A Season To Remember

by Gayle Ava Stone, Jerrica Knight-Catania, Catherine

  That blasted Penny would tell him everything, and that would be even more embarrassing than telling him herself. Miranda scowled at him. How did he always seem to get what he wanted from her? “You. From the moment, I first saw you, Harry, you made me think of Hercules.”

  A rather satisfied expression settled across his handsome face. “Do I really?”

  Perfect. He was going to be an arrogant male about the whole thing. Miranda retrieved her hand from his arm. “And that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. Now you’ll be very smug from here on out, and I’ll have to live with you.” She started to walk away, but he caught a handful of her sleeve and pulled her back to him.

  “Oh, I think you’ll like living with me.” His green eyes danced with merriment. “So, my dear, tell me how I may serve you. Shall I kill a nemean lion or destroy a hydra for you? What labor might I perform in your name, my fair maiden?”

  If they weren’t surrounded by society, she might be tempted to stomp on his toe. No. Arrogant as he might be in that moment, he did have a habit of flipping her belly, and she did rather enjoy his kisses. If they weren’t surrounded by society, she might ask him to kiss her again. But, alas, they were surrounded by not only society but by her family as well. That would never do. Besides, she was here for a different purpose tonight. “All I want is to find out what happened to Tessie.”

  “So serious all the time.” He tucked a loose tendril behind her ear. “I’ll find the truth, Miranda.” He winked at her, his roguish grin firmly in place. “And then I’ll fetch you Hesperides’s golden apples. Will that make you smile?”

  She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “You are incorrigible.”

  He nodded in agreement. “You can try the rest of your days to cure me of that.” Then he slid her hand back onto his arm and proceeded to guide her once more around the room. “Now tell me everything about your friend’s letters before Stalbridge arrives.”

  After returning Miranda to her family for safekeeping, Harry made his way to the far edge of the room where his brother stood, nursing a glass of brandy. Berks looked nearly as happy to be there as Marston did.

  “If you don’t smile,” Harry began, “people will say our sister is such a terrible hostess that even her own brothers were bored.”

  Berks scoffed. “I’m certain I won’t be the brother they’re discussing on the morrow.” Then he shook his head. “Was that the girl Pippa is worried about? The one she’s convinced you’re going to marry?”

  “Pippa’s right. I am going to marry her.” Still, Harry was going to have to have a conversation with their sister and alleviate whatever fears she had. “Just as soon as Marston gives me his permission.”

  “You haven’t asked him yet?”

  Harry shook his head. “But I’ll see him first thing in the morning.”

  Berks looked back across the room toward Miranda’s small circle. “This has all happened fairly quickly, hasn’t it?”

  Harry couldn’t help but smile. “When you meet a girl who knocks you off your feet, you don’t want to let her get away.”

  At that, Berks laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Ah, Harry!” A hand clapped him on the back. He glanced over his shoulder to find Albie Potsdon grinning ear to ear. “Up for a little Hazard tonight?”

  Harry shook his head. “I’m fairly certain I’ll be busy this evening.”

  “Still spying on Marston House?” his friend asked, dramatically wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Spying on Marston House?” Berks echoed. “No wonder Pippa’s worried. What is going on with you?”

  Fortunately, Harry spotted Lord and Lady Montague at that moment. They entered the ballroom as the footman called out, “The Earl and Countess of Montague. The Marquess of Stalbridge.” And then behind the couple, there stood the nearly impossible to locate marquess.

  Harry glanced toward Miranda on the other side of the ballroom. He nodded in her direction, hoping to assuage her worries. “Do excuse me,” he said, not waiting for his brother or his friend to say anything further.

  Miranda’s heart lodged in her throat as Harry crossed the floor, making a direct line for Lord Stalbridge and the Montagues. She was so very close to finding out what had happened to Tessie, thanks to her own personal demigod. Harry smiled amiably, offered his hand and then cocked his head back toward the entrance.

  Stalbridge smiled in response, seemingly unaware that Harry meant to interrogate him. In fact, he looked relieved, which Miranda found slightly odd. What had Harry said to put the blackguard so at ease?

