss Burton, an edge of cruelty in his gaze. “The nectar has been collected, Miss Burton, and the rose is blown. Quite, quite blown.”
Mary Alice’s face flamed. She turned unsteadily and walked quickly away. Her surprised maid, who hurried to catch up with her, cast an uncertain glance back at the naval officer. Captain Daggett gazed after Miss Burton’s exquisite form as she disappeared. He laughed softly and exited the garden.
Slowly a figure emerged from between the high hedges. He was frowning as he stripped off his pruning gloves.
* * * *
Miranda continued to repulse Daggett’s unwelcome advances as best she could so as to avoid any more gossip than was already circulating. But it went against the grain with her to be forced to receive the gentleman with any show of civility at all and she declined even such few invitations that were being received at Willowswood so that she would not meet Captain Daggett. On those occasions that she did encounter him, such as at church or during a morning call in the village, she managed to avoid him by never separating herself from the company of others.
However, the day came that Miranda ran into Captain Daggett without benefit of company. She had taken flowers to the church and arranged the
m on the altar, chatting in a friendly fashion as she did so with the caretaker of the cemetery. The man walked out of the church with her and tipped his hat as he said good-bye. Miranda stood pulling on her gloves. She was on the point of stepping up into the gig that she driven from Willowswood when she became aware of a rider whom she recognized coming down the lane toward her. As the mounted gentleman approached she gave a cool nod but spared him no more than a glance. She was taken aback when Captain Daggett pulled up his mount and bade her good day.
“It is very well, thank you,” said Miranda shortly, stepping up into the carriage.
Captain Daggett sat his horse in a negligent posture, one hand cocked on his thigh. “You do not care for me overmuch, my lady?”
Miranda paused to give him a straight stare before she seated herself on the carriage seat. “I have sufficient reason not to, sir.”
Captain Daggett smiled. His smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Why, as to that I wouldn’t be so certain. I have only to glance at a woman to know when she is restless. And I am very well able to satisfy that craving.” His arm snaked out to catch Miranda about the waist and he half-lifted her out of the gig. His knee and topboot pressed against her thigh and his spur caught in the fabric of her skirt.
Miranda strained away from him, shoving with all her might at his chest. His arm was like a band around her and his wide-spread fingers pressed close the soft flesh of her waist. The contact was loathsome. For the first time in her life Miranda wished fervently that she wore a corset. “Unhand me at once, you cad!”
