Mayfair, London
One Wintry Month Later
Miranda stared through the window at the grand town house that fronted the wide, tree-lined avenue and somehow kept her mouth from falling open in utter astonishment.
“We’ve arrived,” Elizabeth Carlisle announced from the seat beside her in the carriage that had carried them for the past several days all the way from Lincolnshire. She leaned over to give Miranda a welcoming squeeze of her hand. “Park Place.”
“Thank God,” Robert muttered as he leaned forward on the bench across from them, where he had spent most of the trip slumped in sleep.
Miranda barely heard his grumbling, her attention rapt on the beautiful house. Four stories high and six bays wide, the house sat right upon the avenue, its red Georgian brick contrasting with its freshly painted white trim and tall portico. It was so much more inviting than those other houses they’d passed as they’d driven the last stretch of the trip by Hyde Park. Those houses, which sat back from the street behind wrought-iron fences, were grand, truly, but they held an air of arrogant inapproachability, while Park Place was inviting, bright…simply perfect.
So was London, every last filthy, congested, smelly inch of it. Oh, it was fabulous! They’d ridden for over two hours through the city, giving her wonderful views of the Thames and the dome of St Paul’s, the imposing Tower and the narrow warren of streets and alleys in the City that gave way to the wider roads and avenues as they drove on west toward Mayfair with its tree-lined streets, beautiful open squares, and grand town houses. She’d never seen anything like it. It took her breath away.
She’d been to Lincoln when she was fourteen, on a trip with Uncle Hamish to settle a tax issue, but even that city with its great cathedral and castle was barely a village in comparison to London, with all its houses and large buildings, the crush of carriages and horses in the streets, the bustling pedestrians, and bobbing boats on the river. The city pulsed with excitement and energy, and she could hardly believe that she was finally here. London! Her heart sang with it all.
A glance at Robert’s tired face as he waited on the edge of his seat for the footman to open the carriage door told her that he did not share her excitement.
But then, nothing during the trip from Lincolnshire had seemed to catch his imagination. He’d been more caught up in the drudgery of the travel than the excitement of it. So after a few attempts at conversation with him that led nowhere, and certainly not to any kind of intimate tête-à-tête that would indicate that he’d actually noticed her, she’d given up and spent her time staring out the window at the passing scenery.
Of course, he also had only his mother and her for company, so she couldn’t blame him too much for wanting to sleep away the hours. Sebastian and Quinton had gone down to London a week before, leaving Robert to accompany the ladies. Miranda suspected he wasn’t happy about being trapped in a carriage for four days with the two women, although she was secretly thrilled to have so much time in his company. And more grateful to Sebastian than she wanted to admit for arranging this time with his brother.
The footman opened the door and moved aside with a shallow bow.
Blowing out a weary breath, Robert stepped to the ground and turned back to offer his hand. “Mother.”
The duchess placed her hand into his, and he helped her from the carriage, across the footpath, and up the marble steps to the front portico.
Unable to tamp down her enthusiasm and wait for him to return for her, Miranda hurried to her feet and stuck her head out the open door to stare up at the house. Oh, it was grand! And so beautiful. Mesmerized by the splendor of the façade, her eyes trailing from tall window to window, she moved down onto the step—
And missed.
With a soft gasp of surprise, she tumbled forward off-balance toward the ground.
Strong arms swept around her and caught her, lifting her gracefully and placing her gently onto the footpath.
With her view blocked by her new bonnet, she couldn’t see the hero behind her who had rescued her, but it must have been Robert. Oh, it simply had to be! Her heart raced with equal amounts happiness and embarrassment that she’d fallen into his arms, although…should she feign a faint just to remain there a while longer?
Then she saw Robert on the portico, still at his mother’s side, and her heart sank. So it wasn’t Robert who had rushed to her rescue after all. It must have been the footman, then, who had been kind enough to save her, except that the man had already moved to the back of the coach to help with the luggage. Which meant…
Oh no.
“Already causing problems, Lady Rose?” a familiar voice whispered teasingly at her ear. “And with your first footstep in London, no less.”
Sebastian.
Ignoring the odd flutter he stirred low in her belly, she rolled her eyes, mortified that he of all people should be the one who saw her stumble. She muttered, “At least now I know why they call them slippers.”
He laughed. The soft sound rumbled into her back and made her heart race just as fast as before, although this time with equal parts embarrassment and…well, something else that she didn’t dare admit to.
As he carefully righted her and set her away from him, Miranda was suddenly very conscious of the duchess’s eyes on them, watching them curiously. But Sebastian didn’t seem to notice as he smiled and formally greeted her with an incline of his head. “Welcome to Park Place, Miss Hodgkins.”