  “Why are you staring at Hercules?” Penny whispered in Miranda’s ear.

  She didn’t have time to deal with her sister at the moment, not when Harry, Stalbridge, and Lord Montague all slipped back into the corridor. She needed to hear what the marquess had to say, no matter what Devlin or Harry thought about the situation. “I need to find the retiring room.”

  “Oh, me too,” Penny said. “I’ll go with you.”

  Was there a more infernal creature than little sisters on the Earth? Miranda didn’t have time to dissuade Penny. If she did, she’d never know which direction Harry had gone with the fiend. So without another word, she quickly made her way through the crush toward the entrance, hoping Penny would lose her somewhere in the crowd or perhaps get snatched up by some suitor.

  Alas, that was not to be.

  As soon as she reached the corridor, Penny linked her arm with Miranda’s. “It’s this way.” Her sister pointed to the left.

  But Harry was just rounding a corner to the right. “Penny,” Miranda said quietly, hating to confide anything to her little sister but not really having a choice, “I’m following Lord Harrison. So go on to the retiring room and I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Penny’s eyes widened in surprise. “Following him? Why?”

  “Never mind why. He’s getting away.” She retrieved her arm from Penny’s and started in the direction Harry’d gone. “And don’t tell Devlin where I’m going or I’ll never speak to you again.”

  Penny shook her head. “I’m going with you.”

  Oh! Miranda didn’t have time to argue with her sister. “Go on,” she urged, shooing Penny toward the left. “You said you needed the retiring room.” Without a look back, she rounded the corner Harry had turned down and scanned the corridor for some evidence of the three men.

  At the end of the corridor, a door shut. Taking a deep breath, Miranda lifted up her skirts and started for the door.

  A patter of footsteps sounded behind her, then Penny’s not terribly hushed whisper reached Miranda’s ears. “What is he doing?”

  Miranda stopped in her tracks, glanced over her shoulder at her sister, and sent her a scathing glare. “If you’re coming, you can’t say a word, Penny! They can’t find us. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Penny nodded.

  “Not a word!” Miranda hissed, then she lifted her skirts again and hastened toward the closed door.

  “Here it is,” Harry’s voice boomed from inside.

  Miranda took a deep breath, thankful she’d found the right room. Then she pressed her ear against the door to hear better. A half-second later, Penny did the same.

  Harry splashed some of his brother-in-law’s favorite whisky into a trio of glasses. Then he offered one to Stalbridge and one to Montague before leaning his hip against St. Austell’s desk. Harry quirked a smile at the other men. “The only way to truly endure one of these events.” He lifted his own glass into the air in a mock toast.

  Stalbridge agreed with an incline of his head. “Especially when you’d rather be anywhere else.” Then he shot his brother-in-law an annoyed glare. “But I got dragged here anyway.”

  Montague shrugged. “Attending Pippa’s ball was important to Georgie.”

  “Which shouldn’t affect my plans one way or the other.” Stalbridge lifted the whisky to his lips and took a deep swallow. “But I’m here now, whether I wanted to be or not.”

>   “The things we do for the women in our lives, be they sisters or wives or ladies one cannot stop thinking about.” Harry took a gulp of his own whisky, hoping to put Stalbridge at ease before he launched into his questions.

  “Ladies we can’t stop thinking about?” The marquess snorted. “I’ll never be henpecked like Monty.”

  Harry was fairly certain Monty didn’t feel henpecked. One only had to watch him with his wife to see how devoted he was to her, how very much in love.

  “What about that girl from the Season?” Monty asked. “What was her name? Miss Berry? No… Miss Birkin, wasn’t it? You seemed enamored with her for a while.”

  Stalbridge sighed. “After she spread her legs for me, I didn’t find her nearly as enchanting. I certainly didn’t let her lead me around by my bollocks like Georgie does with you.”

  Harry’s eyes widened with that bit of information. Stalbridge had bedded Miss Birkin? Miranda had insisted the girl was in love with the wastrel, but the idea that any high born, unmarried lady would willingly bed Stalbridge was hard to imagine. “No elopements?” Harry asked, since the girl’s letters to Miranda had hinted at something of that nature.

