“Ahem.” The one word filled the silence and sent the trysting couple apart several feet.
“Lord Manning!” Lady Miranda’s face flushed. “We didn’t see you.”
Colin bit back the wordobviouslyperched on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just returning this book.” He held upEmma. “But I was also looking for you, Lady Miranda. When you have finished your conversation with Mr. Grey, may I have a word?”
“We’re finished,” Grey said, shooting Lady Miranda a look loaded with hidden meaning. “If you would both excuse me.” As hebrushed past Colin, he whispered, “Please come see me in private later.”
Suddenly feeling quite foolish for the flower clutched in his hand, Colin placed the book on a nearby table, then laid the flower on top of it.
Lady Miranda’s gaze followed his movements, then lifted to meet his. “You said you wanted to speak with me? Was the flower for me?”
More than foolish, Colin shifted on his feet like a nervous schoolboy. “It is . . . was . . . is. If you would like it.”
“It is lovely. And thoughtful. May I?” She held her hand out, and Colin lifted the bloom and, with tentative steps, approached her and placed it in her upturned palm. “I’ve always loved dahlias.”
“Is that what it is? I know precious little about flowers. My wife enjoyed them, and these were her favorites. Honoria had a vase of them placed in my room.”
“How is your wound? Is it terribly deep?”
Her concern touched him. However, the question was: was her concern for his injury or Grey’s part in delivering it? “A trifle, Ashton assures me.”
Warm brown eyes studied him, and the question of how much he had witnessed practically shouted from their depths. Many women would blush and make quick excuses. But not Lady Miranda. Yet, as a gentleman, he hurried to put her mind at ease and remove any possible embarrassment.
“Forgive me for interrupting what appeared to be a private...conversation. My purpose for seeking you out was to suggest we spend more time together to see if we suit.”
“You wish to court me?”
Colin respected her forthrightness.
“That was my intention. However, it would appear I’m too late, and your affections are already spoken for.”
She gave no indication of the truth or falsity of his presumption; her expression remained composed and unreadable.
He hitched a brow at her. “Unless I am mistakenand Mr. Grey’s attentions are unwelcome?” He hated to push, but if Grey had in any way forced her...
“Do you plan to mention what you witnessed to my brother?” For a moment, her composure slipped, the tremor in her voice barely noticeable.
“Witnessed what? That you and Mr. Grey were deep in conversation? It’s a house party. There will be times when a man and woman are in a room alone together without any implication of impropriety. I assure you, as a gentleman, I do not leap to conclusions without evidence. But if there is anything you wish to tell me, I’m at your service.”
What Colin had attributed to composure he now understood as tension as she pressed a hand to her midriff and exhaled an audible breath. “Thank you, sir.”
Colin suspected the smile he’d forced appeared rather sheepish. “So. Am I to presume any attempt to court you would not be welcome?”
“Under other circumstances, it would be most welcome. You are an excellent man, Lord Manning, but I fear your suit would be hopeless, and I have no desire to lead you on.” To further her point, she handed him back the flower.
Colin gave a weak nod and placed the bloom back on top of the book. Leave it to him to choose an unattainable lady. Failure dug its blade into his chest, doing more damage than the scratch from Grey’s épée. “Then I shall leave you.” He bowed and made a quick exit.
Grey’s request for a private conversation had piqued Colin’s natural curiosity, so when he came upon a footman, he enquired if he had seen Mr. Grey. Several more enquiries later, a maid told Colin she’d seen Mr. Grey return to his room.
Honoria had mentioned she’d placed Grey in the room which had belonged to his father, Lord Forbes, and Colin remembered seeing Grey exit a room several doors down from his own bedchamber.
As he approached, male voices drifted into the hallway. Serious, but not angry.
“What will you do?”
Was that Mr. Ford?
“I’m not certain,” the unmistakable voice of Mr. Grey said. “This could solve all my problems, but at what cost to others?”