She curtsied with a smile, grateful for his kindness even though it came with a great deal of teasing. “Your Grace.”
With a signal to the footmen hurrying from the house to attend to the carriage, he took her arm as if she were a true guest to the house rather than the country girl he was sponsoring for the season. He escorted her inside while his mother and Robert were suddenly caught up in giving directions about sorting the luggage, which pieces should be taken into the house, which left on the carriage.
“Did you have a good trip down?” he asked quietly as he led her through the front foyer with its white marble stairs that wrapped elegantly around the room as they curled toward the landings on the floors above.
“Yes, a lovely time.” Miranda craned her neck. She wanted to stop and gawk openly at the gorgeous house unfolding around her, but she’d already embarrassed herself once by not paying attention to where she was going. If she tripped again in front of him— Oh, she’d simply die! “The countryside was beautiful.”
At that, he gave her a grimacing smile. The two of them were momentarily alone inside the house as he guided her toward the drawing room, and he lowered his mouth close to her ear. “I meant, did you have the chance to speak to Robert alone as you’d hoped?”
Disappointment panged inside her chest. No, it wasn’t at all what she’d hoped. Oh, Robert had been pleasant to her as always and thoroughly doted on the two women whenever they’d stopped at inns along the way. But he’d treated her like a sister under his care rather than a woman he might fall in love with. For heaven’s sake, he even called her by that annoying nickname the boys had given her when she was six…sprite. She cringed at the thought of it.
Unwilling to admit to failure so soon, though, she deflected, “We talked a little in the carriage when he wasn’t sleeping.” Which was most of the time. But Sebastian didn’t need to know that. After all, he’d gone out of his way to make the travel arrangements so that she would be with Robert, and she didn’t want him to know how miserably she’d failed to catch his brother’s attention.
They reached the drawing room. He let her proceed him into the pretty room, decorated in soft creams and blues, silks and brocades, with delicate gilt edging tall mirrors positioned along the walls beside the floor-to-ceiling windows and two large chandeliers floating overhead. It was the most splendid room she’d ever seen, one that left no question about the Duke of Trent’s wealth and position. If she needed a reminder that in London Sebastian was far more than a country estate owner, this room declared it in spades.
“What did you talk about?” he pressed curiously, catching her attention away from the grand room and the plump cherubs chasing each other across the painted ceiling.
“Fishing.” She smiled innocently, fluttering her eyelashes.
He drew up short, his eyes widening in surprise. “Fishing?”
“Of course not!” She laughed at him, and his mouth twitched as he realized she was goading him. “Don’t worry. I was painfully proper. I kept the conversation on all the appropriate topics for a young lady.” She shrugged and untied her bonnet, letting the long ribbons dangle over her shoulders. “The weather, fashions, upcoming season events—”
“With Robert?” he interrupted in an incredulous mutter. “You’d have been better off with fishing.”
Well, that was rude.
Or perhaps, she reconsidered glumly, he was irritatingly dead-on.
Her shoulders slumped dejectedly. “But those are all acceptable, ordinary topics for conversation.”
“There’s your problem.” His gaze took a deliberate roam over her, drinking her in from the lace-edged hem of her pale green dress and matching velvet pelisse all the way up to her cheeks, which warmed of their own accord. He murmured, “You’re not an ordinary woman.”
Her lips parted slightly at his soft words, and once again, she found herself not knowing how to take him. Was he insulting her or complimenting her? Should she thank him or slap him? Heavens, the conundrum that was Sebastian Carlisle!
Instead, she puzzled, “Why do you—”
“There you two are!”
He retreated away from her as the duchess swept into the room with a beaming smile for them. Robert followed slowly behind and stopped in the doorway to lean casually against the frame.
Miranda’s heart sank as she glanced at him, with an entire grand parlor now stretching between them. At that moment, he felt further away than ever before. She’d lost another opportunity to make him see her in a new light. Truly see her.
She glanced thoughtfully between the two brothers. Was Sebastian right? Was she taking the wrong approach by being a proper lady to gain Robert’s attention? It was exactly what Sebastian wanted, but Robert didn’t seem to notice how hard she was trying. Nor care.
She sighed out a heavy breath. Apparently, she couldn’t please either Carlisle brother.
“The bags are sorted, and the trunks are to come on wagons tomorrow. So Miranda and I shall travel on to Audley House now,” his mother announced with a sigh. In the soft sound, Miranda heard her longing to be done with the long trip and to settle into the house that the Marquess of Chesney had purchased for his new family just last year and only a few streets away from Park Place, much to the duchess’s delight.
