The Governess's Guide to Marriage by Liz Tyner

Author:Liz Tyner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-06-04T18:58:53+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Her father’s wife stood, her silver hair swept back so elegantly it classified as a crowning glory, a crumpled handkerchief in her hand. Her father remained a half-step behind his wife. He dressed more as an old Puritan than a man of society, his only idea of ornamentation the huge signet ring he wore. His hair had thinned and the lines on his face doubled since she had seen him last.

Her stepmother wore a gown with oversized sleeves and extra rows of flounces at the skirt, but she had managed to pull it all together into something fashionable.

Tears were in her eyes, but that didn’t surprise Miranda. Her stepmother cried at every meeting, every stumble, every chance. She cried when happy, when sad and when she wanted to make sure her tears hadn’t deserted her. And, if attention strayed too far from her, Priscilla’s tears could almost work in the same manner as a bark in a church.

Priscilla rushed to grasp Miranda’s hands. ‘Are you...all right?’

‘I’m well.’ Miranda gave a smile and let herself be pulled into her stepmother’s arms. A fragrance of perfumes and medicinals washed over Miranda and she clamped her teeth together behind her upturned lips. Her stepmother had never hugged her before.

‘I’m so glad you’re safe.’ The woman pulled back a little. ‘I cannot think how this could have happened in this day and age. We should never have let you work. Never. I feel we must shoulder the blame, but you insisted and how could we stop you?’

Miranda removed herself from the suffocating grasp. Her stepmother would have made a deal with the devil, or with Miranda’s grandmother, to get her daughters abducted and put into a room with Chalgrove.

Her father, hands clasped behind his back, had bowed his head. When he lifted it, she noticed a wetness in his eyes.

‘Father?’ she asked, surprised at the emotion.

He walked around his wife and took Miranda’s arm. ‘I’m pleased you weren’t injured and you’re back,’ he said.

Miranda saw the tense glance his wife gave him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, shocked to see that he did care for her.

He pursed his lips, gave her weak smile, and blinked the tears away. ‘You may come home to recover if you wish.’

His wife gasped and Miranda felt her stepmother’s nails clench into her skin and tighten now on Miranda’s arm.

‘I believe you’ve met the Duke—’ Miranda pulled herself away from the talons ‘—and he was instrumental in our escape.’

Her father nodded. ‘Chalgrove and I have met.’

Chalgrove waved a hand for them to sit, and the ladies eased themselves on to the hardback chairs. Her father took the overstuffed chair, back straight. Lips firm.

Chalgrove moved to the desk, purposeful. Behind the welcome on his face, she saw a tightness in his shoulders and his hand tensed on the surface of the wood.

‘I didn’t realise you knew the Duke,’ Priscilla spoke to her husband.

‘We’ve talked horses together. Bought myself a fine gelding on his suggestion.’

‘Well, we must express our gratitude for him saving your ward.

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