  Stalbridge’s eyes narrowed on Harry as though he’d hit a nerve. “Elopement? I can’t imagine why you would say such a thing.”

  So much for subtly. Harry heaved a sigh. “Because she thought you meant to elope with her.”

  Stalbridge took a step back, then his eyes darted from Harry to Monty and back again. “I say, what is this?”

  “What is what?” Monty asked smoothly.

  “This.” Stalbridge motioned his hand from one of them to the other. “I was promised St. Austell’s best whisky, but instead I’m answering questions about Miss Birkin and elopements. What’s going on here?”

  Monty met Harry’s eyes nodded. “We might as well tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” Stalbridge demanded, his voice slightly higher than normal.

  Harry pushed away from the desk and walked closer to the marquess. “Miss Birkin seems to be missing, Bridge. And it’s been suggested that you might know where she is.”

  Stalbridge’s face went more than a little white. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  But that was a lie, as the man suddenly seemed unable to meet Harry’s or Monty’s eyes.

  “I think you do,” Harry said evenly. “And it’s time you told us. Where is Miss Birkin?”

  “How should I know?” Stalbridge downed the rest of his glass in one gulp.

  “I, for one, find it a bit surprising you bedded the girl,” Monty said quietly. “You never told me that.”

  “And you never told me you had designs on one of my sisters,” Stalbridge returned.

  Monty rubbed his brow in frustration. Truly, how the men were friends, Harry had no idea.

  “Do you or do you not know where the Birkin girl is?” Monty grumbled.

  “I don’t know for certain,” Stalbridge said. “She might be in County Durham. She might be somewhere else.”

  “Why County Durham?” Harry asked.

  The marquess shrugged. “Her uncle has a place there. Outside Escomb, near River Wear.”

  The uncle who, according to Miranda, was the girl’s guardian? “And why would she go there?”

  “I’m done talking to both of you.” Stalbridge stubbornly pursed his lips as though he wouldn’t say another word.

  “Bridge,” Harry growled. “You’re done when Monty and I say you are. Now why would she go to Escomb?”

  “Do you know how many girls come to Town with the intent of trapping a peer into marriage?” Stalbridge asked.

  “Trapping a peer?” Monty echoed. “What are you suggesting, Bridge?”

  The marquess snorted in annoyance then shook his head. “Who knows how many men she spread her legs for? Was I just supposed to take her word for it that the child was mine?”

  Something that sounded like a gasp came from the other side of the study door. Miranda, Harry would wager his fortune on it. Fortunately, Stalbridge and Monty were so focused on scowling at each other, they didn’t seem to notice the sound.

  “Child?” Monty roared. “Are you telling me you got that girl with child?”

  As Harry moved to stand in front of the door, on the off chance Miranda gasped again, Stalbridge folded his arms across his chest and glared at his friend. “Didn’t you listen to a word I said? There’s no proof it was mine.”

  Monty dropped his glass on St. Austell’s desk and grabbed Stalbridge’s jacket with both of his hands. “I don’t even know who you are any more. Your father—”

  “Is dead.” Stalbridge pushed the earl away from him. “And I don’t answer to you, Cedric Loring.” He started for the door, which Harry was still blocking.

  “You’ll answer to me,” Harry growled. “What happened with Miss Birkin? And why do you think she’s in Escomb?”

  An exasperated sigh escaped Stalbridge. “You want to hear it all? Very well, here it is. The girl followed me around like a lap dog most of the Season. She was a pretty little thing, and it only took a few whispered words of flattery to get her to lift her skirts.” He shook his head as though it was ridiculous he had to tell them any of this. “Then before the Season was over, she told me she was increasing and wanted to head for Gretna before her uncle found out. I told her to go on and head there then.”

  Harry could hardly believe the cavalier way the man was discussing the ruination and downfall of the girl. Theresa Birkin could have been anyone, any girl who fell for the wrong man. She could have been Pippa or Miranda, clearly a girl who didn’t have anyone looking out for her. She’d been an easy target.