The two of them would be staying with the marchioness. Although to Miranda she would always be just Josie, she thrilled with excitement to know that this summer she was going to be the guest of a marquess, even if Robert was living in a separate residence. She only hoped Sebastian stayed true to their agreement now that they were in London and could find a way to arrange more time for her with his brother.
“Would you like to stay for tea?” Sebastian offered. “I’ll ring for Saunders.”
“No thank you, Trent,” the duchess declined with a tired but affectionate smile. “I’m anxious to see Josie and my grandchildren.”
Miranda was struck by his mother’s use of his title, and her eyes darted to the duke. At Chestnut Hill he was always just Sebastian. More proof that London was a far cry from the casual country life of Islingham Village.
As she looked at him now, tall and imperial and perfectly matching the impressive grandeur of the city around them, she couldn’t help but wonder where he preferred to be. Where he most felt free to be himself, where he was happiest…the village where everyone had known him since he was a boy, or the city where he was recognized as being the respected peer he had become. And how did he ever reconcile the two?
His mother tugged at her travel gloves. “I will send you copies of our schedules and all the events you will need to attend as Miranda’s escort. Most likely, we shall need two weeks to shop for all the necessary accessories and have her dresses made.” Elizabeth smiled at her with all the affection of a mother doting on her daughter, and Miranda’s chest tightened with affection at the duchess’s kindness. “You cannot be officially presented at court, of course, but I will arrange for an informal invitation to a drawing room with Queen Charlotte, if you’d like.”
Miranda caught her breath as unexpected joy shot through her. A drawing room with the queen? Oh, she’d never dared to hope for something as extraordinary as that!
Sensing her excitement, Sebastian shot her a quelling glance. “Make certain you purchase the proper kind of shoes, Miss Hodgkins,” he warned, subtly reminding her of their agreement in a private language his mother and brother didn’t understand. “We wouldn’t want you getting into trouble. Would we, Robert?”
“Miranda can handle herself,” Robert answered with a wink at her that sent nervous butterflies flitting inside her belly.
She stared at him, stunned into silence and unable to do anything but stand there and blush.
“Besides, we taught the sprite how to box when she was ten, remember? I think I can still feel the bruise she gave my chin.” Another teasing wink…but this time, the butterflies dropped away with a sinking disappointment. Even after all those days together in the carriage, Robert still thought of her as nothing more than the girl next door.
“Miranda’s a grown woman now,” Sebastian reminded him gently. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”
Her chest soared. Oh, she could have kissed Sebastian for that!
His eyes met hers, and she thought she saw a dark flicker in their sapphire depths, one that made her suddenly and inexplicably nervous— Well, maybe not kiss him…
“I know how old she is,” Robert assured him. “I went to her last birthday party when she turned twenty-one. You were there, too. Don’t you remember?”
Sebastian’s mouth twisted at that.
So did Miranda’s.
“Robert’s right. I am capable of taking care of myself,” she mumbled her reply even as her heart thumped with frustration. But she was still happy to finally be in London for her season, and not even this latest setback with Robert could ruin her excitement. “Don’t worry,” she threw back at Sebastian with a confident smile. “I know what slippers I need…and exactly where to find them.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed briefly at that, although she couldn’t have said whether in annoyance at her cheek or admiration at her resolve. Nor did she have time to ponder which as Elizabeth Carlisle placed a kiss on both of her sons’ cheeks to say good-bye, then wrangled a firm promise from Robert not to burn down the house as she took Miranda’s arm to lead her out to the waiting carriage.
As she slipped from the room, Miranda tossed a hopeful glance over her shoulder at Robert with the brightest smile she could manage. But he only nodded a good-bye in her general direction and finally entered the room to flop down across the settee.
Her belly tightened with defeat. Fate hated her, that was it. That was why she was able to talk so easily with Sebastian and on all kinds of levels—apparently even secret ones—when she couldn’t manage a simple conversation about the weather with Robert. Sebastian Carlisle, of all men! The brother she couldn’t care less about…but the one she desperately needed if she had any prayer at all of catching Robert’s heart.
* * *
When the two women left, Sebastian sat back on one of the wide window ledges and crossed his arms over his chest, his legs kicked out in front of him. He contemplated his brother, lying all akimbo across the settee with one foot sticking over the arm and the other tossed over the back, resembling a half-dead, drunken sailor on shore leave.
He was unable to squelch his curiosity. “So, how was the trip down?”
