“That’s almost worse than waltzing.” Iris sighed but turned toward the grand instrument in the corner. “I can’t see why it’s so bloo—“
“Iris,” Miranda cut off the vulgar word.
“Important,” Iris finished as she sat on the bench, her hands hovering over the keys.
“At least you have some experience.”
“Not of any merit. You have been listening, have you not?”
Miranda nodded. Listening to Iris play was as much punishment for her ears as waltzing was for her toes.
As Iris began to play the simple song before her, Miranda decided governesses were grossly underpaid if the torture she was enduring was any indication.
She winced as Iris hit the wrong key, then another, before finding the correct one. “That’s better. Already an improvement.” She gave a cheerful response.
Their old governess should be sainted just for enduring her and Liliah’s education.
Right now, Miranda thought she should be on her way to being sainted as well.
“Must I continue?” Iris asked.
Miranda was about to reply when there was a knock on the door. Turning, Miranda nodded to Mrs. Keyes, who entered.
“Good afternoon, ladies. I’ve just received word that Lord Kilpatrick will be in residence this week! I thought you’d wish to know. I’m sure he will be thrilled with your progress, Miss Iris. And I’m certain he will be impressed with your tutoring, Miss Miranda,” Mrs. Keyes said encouragingly.
Miranda thought it was an overly optimistic opinion, but she didn’t offer any correction.
“I find that highly suspect,” Iris remarked to the housekeeper. Apparently, she had no hesitation to voice her opinion.
Not that Miranda found that surprising. Iris’s opinions were rarely thought, simply spoken.
It was another area they were working on . . . amongst many.
“Iris . . .” Miranda coached, offering a stern glare.
The young lady sighed. “And when may I voice my opinion?”
“After you’ve thought about your words and their implications. And then I’d still wait a few moments,” Miranda explained, not for the first time.
“By then the time for saying something—”
“Will likely pass, and you’ll have saved yourself the trouble,” Miranda finished.
It was becoming a common theme, Iris voicing her opinion and Miranda intercepting and correcting it.
Mrs. Keyes chuckled. “I don’t know what we all did for entertainment before you two! It’s just wonderful to have two young ladies in the house. Heaven knows it’s been a long while.” Mrs. Keyes’s joyful expression sobered, and Miranda took note of her change in demeanor.
“Oh, and I almost forgot.” Mrs. Keyes’s expression buoyed. “You’ve a missive, Miss Miranda. I wasn’t aware you had connections in Edinburgh,” The housekeeper remarked. “I placed it in your chamber.”
“Thank you,” Miranda replied, her heart pounding as she anticipated finally hearing from her sister. It had been longer than she had thought, and a thread of anxiety had woven its way through her heart as the days passed without any correspondence.
“Can we have a short break, Miss Miranda?” Iris asked.
Miranda nodded, thankful for the excuse to read her missive.
“We’ll meet again in a half hour to review conversational topics acceptable for mixed company,” she replied.
“How thrilling,” Iris replied dryly.
Mrs. Keyes pressed her lips together as if suppressing a laugh.
Miranda gave her a wink, then excused herself. Each step down the hall toward her room was tempered with impatience. Finally, when she had reached her chamber and bolted the door, she lifted the note from her small desk and ripped it open with the old wooden letter knife.
Dearest Sister,
Please accept my earnest apologies for this letter’s late arrival. There were many obstacles to its being written, many of which were in direct relation to our father. However, I’m pleased to say that there is a rumor circulating in London that states that you are visiting a distant aunt in America, Boston more specifically. It seems our father has admitted a defeat of sorts. In this I rejoice, because it means you are, at least for the moment, safe from his reach. Dear Sister, I cannot express to you how much I miss you, but please know that I’m supremely happy as the Countess of Heightfield, and though your acquaintance with your new brother-in-law was brief, I’m utterly convinced you will come to adore him. He has taken every effort to protect your whereabouts from all, all in an effort to preserve your safety. This alone endears him further to my heart, but that is simply a small token of his affection for me, and, as such, for you, his sister-in-law. But I must also make known the fact that Lucas did not confide your identity to the Viscount Kilpatrick. He is not aware of your connection with me or his friend. We are traveling to Edinburgh now, and I expect we shall arrive a day after you receive this missive. Lucas has reason to believe the viscount will not be far behind us.
