The Unsuitable Suitor by Marilyn Clay

Author:Marilyn Clay [Clay, Marilyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1997-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

As the small coach wheeled down the street, Miranda very nearly forgot her joy over at last uncovering the name of the gentleman who now owned Fraser Cottage. Instead, all she could think about was him.

How dare he address her in so forward a fashion! Buy a new bonnet, indeed!

One hand strayed absently to finger the admittedly well-worn Gypsy hat that sat atop her dark curls. For some reason, she felt angry enough to do precisely as he’d suggested. Even Aunt Isobel had pulled a face this morning when she spotted the floppy old straw hat atop Miranda’s dark curls yet again.

Glancing about at the shops the carriage was now rolling past, Miranda noted a fashionable millinery establishment just across the way, its windows chock full of gaily decorated headgear.

“Stop the coach, please!” Miranda called to the driver.

A footman scurried to let down the steps and Miranda scrambled to the ground. “No need to accompany me,” she said to the wide-eyed abigail, “I shall only be a moment.”

Miranda marched across the street and into the tiny shop. Moments later, she reappeared, wearing a lovely high-crowned Coburg with a bright red plume that curled fetchingly round her cheek. In one gloved hand, she carried a paisley-papered band box that contained her tattered old Gypsy straw bonnet.

“La!” exclaimed Betsy, a look of surprise on her face. “I ‘spect his lordship would approve of that one, miss. It’s quite lovely, it is!”

One finely arched dark brow lifted. Gaining his lordship’s approval was not Miranda’s intent. Furthermore, she meant now to go straight home and prevail upon Aunt Isobel and Katie to accompany her to Lord Ashton’s home this very afternoon. If all went as she planned, she and her sisters could be on their way back to Halifax tomorrow and she would never be obliged to lay eyes on the uppity Lord Peterbloom again.

Traffic in the City being what it was, however, the return trip to Hanover Square took considerably longer than Miranda wished. She put the time to good use regaining her composure. It would never do to let her irritation with the arrogant Lord Peterbloom overset her to the degree she could not present an altogether convincing case to Lord Ashton.

Approaching the Heathrow town house, Miranda was so intent upon her mission that she failed to note the handsome equipage already drawn up before the curb. Hurrying into the house, she merely nodded briskly when Walker informed her that the ladies were in the drawing room. As she advanced into that chamber, Miranda came to an abrupt halt when she caught sight of who was lounging before the hearth, one long leg crossed nonchalantly over the other. Peterbloom! She was about to turn and flee from the room when Lady Heathrow addressed her.

“Miranda, dear, do come and join us for a cup of tea. We’ve another gentleman caller this afternoon.” She turned to the viscount. “Goodness me—” she laughed, “I don’t mean to prose on about it, but you are the fourth or fifth young man to call upon Lucy today.

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