A Season To Remember

by Gayle Ava Stone, Jerrica Knight-Catania, Catherine

  “You’re hardly one to play messenger.” Pippa tilted her head to the side as though to study him better. “Is there something different about you this afternoon, Harry?”

  “Different?”

  “I’m not sure what it is,” Pippa said, “but there is something decidedly different about you. Are you up to something?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “What could I possibly be up to?”

  “I was just wondering the same thing,” drawled Jason York, Earl of St. Austell, from the threshold. Then he nodded his head in Harry’s direction in way of greeting. “Casemore.”

  “St. Austell,” Harry grumbled.

  “I heard a very interesting story about you this morning.” The earl stepped into the parlor. “Something about you tossing a mysterious dark-haired chit in gentlemen’s clothes over your shoulder at Gioco’s last night and absconding with her?”

  Pippa gasped.

  Harry shook his head. “What a bizarre tale.”

  “Indeed.” His jackanapes of a brother-in-law dropped into a chintz chair across from Harry and Pippa, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “And yet I heard it from Heathfield and no less than a half a dozen other fellows this morning.”

  “Harry!” His sister turned her full attention on him. “What on earth?”

  Harry shrugged. What else could he do? If that many people were talking about the incident, it was better to come clean. Somewhat, anyway. “I helped a girl find her way out of the club, that’s all.”

  Pippa touched a hand to her heart. “What was she doing there?”

  Harry would still love to know the answer to that question.

  “Better question is who is she?” St. Austell asked.

  “Not really certain,” Harry lied.

  “You didn’t ask?” His brother-in-law smirked, as though he could spot a liar. He probably could, being one himself.

  “Jason,” Pippa admonished.

  How Harry would love to toss the disreputable earl through a window. Obnoxious ass. He retrieved his hand from his sister’s grasp and nodded in her direction. “I’d best be off to Marston House. Shall I tell him to expect an invitation from you later today?”

  “Marston will be in the Lords.” St. Austell’s blue eyes narrowed on Harry. “But his sisters are all reported to have dark hair, now that I think about it.”

  Harry glared at his brother-in-law. “I find it quite interesting that you’re paying attention to reports about Marston’s sisters, since you’re married to mine.”

  “Harry, Jason.” Pippa sighed. “I would truly love it if the men I love more than anything could manage to be in the same room together without coming to blows.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” St. Austell cooed. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  It took all of Harry’s control not to snort. The blackguard couldn’t be on his best behavior if his life depended on it. Still, he adored Pippa more than anything. So Harry leaned toward her and dropped a kiss on his sister’s brow, just like he had done most of her life, whenever she needed soothing. “Sorry, Pip.” Then he rose from his spot, slightly tipped his head in his brother-in-law’s direction, and said, “I should be going though.”

  Pippa smiled. “I’ll make certain to invite all of Marston House, Harry.”

  Perhaps Miranda should just march herself down to Stalbridge House, pound on the front door and demand the villain show his face. It certainly wasn’t the first time that particular thought had crossed her mind, but until now she’d dismissed it each and every time. After all, she’d be turned away at the door and wouldn’t be allowed admittance over the threshold, as she didn’t know the gentleman, nor any of his sisters. No, she’d have to catch Stalbridge somewhere outside of his home, where he couldn’t turn her away.

  Blast Harrison Casemore! She would have found her quarry last night if the Herculean brute hadn’t thrown her over his shoulder. At the thought of the handsome gentleman who’d turned her legs to mush, Miranda leaned back from her escritoire. Her heart beat a little faster, though she tried to ignore it. That was easier wished for than done, however.

  What if Mr. Casemore had kissed her the previous evening? What would she have done then? All alone with him in that hack? That particular thought had kept her up half the night. The other half the night, she’d cursed the strapping man for tricking her into revealing things she didn’t want to reveal – her name, her direction. Who knew what else he’d have dragged out of her if the ride home had taken any longer?