Rest assured that we will notify the viscount of your connection once we are all safely ensconced in Edinburgh, but till then, may I encourage you to keep all secrecy until Lucas can make everything known?
I sincerely hope you are finding your wings as you experience freedom, dear Sister. You are so much stronger than you ever thought, and I wait in great expectation to see you soon, but not nearly soon enough!
With all my heart,
Liliah
Miranda read, then reread the letter, committing her sister’s words to memory as she lovingly caressed the paper. Her heart rejoiced in knowing she would soon see her, yet she wondered how such an arrangement could be made before her true identity was made known. Wouldn’t it seem suspicious to the staff if the countess visited her sister, the governess? Miranda gave her head a slight shake. If Liliah and her husband had been so cautious thus far, they certainly knew how to address further matters as well.
A smile tipped her lips as she considered the truth that Liliah was happy in her marriage to the Earl of Heightfield. She hadn’t expected any less, but to hear it from her own hand was a blessing. Liliah was a rare spirit, and Miranda was thankful she had found her love match in the earl. It would be a great boon to be able to further her acquaintance with her brother-in-law. She hoped his intentional neglect in divulging information to the viscount wouldn’t affect his friendship, but as she thought it, a wary notion flickered through her mind.
Not only had she never met the Viscount Kilpatrick, but he hadn’t any clue of her identity. Would he be kind? While she didn’t think her sister would approve of her taking the position in his house if he was suspect of a violent nature, she still felt a shiver of trepidation run the length of her spine. She set the missive down on the small table, then glanced back at it. Dare she keep it?
Reluctantly, she stood and carried the missive to the low-burning fire.
No chances.
With a flick of her wrist, she sent the missive to the coals, watching the fire lick at the words and consume them.
It was symbolic.
No chances, no looking back.
Move forward.
And pray the past didn’t somehow catch up to her.
For certainly, if it did, she would burn as well.
Chapter Six
Heathcliff watched the horizon, anticipating the next curve in the road that would lend the first view of Kilmarin. As the bays rounded the bend, a smile broke across his face at the bloody wonderful sight.
Settled against the rolling hills, the Kilmarin estate grew larger with each step of the horses. It was a bitter yet sweet sight.
One that reminded him that freedom was never free.
But it was worth every penny.
Already, he could hear Mrs. Keyes’s gentle scolding, and taste the haggis and biscuits made by his cook, Mrs. Mertle. His mouth watered. The only damper on his peace of mind was the expectation that he’d need to meet and engage in conversation wi
th his unwanted ward.
And the bloody governess.
There was no way but through it, so he was determined to accomplish the unsavory task as quickly as possible and then avoid them both like the black plague.
He took a deep breath of Scottish country air and watched as the horses took the turn into the Kilmarin courtyard. The large stone building had been in his family for generations. Of all the places he had ever been, it was the only place he called home.
The carriage halted before the front entrance, and Heathcliff tugged his gloves into place and waited for the footman to open the carriage door. His boots crunched on the gravel as a wide smile spread across his face as he met the warm welcome of Mrs. Keyes.
“Milord! It’s a pleasure to have you home at last!” The grandmotherly woman’s green eyes twinkled with delight as she gave a slight curtsey.
“None o’ that, Mrs. Keyes. You dinna lower yourself when I was a wee one, you needn’t do it now.” Heathcliff grinned at the warm reception, his body relaxing.
“We’ve ladies, Lord Kilpatrick. I’m setting a good example, that I am,” she answered with a sassy tone.
