“I will see you later, Lord Mercer. Enjoy your walk.”
THAT AFTERNOON, PHILIP returned from the village under dark gray clouds and heavy showers. Despite such, he was feeling jubilant, having already met with the joiner. Peter would have successful crutches in a short while, a matter of a mere day and a half.
Indoors, there was an air of excitement, and he followed the sound of voices to the parlor where Miranda and Helen were poring over a book.
At his entrance, their speaking ceased and both heads whipped up. The women’s gazes locked on him. Helen appeared concerned, to be sure, but Miranda looked positively stricken. Philip hoped it was merely due to overheated emotions from whatever they were reading. Perhaps they had got hold of a copy ofThe Midnight BellorThe Mysteries of Udolpho.
“What are you ladies reading with such enthusiasm?”
Instead of answering, Helen rose to her feet, squeezed her cousin’s shoulder, and left the room with nothing but a nod to Philip.
Curious and curiouser.
“Is aught amiss?” he asked. “Normally, I don’t drive women away in such a hurry, at least not before I perform some terribly raffish action as you accused me of earlier.
Miranda did not smile, and his stomach tensed. Something was terribly wrong.
“Is it your father?”
She shook her head before glancing down at the slim volume she held.
“I have done something that I believe was a mistake.”
“We all make mistakes,” he said.How bad could it be?
“This one may hurt people, such as Lady Sarah.” Her soft voice caused Philip to lean forward to catch the last of her words as she added, “Or you.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“I tried to stop the publication, but it was too late. This arrived today, and apparently, it’s all over London as we speak.”
She held out the book to him.
“This book? I don’t understand.” He opened it and read its title page.
A Few Months to Remember: A Tale of London’s Pleasures
He turned the page and the title was repeated, this time with the author’s byline under it.
Marian Blaze
He glanced down at her. She had a palm to each of her cheeks, shaking her head. Frowning, it took but an instant to come clear. Miranda Bright was Marian Blaze!
The next page dove right into their own association with a ball at Lord Breadalbane’s in which the Prince Regent put in an appearance. He supposed it was an acceptable tale since nothing untoward happened that night. But next he read a titillating account of the young lady slipping away from her chaperone to walk in the garden and receive her first kiss from her escort.
He frowned. That hadn’t happened. Their first kiss had been at her father’s house.And why was she mentioning it at all?Anyone who puzzled out who the writer was would recallhehad been her escort all Season. Everything she described in her book would be attributed to the two of them.
Surely she wouldn’t open herself up to condemnation by writing about their intimate encounters.
“Perhaps you should not read it,” Miranda said, lifting her hand toward the book, but Philip held it out of her reach and began to skim through. The words “Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens” leaped from the page.
’Zounds!She’d incriminated herself along with him and everyone else she mentioned. Stunned, he looked at her, but she refused to meet his eyes, staring down at her hands on her lap, looking abashed, innocent even, and like the most unthreatening creature in the world.
Chapter Twenty
Philip began to skim through the chapters.Please God, don’t let her have included the incident after the rowboat!There it was, their entire intimate scene at Syon House.
His throat clogged with rage and betrayal, and a healthy dose of fear, thinking of lives destroyed, not to mention his own chance to turn around his family’s fortune. With his heart hammering, it was as if he’d awakened from a sound sleep surrounded by the enemy.
