A Season To Remember

by Gayle Ava Stone, Jerrica Knight-Catania, Catherine

  “Tell me why you want Stalbridge, Miranda,” he urged.

  She tilted her head to better see him. Her hazel eyes looked so tortured, he felt it in his bones.

  Miranda was certain she was bound for Bedlam. Why would she tell him anything after the way he’d treated her in the park today? She ought to stomp on his foot and bolt the rest of the way down Curzon Street. But he looked so forlorn, so sincere. She didn’t have anyone else she could trust. But did she dare trust Harrison Casemore?

  She glanced around up and down Curzon Street. She didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean she could speak openly. Devlin could stumble upon them out in the open like this. Miranda tilted her head toward the mews and tugged Harrison in that direction. As soon as she felt certain they couldn’t be seen from the street, she heaved a sigh and threw all caution to the wind. “My friend is gone,” she said, watching his expression carefully.

  “Gone?” His green eyes narrowed as though trying to make sense of what she said.

  “Missing. Theresa Birkin. It’s as though she vanished into thin air. But Stalbridge knows where she is. I know he does.”

  Harrison’s mouth fell open. “You think Stalbridge has done something with your friend?”

  At least he didn’t dismiss her with his next breath as Devlin had done. “I know it.”

  He raked a hand through his dark hair. “You have been trying to meet Stalbridge because you think he can tell you what happened to your friend?”

  Miranda nodded, waiting for him to laugh or tell her how ridiculous she was, but all he did was frown.

  “Miranda Bartlett, you need a keeper. Do you know that?”

  Well, that was hardly a complimentary thing to say. She folded her arms across her chest.

  “How fortunate you are,” he continued, “that I’m available and willing to take on the position.”

  “I beg your pardon?” She gaped at him.

  Harrison pulled her into his arms, then he tilted her chin up toward him and kissed her just as he had done in the park that day. Miranda’s breath caught in her throat, but then she breathed in his sandalwood scent and her eyes fluttered closed. He nibbled on her bottom lip, then swept his tongue inside her mouth.

  A moan escaped her as her tongue touched his, and she slid her hands up the stone wall of his chest, finally settling them at the base of his neck. He pulled her closer and closer to him until her breasts were pressed against him. Her nipples strained against her chemise and desire pooled low in her core.

  Harrison’s lips left hers as he kissed his way to her jaw, just as he’d done that afternoon. Miranda steeled herself for another one of his lessons, cursing herself for falling into his trap once again. Why did she let him affect her this way?

  “Marry me, Miranda,” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her neck, sending tingles racing across her skin.

  Miranda sucked in a breath. She couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “You want to marry me?”

  “Mmm.” His lips trailed further down her neck and his hands moved further down her back.

  “Are you mad?” she asked.

  Harrison heaved a beleaguered sigh, then he lifted his head to gaze down at her. “That is a distinct possibility.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about me,” she said, ignoring his barb.

  He gently caressed her cheek and said, “I know that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I met you. I know that I wanted to crash my fist into Stalbridge’s face when I thought you were infatuated with him. I know that the touch of your skin and smell of your lilac scent drive me to distraction. And I know that no lady’s kiss has ever made me profess such things before, Miranda.”

  She blinked up at him. Did he really mean all of that? She’d never dreamed of hearing such a profession from any man. She’d known from the beginning he was the sort she could fall madly in love with, and that thought still terrified her. “I don’t know you,” she said cautiously.

  “There’s an easy way to remedy that.” Harrison gently touched his lips to hers once more. “Are you unaffected by my kiss, Miranda?”

  Hardly that. She’d never imagined she could feel the things she did in his arms. “You leave me breathless,” she admitted, though it probably wasn’t wise to say so.

  A satisfied smile settled on his lips. “So glad to hear it,” he said, then kissed her again. When he lifted his head, desire shone in his green eyes, warming her to her core. “Marry me, Miranda.”