Heathcliff grinned in spite of the reminder of the two ladies in residence. “Ach, and what do you think of the lasses?” he asked in a teasing tone, though he was honestly curious. Mrs. Keyes would be kind, but she wouldn’t not mince words. He paused before the older woman.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. No doubt you’re expecting a harridan.” She arched a gray brow even as her lips quirked into a grin.
“Possibly,” Heathcliff answered, glancing into the distance, then turning back to her.
“The only harridan you’ll find here is the one you’ll see in the mirror,” Mrs. Keyes sassed, a familiar Scottish lilt to her words and a welcoming smile teasing her wrinkled face.
Heathcliff chuckled. “I knew the pretense of your good manners wouldn’t last long.”
“Ach, they are in the house. They can’t hear my words, just see my actions,” she replied, dropping her words to a whisper.
“You always were a sly one.”
“It’s why you couldn’t get away with anything.” Mrs. Keyes batted the air with her hand as she started toward the entrance to the house.
Heathcliff followed her up the stairs, a smile tipping his lips at the familiarity that washed over him with each step. “You always knew what shenanigans I was attempting.”
“You weren’t as sly as you thought,” she said in a huff.
He paused as he nodded to his longtime butler, then glanced around.
Home.
It was bloody lovely to be home. As he followed Mrs. Keyes down the hall, he smirked as she glared at the suit of armor, then cast an irritated glance at him before continuing on her way. “I’m assumin’ you’re a wee bit hungry.”
“You’d be assuming correctly,” Heathcliff replied.
“Figured as much. Cook has been in a dither, trying to anticipate when you’d return. She baked treacle tart on a whim you’d be here today.”
“God bless her.” Heathcliff could almost taste the hint of lemon in the tart, surrounded by the shortbread crust that was amazing. Scotland and shortbread: it was a match made in heaven.
And it was only a few short steps away.
If he closed his eyes, he could smell the sweet dessert’s precious aroma. The sound of a door being wrenched open interrupted his revelry.
“Ach, Miss Iris!”
Mrs. Keyes’s voice had Heathcliff opening his eyes from his reverent appreciation and regarding the reason for the interruption in his sensory delight.
Heathcliff looked at the woman pausing in the doorway of the green parlor, gripping the doorframe as if supporting herself from tumbling into the hall. Her green eyes flashed with mutiny, even as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her nose just slightly. “Forgive me, Mrs. Keyes,” she replied with a clipped tone, as if trying to be polite but finding it difficult.
“Well, now is as good a time as any.” Mrs. Keyes shrugged and turned to Heathcliff, pulling his attention from the young lady in the doorway. “My lord, may I introduce you to your ward, Miss Iris Grace Morgan.”
Heathcliff bowed smartly, confirming a few of his preconceived notions regarding his ward. The young lady’s fair skin paled further, and she dipped into a slightly awkward curtsey. “A pleasure, my lord,” she replied, her tone soft.
“Dancing again, Miss Iris?” Mrs. Keyes asked, a smile in her tone.
Heathcliff turned to the housekeeper, noting the familiar expression of amusement. How many times had he seen that same expression when inquiring about his activities as a lad?
His heart softened a bit toward Iris as he awaited her response.
Iris’s lips twitched as she cast a furtive glance to Heathcliff, then back to Mrs. Keyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ll catch on soon enough,” Mrs. Keyes encouraged. “But let’s take a short break for the moment. I’m assuming Miss Miranda is just behind you.”
Iris sighed and stepped from the doorway and glanced behind her. “No doubt awaiting to torture me further.”
“With dancing instructions?” Heathcliff couldn’t resist asking. Never before had he considered a lady might loathe dancing. Reasonably, he associated the two closely. It was intriguing.
“Indeed,” Iris replied simply, yet he sensed a simmering frustration below the surface. His attention was stolen by a movement just behind Miss Iris, and only years of self-discipline enabled him to hold his reaction in check.
