The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor) (26 page)

Still, she couldn’t fill every waking moment. And she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be so bad to let him have his way on this. After all, hadn’t she spent her entire life acquiescing to other people’s wishes? It would be so easy and it hadn’t been so bad, really. What was one more?

No. She dashed the traitorous thought from her mind. She would not live her life that way. Not anymore. But she was willing to compromise to a certain extent. And she did need to prove to him that she trusted him. She wasn’t entirely sure how, but it seemed the only way to do that was to admit to her work. Perhaps if she could just talk to him . . .

“And I think there should be flowers in large urns here, here and here.” Lady Fairborough tapped the point she referred to on the bird’s-eye view drawing of Fairborough and its grounds, the one Miranda had shown Clara.

Even Miranda’s evenings were busy, filled with plans for the ball. Lady Fairborough made certain of it. Tonight, as she had every night in the ten days since Winfield had been in London, Miranda joined Winfield’s mother in the breakfast room the older woman had commandeered for purposes of planning the event. At least one of them was having a grand time.

Miranda had explained the idea to hold the ball itself out-of-doors on the terrace off the ballroom and construct a floor for dancing on the lawn below. Tables would be placed on the croquet and tennis courts. The musicians would be off to one side of the terrace, overlooking the lawns.

“Let me think.” Lady Fairborough glanced at the notebook she held in her hand. “We have sent out the invitations, arranged for flowers and decided upon menus.”

Miranda nodded. “It seems to me, aside from all those fine points that can’t be attended to until the day before the ball, we have everything well in hand.”

The older woman stared at her as if she had just said something blasphemous. “Don’t be absurd. Why, there are any number of things still to be decided.” She shook her notebook at Miranda. “We are not nearly prepared as of yet.”

“Still, it does appear—”

“Nonsense, my dear girl.” She pinned Miranda with a firm look. “I have learned from past mistakes that the only time one can truly relax is when the last guest has departed and not before they have arrived. As we have no actual ballroom in which to hold the ball this year, there are any number of additional details to attend to. You must trust me on this. I plan this ball at Fairborough every year and have since I first arrived there as a bride. In addition, I have planned three weddings at Fairborough.” Her attention turned back to the drawing of the grounds. “Although only one actually did take place.”

“Oh?”

“It was Winfield’s last fiancée,” she said absently. “A lovely young woman. As it turned out, she had already given her heart to someone else. When Winfield discovered that, well, what could he do?”

Miranda stared. “I have no idea.”

“He was quite fond of Caroline, that was her name. So he arranged for her young man to take his place and the wedding did indeed occur as planned, even if it was not Winfield’s wedding.”

“How very kind of him.”

“It was indeed.” Lady Fairborough nodded. “He is a very kind man and something of a romantic too, I suspect.”

And his kiss curls my toes.
“I believe I should go into London tomorrow.”

“Do you?”

“Well, I do have matters of business to attend to. . . .”

“And if you should happen to cross paths with Winfield?”

“I really hadn’t thought about that. . . .”

Lady Fairborough slanted her a disbelieving look. “No? And here I suspected you have thought of nothing but that.”

“Well, perhaps . . .”

“Absolutely not,” Lady Fairborough said firmly. “I know my son. I have never seen him like this. He’s being stubborn and he’s being foolish. It’s entirely out of character, which indicates to me he cares deeply for you. Of course, that comes as no surprise to me.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Oh my, no.” She scoffed. “I knew it the moment he agreed to electrification. Furthermore, he has never had to expend any effort for a woman before. Indeed, it has been my observation they have fairly fallen at his feet. If he wins this battle, you have lost the war. No, he needs to come to you and admit his mistake.”

“What if it was my mistake?”

“Was it?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I was a bit unyielding about the idea of an engagement. And then there is the whole question of trust. . . .”

“He fears that you don’t trust him enough to agree to an engagement?”

She nodded. “That’s part of it.”

