A Lady For a Duke by Alexis Hall

Author:Alexis Hall [Hall, Alexis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2022-05-23T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

When she finally—and given the silence between Viola and Gracewood, mercifully—made an appearance, Miranda was less outlandishly dressed than she had been in Northumberland, doubtless because there were fewer attics full of old clothes for her to dig into. But there was a melancholy to her that Viola hadn’t expected, for all Gracewood’s warning of discontent.

“Justin, Miss Carroll.” Miranda made a polite little half curtsey. “You wished to see me?”

“I have good news, Mira.” Gracewood was smiling, but Viola could see the strain in it, and Miranda probably could too. “I have spoken to Lady Marleigh, and she has consented to allow her companion to act as your chaperone.”

Miranda blinked at him, then at Viola. “How is that good news?”

“We came to London to bring you out, Miranda. You must have a chaperone, and surely you would rather it be someone you know?”

“I would rather,” Miranda said, with the same forcefulness she had once used in defence of her brother, “that you not farm me out to a stranger and expect that I be thankful for it.”

“Viola is not a stranger.” Again, there were shades of the old duke in Gracewood’s voice. Miranda seemed to bring out the worst in him, but that was not so very surprising, given how he had been raised. “She is a friend of the family and will take good care of you.”

Miranda did not seem at all quelled. “And you are my family. Why will you not take care of me?”

“I am taking care of you,” Gracewood insisted, with far more hauteur than warmth. “This is how men take care of their sisters.”

“It is how Father would have taken care of me, I daresay. I had hoped for better from you, Justin.”

“Miranda …” Viola began, hoping to prevent anybody else from saying anything that they might regret.

But Gracewood cut over her. “I am your older brother, Miranda. More than that, I am the Duke. You will not speak to me that way.”

“Sometimes”—Miranda’s attempt to match her brother’s pride was a little heartbreaking—“I believe you would rather I not speak to you at all.”

“I only want you to be looked after.”

“You want me gone. And I am happy to oblige you.” Turning, she stormed out of the room. Her eyes had been dry as she left, but Viola, who knew much of tears, did not think that would last.

Gracewood took a step forward, but it proved too large or too sudden a step and he stopped short, cursing his injury. “Damn the girl.”

Fearing to come too close, in case—following their earlier encounter—it invited further closeness, Viola hovered a hand’s-breadth away from him. “You don’t mean that.”

The short, controlled breaths Gracewood was taking suggested that his real anger was for his leg, rather than for Miranda, and after a moment he seemed to come to the same conclusion. “You’re right, I don’t. But I wish I knew what she wanted from me.”

“She just wants to be your sister.”

“Then she’s a very fortunate young woman, because she is my sister.

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