  Without so much as a knock, Miranda’s door was tossed open and her younger sister Penelope barged into the chamber as though it belonged to her. It didn’t. Penny’s chamber was across the hall and to the left. Miranda scowled at her exuberant sister. “I’m busy, Penny.”

  Penny launched herself across Miranda’s nicely made bed and cupped her face with both hands, her dark curls bouncing about her face. “You have a caller. I told Louisa I would get you.”

  A caller? Miranda shook her head. Her sister must be mistaken. She hadn’t caught any man’s interest, and none had caught hers. None would either, not until she could find Tessie. Who had time for silly courtships when her dearest friend was missing? “Send whoever it is away. As I said, I’m busy.”

  “Busy moping in your chambers or plotting or whatever it is you do these days.” Penny sighed. “It’s no matter. You need to come down. Louisa is entertaining the fellow.”

  Miranda groaned. “Who is it? Do you know?”

  “Wherever did you meet Lord Harrison Casemore? I’m rather—”

  Lord Harrison Casemore? He’d come here? He was more than a mere mister? How had Miranda missed that? Blasted man had learned all her secrets, but had kept a number of his own.

  “—certain I would have remembered a man of his stature, and I’ve attended every event you have this season.”

  Miranda leapt from her chair. “He’s here?” she croaked. What if he said something to Louisa about last night? Their sister-in-law would tell Devlin and then Miranda would be done for.

  “Mmm. Yellow parlor. You should hurry unless you want Louisa to scare him off.”

  Miranda could only be so lucky. The man she met last night wouldn’t be scared away by her kind sister-in-law. The man she met last night would, in turn, find a way to weasel out all sorts of information from Louisa. But to what end?

  She dashed toward her door, but as she caught a glimpse of herself in the beveled mirror, Miranda stopped in her tracks. Heavens! She looked awful. Her hair wasn’t pinned and she’d worn a drab daydress, not for the way it flattered her figure, but more because of its comfort. She couldn’t see him like this!

  From her bed, Penny laughed. “He must be something. I don’t recall you ever giving a second thought to your appearance before.”

  “Oh, hush,” Miranda hissed. “And help me! Quickly!”

  If Harry had to drink another cup of tea waiting for Miranda Bartlett to show her pretty face, he was going to float away down the Thames. But what choice did he have? He was not about to leave Marston House without seeing her once more. He had to know if she was just as enchanting in the daylight as she had been in the moonlight. Or he had to know if his whiskey-soaked mind had created her out of the ether.

  Miranda’s sister-in-law, Lady Marston, seemed pleasant enough, but she wasn’t at all the exotic, headstrong girl he’d come to visit this afternoon. Not by a long shot. And even as she’d tried her best to be a charitable hostess, the viscountess seemed to have run out of things to say to Harry. So they both sat quietly in their respective seats, smiling at each other and alternating turns, taking sips from their cups.

  But then, in the doorway, a lovely vision in green appeared, and Harry nearly choked on his tea. He sprang to his feet and he could only gape at the beauty who stood just inside the threshold. There was something to be said about scooped bodices. Her unbound hair, cravat, and waistcoat from the night before had well hidden Miranda’s charms from his view. Dear God, h
e’d missed so much. What he wouldn’t give to be alone with her in that hack again right now. He wouldn’t care if she told him her name or not. In fact, he would do everything in his power to make her forget her name altogether.

  “Miss Miranda.” His voice came out, sounding like a croak. Dear God, he sounded like a green lad of fifteen.

  “My lord,” she returned, stressing the last for some reason. “What a surprise to see you.”

  Was it? She’d had to know he’d seek her out. Harry’s gaze swept across her form, drinking her in. Miranda’s dark tresses were piled high on her head, revealing a graceful neck. How the devil had Harry let her escape last night without stealing a kiss first? Without tasting her pretty olive skin?

  Lady Marston cleared her throat. “Miranda, Lord Harrison tells me we should expect an invitation from Lord and Lady St. Austell to attend their ball tomorrow evening. Isn’t that nice?”

  “My sister,” Harry clarified, glad to have discovered that his voice had returned to its usual timbre. What in the world was wrong with him? In all of his years, he’d never been so flummoxed over a mere girl. Not once. How quite disconcerting it suddenly was not to be in complete control of his thoughts.

