Liliah looked thoughtful, her eyes flickering to the side as if deep in thought. “He was rather silent on the matter. And I found that odd. He’s not one to be silent about . . . well, anything,” she finished.
That statement was in agreement with what Miranda had discerned about his character as well.
Interesting.
“Oh?” she remarked, hoping her sister would continue speaking about that particular subject.
“Yes. Has he singled you out in any way?” Her gaze flickered back to her sister. Another person might see the wide eyes and interpret it as innocent.
Miranda knew better. Her sister was playing ignorant; she suspected something.
“What do you mean?” Miranda asked directly, the need to know causing her to be utterly frank.
Liliah dipped her chin slightly. “I know nothing. I’m simply observing.”
“What are you observing?” Miranda asked, slightly impatiently.
“That—”
The door opened, and Miranda could have marched over and slammed it closed in the face of whoever was attempting to enter during such a crucial moment.
But it would be unforgivable to slam the door closed on the man who owned it.
The viscount was first to enter, effectively silencing any further discussion on the previous matter.
Yet, as he walked in, Miranda couldn’t seem to muster the irritation of moments earlier. Rather, she was equal parts relaxed and anxious. It was ironic: to be at odds within herself, yet with no other way to explain it. Seeing him made Miranda feel as if a piece of her was put back in place, when she hadn’t even been aware it had gone missing. Yet her heart hammered in her chest when his rich and warm gaze settled on her, her chest constricting with the power of it.
It was thrilling and frightening all at once.
And utterly distracting. She hadn’t even noticed that Lord Heightfield—rather, Lucas—had followed him into the room until he spoke. “We were summoned?” he asked in a teasing manner, one that Miranda was readily realizing he used often. For all the rumors surrounding him, he was a remarkably easygoing fellow, not at all what she’d expected.
Or maybe he was simply in love.
Love changed people; isn’t that what she’d heard?
She glanced at the viscount. Could it change him?
He gave her a curt nod, then took a seat to the side, reclining slightly, clearly at ease.
Well, it was his parlor, after all, so she supposed if anyone were to feel comfortable, it would be he.
“Summoned? Is that how you wish to call it?” Liliah teased.
Lucas took a seat beside his wife, rubbing his nose against her cheek for a brief moment before answering. “Yes.”
“Very well, let it be known I can summon Lord Heightfield like a queen at court.”
“I have a feeling the courtesy goes both ways,” Miranda added, smiling.
“She’s a quick one.” Lucas nodded toward her.
“Thank you,” Miranda felt the need to add.
There was but a moment of silence before the door opened again, this time admitting a maid with a full tea service. As she carefully carried it to the table and set it down, Miranda waited patiently for the viscount to contribute to the conversation.
Liliah stood to pour for her husband, then, in turn, served the others. Miranda blew across her tea gently, watching the swirling steam and allowing herself to become lost in the mist of it, for a moment, as she waited for her sister to break the proverbial ice and inquire of the viscount.
Would he give any hesitancy to her meeting other gentlemen? She was eager to find out, yet she wasn’t sure if she truly wanted to know. Because what if he did not care? Her heart pinched a little, so she sipped her fragrant tea to distract herself from the pain. She didn’t want to think she was so easily disregarded, but what did she know of love, or courtship, or even kisses?