“It seems to me the first step is to trust that he cares enough for you to come to his senses.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Oh, he’ll come back,” Lady Fairborough said with far more confidence than Miranda had. “One thing you can count on is Winfield’s sense of tradition. The Midsummer Ball is as much a part of his heritage as Fairborough itself. It’s only a scant week and a half away now. He’s never missed one before and he will not miss this one.”

“It’s been nearly two weeks since he left.”

“Nonsense, it’s been barely over a week.”

“It seems much longer,” she murmured.

She couldn’t deny Lady Fairborough’s point. If she gave in now, it would set a precedent for the rest of their lives. No, she could be just as stubborn as he was. Annoying man.

Admittedly, compromise might well be in order. And hadn’t she already decided she could indeed give up Garret and Tempest? If only to prove to him she had put her past behind her and was ready to move ahead. And Winfield was the man she wanted to move ahead with.

Yes, she was willing to compromise.

But was he?

“What, my dear boy, do you think you’re doing?” Mother said the moment Win stepped into the parlor of the Mayfair house.

“And what do you intend to do about my daughter?” Lady Waterston stood at his mother’s side.

Win’s gaze shifted from one irate lady to the next. As Prescott was in the country, his duties at the house in London were being managed by an underbutler. A competent young man who nonetheless apparently did not understand that one could not simply announce there were ladies awaiting him in the parlor without a warning as to exactly who those ladies were. At least when those ladies were older women with a cause.

“Good day, Mother,” he said cautiously. “Lady Waterston.”

His mother surveyed him with a critical eye. “You look dreadful.”

“I was not unaware of that, but thank you for noticing.” He nodded. “Is Father with you?” Obviously, he could use an ally.

“We parted company a few hours ago. I believe he muttered something about going to his club.” Mother huffed. “We did not see eye to eye on our purpose for coming to town.”

“And what is that purpose?” Win braced himself for the answer.

“Why, I came to renew my acquaintance with my dear old friend, Lady Waterston.”

“We have let entirely too much time pass since we have seen one another,” the other lady added. He didn’t believe them for a moment.

“Then I hope you both have a lovely visit.” He edged toward the door. “I have matters that demand my attention, so if you will excuse me.”

“Absolutely not.” Mother fairly sprinted across the room and plastered herself against the door. He didn’t know she could move that fast. He would have to physically remove her to escape. Tempting, but perhaps not a good idea. “You are not going anywhere.”

“The only matter that should demand your attention at the moment is the question of Miranda.” Lady Waterston glared. “What do you intend to do about her?”

He stared at one lady, then the next. “I had intended to marry her, but apparently her intentions and mine are not the same.”

The ladies traded glances.

“It is my understanding,” Lady Waterston began, “that the question is not so much one of marriage as it is one of engagement.”

“That’s part of it.” He narrowed his eyes. “How much do the two of you know?”

“We know that, while she refused your offer of engagement,” Mother said, “she did not say she wouldn’t marry you.”

“Might I point out she did not say she would?”

“A minor matter.” Lady Waterston waved off his comment. “And you do not strike me as the sort of man who would take no for an answer.”

His jaw tightened. “She did not say no. Nor did she say yes.”

“Well then, there you have it.” Mother smiled in triumph.

“Have what?” He stared in confusion.

“It’s obvious to us,” Lady Waterston said, “that you have not given this sufficient effort. Or any effort at all.”

“What?”

“Goodness, Winfield, instead of staying at Millworth to convince her of the suitability of this match, you have fled to London like a frightened rabbit.” Mother cast him a look of disgust.

“I have not fled to London like a frightened rabbit!”

“It’s rather cowardly, if you ask me,” Lady Waterston said under her breath.

“It is not!”

“You’re behaving like a child,” Mother said.

“I am not,” he said although he did feel rather childish at the moment. “And frankly . . .” He cast a hard look at one woman, then the next. “This is none of your business.”

“You are my business.” Mother pinned him with a determined glare. “As is your future. I have never interfered in your difficulties with one of your fiancées before—”

“I do not have a fiancée, which, might I point out, is one of the problems.”

“What happens to my daughter is most certainly my business.” Lady Waterston huffed. “Surely, you don’t think I wouldn’t be concerned given all she revealed at dinner?”