  Though her heart urged her to say yes, Miranda didn’t quite trust that particular organ. She heaved a sigh instead. “I can’t focus on my future, Harry, not until I know what happened to Tessie.” After all, she would be the worst sort of friend to abandon Tessie now. What would that say about her character? That her longtime friend was easily forgotten after a few kisses and a proposal, even if the man was one she wanted more than her next breath?

  “Your loyalty commends you, even if it does put you in danger.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “If I get the truth from Stalbridge, will you marry me then?”

  A lump lodged in Miranda’s throat, so she nodded her answer instead.

  “And you’ll promise not to try to meet him on your own? You’ll trust me enough to get the truth from him?”

  Miranda nodded once more, her heart nearly overflowing. He would find the truth; she could see it in his countenance. After weeks of trying to discover the truth, Harry would help her. He’d see this through, she knew it.

  Miranda threw her arms around his neck once again.

  Light poured in through Miranda’s windows and she couldn’t help the smile that settled on her face. She hadn’t imagined last night, had she? She hadn’t imagined Harry’s kisses, his proposal, his heartfelt profession? She certainly hoped not, though it did seem like a dream in so many ways.

  She sighed, staring up at the ceiling above. Harry truly was her Hercules. Strong, handsome, and noble. Even if he failed to get answers out of Stalbridge, he’d at least taken her seriously. He was going to help her, which was more than Devlin or anyone else had done. And then there were his kisses…

  Miranda sighed again.

  She was going to marry Lord Harrison Casemore. She was going to marry Harry Casemore, and she was going to kiss him the rest of her days and nights. That particular thought would have terrified her as far back as a week ago. She’d been so wary of men and their motives; but now… Now she couldn’t wait to see Harry today. She couldn’t wait to kiss him once more, to let her hands explore his muscled chest, to feel his arms tighten around her again.

  A scratch came at the door, breaking Miranda from her reverie. “Come,” she nearly sang.

  A moment later, her lady’s maid Nettie strode into the room, a look of annoyance on her face. “Happy this morning, are you, Miss Miranda?”

  More than happy. Miranda smiled at the servant. “It is a good morning, Nettie.”

  “Indeed?” The maid heaved a sigh. “Did you know one of my dresses has gone missing, miss?”

  Miranda’s smile vanished as she slid to the side of her four-poster. “A missing dress?” When her toes found purchase against the rug, she pushed to her feet.

  Nettie punched her hands to her hips, spearing Miranda with a look that would have leveled a field of approaching soldiers. “Alice saw you take it, Miss Miranda. So don’t waste your breath denyin’ it. I asked her not to say anything to his lordship, but—”

  Miranda threw her arms around the servant, then she spun her around. “You are the best, Nettie!”

  “Miss Miranda!” the maid protested.

  But Miranda paid her no notice, only spinning faster with the servant. “I had the most marvelous evening, Nettie. You’ll never believe it.”

  “In my dress?”

  Miranda stopped twirling around the room, grasped the maid’s arms, and grinned her widest. “It’s in my wardrobe. Thank you so much for letting me borrow it.”

  “I don’t think you underst
and the difference between borrowing and stealing, Miss Miranda.”

  “I won’t do it again, Nettie,” she promised. After all, she wouldn’t have to. She wouldn’t need to dress up like anyone other than herself from now on. Harry believed her, and Harry would help her find Tessie. “Do help me get dressed for the day, please.”

  The maid looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Are you feeling all right, Miss Miranda?”

  “Never better!” she gushed. “What do you think about my gold dress today? Calista said it brings out my eyes.”

  “Are you expecting a caller?” Nettie asked, her brow high, clearly surprised as Miranda generally didn’t care what she wore.

  Miranda grinned again. “One can always hope, can’t one?” And she did hope. She hoped with every breath she took that Harry would come for her today. That he’d whisper sweet things to her, that he might let her drive his bays again, that he’d…

  A knock came at Miranda’s door. “Miranda?” her sister, Calista called from the corridor.

  “Are you awake?” Penny called a second later.

  “She’s awake,” Nettie grumbled, still eyeing Miranda as though she was a foreign species of some sort.

