The Price of Indiscretion Read online

  We. Who was this woman to Alex? The sudden stab of jealousy was proof that Miranda was quite definitely still alive.

  Isabel Severson continued. “You have lost an alarming amount of weight. I’m having broth brought up from the kitchen. It will be here in a moment.”

  At the mention of food, Miranda’s stomach knotted and growled in the most unbecoming way.

  Isabel smiled. “That’s a good sign. We’ll have you feeling quite the thing in no time.”

  “Where—?” Miranda started, stopping when she realized she sounded like a frog croaking.

  Her hostess anticipated her needs. She poured a glass of water and offered it for Miranda to drink. Now Miranda had to move. She lifted herself on her elbows, feeling as if it was the first time she’d moved in ages. The world swirled a bit.

  “Take it easy,” Isabel advised her, holding the glass herself for Miranda to drink.

  Nothing had ever tasted as good as that fresh water. Miranda didn’t stop until the glass was empty. She could feel her body soaking up the liquid. “Thank you.” She lay back on the bed. “Am I in England?” she asked. “Or is this heaven?” She’d meant the words dryly.

  Isabel laughed. “Not heaven but London, although many believe it to be as close to heaven as one can get in this lifetime.”

  Charlotte would think so, and Miranda remembered something else that was very important—she had lost their gold. It had been in her cabin on the Venture, under the bunk. Miranda fought panic. She couldn’t lose that money. She and her sisters would have nothing. “Where is Lady Overstreet?”

  Isabel frowned. “I don’t know a Lady Overstreet.”

  “Do you know Alex Haddon?” Miranda held her breath, fearing the answer.

  “Yes, we are good friends.”

  Of course he would be her good friend. Isabel Severson was beautiful. “Is he here?”

  A shadow clouded Isabel’s eyes. “No, he’s not,” she said, the words sounding as if reluctantly drawn from her, and a certain sign she was lying.

  Miranda shoved aside her jealousy, realizing Alex had exacted a fitting revenge after all. “Do you know where he is?” she asked stiffly.

  “No. But,” Isabel hurried to add, “I don’t want you to fear for your future. You are our guest, and Alex left very specific instructions for how you are to be treated.”

  “Thank you, but I shall not be staying long.” There, Miranda had proved she had her pride.

  “Miss Cameron, you are in no condition to go anywhere. Please, Alex, my husband, and I would be alarmed if you were to go off without fully recovering.”

  Out of the whole speech, Miranda heard only two words. “Your husband?”

  “Yes, my husband. Michael Severson. He is Alex’s business partner. He is up in Yorkshire right now purchasing good English wool to sell abroad.”

  Relief flooded Miranda. Alex hadn’t betrayed her. “So your husband owns the ship Alex sails?” she said, wanting nice, tidy, complete answers.

  “Alex also owns the ship,” Isabel said. “In fact, he and Michael own three ships now. Alex doesn’t have to captain one but he chooses to do so.”

  Alex owned three ships?

  Isabel interpreted her stunned surprise for interest. “Sometimes I wonder why Alex works as hard as he does. Money means something to him, but I’m not exactly certain what. He just keeps it in the bank, where it piles up, more and more every day.”

  Miranda took in again the richness of the room, the fine detail of Isabel’s dress, and realized that she herself was wearing a night rail of cotton lawn finer than anything she’d ever worn before. She remembered their conversation in the garden, his mocking her for needing to marry a wealthy man, for selling herself. He hadn’t been judgmental.

  He’d been laughing at her.

  The knowledge that he had been playing her for a fool fueled Miranda’s spirit with a vengeance. “I don’t know how he is. In fact, I barely know him at all,” she responded in a clipped tone. “Now, please, if you can help me, I will dress and be gone from here—” A wave of dizziness caught her off guard.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Isabel rose and placed a gentle hand on Miranda’s shoulder to keep her in bed. “You aren’t well. You must stay here. I’ll talk to Alex—”

  “So you do know where he is?”