He studied her closely. “She didn’t say anything at dinner.”

Lady Waterston rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Goodness, Lord Stillwell, do you honestly believe, after your announcement to the entire family as to the regard in which you hold my daughter, that I would not follow my sons to hear what you had to say?”

“Then you heard . . .”

“Every word. Of theirs and of yours, some of which was most improper I might add.”

He winced.

“And every word of hers.” She squared her shoulders. “Miranda has come into her own, quite unexpectedly, I might add. Indeed, I never imagined she had the strength she obviously has. I must admit I was both shocked and impressed with the revelation that she is running a business. And I was quite proud of the way she stood up to her brothers and put them in their place.”

“As was I,” he muttered.

“And I was as well struck by the two of you together.” She studied him for a moment. “You seemed, well, right together. As if you were partners of some sort. Halves of the same whole, as it were. As I said, it was most impressive.”

“Every day you stay away, Winfield,” Mother said, “is another day for her to realize she might well be able to live without you.”

Lady Waterston nodded. “Which brings up the question of whether you can live without her.”

“And do you really want to?”

His gaze shifted from one woman to the other. They were obviously of one mind. One would think they had rehearsed their arguments as one lady’s comments flowed without pause to the other’s.

“After all, it’s taken you this long to finally find the right woman.”

“Three engagements?” Lady Waterston shook her head. “Really, my lord. How extravagant.”

“Give her what she wants.”

“It seems a small enough price to pay.”

His gaze bounced from one mother to the other.

“Do not allow this one to get away, Winfield.”

“Any fool can see you were meant for one another.”

“You will resolve nothing as long as you keep your distance.”

“Arrange a special license, ask her to marry you without an engagement, then whisk her off and do so.”

“There’s more to it than that.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust me with her secrets.”

“Nonsense. Miranda doesn’t have secrets.” Lady Waterston paused, obviously remembering the revelations of the other night. “Well, she can’t possibly have any more.”

“And she does not trust me with her future. She has not yet let go of the past.” He paused. “And while I know the answer the two of you will give me, I will ask nonetheless. What about what I want? Shouldn’t I have some say in all this?”

The looks the two women gave him were nothing short of pitying.

“If you want her, you will have to do something about it,” Lady Waterston said.

“And, my dear boy, you need to do it . . .” Mother shook her head. “Before it’s too late.”

 

 

What did they mean: Before it’s too late?

If the purpose of joining forces was to give him something further to think about, then his mother and hers had done their work all too well.
Before it’s too late
reverberated in his head over and over again.

Certainly there was always the possibility she could meet someone else. Although at the moment she was safely ensconced in the country. And if she loved him . . . of course she hadn’t said she loved him, had she? No, she had hedged about that the very same way he had until he was forced to face the truth. Had she faced it? He refused to consider the possibility that she did not share his feelings. Apparently, hope was the only way to survive heartbreak.

He had managed to get rid of the ladies by claiming a business meeting he could not avoid. Mother said she and Father had considered spending the night in London, but she had decided there was entirely too much to do in the country, what with the ball fast approaching. She was to meet Father in a few hours and return to Millworth. In the meantime, she and Lady Waterston planned to renew their friendship over tea or something of that nature. He hadn’t paid a great deal of attention at that point; indeed, he could scarcely think with
before it’s too late
echoing in his head. He suspected there would be continued plotting in regard to their children on the ladies’ part although he could have sworn he heard the word “vote” from one of them on their way out. No, they were obviously not done with him yet and wouldn’t be until the day he and Miranda were safely wed.

Which was exactly what he wanted. But it all came down to trust and he didn’t have hers. That was a far bigger obstacle between them than the question of an engagement. And there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about that. Adrian’s idea to give Miranda no choice but to confess the truth by presenting her with a real live Mr. Tempest was tempting but entirely too dangerous to risk.

Of course, the ladies did have a point. Nothing whatsoever would happen as long as he stayed away from her. Perhaps he was being childish after all. Or simply stubborn. Which might well be the same thing.