“Torturous,” Robert groaned. He opened one eye, as if too worn out to open both, and squinted across the room at him. “Four days of female chatter and roads rough enough to kill both my kidneys. I’m lucky I survived.”
Sebastian’s mouth curled in amusement. Under other circumstances, he most likely would have enjoyed the unintended retribution he’d inflicted upon his brother for previous trips to the city when he’d been forced to escort Mother and Josie while Robert and Quinn came separately with Father. But right then, he had other concerns. Strawberry-blond, freckled-nosed ones. “Miranda managed well, then?”
“As well as can be expected. Mother simply adores her, you know, for what she did for her after Father’s death. The two of them kept up a running stream of conversation the whole way.” The other eye opened, and as he leaned up on one elbow to make his point, he glared at his brother with an expression somewhere between hang-dog self-pity and exasperation. “Four days of chatter about the weather, Parisian dressmakers, and the poetry of John Milton.”
“She likes Milton?” he mused, oddly struck by that.
Robert closed both eyes and flopped back onto the settee, his hand covering his face. “Does anyone?”
“I do,” Sebastian mumbled with a faint shrug.
“Then next time you can ride all the way from Lincolnshire with the two of them, listening to them expounding on multiple layers of symbolism and debating whether individual or societal influences were more important to Milton.” He paused, then repeated slowly for emphasis, “Societal influences…Miranda actually used those exact words and expected me to have an opinion.”
“And did you?”
He cracked open an eye and stared at his brother as if he’d gone mad. “I had no idea what she was talking about.”
Sebastian smiled with amusement. He enjoyed Milton, but he was surprised as hell that Miranda did, too. “Didn’t you learn anything at Oxford?”
“Yes.”
He raised a brow.
“How to pretend to sleep in a coach.”
Something inside his chest tore for Miranda at his brother’s answer, and his smile faded. “Please tell me you didn’t. Not all four days.”
“Self-preservation, Seb. If I had to endure one more conversation between her and Mother about the merits of Belgian lace, I would have gone mad.”
No wonder Miranda had put on a brave face when they arrived. She must have been heartbroken that Robert hadn’t paid her any attention. “Did she enjoy herself, at least?”
“I believe so.” He closed his eye again. “Her nose was pressed to the window for the entire trip.”
Sebastian smiled at the image of Miranda behaving like a child at a candy shop. But he supposed the analogy was the same. To a vivacious, curious woman like her, England was a tempting treat to be savored. She’d never been out of Lincolnshire in her life, and every mile must have brought new sights and delights she’d only dreamt about. He could well imagine the stories she’d have to tell the orphans when she returned.
Good thing they hadn’t driven through the moors, or she’d be adding all kinds of new scenes to King Lear.
Sebastian fished for more answers as he pried smoothly, “Did you have any time alone with her?”
“Only at night.”
His gut clenched so hard, so fast that he lost his breath. At night? Had he completely misread this whole conversation? Had Miranda and Robert…Good God. His mind conjured all kinds of images of nighttime antics between the two of them at posting inns across England.
He took a deep breath and asked as calmly as possible when what he inexplicably wanted to do was wring his brother’s neck for touching her, “Pardon?”
“At dinner when we’d stopped for the night at the inns,” Robert clarified with a careless shrug.
An unexpected rush of relief coursed through Sebastian. He slowly unclenched his fists and blew out a silent breath. “You were able to talk to her then, to get to know her better?”
Robert opened both eyes and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Then again, he’d agreed to help Miranda find her way into his brother’s heart. Perhaps he had gone mad. “I already know her, Seb. We all grew up together— Well, not you. You were away at school.” He closed his eyes and slumped back down. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to get to know her better.”
That was the last thing Sebastian needed to do. After the night of the masquerade, he couldn’t come to know her any better without taking her innocence. “I already know her,” he said, carefully keeping his voice even. “She’s become a fine woman.”
“With more energy than anyone should possess. Good Lord! She wore me out, and all we did was sit together in a carriage.”
“She simply enjoys herself, that’s all.” Although why he felt compelled to defend her, Sebastian had no idea. But Robert’s criticism of her enthusiasm for life annoyed him. Most likely because down deep he couldn’t help but be jealous that she could be so free with her life when he was trapped in his. “She’s actually quite bright, enjoys drama and Shakespeare—”
“Thank God she didn’t bring him up,” Robert muttered.
Sebastian said nothing as he watched his brother drop his legs to the floor and sit up. Four days together in a carriage, and Robert still knew nothing about the woman Miranda had become. Sebastian felt sorry for him.
