Chapter Fourteen
Heathcliff rolled from bed far later than he had expected. It had been a difficult night, with sleep eluding him. His attention was arrested by the woman only a few doors down.
Each time he’d try to relax into his bed, his mind would linger on Miss Miranda. Her quick wit engaged his mind, her intellect challenged him, and her innocence inflamed his body. The sun had fully risen when he made his way downstairs to break his fast. As he sipped his tea, the grandfather clock chimed ten, reminding him that he had much to accomplish before the day ended.
After breakfast, he headed to his study, passing the library. Feminine laughter halted his steps and he paused to listen.
The voices were muffled enough that he’d have to step closer to hear their words.
His damned pride didn’t allow him such an effort, and he settled on listening to the laughter once more before striding forward to his study down the hall. Had it only been a day since he’d arrived home? How had so much happened? As he sat behind his wide desk, his thoughts lingered down the hall, wondering what Miss Miranda was teaching Iris. What had caused their laugher?
He forced his thoughts to submit to his will, and he began to lift several papers from the stack to read.
Several hours later, he was rubbing his temple as he read over the notes from his steward. A knock sounded on his study door, and he blinked at the sound, his mind snapping to attention. “Yes?”
Sothers entered, his gray head bowing in respect. “My lord, there are guests here to see you. Lord and Lady Heightfield.”
Heathcliff rose from his desk. “Show them in at once.”
Sothers gave a twitch of his lips, surely anticipating the acceptance of Heathcliff’s old friend. “Yes, milord.” He quit the room, and Heathcliff came around his desk and leaned against the front of it, partially siting as he waited for his friends’ arrival.
Moments later, Lucas Mayfield, the Earl of Heightfield, strode in, his lovely wife, Lady Liliah Heightfield, holding his arm engagingly. He smiled at her familiar face, something striking him, like a fragment of a memory, but he dismissed it and pushed off from his desk to greet them. “Heightfield, and Lady Heightfield!” He reached out and grasped Lady Liliah’s hand, kissing it softly, lingering there just to irritate his friend.
“Enough of that,” Lucas retorted hotly, tugging his wife’s hand from Heathcliff’s slightly exaggerated welcome.
As he anticipated, Lady Liliah giggled softly, and Lucas glared. “I see not much has changed. I quite expected her to soften you up a bit, but I see you’re still a pain in the arse.” Heathcliff chuckled.
“Only when the occasion, or person, calls for it,” Lucas replied, reaching out and grasping Heathcliff’s hand in welcome. He grinned widely. “It’s good to see you, my friend.”
“Eh, I suppose I’m glad to see you as well. Though I must say, this is something of a surprise. Aren’t you still newly married? Why come here and torment me with your calf-eyed self ?” He arched a brow, teasing his friend.
“It pleases me to torture you.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.” Heathcliff chuckled. “Brandy?” He gestured to the sideboard. It might be early, but then again, if he were in London and it were after one of their parties, it could be considered overly late—especially if you hadn’t gone to bed the night before at all.
Heathcliff’s smile froze as he noted the glances exchanged between Lord and Lady Heightfield.
“Out with it.” He backed up and leaned against his desk once more, crossing his arms.
Lady Liliah turned to her husband, her expression questioning.
“Damn it all, you’re making me jumpy. I know that face, Lucas. What the hell has happened?” He frowned.
“Perhaps we should converse in private?” Lucas directed the question not to Heathcliff but his wife.
Heathcliff waited impatiently for the verdict.
“That may be best,” Lady Liliah answered deliberately, then turned to Heathcliff. “I’ll give you two some time alone, then join you later. I’m sure your housekeeper can help me find your ward. Iris, correct?”
Heathcliff frowned. Something didn’t ring true about her words. Not the words themselves, but the tone.
He turned to Lucas. “How bad is it?”
Lucas grinned unrepentantly. “That, my friend, depends on you.” He shrugged. “But I am enjoying watching you squirm. Lord knows what scenarios you’re cooking up in your depraved mind. I assure you, it’s nothing like your imagination is concocting.”
Heathcliff nodded, then rang for Mrs. Keyes. When she arrived, he instructed her to take Lady Liliah to the other ladies, who were in the library.
Mrs. Keyes nodded, glanced at Lady Liliah, then blinked. “O-of course, my lady. . . .tMight you be related to our Miss Miranda?” She shook her head. “Forgive me. It just shocked me, the likeness. Follow me, my lady.”
