Miss Simpkins' School: Miranda (2 page)

Ash flicked the lady’s chin. “I taught you everything you know, my dear.”

The lady blushed. “Ashley,” she said in a warning tone. “Enough, and not true.”

His eyes narrowed. “What don’t I know that I should?”

“Nothing, and don’t even try to worm it out of Adriana. She will not say.” With a brief dip of her head, she gathered the reins and Ashley stood back to let the phaeton move off. Within seconds they were tooling down the lane.

“I’m sorry, but as my uncle didn’t see fit to introduce us...” Miranda strove for an easy tone, once she realized the lady was better at the reins than herself. It was difficult to sound insouciant when her stomach heaved like the channel on a blustery day, and her mouth was dry. “I’m Miranda Copthorn. And you, I hope, are Miss Molly Simpkins?”

Her companion nodded. “Why? I mean yes I am, but why do you hope? And you say you are Miranda Copthorn, which tells me little.”

“Adriana told me you were arriving today.” Miranda ignored the interrogating tone, which she suspected was directed at her ancestry. It wasn’t for her to divulge. “She knows I wish to speak to you. I—” Miranda hesitated. Now that it was time to open her mouth and utter her desires, it all seemed so complicated. “I need your help. Adriana and I decided it was best if I came upon you as you arrived. However, we didn’t expect it to be so dramatic a meeting. I was on my way back to Addersley when I had my mishap. I’ll never live it down. Merry spooked.” Miranda was disgusted with herself. “I let my hands drop like a mere learner. I may well be denied any access to prime horses for many a month now. Pah.”

There was silence for several seconds. “I need directions to Addersley,” her companion said finally.

Miranda knew fine well her eyes opened wide. “You have never been before?”

Molly gave her a swift searching stare before she returned her attention to the horses and the lane ahead. “Why should I have? Oh, you mean when I was Addersley’s mistress?” Molly flicked the whip expertly and the horses moved forward in a perfect rhythm. “No. We went to his hunting lodge.”

Miranda jumped and gasped. Molly lost concentration and dropped her hands. The horses, free of directions, surged forward and Molly swore as she got them under control once more. She uttered such unladylike words that Miranda giggled.

“Yes, well, my apologies,” Molly added. “Now I’ve acted like a mere learner as well. I trust you won’t divulge that little tidbit of information to your uncle? I’d never live
that
down
.
Ah, it seemed Adriana didn’t tell you the all.”

“Evidently not. Though, of course I did know Uncle Ash had a long-term mistress, before his marriage. It was general knowledge, even at my school. He was the focus of many of my contemporaries’ passions. I myself can’t see it, but then, why should I?”

“It is the age difference, I daresay,” Molly commented. “The differences in attitudes are too much for a young girl to understand.”

“I don’t agree. About the age difference. If you love someone, it’s immaterial. Oh, turn here.” The gates were wide open. Miranda envied the way Molly swung the phaeton through the gap, and ignored the sharp look Molly gave her.

“Even though my papa taught me well, I will never be able to emulate your skills.” Miranda changed the subject as they continued up the sloped and curved drive. From that angle there were no buildings to be seen. “Ah, we have about half a mile to go from here. The house will be visible when we crest the hill.” She never lost the sense of awe she experienced when the golden-walled building came into view. “Look.” She pointed toward it.

“That is not a house,” Molly said dryly. “It is three. Plus several mansions, all rolled into one.”

Miranda agreed. “The first time I saw it, I thought the prince regent and all the court must live there. Though Ash and Adriana only use part of it. And the babies of course. Oh, Miss Simpkins, they are so prefect. One day, maybe I will be as lucky. Well, if you help me, that is.”

“With what?”

That was the catch. How could she explain just what she needed? It was all well and good being told that Molly had a school to help young ladies of the ton show their intended partners what they needed from a relationship. It was another to put her needs and desires into words and say how she needed help. Her mama might be Italian, but none of that country’s alleged openness about sex and desires of the heart had been spoken of. All Miranda knew was from books, conversations with friends, and the odd erotic pamphlet one of those friends had purloined from her more liberal parents. She was at an impasse. Especially as the gentleman in question would more than likely not be acceptable to her papa. She sighed and nibbled her bottom lip.