“Have they gone?” a familiar voice said the moment he opened the door to the library.

Win sighed. “If you have come to tell me to return to Millworth and fight for Miranda’s hand, I should warn you I have heard that lecture already today.”

“Quite the contrary, my boy.” Father sat in his favorite chair near the fireplace, a glass of whisky in his hand. “I have come to tell you to hold firm. Stand your ground and all that.”

Win eyed his father with suspicion. “Have you?”

“I have indeed. Mark my words, if you start off on the wrong foot with this woman, you will be one step behind her for the rest of your days.”

“Then your advice?”

“As I see it you have three choices. Go to her. Wait for her to come to you. Or come to some sort of a compromise. Meet her halfway as it were. Metaphorically, of course, not physically.”

“I thought you said to stand my ground?”

“Is your ground that firm?”

“I think so.” Perhaps not as firm on the matter of an engagement, which might well have more to do with pride on his part than anything else. But certainly when it came to issues of trust, his ground was exceptionally solid.

“Pour yourself a glass, then sit down, son, and let me explain to you how the dealings between men and women actually work.”

“I know how the dealings between men and women work,” Win said wryly. “I am not inexperienced after all.”

His father’s brow rose. “How many fiancées have you had?”

“I see your point,” Win muttered. He filled a glass for himself, then settled in the chair nearest his father’s.

“As I was saying, when compromise is your idea, you are standing your ground. You become a man of reason rather than emotion. Women are very emotional creatures, but they don’t like to see themselves as such. Therefore, a reasonable approach is an excellent way to go about getting nearly everything you want. Better to make the best possible deal you can rather than lose altogether. And believe me, when it comes to a woman you love, you will lose. But compromise, Winfield.” His father raised his glass. “Compromise is one of the keys to a sound marriage. It allows both parties a measure of victory and there is no actual loser.”

“I’m not sure compromise is possible in this instance.”

“Rubbish. Compromise is always possible.” Father studied him for a moment. “I don’t have all the details and I suspect there is more to the problems between you than this nonsense over an engagement.”

“It’s not nonsense.”

“Pride then.” He shrugged. “I can certainly understand why you might want the world to see you in an engagement that actually leads to marriage. You do have a lot to live down.”

Win snorted.

“On the other hand, does it matter? Really? In the scheme of things? Isn’t it more important that she marry you than you become engaged?”

“As that has proven so successful for me in the past?”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Father chuckled.

“Your restraint is appreciated.”

Father sipped his whisky thoughtfully. “Although I do think this is the kind of thing best worked out face to face.”

“You think I should return to Millworth?”

“Is that what your mother said?”

He nodded.

“Then absolutely not.” He shook his head. “But I do believe you should make some sort of an overture. Perhaps send her a note. I would be happy to take it to her.”

“And what would I say?”

“I have no idea.” Father thought for a moment. “First of all, you should make the point that it is business, and nothing else, keeping you in London, which I assume is not entirely inaccurate.”

Win nodded. Indeed, in the two weeks he’d been here he’d accomplished far more regarding the family’s finances and investments and properties than he would normally accomplish in two months. But then again, he had nothing else to do except imbibe vast quantities of spirits and consider the prospects of a bleak future without the woman he loved.

“That changes the tenor of all this dramatically. You are no longer a sulking child who has not gotten his own way but rather a man of responsibility and duty.”

Win stared at his father. “That’s brilliant.”

“I’ve been married a long time.” He smiled over his whisky. “Then tell her you will return as soon as is feasibly possible and you do hope she understands that it is your responsibilities that keep you away and not the argument you had.”

“I like that.”

“And I would say something about regretting your disagreement, point out your affections have not changed, mention that you are certain you can overcome your differences, that you’re counting the minutes until you see her again, all you can think about is her and so on and so forth.”

“I think I can manage the rest, Father.” Win grinned, got to his feet and moved to the desk. He sat down, pulled a sheet of stationary with the Fairborough crest embossed at the top from the desk drawer, dipped his pen in the inkwell and began.