In a word, the young woman was angelic. Beautiful in every sense, she was a feast for his gaze. Long, thick dark hair framed a delicate, heart-shaped face with wide, expressive brown eyes that seemed to radiate kindness. After performing a curtsey that would be welcome in Prinny’s court, she straightened and offered a reserved smile.
Mrs. Keyes coughed.
Heathcliff then realized he was expected to say something. He cast a quick glance to Mrs. Keyes, who was hiding a knowing grin. Bloody cheeky thing.
“Miss Miranda, I presume?” he inquired, offering a grin that surely bordered on the wolfish.
A leopard can’t change his spots; neither can a wolf tame his instincts.
“Yes, my lord,” she replied. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Forgive our interruption.” She gave an amused glance to Iris, then met his gaze once more. “Surely you just arrived?”
“Indeed. I’ve only just walked through the door.”
“You are certainly in need of refreshment, then. We apologize for detaining you.”
“Yes, pardon me,” Iris echoed.
Heathcliff noted the way she was quick to respond to her governess. It gave him hope that the impish streak could be tamed.
“It’s of no consequence,” he replied. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.” He bowed once again, and as he regarded Miss Miranda again, a vague familiarity teased the back of his mind.
He almost asked her if they had met before.
But he gave a quick shake of his head and started toward the kitchens once more.
Certainly he’d remember meeting an angel like Miss Miranda.
After all, darkness was always attracted to light.
And if one thing was certain, he was of the darker variety.
Which made Miss Miranda all too tempting.
Chapter Seven
Miranda waited until the viscount turned the corner, then released the breath she’d been holding.
Dear lord.
His voice made her insides melt like butter on hot toast, and his eyes—that caramel shade warmed her from the inside out. For the first time, she had an inkling of what her sister felt for Lord Heightfield.
“That was close.” Iris turned around, her gaze wide.
Miranda smoothed her skirt in an effort to collect her wayward reaction to her new employer. “Well, I think we made an impression.”
“Not exactly the kind I was hoping for.” Iris scrunched up her nos
e.
“Nor I,” Miranda responded. “But what is done is done. Shall we continue?” Miranda bit her lip to keep from smiling as she gestured to the dance floor.
“I’d rather . . . not,” Iris replied tersely.
Oddly enough, Miranda smiled. That was progress! A polite decline was a milepost in Iris’s education. A week ago, she wouldn’t have been as kind.
That should have given Miranda hope. Instead, it simply reminded her just how far they had to go.
Yet, it brought up a question that had plagued Miranda from the beginning: How does one teach without extinguishing the spirit? It would be easy to require Iris to suppress her fire and energy, but in the end, was that what was best for her?
She thought about Liliah, and how any pressure to conform only made her more rebellious. It was a miracle she kept to the social rules as well as she did. Each day, Iris reminded Miranda more and more of her sister, only the roles were reversed. Where Liliah tried to set a good example for her, Miranda was trying to set the good example for Iris. It was opposite, yet not.
And still utterly confusing.
“Miss Miranda?” Iris inquired.
Miranda shook her head to dispel her thoughts. “Yes, we can take a break. I’ll ring for tea.” She smiled to Iris, then went to ring for the tea service. As she came from the bell, she took a seat across from Iris on the sofa. Rather than engage in conversation, Miranda watched.
And in observation, she noted the way Iris’s shoulders curved in on themselves. Iris picked at a frayed edge of the upholstery and sighed. A thought flickered through Miranda’s mind.
“Iris, did you know that my mother died when I was around twelve years old?” Miranda was taking a risk. Never had her governesses spoken to her about their family or private life. They had only worried after her education and performance of said education when called upon.
She and Liliah had made it through life because of each other.
Iris had no one.
And maybe, just maybe, Miranda could be that someone for her.
So she took a shot in the dark, wondering if it would hit a mark or not.
Escaping His Grace Page 4
