“Auntie, I would prefer not to—”
“Nonsense,” her aunt said. “We must have some musical entertainment before cards. You needn’t sing if you’re not up to it, but you must at least play one song.”
Philip’s smile and a small nod encouraged her, but Miranda knew how critical he could be, feeling mortified in advance that he would hear her mediocre playing.
When they adjourned to the drawing room, Philip approached her.
“I didn’t know you had talent for the pianoforte.”
“I am not sure as I do, at least not to your standards, my lord. But I suppose it is the price of a good meal,” she said softly.
He laughed. “It will be different because it is you, Miss Bright, and we are friends. I promise, I shall not judge you. It is brave of you to perform.”
“Thank you.” With that encouragement, she decided the best thing to do was combine their talents, hoping no one would listen to her playing while Helen was singing, for her cousin had a decent voice.
“That’s cheating,” her aunt said when their first song, “The Lass of Richmond Hill,” was complete. “If you are not going to sing and play separately, then you must give us another.”
Her aunt had drunk too much wine, Miranda feared, and was making up rules, but she and Helen could do naught except go along with her and began “The Joys of the Country.”
Finally, they were set free with Helen having done her part beyond expectation. As for herself, Miranda had missed a few notes but passingly muddled through. Philip gestured her over to where he stood by the garden windows.
“That was better than you led me to believe,” he said for her ears only, making her laugh. “The two of you could certainly hold your own in any drawing room in London. Maybe your cousin would return with us and enjoy the remainder of the Season.”
Her mirth fizzled. “I shall not keep you in a state of misapprehension, but rather I must tell you now that I will not go back with you tomorrow, nor any day after that.”
“What of your suitors with their bouquets?” he asked, his tone like warm honey.
“I have no interest in them.” That was the truth. Her only interest was in this impossible man who stood before her.
“What about my brandy business?” he asked, raising a hand as if to stroke her cheek and then dropping it abruptly. It seemed he’d forgotten fleetingly they were not at the type of country party in which he’d kissed Miss Waltham. “As my friend, will you not help me?”
She must resist his attempts to seduce her with nothing but his voice and beautiful eyes.Were they truly friends?She didn’t think so.
“I am not returning to London,” she insisted.
“Very well.” He crossed his arms, making his muscles flex. “Then I shan’t either, not for a day or two anyway. The longer I stay away, the less opportunity I give all those who seek to ruin my life.”
“You’re being a bit dramatic, are you not?”
She would swear she saw the moment he made a decision.
“I believe I must confess to you something I have told no one else.”
Chapter Nineteen
If her ears could perk up like a dog’s, then Miranda would describe her own as doing precisely that. She glanced over at her family, but her two cousins and their parents were already playing a round of whist.
“If you wish, you may confide in me.” She was surprised he would, given as how he knew she enjoyed a little gossip. But if he trusted her with a secret, she would keep it close to her heart.
“You must not tell anyone,” he insisted.
“Why do you wish to tell me?”
“I think you’ll understand after I tell you,” he said, looking at her family. “May we sit in the far corner?”
“Of course.”
When they were as far as possible from the others, Philip said, “I hope it won’t make you think less of me.”
