“Don’t worry, my dear. I told him in no uncertain terms that he will complete our agreement through the final fortnight. After all, you’ve had a few callers. I’m sure you can secure an engagement from one of them before the Season’s end. But not if you suddenly disappear from society, and certainly not if you continue to harbor a ninny-pated notion that Mercer will ever offer for you.”
Sighing, he leaned forward and picked up his pipe. “Run along. I have work to finish.” He had dismissed her.
Slowly, Miranda rose. “I no longer wish to go the races with him tomorrow. Nor anywhere for that matter.”
Her father looked up, astonished. “Whyever not?”
“Because Lord Mercer doesn’t want to take me,” she pointed out.
Her father barked out a laugh. “Heneverwanted to take you if you recall. This was always a business contract. Nothing has changed. Now don’t be foolish. Fetch me a pot of tea like a good girl.”
Miranda did as he asked while considering her options. She supposed hiding in her room and refusing to go downstairs when Philip arrived would be out of the question. Besides, as her father would say, cutting off her nose to spite her face was a fool’s act. She wanted to finish her novel with the last events of the Season.
Nevertheless, she would firmly withdraw her admiration for the baron and stop being as friendly as a lapdog. And she would never let him kiss her again.
“IT’S JUST ANOTHER HORSERACE,” Philip reminded himself.So why was he on edge?As his driver halted the carriage before Sir William’s home at first light, he pulled his flask from his pocket and took a long draw of brandy. It was not something he usually did at that early hour.
And then he didn’t move a muscle. For the first time, he acted like the proper nobleman he was and let his footman go to the door, knock, and collect Miranda and her aunt, not to mention their luggage.
From the beginning, he’d been far too familiar with her. Specifically, he should never have kissed her within minutes of meeting, and he most assuredly should not have stripped off his wet clothes and broken a bed with her.
For this entire outing, including spending the night at Ascot, he would be on his best behavior. For that matter, at the next ball the following week and the last one after that, he had already promised himself they would have no more than a single dance. And then this seemingly endless arrangement would be at an end.
But he had to get through the next two days first.
The carriage door opened, and he looked down into Miranda’s lovely face, making him catch his breath. Assisted by the footman, she climbed in and took the seat opposite, quickly followed by Mrs. Cumbersome who sat beside her.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said. “I hope you are both well.”
When Miranda offered him the smallest of polite smiles, he knew. She was aware of his attempt to end their intolerable and torturous entanglement. If not, her smile would be the usual radiant one that always sent a ray of happiness straight to his heart.
This one was like those from the ladies of theton, false and frosty.
However, after a long moment, she added, “Good evening, my lord. I hope you are well.”
Except for feeling lower than sheep dung, he was fine.
“I am, thank you. And both of you?” With embarrassment, he realized he had already asked and been answered. Regardless, Philip turned to include her aunt, hoping conversation with her would flow more easily.
Apparently, by Mrs. Cumbersome’s sour expression, she had been told something, too. The older lady raised an eyebrow and turned to look out the window. This made Miranda sigh, one of his favorite actions as her breasts always rose plump and perfect above her décolletage.
Dammit!Not two minutes in her company and he was already thinking of her breasts.And those sweet, rosy nipples!
“We are well, thank you,” she replied. “I am well. My aunt is well. My father is well. My sister up in Yorkshire is well, I don’t doubt. If we have thoroughly exhausted that line of conversation, perhaps we could continue the ride in peaceful silence until we reach our destination.”
Philip would have applauded her set down if he hadn’t been astounded. Her aunt mirrored his emotion with a stunned expression. Yet Miranda didn’t seem to care if she’d offended, simply sitting straight-backed and calm, looking out the window as they got underway.
They went by Fulham, over Putney Bridge and through Richmond Park. Naturally, neither he nor Miranda could look at one another so close to the scene of their lunatic actions on the other side of the Thames. And when they stopped by nine o’clock at the Star and Garter Inn at Richmond Hill, Philip wasn’t trying to remind her of their sensual encounter by eating at a restaurant with river views. He knew of nowhere else close by that could provide such an elegant and tasty breakfast.
In the large dining room, they took their meal in almost complete silence except for what they could hear of other diners, many of whom were also on their way to Ascot Heath that morning.
When finished, they eschewed a walk on the terrace despite knowing it would assist in their food’s digestion, and instead climbed into the carriage to resume their cheerless journey. Philip could think of no way to clear the tension that lay thick between them and wished it were otherwise.
Finally, they spoke only to debate whether to stop at Hampton Court Palace which they would pass. He had it on authority the State Apartments were open for viewing along with its sixty acres of gardens. Eventually, they decided against the diversion since they didn’t want to miss the first race.
“Perhaps on the way back to London,” he offered, “when we are not pressed for time.”
Miranda shrugged as if it was of no consequence, nor could she be bothered to speak another word to him. Instead, she turned to her aunt.