“Don’t do that,” Molly said in a sharp tone. “You’ll bruise it. Look, I need to know what
you
know about me, and what it is you think I can help you with. I assume we don’t have the time now? If I know anything about Ash, he’ll be hot on our heels as soon as he can, and I am anxious to meet my godchildren and hug their mama.”

“Then when?” Miranda despised the whine in her voice. It was childish and grated even to her. “Oh, I’m sorry, but you know how Adriana can tell you something in such a way, you don’t realize until later how much she’s helped?”

Molly nodded. “She has aided you in a way you didn’t comprehend until after the event?”

“Exactly. I need help to seduce someone. It has to be soon, before he offers elsewhere. I have to show him that even though the age difference is great, it matters not. He’s the only one for me.” She sighed. “He will not entertain the thought of us being together in any way. The idiot says I need someone younger, and less extreme—whatever that means. Pfft. We all know it’s the norm for a man to take a younger wife. I have to want the only gentleman of the ton who doesn’t agree with the ideas of the ton. Adriana knows this, and began to talk about a school, which could help. Then she mentioned you were coming today. It was only later, when I saw the pamphlet on my dressing table that I put things together. I was to try and meet you alone later. The accident was fortuitous, in one way. I didn’t expect to meet you yet, and especially not have time alone with you. It was an accident, truly.”

“Then we’ll talk about it later. The school, not the accident. Do I go around to the back of the house with the horses?”

“What? Oh yes, to the left, the stables are behind the trees.” Miranda hadn’t noticed they were only a few yards from the cluster of buildings. “It will annoy Marsh—he’s the major-domo—but that’s his problem, not ours. There, see Bagshot, the head groom, is coming to meet us.”

“I see.” The phaeton drew up next to the man, who after one startled glance toward Molly, blinked and took the reins from her. Another groom came running and assisted the two ladies down.

“The earl is bringing the gig. To my eternal shame, Merry was spooked by a pheasant on the lane just near to the gate,” Miranda said as she shook out her dusty skirts, and envied the quiet elegance of Molly. If the woman was all she’d heard, this understated simplicity was superb. “Miss Simpkins and I will go in and find the countess.”

She turned to Molly. “We’ll use the garden door. It seems silly to walk all the way round to the front just to make an entrance. And it’s miles.”

“I doubt it,” Molly replied in a dry tone. “But I’m all for not making an entrance, so the garden door suits me well.”

Molly tucked her arm through Miranda’s. “We have a few minutes,” Molly said as they strolled out of the stable yard and into a pretty walled garden. “Perhaps I might be informed of just whom you wish to bed or wed?”

“Both, and in that order. Bed and wed I mean. I suspect if he beds me, he will feel honor bound to wed me. I should of course say no. And continue to do so until he realized it’s not honor, but necessity. But I won’t. He’ll soon realize its lustful, sexual, full-blown coupling he needs. I can give him all that and love. Propriety be damned. If underhandedness is needed, so be it.”

Molly laughed. “I like your style. But what if he still says no?”

“Then I’ll at least have some memories. But, oh lud, he cannot.” Her voice broke and Miranda mentally shook herself. This was no time to go to pieces.

“So, who is it you wish to entice?”

Miranda wondered why Molly’s voice was strained. Was the identity of her ardor so important?

“For if it is imperative we sort this before he makes a grave mistake, we must start our plans at once.” Molly added.

“Oh, it is of the utmost that I change his mind,” Miranda assured Molly. “By fair means or foul, I need to be with him. I have been told he is about to offer for Jane Nicholby. She would bore him in five minutes.”

“Jane? But she is five and thirty and a wid... Oh, I see. So this man is?”

“Felix Sotherby.”

Molly stopped dead. “Felix? But he is over forty.”

“He will be forty in February, and it makes no odds. Papa says it would be like I was marrying him, and Felix agrees. That is rubbish. I don’t want another father. I love the one I have. But I do want Felix, in every other way except incestuous.”

“Ah, so your father is?”

Miranda blinked. Of course she hadn’t said. Perhaps now was the time and the person to open up to.

“Charles Fairmont. Ashley’s younger step-brother. And before you say, you didn’t know Papa had been or was married, he hadn’t and isn’t. Hence the different surnames. But then, you’d be correct in also saying you had no idea he was a father.”