  Caught in her lie, Isabel had the good grace to blush. “Yes.”

  “I want to see him.” Miranda didn’t know what she would do, but it would be angry and painful.

  “I don’t know if you can,” Isabel answered. “I shall ask him. He obviously has some explaining to do, but, please, don’t worry. He will make it right. He is like a brother to my husband. I’ve known him to only do what is honorable and good.”

  Like kidnapping, Miranda thought irreverently. Not to mention what he’d done to her in his cabin. Her cheeks burned with the memory of her own culpability. She should have fought him off instead of letting him take all.

  “You are welcome under our roof as long as you wish to stay,” Isabel continued. “Alex brought you here and saw that you had the best of care in London.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Almost a week.”

  Miranda’s mind reeled at the number. She’d lost so much time.

  “Alex has made every effort to ensure you have been well-chaperoned—”

  That comment caught Miranda’s attention. She looked at Isabel, who didn’t appear to be teasing her. Alex must have spun quite a story.

  “He even sent for your sisters. They should be here in, say, three months, maybe less.”

  “And how shall they afford the trip?” Miranda wondered. “I have no money.”

  “Alex is paying for it all,” Isabel answered. “He has instructed me to tell you that he will cover all of your expenses.”

  “All of them?” Miranda questioned.

  Isabel nodded, her expression tight. She’d clearly formed her own conclusions.

  “I want to see Alex,” Miranda pressed. “I must talk to him.”

  This time Isabel didn’t argue. “I shall tell him.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Isabel called, “Come in.”

  Alice entered carrying a tray. She set it down on the bedside table, Isabel helping her to clear a space for it.

  “Miss Cameron, I know you don’t want to play the part of an invalid,” Isabel said, “but I believe you should let her feed you. Please, give yourself time to recover, and don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I promise you that. I’ll return shortly.” She didn’t wait for a response but left the room.

  Miranda stared after her. She was going to see Alex. What had happened between in the cabin was very clear. She could feel his heat, the weight of his body, and she knew the taste of his skin. All was clear, save for Alex saying he loved her. She could have imagined the words. She no longer knew.

  “Are you ready eat, miss?” Alice asked.

  Miranda nodded, needing the distraction from her troubled thoughts and determined to recover her strength as quickly as possible.

  Alex was pacing the floor of the library when Isabel finally returned from seeing Miranda.

  “How is she?” he demanded before she could even speak a word.

  “Who is she?” came the answer. “Alex, what is going on here? I thought she was a passenger on your ship who had taken ill, but look at you. I’ve never seen you unshaven, and you’ve barely slept since you brought her to us. Then there is this nonsense of wanting me to tell her you aren’t here. What are you hiding?”

  He frowned. “She did ask for me?”

  Isabel groaned her frustration. “Yes, and she isn’t pleased—”

  “She shouldn’t be.” He moved to the window overlooking the fashionable square. “I have to make this right,” he said more to himself than to his friend.

  “Make what right?”

  He faced his friend. “I almost cost her life.”

  “Her fever wasn’t your fault. In fact,
if she hadn’t been with you, she could have died from it.”

  “I ruined her.”

  Isabel blinked, and then understanding dawned. “Then you should do what is honorable.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Isabel wanted to know.

  “Because I’m not what she wants.”

  She frowned, not understanding, and he wasn’t about to explain.

  “Just make it right,” he instructed her. “Whatever Miranda wants, no matter the cost.”

  “And I’m to find her a husband?”

  “Yes.”

  Her gaze narrowed shrewdly. “Without asking questions?”

  Alex knew she wouldn’t leave this alone. “She is someone I knew in my Shawnee days. I owe her a favor.”

  “This great a one?”

  “Yes.”

  Isabel sat on the edge of a leather sofa. She studied Alex a long moment before saying, “I don’t always understand you, Alex. You are too independent. Michael is your only close friend.”

