Miss Lenox was first, and she was about to learn that she had made a grievous error by whoring herself for the Duke of Whitby.
“Thank you for entrusting me with this information,” Ammondale said then. “She cannot be allowed to continue making a disgrace of herself.”
“What do you intend to do?” Roberts asked, hope rising.
Ammondale gave him a chilling smile. “I’m going to ruin the bitch.”
Miranda’s maidof all work greeted her with unsmiling solemnity that afternoon when she returned from a call to her friend Rosamund, the Duchess of Camden. Rosamund was one of the few society ladies who had remained a true and loyal friend to her in the wake of her scandalous divorce from Ammondale, along with Lottie, the Duchess of Brandon.
“You have a guest awaiting you in your sitting room, madam,” White announced.
With her modest means following the divorce, the lone domestic had been all Miranda could afford for her home. Now that she had the funds from Rhys, however, the temptation to replace the perpetually Friday-faced woman with a servant who was more congenial was strong.
“Thank you,” she told White, stomach flipping with a mixture of worry and anticipation.
Rhys was here. And he was earlier than she had anticipated. Oh, what had she been thinking in the midst of the night when she had agreed to such a nonsensical request from him? Paying a call upon her as if he were a suitor.
It was dangerous.
Foolish.
Stealing about under the cover of darkness was one thing, but at least they could be covert and surreptitious. Calls by the light of day could be cause for wagging tongues, particularly given Rhys’s reputation and Miranda’s own past scandal.
Miranda removed her hat, wrap, and gloves whilst the maid of all work lingered, unsmiling.
“The guest in question is agentlemancaller,” White added, her disapproval evident.
“Indeed,” Miranda said, feigning a lack of concern she didn’t feel as she hung up her wrap.
“I warned him it was most unseemly, his presence here in an unmarried lady’s residence,” White added sharply.
Miranda almost reminded the other woman that she had been married once, but mentioning her divorce seemed counterproductive to White’s bilious constitution.
She smiled instead. “Thank you for your forethought, White. I do believe he is here to discuss some business related to my school. Nothing untoward, I assure you.”
Ha! If she only knew. Thank heavens White was a heavy sleeper. Miranda had become adept at sneaking in and out of the house to the sound of the maid of all work’s rhythmic snores.
“As you say, madam.” The maid of all work gave a stern sniff of disdain.
Miranda truly did not think she could carry on with such a supercilious woman in her household, but that was a matter for later. For now, Rhys was awaiting her. “I will see to him, then.”
“Shall I bring a tray of tea?” the maid of all work wanted to know.
“I’ll ring for it,” she decided, knowing Rhys well enough by now to understand that despite what he had promised about behaving, anything could happen.
She had no wish for White to walk in upon a tableau that would set her tongue wagging. He was a rogue to the core after all. And Miranda was woefully incapable of resisting him, particularly when he plied his rakish charm.
Leaving White at the door, Miranda made her way to the sitting room at the hall’s end. As she crossed the threshold, she halted, shock washing over her. For the familiar figure awaiting her within—tall, dark-haired, and blue-eyed—was decidedly not Rhys. Rather, he was a dear friend who had sacrificed much on her behalf so that she could escape her hateful union with Ammondale.
“Waring,” she greeted, astonished.
“Miranda.” The Marquess of Waring offered her an elegant bow that seemed better suited to a formal gathering than to her modest private sitting room.
In the clutter of her books and pictures, her writing desk and scribblings and models for ice caves and working prototypes, he was decidedly out of place. And far more serious than her dear friend ordinarily was.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still astonished at his presence.
Following her scandalous divorce, he had decamped across the Atlantic. He had business dealings that took him there, and he had graciously wished to distance himself to quiet the salacious gossip concerning the two of them, none of which was true, had the gossips but known it.
