MIRANDA COULD HAVE fallen asleep on the sofa in the salon, so languid did she feel after their swiving. Rousing herself, she pulled up her bodice and drew down her skirts while Philip fastened his breeches and tucked in his linen shirt.
“That was different,” she said. Neither better nor worse than in a bed, she’d experienced the same blissful ending as had her husband.
He laughed. “I hope you don’t mind if we try different places often.”
She was more than willing. “Not at all.” But she couldn’t help wondering where they would end up after he sold everything.
Hoping not to offend his male pride, she had an idea.
“After the sale of this house, we could move in with my father. He has room and will be retiring in a few years. Thus, he might—”
Philip shook his head, and she stopped, but then tried again.
“We could move in with your mother,” she offered, wondering if she would be under the Dowager Lady Mercer’s thumb. They’d had a successful meeting in which Philip’s mother had graciously thanked Miranda for taming her wayward son.
Again, her husband shook his head, and then he gave her his winsome smile.
“We are not moving anywhere for I am not selling our home. Can you imagine why?”
“No,” Miranda said truthfully. Her saved allowance was not enough to support the household. “Has your officer’s half-pay been increased?”
“Hardly that. Your outrageous book has altered our fortunes for the better.” He tucked one of her errant locks of hair behind her ear. “I have devastated your coiffure while ravishing you,” he added, looking pleased.
Hehadravished her, but it was his little gesture with her hair that made her feel cared for, causing her breath to catch in her throat as her heart clenched.
“Tell me. How did my book do that?”
“As I said before we got carried away, you were correct.About what?you ask, for I know my inquisitive wife. Rowantry did not know anything about Miss Waltham’s plight. I should have done as you suggested in the beginning and contacted him. I heard him myself declare he wants to marry her. As expected, Perrin is in full agreement.” Philip rubbed his hands together with happiness.
“Consequently, my brandy will no longer be held hostage. By late tonight, Rowantry shall have arrived at Perrin’s estate in Kent. He fully intends to go short by the knees and beg Miss Waltham to marry him. All very romantic.”
Miranda felt a dropping sensation in her stomach.
“Miss Waltham will get a husband who loves her after all. I dare say the first of the banns will be announced this Sunday, and in three weeks, they’ll have the wedding of their dreams. Nothing like ours, I warrant.”
An undeniable shard of sadness sliced through her, perhaps even a wee drop of anger trickled down her spine, too, at his comparison to their own wedding, not to mention the state of their marriage. He’d kissed her and ravished her, but did that make her any more to him than any other woman he’d tupped in his life?
Rising from the sofa, she took up her reticule and her precious magazine column she’d used to blackmail Lady Harriet.
“Then everything worked out for the best,” she said, her tone involuntarily stiff. “I think I’ll go tidy up before dinner.”
For some reason, she wanted to have a good cry and shriek into her pillow at the same time. For while Miss Waltham had been duplicitous from the start and tried to play Philip falsely, she’d managed to gain the love of her intended. Miranda had been truthful with her baron from the beginning and ended up with her hand nearly smashed upon an anvil!
Glancing at where they’d recently been making the two-backed beast in earnest, she wondered if the act between men and women was superior for a couple in love versus those who merely lusted.
“A good idea,” Philip agreed. “I cannot play your lady’s maid well enough to repair the damage I’ve caused to your hair. And my baroness must be presentable,” he teased.
“Like a well-groomed dog,” she muttered.
“Miranda, is something the matter?”
“Not at all! By the way, your own appearance is the worse for wear due to joining giblets.”
His expression rearranged itself into one of shock.
“Joining giblets!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, you know, the goat’s jig, riding St. George, to strap and strum, to wap, and all that.”
