Lord Stillwell's Excellent Engagements (8 page)

BOOK: Lord Stillwell's Excellent Engagements
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Chapter 1
Three weeks later ...
 
“. . . and you will not believe what I was told about Lady . . .” Mrs. Bianca Roberts
continued without so much as a pause for breath. And why should she? The latest on-dit
about Lady Whoever-she-was-talking-about-now was entirely too tasty to keep to herself.
Under other circumstances, Miranda, Lady Garret, would be alternately amused or annoyed
at her inability to get a word in. Today, she appreciated her sister’s ramblings.
She had entirely too much on her mind to pay any attention at all, and Bianca’s enthusiastic
and incessant chatter made it unnecessary to do so. All Bianca really required in
terms of a response was the occasional nod or a murmur of surprise or a clucking of
the tongue. In the last year or so, Miranda had become quite adept at it. It did seem
she did some of her best thinking when Bianca was confident she had her rapt attention.
“. . . can imagine my surprise, of course. Particularly when I heard, from a quite
reliable source mind you, that she had had quite enough . . .”
Miranda sipped her tea and smiled with encouragement. She had long gotten over this
particular deception. It did no real harm and kept her sister from prying too deeply
into Miranda’s activities. Activities she would much prefer to keep private. Who knew
how her family—especially her brothers—might react? The Hadley-Attwaters considered
themselves a fairly proper family.
Adrian, of course, would be most disapproving. Her oldest brother and the current
Earl of Waterston was a great stickler for propriety even if, on occasion, he could
also be most surprising. Miranda suspected that was due to the influence of his wife,
Evelyn. Still, one couldn’t count on
most surprising
. Her next older brother, Hugh, was a barrister and, as such, all too cognizant of
proper behavior. Her remaining brother, Sebastian, who had always flouted tradition
in his own life, might well be her greatest ally given his wife, Veronica’s outspoken
tendencies and penchant for support of various rights for women. Although, on the
other hand, what one overlooked in one’s wife, one might not accept in one’s sister.
As for the female members of the family, one never quite knew on which side of a debate
her mother and her oldest sister, Diana, would fall. Mother could be startlingly progressive
when she wished to be, and Diana had always had an independent nature. Even so, this
was not the sort of thing with which one wanted to test. Bianca might think it rather
exciting, but she had never been particularly good at keeping a secret. Precisely
why Miranda had gone to great pains not to reveal so much as a hint of her activities.
There was nothing Bianca liked better than ferreting out secrets. Her cousin, Portia,
who was as much a sister as Diana and Bianca, would certainly be shocked. Why, it
was one thing for a lady to dabble in the arts or to take up the cause of charitable
works, and quite another to become involved in business. This simply wasn’t the sort
of thing a Hadley-Attwater did.
The fact that this was Miranda and not another member of the family would only add
to their shock. Her family considered her the quietest of the lot and the most reserved.
She was the youngest and the others had long felt she needed their protection. It
was a source of annoyance even if she had never said anything. It had always been
so much easier to avoid confrontation than to exhibit outright defiance. John had
recognized, and indeed admired, her strength of character, which was yet another reason
why she had loved him.
“. . . given that it was her fortune, after all . . .”
Not that her family had any say in the matter, not really. Miranda was, after all,
twenty-eight years of age, financially independent and had been a widow for nearly
three years. She was used to making her own decisions now and make them she would.
Besides, she enjoyed what she was doing. While she did appreciate her family’s advice—and
as the youngest of seven children, advice was in abundance—she would follow her own
path. A path that had begun innocently enough. Indeed, one could say she had taken
the first step upon that path when she had first met her late husband.
“. . . and needless to say, at first, I was shocked by the mere thought . . .”
Miranda had met John Garret, younger brother of Viscount Garret, at a lecture on the
influence of Palladio on English architecture. Miranda had been one of the few women
present, but she had always had an interest in the design of buildings. Indeed, she
had drawn houses—both practical and fanciful—for much of her life. So she had summoned
her courage, enlisted the assistance of an elderly aunt as a chaperone and attended.
The lecture had been fascinating but not nearly as interesting as the dashing Mr.
Garret. He was handsome and amusing and of good family. To her eyes, he was very nearly
perfect. He encouraged her interest in architecture and a good portion of their courtship
consisted of attending lectures and viewing exhibits. Years later he admitted his
encouragement had as much to do with being in her company as anything else. He quite
swept her off her feet and they married within a few months. Shortly after their marriage,
John opened his own architectural firm, thanks in part to funding from an anonymous
investor who wanted nothing more than repayment and his name as part of the business.
Thus was born the firm of Garret and Tempest.
Miranda had a good eye and an innate grasp of design, and when John would bring home
drawings she would make a suggestion here and point out a problem there. Before long,
she was quietly working by his side. John was proud to admit she was much more creative
than he, and during the six years of their marriage, he taught her everything he knew
and she gradually took over most of the design work, whereas he was the public face
of the firm.
“. . . could scarcely avoid the comparison as it was so annoyingly obvious . . .”
When John died in a construction accident, along with his construction supervisor,
Mr. West, Miranda inherited the company, and its debts, and the firm continued with
the projects already under way. Miranda hired Mr. West’s sister, Clara—who had a clever
mind with figures—to assist Mr. Emmett Clarke, who had been John’s assistant. But
the second year after John’s death Clara pointed out the firm would not survive without
new business. For that they needed an architect. Upon reflection, Miranda still wasn’t
entirely sure how it had happened, but there was a void in her life and doing the
design work she had done with John filled that emptiness.
