Miranda stared at him, the edges of her vision darkening and a dizzy swirl of light-headedness pushing at the back of her eyes. “You… you dragged my brother to ruin just to avoid… courting me?”
“He went along quite willingly. I didn’t drag him anywhere. And courting is a gamble. I prefer a sure bet.”
“And yet you are a gambler.”
“A very good one.”
The words she wanted to say would prevent her from calling herself a lady ever again. She weighed them anyway, then chose the one her mind kept shouting the loudest. “No!”
“That is what a child says when asked to give up a toy,” he stated. “You are three-and-twenty. Men have chased you for five years. I am a stranger with unknown prospects and a pension from the navy to recommend me. In an otherwise level playing field, why would you choose me?” He held her gaze for a dozen hard heartbeats as she tried to conjure an argument against what was actually some very logical mathematics—from his perspective, anyway.
“I wouldn’t,” she answered. “And I won’t. You don’t want me; you want my reputation. Your chosen course of action relies on the cooperation of a woman with whom you never bothered to speak until last night. You want my honor, and yet you have cheated and connived to steal it. No, Captain Vale. Choose another prize.”
The falcon assessed her, unblinking. Then he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and set it on the back of the couch. “These are the dates and amounts of promissory notes signed by your brother. A carriage and I will be here at one o’clock tomorrow to take you to luncheon. If you do not get into the carriage, I will send an identical list to your father.”
“He—”
“If I do not like the response I receive from him, I will bring legal action against your brother. A well-respected family with such a reckless wastrel of an heir… Especially with the barely contained tale of your uncle still hanging in the air. John Temple, isn’t it? I imagine your friends will be shocked. As will the family of Matthew’s fiancée. The Oswell-MacTaggerts, I believe. All that is an aside, however, to your family being stripped of all its property and your father and brother, and quite possibly you and your mother, being thrown into debtors’ prison.”
Miranda wanted to scream. She wanted to punch him in his beak of a nose. “You will face repercussions as well, Captain. You have done nothing honorable.”
“True, but I have no stake in London. Not at the moment. And distasteful or not, a debt is a debt. My plan to settle this is simpler and much less messy, but the next step is yours. I shall respond accordingly.” He flicked a glance toward Millie, who sat openmouthed with her needle in the air. “And with equal discretion.”
“So you would wed someone who loathes you? What an unpleasant future you’ve imagined for yourself.” The argument was weak, but most of her mind simply wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
For the first time he smiled. His teeth were small and even, except for a gap where the left upper canine should be. The expression rendered him less like a falcon, butsomehow more sinister—as if all the polite polish he showed on the outside was just that. Beneath a very thin layer of gentleman he stood there full of black, gaping holes.
“I have been places and done things you couldn’t imagine,” he said matter-of-factly. “Your displeasure matters as much to me as a single drop of water does to the ocean.” With a crisp motion he set his hat on his dark, short hair. “One o’clock tomorrow. And this will appear to be a love match. I suggest you act accordingly.”
With that he turned on his heel, opened the door, and left the room. When the front door opened and shut a moment later, Miranda sat down hard on the nearest chair. She’d spun this in every direction she could think of, searching for something else he might want, and he’d never even blinked. How… What… What could she do? Because this… horror could not be allowed to happen.
“Oh, my,” Millie whispered.
Miranda sat upright again, twisting around to face her maid. “You must not speak a word about any of this, Millie,” she said, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. “Not to anyone. Promise me.”
“I… Yes, Miss Harris. I promise. Not a word. But what will you do? He… I had the shivers just seeing him standing there.”
He had given her the shivers, too. And a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her want to vomit. Aden MacTaggert had figured Captain Vale’s character nearly to perfection without even knowing the man, and with only a few vague sentences from her. She expected gamblers to be… nefarious. Perhaps it was silly of her, but she’d simply been flailing for help. She hadn’t actually expected Mr. MacTaggert’s insights to be useful, much less sharply on target.
She stood up, reaching over to retrieve her bonnetfrom a chair. “Millie, put that mending aside. I have a call to make.”
Clearly she was in well over her head. She recognized that, even if Matthew hadn’t until far too late. She couldn’t afford to wait that long.
Chapter Four
Smythe the butler pulled open the front door of Oswell House before Miranda could do more than touch the brass lion’s-head knocker. “Miss Harris,” he greeted her. “Lady Eloise is not in presently, I’m afraid. Nor is Mrs. MacTaggert.”
Yes, Eloise and Amy had gone to shop for hats this morning. She’d planned to go with them, until Captain Vale had demanded an audience this morning. “I actually had a query for Aden MacTaggert,” she said, keeping her chin up. She had no reason to be embarrassed, of course. She wasn’t some debutante throwing herself at the Highlander; just the opposite. If not for some desperately needed advice, she wouldn’t have been anywhere near Oswell House this morning.
A grimace ruffled one side of the butler’s mouth, but he stepped aside to allow her entry. “You’ll find him in the billiards room, I believe. Do you know the way?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Since Matthew’s engagement she’d visited Oswell House perhaps a dozen times, though only for Eloise’s luncheon since her older brothers had arrived from Scotland and Miranda had left to care for her ill aunt Beatrice and baby cousins in Devon. If she hadn’t gone,would Matthew have confided in her that he’d stepped in over his head with this Captain Vale? Would she have been able to stop his foolishness before he decided that sacrificing her was his only recourse?
As she stepped through the foyer today, she still half expected to see clan Ross tartans hung on the walls and men playing bagpipes in every corner. Aden had definitely made a stir at Eloise’s luncheon, and his sister had previously mentioned that a large degree of chaos had arrived in conjunction with the MacTaggert men. Instead, though, the grand house looked as neat and well appointed as ever—until she reached the main stair landing where the grand staircase split off in two directions. There, close by the back wall, stood a full-grown stag, his antlers wide and impressive, and his personage adorned with a bonnet, a beaver hat, and a pearl necklace hung from one tine. An earbob sparkled beneath one alert ear, while the beast boasted a wilted cravat around his neck and a green lace and satin skirt around his waist and hind legs.
“Good glory,” Millie whispered from behind her.
“The poor thing looks like it crashed through a party and took half of it away with him, doesn’t it?” Miranda whispered back, and the maid giggled.