  “The one who isn’t harebrained?” Miranda’s pretty hazel eyes twinkled as they landed on him.

  Harry smiled back. “I’ve only got the one.”

  Miranda heaved a sigh. “How generous of her,” she said. “However, I believe we are busy tomorrow night, aren’t we, Louisa?”

  Busy gaining entrance to more gaming hells? Or getting herself into an even worse predicament? The girl needed a keeper, and clearly Marston was too busy for the job.

  Before the viscountess could respond, another dark-haired beauty scrambled into the room as though she’d been listening in the corridor and was afraid things wouldn’t go her way. “A ball at St. Austell House?” She nearly danced on her toes. “Oh, say we can, Louisa.”

  Lady Marston glanced from the sister and then to Harry. She nodded in agreement. “We’ll look forward to seeing you there, Lord Harrison.”

  Thank God for the sister. Whichever one she was, the chit had become Harry’s favorite Bartlett. Well, other than Miranda, of course. “I am certain Lady St. Austell will be thrilled to make everyone’s acquaintance.” Then he flashed his most charming grin at Lady Marston and said, “I had hoped to convince Miss Miranda to join me in my phaeton in the park today.”

  The viscountess shot her sister-in-law a look and replied, “Well, then you should ask her, my lord.”

  But Miranda would most likely say no, just as she’d tried to get out of Pippa’s ball. Harry’d had to outwit her at every turn last night to get any information out of her. Fortunately, his mind had been functioning properly then, which was quite surprising, all things considered, as he had been suitably foxed at the time.

  Harry returned his attention to the exotic girl who’d captured his interest the very first moment he’d seen her. Perhaps a bit of bravado would help his cause. After all, it had never failed him in the past. “What do you say, Miss Miranda? We have much to discuss, do we not?”

  Panic flashed in her eyes, but it was gone a moment later. She smiled tightly, then nodded her acceptance. “A ride in the park sounds lovely.”

  Good heavens, a ride in the park with her Hercules! Miranda couldn’t keep her heart from fluttering, which was more than disloyal of her. She shouldn’t be batting her eyes at Harrison Casemore. She should be seeking out ways to get that nefarious Stalbridge to tell her what he’d done with Tessie.

  “Smile,” Lord Harrison ordered as he directed his bays down Curzon Street. “Or you’ll have all of Mayfair thinking I’ve abducted you.”

  Miranda cast him a sidelong glance. He truly was a magnificent specimen, as far as the male of the species went. But she couldn’t let herself get distracted by his impressive build or his clear green eyes. “Haven’t you?”

  “You did agree to come along with me,” he said, his gaze focused on the traffic before them.

  “Because you didn’t give me a choice.” Then she mocked his baritone voice. “We have much to discuss, do we not?”

  Beside her, the Herculean gentleman chuckled. “You are a spitfire, Miss Miranda.” Then he chanced a glance in her direction. “Would you like to drive?”

  Drive? His question completely unarmed her. He’d let her drive his bays? Devlin would have an apoplexy if he knew. “I beg your pardon?”

  Lord Harrison slid slightly closer to her on the bench, until his hard, muscled leg touched Miranda’s. Tingles raced across her skin at the contact. Good heavens, he could jumble her mind.

  “For a girl who dons trousers, I figured you might be adept at driving cattle too,” his deep voice floated around her like an embrace.

  The fluttering in her heart increased tenfold. No one had ever had such an effect on her. And no one had ever offered such a thing to her, not even Simeon, God rest his soul. “I’ve never handled the ribbons before,” she admitted before she thought the better of it. What if he took back his offer?

  “There’s nothing to it, my dear.” He moved the driving reins closer toward her. “Just like riding. You do know how to ride, do you not?”

  Of course she knew how to ride. What a ridiculous question. “Before I was walking.”

  A brilliant smile flashed on his face. “Why does that not surprise me?” He slightly jiggled the reins before her. “Here you go, don’t pull too hard, but don’t give the ribbons too much play either.”