  A moment later, Calista and Penny filed into Miranda’s room. She grinned at her sisters. “I was thinking about my gold dress today. What do you think?”

  It was then that she realized both of her sisters wore expressions of concern. “Nettie,” Calista began, “leave us please.”

  Good heavens. Something had clearly happened. After Simeon, Papa, and Tessie, Miranda didn’t think she could take any bad news.

  The maid nodded, then quietly exited Miranda’s chambers without a word or a glance backward. As soon as she was gone, Penny rushed toward Miranda. “We missed you terribly last night. Were you all right?”

  They missed her terribly at the Dewhurst soiree? Penny was certainly prone to theatrics. “I was fine. What has happened?”

  Calista frowned. Her blue eyes looked so troubled, Miranda’s heart lurched for her sister. Had something happened with Fordingham? Had Calista come to her senses where that supercilious earl was concerned?

  “Penny,” Miranda began, though her eyes never left Calista, “I need to speak to Calista.”

  “No one is stopping you,” Penny replied.

  No one except Penny, who couldn’t be trusted with secrets. “Penny!” Miranda shifted her gaze to her little sister. “I need to speak to Calista. Alone.”

  A petulant scowl settled on Penny’s face. “Why can’t I stay?”

  “Because you don’t know how to hold your tongue. Look at everything that spilled from your mouth in front of Lady St. Austell yesterday.”

  “I can hold my tongue,” Penny insisted. “I didn’t tell Lady St. Austell that you had to stay in your chambers last night when we saw her at the Dewhursts’.”

  “You saw Harry’s sister?” Miranda asked.

  “Harry?” Calista and Penny asked in unison as both sisters’ brows rose in mild surprise.

  Heat rushed to Miranda’s face. Why shouldn’t she call him Harry, though? He was going to be her husband and that was what his family called him. “As though you won’t call Fordingham by his Christian name,” she said to her older sister.

  A ghost of a smile settled on Calista’s face. “Does that mean Penny’s right? Your Lord Harrison does plan to offer for you?”

  Miranda couldn’t help but smile back. “Unless he’s changed his mind.”

  “Oh!” Penny squealed at the same time Calista pulled Miranda into her embrace.

  Miranda squeezed her sister in return. “I hope you feel as strongly for your earl as I do for Harry,” she said only loud enough for Calista’s ears.

  Her older sister kissed Miranda’s cheek. “Never fret about that, dear Miranda.”

  In that case, Miranda figured she could endure Fordingham for a lifetime, something she hadn’t thought was possible until now. She pulled back from Calista and said, “Neither of you can breathe a word of this until Harry can speak with Devlin.”

  Miranda and Calista both turned their focus on Penny, whose mouth dropped open in sisterly outrage. “I said I can hold my tongue. There’s no need for both of you to look at me so.”

  Calista slid her arm around their younger sister's shoulders. “Of course you can,” she soothed. “And now we can focus on you, Penny. Is there a fellow who’s caught your interest during the Little Season?”

  Penny flushed, which was something considering her olive complexion. Miranda narrowed her eyes on her little sister. Was it possible Penny had found a gentleman who had caught her attention? If so, then she certainly was capable of holding her tongue. “I didn’t tell anyone—” she shrugged “—well, other than Calista what I overheard Lady St. Austell saying to Lady Montague last night.”

  There was something in her sister’s tone that made dread wash over Miranda. “Lady St. Austell said something alarming?”

  Penny looked from Miranda to Calista and back. “You didn’t dress up like a man and sneak inside some gambling establishment, did you?”

  Miranda’s mouth fell open. Harry told her he wouldn’t ever tell a soul. Why would he tell his sister, and why would she tell anyone else? That was most upsetting.

  “Of course she wouldn’t,” Calista defended. “Devlin would kill her, and she would never risk all of our reputations by doing something so foolish.”

  Miranda couldn’t quite meet her older sister’s eyes. What if she had been caught by someone other than Harry? What is she’d destroyed her sisters’ chances at happiness? All she wanted was to learn the truth about Tessie. No one else seemed to care, but Tessie had been a good friend to Miranda. If she didn’t care, if she didn’t find out the truth, no one would. And that seemed a travesty.

