Chapter Nineteen
Akiss meant something, didn’t it? What about two kisses? Certainly then? What about after more than two? Oh, why wasn’t life as easy as mathematics? One plus one equals two.
Two kisses.
Two kisses plus three more meant five. And after each kiss, a vow that it would be the last.
Five kisses meant . . . what exactly it meant, she wasn’t sure. But it should mean something, she decided. Yet, as her sister paraded with an utterly focused expression as she spouted off ideas about marrying her off to some unknown gentleman, Miranda decided kisses might not mean as much as she’d hoped.
Because if they did, wouldn’t the viscount have had an opinion on her involvement with another man?
Yet, if her sister’s present conversation was accurate, he hadn’t whispered a word against the idea.
What was worse, no one had seen fit to askheropinion either.
“Liliah?” Miranda tried, not for the first time. Her sister was of quite a singular mind when she was focused on a plan.
When her sister continued as if she hadn’t spoken at all, Miranda rose from her place on the settee and walked around the low table, careful to miss the cornered edge, and approached her sister, who had her back to her as she paced.
“And I do think Mrs. Keyes has a keen eye for gentlemen, because she was quite insistent on the character of a few of the men we discussed—”
Miranda grasped her sister’s shoulder gently, breathing a sigh of relief when her words cut off before being completed.
“Yes?” her sister asked, spinning, her heightened color and determined expression reminding Miranda of the matchmaking mamas of the Ton.
It was almost predatory.
She withdrew her hands and folded them before her. “What if that is not what I wish?”
Liliah blinked, her wide eyes immediately confused. Miranda could see the irony. After all, a gently bred lady had but one goal in life: to marry well.
Her asking such a question was akin to asking why one thought the sky was blue. It just was.
After a few moments, Liliah tipped her head ever so slightly. “Are you against the idea?”
Miranda sighed. “Not the idea but perhaps the execution?”
Liliah frowned, creating a few tiny lines between her eyebrows. “Do you have a better one?”
Miranda felt her lips tip into a grin. Her sister had asked without impatience; she was sincerely wondering if there was some aspect of this brilliant idea she’d missed. Not likely; she’d clearly thought out more details than Miranda had expected to be involved in courtship—and the gentleman hadn’t even been met.
“No,” she hedged. “But it does smack of coercion.” She added softly, “I’m away from London to remove myself from one tyrannical family member, and I feel as if I’m discovering another.” Miranda kept her tone soft, kind, so as not to unnecessarily hurt her sister.
“Oh.” Liliah’s lips formed into a perfect circle. “I see. I suppose I got rather carried away.”
“A little,” Miranda agreed.
Liliah took a few steps toward a side table beside the window, brushing her fingers against the wood, her expression thoughtful. “What is it you want, then? It is your future after all.” She turned to regard her sister.
Miranda shrugged. “That’s a difficult question. I suppose the easy answer is that I wish to be happy, settled, unafraid.” She twisted her lips as she considered what she would choose if she had the world before her, any options, any path to take. “I’d want to know my husband, find him not only diverting but also fascinating. Would it be so much to ask to have something in common?”
Liliah nodded once. It was a decisive nod, as if she were taking mental notes. “No, that is not so much to ask. I think your requests are more than reasonable.”
“And if I could actually find a love match, I think that would be lovely.” A sigh escaped her lips.
“I wouldn’t want you to have anything less.”
Miranda met her gaze. “You say that, but everything you’ve said seems so . . .” She frowned as she searched her mind for the word. “Calculated.”