But he felt even sorrier for Miranda. If she didn’t make Robert see her in a completely different light, as someone new and exciting rather than the neighbor girl he’d always known, she didn’t stand a chance with his brother.
Before this season was over, Sebastian predicted, her heart would be shattered, no matter how much he helped her. He only hoped she had the strength to pull herself together and move on to another man. One more suited for her. One more tolerant of her enthusiasm and zest for living. Perhaps some nice gentleman farmer or banker’s son—
“You?”
Sebastian’s eyes snapped up to his brother’s. Dear God, had he muttered his thoughts aloud? “Pardon?”
“I asked, how are you? How’s your hunt for a wife going?”
Oh. Thank God that was all. With a silent exhalation, he pushed himself away from the window. “Good so far. I’ve made a list of names of promising ladies.”
“As long as Diana’s name isn’t on it. I don’t need the competition among the petticoat set. And speaking of petticoats…” Robert grinned. “Where’s Quinton?”
“At White’s with Chesney and Strathmore.” Sebastian crossed to the fireplace and helped himself to one of the American cigars he stored in the humidor box on the mantel. “He’s angling for membership.”
“Does he stand a chance?” A defeated note sounded in his voice. Understandably. Because if Quinn got membership, then Robert could be listed as his guest, and both brothers could come and go from the club as they pleased without having to wait for Chesney or Sebastian to accompany them.
“Yes.” He bit off the end of the cheroot and spat it into the fire. “Quite certain of it, in fact.”
Robert blinked with incredulity at the underlying implication of that comment. “You petitioned the other members on his behalf?”
He nodded. “So did Chesney and Strathmore.”
“Damn, that was good of you, Seb.”
Bending down to light the cigar on the flames, he shrugged away the compliment. “I’d do anything for Quinton, you know that.”
At that comment, Robert eyed him suspiciously. “And if doing this favor for Quinn also means it’s easier for you to keep an eye on him at the same club where you belong?”
“A delightful bonus.” He arched a knowing brow. This was Quinton they were discussing, after all. God only knew the trouble he’d get himself into on St James’s Street on his own. And Sebastian truly did love his brothers, enough to keep them from their own destruction.
Robert laughed. “You getting Quinn a membership at White’s…Good to know the old Sebastian isn’t completely dead after all.”
He fixed his brother with a hard look, suddenly irritated. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, rising to his full height.
“That lately you behave like you’re older than Moses but only have half as much fun. What happened to the brother who used to lead us into debauchery and trouble? The one who used to know how to have a good time. Who let himself actually have a good time in the first place.”
“He became a duke,” he answered quietly.
Robert must have heard the weariness in his voice, because his eyes softened. “Enjoy yourself this season, Seb, will you? It’s London, for God’s sake…a playground for rakes, rogues, and newly minted peers. It would be a shame if you sliced into a wedding cake before you had the chance to sample the tarts.”
Sebastian grimaced at his entendre.
Leaning forward, elbows on knees, Robert grew sober. “I’m serious. Enjoy yourself.” Concern darkened his face. “You’ve been working hard since you inherited. Too hard. No one can say you haven’t made the title and your family your first concern in everything. Or not done Father proud.”
Sebastian looked down at his cigar, studying the red tip as he rolled it in his fingers, his jaw clenched tight and saying nothing. Damnation. He didn’t need to be lectured on his life by his little brother, who had no idea of how heavy his burdens were, no idea of the depth of the promises he’d made to their father. Or the stranglehold those promises still had on his life.
“So let yourself have a little fun this season, all right? You’ve earned it.” Robert pushed off the settee, then helped himself to a cigar, tucking it inside his breast pocket as he headed for the door. “I’m going out to find Quinn. Join up with us later, all right? It’ll be just like old times. Except without the belly dancers.” He grinned as he disappeared out the door. “Maybe.”
Staring daggers after him, Sebastian clenched the cigar between his teeth. Robert was wrong. He wasn’t behaving like a curmudgeon. He was behaving like a responsible peer, one with his family’s reputation and new title to worry about. One who would never let them down again.
Robert didn’t understand the pressure he was under—no one understood. He was a new duke whom most claimed was an upstart who didn’t deserve to be granted the title in the first place, whom every member of the quality would be watching like a hawk this season to see if he had the mettle to be a leader in the Lords and the presence to be socially acceptable. He could never take a single step nor make any decision without considering the ramifications of its outcome on his family, the tenants, all the estate workers and villagers…and most importantly, on his father’s legacy. He could no longer be carefree and blithely happy the way his brothers could.
No matter how much he longed to be.