  Still, she shouldn’t have put her sisters’ reputations in danger in the process. That was unforgivable.

  “I can’t believe she would say such a thing,” Miranda said instead of answering the charges before her.

  Penny shook her head. “I don’t think anyone else overheard. They were in the retiring room. They didn’t even know I was there.”

  Miranda wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or not. Shouldn’t Lady St. Austell make certain that others couldn’t overhear such tales? And why would she confide them to Lady Montague? “What else did she say?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  Penny heaved a sigh. “That she’s worried about Lord Harrison.”

  “Because of me,” Miranda muttered under her breath.

  Penny nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  As soon as the Stalbridge butler opened the front door, Harry nodded at the servant. “I need to speak with Lord Stalbridge.”

  The butler’s eyes widened for a moment, then he shook his head. “I am sorry, my lord, but Lord Stalbridge is not in residence.”

  “Where is he residing, then?”

  “Bexley Court?” the man suggested.

  Hampshire? “He’s returned to his seat?”

  The butler appeared more perplexed by the moment. “Returned, sir? From where?”

  Clearly the man had no idea that his master was somewhere in London. Harry scrubbed a hand down his face. Why the devil would a man with pockets to let spend funds he didn’t have for lodging when he already had a home in Mayfair? Dread pricked at Harry’s heart. What if Miranda was right? What if Stalbridge had done something to the Birkin girl? What other nefarious schemes was he plotting? “Is Lady Stalbridge in, then?” Perhaps the marchioness knew where her wastrel of a son was.

  “Of course, sir.” The butler opened the door wide. “If you’ll just wait in here.” He gestured to the front parlor.

  Almost as soon as Harry entered the parlor in question, Lady Stalbridge stepped inside the room as well. “Lord Harrison, what a surprise.”

  He was sure it was. In fact, he wasn’t sure the last time he saw the marchioness. Pippa’s wedding and then Georgie’s in the spring, most
likely. Harry smiled at the lady, who really was very kind for all that she had borne a scoundrel for a son. “I’m looking for Bridge.”

  The marchioness’s face turned a bit pale. “You don’t own his vowels, do you?”

  Ah. So that’s why Stalbridge was somewhere else, somewhere his creditors couldn’t easily locate him. Harry shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I’m actually looking for an acquaintance of his. A Miss Theresa Birkin. I was hoping he could point me in her direction.”

  Relief washed over Lady Stalbridge’s face. Even still she shook her head. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t think I know the girl. Georgie would know. She remembers everything, you know?”

  But a missing girl was hardly something Harry wanted to discuss with Georgie. The poor girl had already endured a lifetime of troubles just for sharing Stalbridge’s blood. “Where might I find Bridge, my lady?”

  Again she shook her head. “I’m not certain, Lord Harrison. He could be in Hampshire or somewhere in Town, but I haven’t seen him.”

  And she was probably the happier for it, not that Harry would say as much. He nodded instead. “Thank you. I do appreciate your seeing me.”

  “Anytime,” she said, sincerity evident in her voice. “You should visit more often, my lord. I’m certain Freddie or Mattie would love see you as well sometime.”

  Her daughters of very marriageable ages. But as Harry already had a girl of his own, he merely smiled once more. “That is kind of you.” He started for the door. “I should head over to Montague House to see what Georgie remembers.” Or perhaps speak with her husband instead, as Monty had mentioned seeing Bridge the day before. He might have the best idea of where to find the reprobate.

  After making his way to Montague House, Harry was promptly shown in to the earl’s study. If Monty was surprised by Harry’s sudden appearance, he didn’t show it.

  “Sit, sit,” Monty said, gesturing to the seat before his desk. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  Harry dropped into an overstuffed chair, then leaned forward to meet the earl’s eyes better. The entire journey from Stalbridge House, he’d gone over and over in his head how to start this conversation. For as noble as Monty was, he did happen to be Bridge’s oldest friend, and Harry would really rather not be tossed out on his ear. “I need to find Bridge.”