Now, Emmett was the liaison with clients, Clara ran the company and Miranda produced
the designs. There were a handful of additional employees as well. Garret and Tempest
had endured, and Miranda continued to make regular payments to Mr. Tempest’s financial
representatives. While the firm was prospering, Miranda, Clara and Emmett knew if
Miranda’s involvement became public knowledge, the company would not survive, no matter
how good its reputation. But Miranda had an obligation to the people who had worked
for John, and now worked for her, to avoid failure at all costs.
Keeping this a secret, even from her family, hadn’t been easy, especially when it
came to Bianca. She wasn’t merely Miranda’s sister but her dearest friend. But Bianca
hadn’t seemed to notice that Miranda was unusually busy these days and that the sisters
were meeting more and more often here at the Ladies Tearoom at Fenwick and Sons, Booksellers.
It was convenient to the Garret and Tempest office, was a favorite of Sebastian’s
wife, Veronica and, more importantly to Bianca, had become quite the place for ladies
of society to frequent.
“. . . and I thought, if she could, why couldn’t I? After all, it’s not . . .”
Miranda had just come from a meeting with Clara and Mr. Clarke about a lucrative new
commission to redesign and rebuild a manor house that had been devastated by fire.
While they couldn’t afford to pass on the job, taking it would be difficult. Fairborough
Hall was a hour away from London by train and the work would require the presence
of someone from the firm nearly every day during construction. But Emmett’s wife was
with child and she was having difficulties. She had already had two previous miscarriages
and her doctor was insisting she stay bedridden. Emmett did not want to be away from
London should she have need of him. Miranda and Caroline could not fault him for that,
although the two women acknowledged between themselves, if his employer had been male,
his reluctance might not be tolerated. The three decided there was no choice but to
have Miranda meet with Lord Stillwell and, should they get the commission, she would
present the plans and represent the firm. They agreed there was no need to reveal
the true architect.
“. . . which, of course, will prove difficult as I have not heard from him for more
than a year now. Nor have I wished . . .”
Aside from the obvious difficulties, Miranda wasn’t at all sure she was up to the
task of dealing with someone like Lord Stillwell. He had a reputation that could only
be called, well, wicked. She’d never met the man, but she had seen him at one social
event or another. He was quite handsome and dashing and reportedly most charming.
He did seem to laugh a great deal and he inevitably had the most devilish glint in
his eye. She thought he was around Sebastian’s age and had skated remarkably close
to scandal in his youth. Of course, so had her brothers. And while, from what she
had heard, he had reformed somewhat with maturity, one could not discount his history.
Why, the man had been engaged three times and had never once made it to the altar.
Surely toying with the hearts of not one but three women was the very definition of
wicked. One failed engagement might not be his fault, but three?
“. . . will be scandal, no doubt. But it does seem to me, in these circumstances,
scandal is the lesser . . .”
She’d never really met a man with quite as wicked a reputation, which did, in hindsight,
seem rather a pity. Her brothers, of course, had all been
enthusiastic
in their younger days, but one did hesitate to think of one’s own brothers as wicked.
John hadn’t been the least bit wicked. Now that he was gone, there had been moments,
late in the night, when she had wondered what it might be like to be with a wicked
man. In his arms, in his bed. She would never dare say it aloud, never admit it to
anyone, but for Miranda Garret, wicked had a great deal of appeal. She was at once
apprehensive and rather excited at the thought of meeting the wicked Lord Stillwell.
“Then you agree?”
Certainly the man wouldn’t throw her to the ground and have his way with her on their
first meeting. Nor would he run kisses up the inside of her arm or pull her into his
embrace and press his lips to hers. The very idea was absurd. He was a gentleman,
after all. She’d never truly been seduced, although that too had a certain amount
of appeal. Not that she would allow him to do so at any rate. Not on their first meeting,
or ever. After all, she was a woman of business. And, even if it wasn’t known to more
than a handful of people, she rather liked the title. And a woman of business would
never allow herself to be seduced by a man with a wicked reputation. Resolve washed
through her. Why, the very thought that she could not handle Lord Stillwell was absurd.
She was more than up to the challenge. Still, she couldn’t deny her anticipation in
regard to meeting the disreputable lord equaled her apprehension even if there was—
“Do you agree or not?” Bianca said sharply.
Agree to what?
“There is a great deal to consider,” Miranda said cautiously.
“That is exactly what I have been doing.” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t listened
to a word I said, have you?”
“I most certainly have.”
“I get the distinct feeling more often than not that you pay absolutely no attention
to me whatsoever.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Miranda shrugged off the charge, ignoring a twinge of guilt at
its accuracy. “You have my complete attention.”
“Do I?” Bianca studied her closely. “Then tell me do you or do you not agree with
my decision to seek a divorce?”
“Divorce?” Miranda gasped in spite of herself. For once, Bianca’s incessant chatter
was important. Who would have imagined?
“I knew you weren’t listening.” Bianca sniffed. “This is an enormous decision. The
biggest decision of my life thus far aside from wedding that beastly man in the first
place. And as I value your opinion above all others, I should like to hear it.”
“A Hadley-Attwater has never been divorced.”
“I believe I mentioned that.”
“Mother and Adrian and, oh, well, everyone will be shocked. And horrified really.”
“Yes, I said that as well.” Bianca’s tone hardened.
“Absolutely no one will support you in this.”
“I am prepared for that.” Bianca’s gaze met her sister’s. “What I want to know is
will you? In spite of its shocking nature, do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Yes,” Miranda said without thinking. “I do.”
“Really?” Bianca stared. “You don’t think I’m being rash or foolish?”
“No, I don’t. You were rash and foolish when you married Martin. This decision is
far wiser than that.” Miranda shook her head. “The man has virtually abandoned you.”

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