Page 31
When he arrived at his townhouse, his stomach fell at seeing a familiar carriage already there. The Miles’ crest told him it was either his mother, father, or even his entire family there.
Without waiting for his own carriage to come to a full stop, he threw open the door and jumped down, hurrying to the front door. His butler, Jones, opened it, giving him a sly look.
“Your mother and sister are in your chambers with our guest.”
Miles stopped himself from cursing aloud. “What happened?”
“They arrived asking if the rumors were true.” Jones gave him a helpless shrug. “I told them you and the miss were never alone.”
“Thank you, Jones.” He handed the man his overcoat and hurried up to his bedchamber, taking the stairs two at a time. Before entering, he hesitated at the sound of laughter—his sister’s giggles accompanied by his mother’s more reserved chuckles—from inside. It was a good sign, he supposed; it was good that the women appeared to be getting along and were enjoying each other’s company, but at the same time, he realized it was going to make it harder to deny their probable expectation that he would marry Siobhan. He prepared himself for the inevitable battle by squaring his shoulders and straightening the hem of his jacket, before walking into the room. Their three faces turned to the door at his arrival, all of them bright and smiling. “Good evening, Mother, Sister. I did not expect you to be here.”
“That is obvious.” His mother’s expression became serious. “Why did I have to hear from the gossips that my son is embroiled in a scandal?”
She accepted his kisses to her cheeks, then slid a look at Siobhan. “The poor lass has been telling us what occurred.”
“It is rather amusing,” Penelope added, with a broad grin. “You have to admit it.”
“You found it comical?” Miles asked, looking at Siobhan who watched his interaction with his mother with an expression of fascination that he found hard to fathom.
His mother shook her head. “It is not the situation that is funny. Of course not. But the lass has a way of telling things in quite an animated fashion.”
Of course, Siobhan would ensure that his mother and sister were immediately aware there was nothing to worry about, and especially, that the rumors about them were untrue. However, he found it troubling that no one from her family was currently present as well.
“Has anyone from your family come to see you?” he asked.
Siobhan replied with a one-shouldered shrug. “Mother and Amelia are probably recuperating after last night’s ball. Father has a lecture to attend this afternoon.” She looked at his mother. “I am hopeful they will fetch me to go home tomorrow first thing, Your Grace.”
His mother nodded and patted Siobhan’s hand.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes from the beauty. Her hair was brushed, but down around her shoulders, and he realized that other than her most intimate acquaintances, no one would see her so casually coiffed. Seeing her sitting up with pillows behind her and in his bed, with her hair tumbling down over her figure like a cape, sent all types of unsuitable images through his mind.
Those images multiplied when her gaze traveled from his eyes to his mouth and back up. “So much better. The pain is bearable,” she replied with a soft smile that was innocent, yet unbearably seductive. His body began to react in a manner inappropriate to the situation in more ways than one.
His mother, more perceptive than he wanted to admit, cleared her throat. “Penelope has offered to braid Siobhan’s hair. Why do we not go to the sitting room? I wish to speak to you.”
“Of course,” he replied, realizing he’d yet to look away from Siobhan. He wanted to memorize the picture before him. To keep in his mind how the beauty who lay in his bed looked, from her expression to the way her hands currently clutched the blankets. If only they were clutching his hair, his shoulders…
“Miles?” His mother’s voice penetrated his thoughts, and he turned to the door, motioning for her to go before him.
Once in the sitting room, she gave him a bright look. “Finally.”
“What?” Miles waited for her to sit before he lowered himself next to her.
His mother frowned, and she clutched both hands against her chest. “Explain why you have the girl here without a chaperone. It is most inappropriate, Miles, you must realize that.”
“What I find inappropriate is that her family makes absolutely no effort to be here. They offered to send a maid, but one has yet to arrive. She is alone most of the time.”
His mother studied him for a long moment, stopping only when Firtha entered. “May I bring you something, Your Grace?” she asked, eyeing them both.
“Firtha, what do you think?” his mother asked, as she turned her attention to his housekeeper. “About the situation with the lass staying here without a chaperone?”
The housekeeper slid a look at Miles. “The lass was in a very poor state. From what I’ve seen, she would not have been able to go farther. Bringing her here was my lord’s only option. Someone of her family should have remained.” The housekeeper tsked. “If I may be so bold, Your Grace, her mother is not attentive in the least.”
“That I gather,” his mother stated. “Something must be done.” She looked at the housekeeper. “Thank you, Firtha. You may go. I do not require anything at the moment.”
When the housekeeper left, Miles poured brandy for himself and a ratafia for his mother. As he handed it to her, he asked, “Mother, what did you hear and from whom?”
“One of the ladies from my sewing circle informed me of what occurred. The rumors spread at the McIntyre’s ball last night. I wasn’t aware of course, because no one dared repeat gossip about my own son to me.” She let out a breath. “Since you seem infatuated with the lass, perhaps it is best that you get engaged immediately.”