  Miranda gulped. Devlin would flay her alive if he found out, but when might she get another chance like this? She heaved a steadying sigh then took the reins in her hands.

  “Perfect,” Lord Harrison gushed. “Like you’ve been driving all your life.”

  “It’s been all of ten seconds.”

  He laughed once more. “You do make it quite difficult for a fellow to compliment you. Do you know that?”

  Did she? Miranda glanced up to find his smoldering green gaze leveled on her.

  “Watch the road, my dear.”

  A bit light-headed, Miranda returned her attention to the other conveyances and riders in front of them as they approached Park Lane.

  “Right there—” he pointed to a grand home “—is St. Austell House. Number Twelve. I’d hate for you to lose your way tomorrow.”

  Miranda snorted. “After Penny’s performance, I don’t believe there’ll be any way I could possibly get out of attending that function, my lord.”

  “Then I shall have to thank Penny profusely.”

  Miranda couldn’t help the smile that escaped her. He really was very charming for all that he had managed her ever since their paths had first crossed. “And just why do you want me to attend your sister’s ball?”

  “So I can see you in a pretty gown. Do save me a waltz.” His hand brushed her elbow. “Lead them to the right, my dear.”

  Miranda pulled the reins slightly to the right and grinned when the phaeton made a smooth turn onto Park Lane. “I did it!”

  “I never had any doubts,” he drawled. “Now slow down just a bit so we can get across the street.” He gestured to the park entrance up ahead on the left. “Go right through there.”

  Miranda followed his instructions, pulling back slightly on the reins until it was safe for them to make the turn into the park. What a heady feeling to be in control of the phaeton. She’d never even contemplated driving before. What other excitements was she missing out on?

  “You aren’t like any other girl I’ve ever met.”

  His statement jerked Miranda back to the present, and she turned her head to look at his lordship. The intensity of his gaze stole her breath, and she simply gaped at him.

  “Do watch where we’re going, Miranda.”

  “Oh!” She turned her attention once more to the path in front of them. That was the hardest part of driving, the looking ahead part.

  Lord Harrison leaned back on the bench and draped his arm on the back o
f the seat. Heat seemed to roll off him in waves, warming her thoroughly. “Quite shy for a chit who frequents gaming hells.”

  Miranda kept her eyes on the path this time, glad she didn’t have to look at him for fear that he would see her blush even despite her unfortunate coloring. “I don’t frequent them.”

  “No?” Humor laced his voice, blast him.

  “No,” she returned tartly. “Last night was my first hell.”

  “And what would make you brave such a place in disguise, all alone?”

  Miranda shook her head. “I don’t owe you an explanation, my lord.”

  His arm along the back of the seat brushed against her shoulders as his hand settled on her arm. “Whatever excitement you’re searching for, I’m certain I can provide it for you, whether it’s driving my phaeton or…something else. There’s no need to put yourself in a dangerous spot again.”

  “I’m not looking for danger or excitement, Lord Harrison.” Just answers. Just the truth about her Tessie. And she would go wherever that mission took her, no matter how dangerous.

  Before he could reply, a pretty blonde waved her arm in the air. “Good afternoon, Lord Harrison!”

  Harry dragged his eyes from Miranda’s slender neck to focus on Georgianna, Countess of Montague, in a curricle alongside her husband. He took the reins from Miranda and drew the phaeton to a stop. “My lady, how nice to see you. It’s been an age.”

  Georgie’s gaze swept from Harry to Miranda and back. “You would see me more regularly if you spent more of your time in polite society. You’re as bad as Bridge these days.”

  Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Georgie never did mince words. It was probably the reason she was his favorite of all of Pippa’s friends. “Certainly, I’m not all that bad. I’ll even be at Pippa’s ball tomorrow.”

  “Always the devoted brother,” Georgie returned without heat. In fact, she smiled sadly and Harry could almost read her thoughts. If only Stalbridge had been a better brother to his sisters, they wouldn’t have found themselves in such perilous positions over the years.