  Fury built in Harry. His hand balled into a fist, he pulled his arm back, and then he crashed it into Stalbridge’s jaw.

  The marquess’s eyes rounded in surprise as he fell backwards, crashing into one of St. Austell’s chairs before sliding to the rug at Harry’s feet. His hand rose to cup his face as he scrambled away from Harry along the floor. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Have you lost yours?” Monty countered softly, as though he still couldn’t quite believe the tale he’d just heard. “What happened to the girl, Bridge? Since you clearly didn’t elope to Scotland with her?”

  Stalbridge’s gaze flashed from Monty to Harry then back. “Don’t let him hit me again.”

  Monty met Harry’s gaze then said, “I have a feeling if you don’t tell us what happened to her, there won’t be a thing I could say that would keep him from killing you.”

  Stalbridge huffed indignantly as he pushed back to his feet. He tested his jaw with his hand and moaned. “I ought to call you out.”

  “Alas, you’re a coward,” Harry ground out. “So answer the question before I decide to use you as my punch bag again.”

  Monty heaved a sigh. “What happened to the girl, Bridge?”

  Stalbridge backed away to a far corner as though to put as much distance between himself and Harry as possible. “She said she was going to Escomb, to one of her uncle’s homes. I got word a few months ago that she lost the child, which seems rather convenient, if you ask me.”

  If Monty wasn’t there, Harry might very well kill Stalbridge. Was there ever a less honorable bastard? “You haven’t seen her?” he growled.

  Stalbridge shook his head. “Nor do I expect to.”

  “You won’t ever tell another soul what you told us,” Monty warned. “If she can start her life over, she won’t fear you blackening her name, do you hear me?”

  “She’s of no matter to me,” Stalbridge muttered.

  Monty met Harry’s eyes once more. “I don’t know that this answers all of your questions, Casemore, but I do know when he’s telling the truth.”

  Harry didn’t question Stalbridge’s tale, and if he had to wager a guess, he’d put money down that Miss Birkin was in County Durham, too hurt, too ashamed of herself to contact Miranda or anyone else. “Thank you for all of your assistance in this.”
/>   Monty nodded. “I wish we’d heard a different story.”

  So did Harry.

  Miranda pulled Penny down the corridor back toward the ballroom. “Hurry before they catch us,” she hissed.

  “Did you know that Tessie was with child?” Penny asked, her eyes sill rounded in surprise.

  Miranda tugged her sister harder, nearly dragging her down the hallway. “Didn’t you hear Lord Montague? We are never to repeat anything we just heard.” Besides, she was still so numb from hearing Lord Stalbridge’s words, she couldn’t think of what she could even say to Penny or anyone else for that matter.

  “Do you think she’s in County Durham?”

  Miranda didn’t know what to think. “Penny!” she begged as they stepped back into the ballroom. “Please not now.”

  Finally, Penny nodded. “I just feel awful for her.”

  Miranda did too. She squeezed Penny’s hand. “We’ll talk about it later, but don’t—”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Penny promised, and for once Miranda believed her sister would hold her tongue. “There’s Devlin,” she added in a whisper. “He looks in a temper.”

  Miranda glanced in the direction Penny was staring to find their brother and his wife’s eyes leveled on them. “Blast,” she muttered under her breath. “Come on.” She tugged Penny toward Devlin and Louisa. “We’d better get this over with.”

  As soon as they reached their brother, Devlin arched a brow at Miranda. “I don’t suppose I have to ask where you were.”

  “We left for the retiring room,” Penny said cheerfully. “Did we miss something?”

  Devlin turned his glare on Penny. “The retiring room?”

  “Where else would we go?” Penny asked, the epitome of innocence.

  Miranda cast her sister a sidelong glance. Penny was much more complex than Miranda had ever given her credit for. If they weren’t in a crowded ballroom, she’d have thrown her arms around her sister and hugged her for all she was worth.

  “Marston.” Harry’s voice came from behind Miranda. Then his hand landed on her shoulder. “I shall be around first thing in the morning to meet with you.”