“Yes, Papa,” she said.
However, gaining a husband, while a pleasant dream, was not currently her goal. She had a book to finish, perhaps during her only Season of interesting events. Tomorrow, for instance, she would be among a party taking rowboats up the Thames toward Brentford, followed by a picnic on the riverfront of the Duke of Northumberland’s Syon House.
Lord Mercer, of course, would be her escort. And just as assuredly, the other young men would start to pester her for the favor of her company. She was becoming used to it, and also to being disappointed in them. They were always lacking in some way — not as tall as the baron or not as broad-shouldered or not as humorous or intelligent. Their eyes weren’t as glitteringly dark, or their mouths weren’t as sensual. In all manner, they were inferior.
Besides, Miranda doubted her father realized how her close association with the raffish baron might be giving other gentlemen the wrong idea. At the previous ball, she’d received a knowing wink from one man while another had patted her backside by the potted palms, and most of them stared down her décolletage as if she’d given them leave to scrutinize her person.
And all the while, her Lord Major Mercer remained coolly aloof despite any encouragement from her. And sadly, there would be no cover of darkness to allow for a kiss while rowing or enjoying the picnic in the sunlight.
Just as well. She wasn’t foolish enough to think if he did ruin her the way those other young women had allowed themselves to be debauched in the far reaches of Vauxhall’s Pleasure Gardens or out behind the darkened hedges at the last ball, that Lord Mercer would follow up with an honorable proposal.
She had only to look at Miss Waltham as an example.
“You’re scowling. I do not like it,” her father said. “Fetch me a cup of tea, there’s a good girl.”
As soon as she did, she slipped away to visit with Lady Harriet. As before, Miranda was admitted at once, even without an invitation.
“I wanted only to make certain your ankle was not severely injured, my lady. I haven’t seen you out since Vauxhall.”
“You are a dear for worrying over me and my clumsiness, especially as I got us lost and then sent you off alone into the darkness. I was useless, stranded like a sailing ship on a windless day. My brother took me directly home.”
“I believe I saw him going in your direction that night.”
“Did you?” Lady Harriet looked interested. “He did not mention it.”
“Lord Mercer kept me protected from prying eyes.”
Lady Harriet cocked her head. “Did he? How chivalrous of him. Rather unlike his usual behavior. You have quite captured his interest, I dare say.”
Miranda felt her cheeks warm.
“Not at all,” she protested. “He is only with me because—”
“Why stop?” Lady Harriet said, leaning forward in her chair. “Do tell.”
Miranda chided herself. She had promised her father not to disclose the arrangement. It certainly didn’t put her in a good light, keeping company with a rake only because he had been coerced into doing so. And to make the situation perfectly clear, she would have to tell tales out of school about Miss Waltham.
Miranda loved gossip, but had never before had anything remotely of interest to tell to someone like Lady Harriet. Telling her new friend something personal about someone she didn’t even know felt distinctly wrong.
“As I told you before, it is merely because of an old friendship between our parents.” She would swear her cheeks had grown even hotter. Lying was not something she did readily or often.Had she done it well enough?
“Hm,”Lady Harriet said. “Again, it seems out of character for Mercer. Regardless, how is our writing endeavor coming along?”
THE NEXT DAY, MIRANDA wore not slippers but a pair of soft-leather half boots in a very becoming shade of blue to match her gown. The entire ensemble seemed most prudent for a day spent outdoors.
At the public landing on the north bank of the Kew Bridge, the small party of guests were greeted by their hosts, Lord and Lady Coxley. The couple had a close association with the Duke of Northumberland, at whose home they were staying for a month and on whose land the party-goers would enjoy their rustic meal.
Miranda found herself to be one of four single ladies, along with four single men including the baron who had gone to university with Lord Coxley and thereby had received an invitation.
Hers was a coveted spot in this exclusive gathering, which she appreciated even more when it turned out to be only two to a rowboat. The gentlemen would show off their manliness by rowing the ladies up river to the duke’s property. Miranda would have nothing to do but sit in her new cotton dress, hold up her silk parasol, and pepper Lord Mercer with questions about what he did inside the hallowed halls of White’s, since her latest fascination was with gentlemen’s clubs.
Naturally she would include the information in the chapters of her novel, as she now thought of each letter she wrote to Helen and painstakingly copied before sending.
Lord Mercer spent a few minutes in a tête-à-tête with his friends. His head nodded once in her direction, before Lady Coxley peered past him to take Miranda’s measure.
To her surprise and consternation, Miranda was paired with an earl’s son. Lord Wesley had been eyeing her since her father had dropped her off by the bridge, and now they would be together in a small boat.
Worse, Lord Mercer had done it on purpose.