She sighed, a soft pathetic noise that annoyed her intensely. How stupid to still react so after all these months. Charles had welcomed her with open arms, and so had his family. But after so long of only her mama and herself, it was so hard to readjust, especially as Mama had then passed away. The last eighteen months had been ones of readjustment for them all, not the least the Anglicization of her beloved surname.

“Poor Papa. He had no idea either.”

Chapter Three

Felix Sotherby, Earl of Kelmarsh, glanced in the mirror, studied the fall of his cravat, and nodded, to the relief of his valet who dipped his head in agreement. Felix smiled inwardly at this supposed show of his vanity. If an affectation was necessary in the world he lived in, then creating an individual method of tying one’s cravat was not too excessive.

“It will do,” he said slowly. “Now what shall I call it?”

His valet cocked his head. “Perfection?” he suggested in a hesitant voice. “For to me sire, it is that.”

Felix raised one eyebrow. “Not yet, Michael, but soon perhaps. I am almost there. It needs something else.” He studied his reflection in the mirror. “Ah, there it is. The sapphire pin.” He picked up a gemstone on a silver reed-like stem and placed it unerringly in the middle of a fold of his cravat. “Yes, now you can say perfection.”

He did his best not to roll his eyes as Michael clapped his hands in respect. Felix had no exaggerated idea of his importance. He was a peer, yes, but not one who spoke often in the house or who puffed off his importance. His fellow peers knew if The Earl of Kelmarsh stood up in the house it would be to impart words of great necessity. As he came into the Earldom at an early age, Felix had spent many years discovering what he thought important, and what could be ignored.

He picked up his signet ring from the silver box beside him and slipped it onto his finger. The sight made him frown. Rings went hand in hand with marriage. Something that preyed on his mind more and more these days. Should he or shouldn’t he? He had to decide before long.

“Michael, don’t wait up,” he said as his valet assisted him into his evening jacket. It was so form-fitting that on anyone without a perfect physique it would be appalling, “I imagine my host and I will get involved talking over the billiards table. I assume he will have returned before dinner. He has insisted on house shoes, so I need not have you on hand to pull off my boots.” The note in his room had puzzled him, but so many gentlemen now chose to take care of their houses, as he himself did, that he assumed Charles was likeminded. “According to the staff, Charles will be ready to greet me well before dinner.” A slight misnomer, but Felix had no intention of gossiping.

He arrived earlier in the day to be greeted by the major domo. In a regretful voice he had informed Felix that his lordship had been called to his step-brother’s estate unexpectedly. However Tony did not believe he would be away overnight. Because Felix’s visit was for several days, his host asked for him to treat the house as his own until he returned. As they often spent weeks at each other’s estates, for hunting, shooting, or as a respite from marriage-hunting debs and their eager mamas, it would be no hardship. Felix knew this house as well as his own.

But not with both its present incumbents. However, as it had been prearranged, it will be fine. It has to be.

“Finish up and have the evening dallying with the pretty parlor maid you made blush earlier.” He grinned at his valet, who showed the same rosy face the parlor maid had. “There’s a cottage on the estate with your name on it when you’re ready. It’s about time you settled down.”

“Ah.” Michael swallowed and seemed lost for words. “But my job is by your side, my lord. If I take a wife you’d need to find a suitable position for her.” The inference that his valet’s wife would be an ideal maid for a countess wasn’t lost on Felix.

“Stop trying to turn the tables; you won’t succeed.” Felix had an easy friendship with his valet. “You need to settle down, and play with one lady, not several.”

Michael grinned. “May I suggest pot, kettle, and black, my lord?”

Felix tapped him on the back, and left the room, whistling as he went. “Suggest away. I’m not listening. One partner, Michael.”

It was satisfying to say those words to someone else instead of hearing them spoken by others to himself. Felix knew he had to make a decision about his future, and soon. It was all well and good thinking he was fine as he was, but there was other things to take into consideration. Since the death of his younger brother at Waterloo, his heir was now a very distant cousin, who on his own admission wasn’t interested in Kelmarsh. Felix didn’t need subtle and not so subtle hints from his solicitor and factor, to say nothing of an octogenarian aunt, and an even older great uncle. All told him that an heir, who would put time and effort into the estate, was needed, and fast.