  “I have my crew—”

  “Yes, you do. Men very much like you. A more unconventional, free-spirited group of misfits I’ve yet to meet. I’ve watch you flirt with women. You tease them into thinking you are interested and then dance away before anyone can become too serious. You don’t want anyone too close. And now you bring Miss Cameron to me? And I find you’ve personally cared for her. You kept her alive, Alex. She wants to see you, if for no other reason than to give you a well-deserved tongue-lashing that I suspect you may deserve. Are any of my guesses correct?”

  “Perhaps about the tongue-lashing,” he admitted.

  Isabel didn’t smile. “You can’t leave without facing her.”

  “It’s more complicated than that, Isabel.” He didn’t want to face her, because then he wouldn’t leave. Isabel didn’t understand the chasm between Miranda and him. Miranda had already paid a high price for daring to love him. He could force the issue…but at what cost? The words she’d mumbled in her feverish dreams haunted him. White, white, white.

  Yes, he’d already taken more than a pound of flesh from her.

  “Find a husband for her. One with a title. Spare no expense.” He started for the door.

  Isabel rose. “Where will you be?”

  “The Warrior.” He turned the handle.

  “Alex, wait.” Isabel crossed to him. Her expression concerned, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I don’t think it should be like this.”

  He shrugged. He had no answer. His decision was made.

  Isabel seemed to understand that. She reached up and brushed a strand of hair off his shoulder. It was a long one. “You should cut your hair,” she murmured.

  “I won’t.”

  “I know.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “You shouldn’t be so stubborn, Alex. You shouldn’t stay alone.”

  He opened the door. “Thank you for your concern, Isabel.” He started to leave but then stopped. “There is one thing you can do.”

  “What is that?”

  “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  Isabel’s back straightened. “You should tell her yourself.”

  “Then it won’t be said,” he answered and left.

  Outside, his hat in his hand, he stood on the front step a moment. Miranda’s sickroom was right above the door. He was tempted to look up to see if she was there in the window.

  One last look.

  Instead he put on his hat and started down the street.

  Miranda had not wanted to sip broth in bed. With Alice’s help, she had gotten up and taken a seat at a table set before a window overlooking the small, fenced park across the street.

  She had just finished when she heard a door slam on the floor beneath them. Glancing out the window, she looked down and saw the top of Alex’s head. He was leaving. He’d not wanted to see her.

  Miranda sat very still, feeling amazingly fragile, and not from her illness.

  Alex was walking out of her life.

  Again.

  She’d given him everything he’d wanted. He’d taken all and was paying her off. What had he called her? The drunkard’s daughter?

  For years she and her sisters had protected themselves from men like him. She’d let down her guard, and he’d used her.

  The bedroom door opened. Miranda didn’t turn to see who had entered. Instead she watched Alex until he rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

  “Alice, give us a moment alone,” Isabel’s voice said from the doorway.

  A moment later the door closed. Her hostess walked up to stand beside Miranda. “You’re crying.”

  For the first time, Miranda was aware of the tears. They rolled silently down over her cheeks. Isabel offered her a handkerchief. The tears embarrassed Miranda, especially as Isabel knelt beside her. She took Miranda’s hand.

  “Do you care for Alex, even just a little?”

  What sort of a question was that?

  “No,” Miranda said proudly.

  “I thought perhaps you did,” Isabel suggested.

  “But he left me,” Miranda explained.

  “He will be back.”

  “It’s too late.” Miranda pushed her chair away from the table, wanting to move a bit.

  “I’ll help you back to bed,” Isabel said firmly.

  “I don’t want to go to bed,” Miranda said. “I don’t want to be here.” Why had he left her?

  Isabel proved a formidable opponent. Accepting no fuss, she steered Miranda toward the bed. Miranda would have liked to have dramatically gone out the door. In truth, she didn’t have the strength.

  Tucking the covers around her, Isabel said, “I know you are hurt—”

  “I’m not hurt.” She’d never let him hurt her. Ever.

  Isabel corrected herself. “Angry then. However, leaving won’t get you what you want. He’s given you carte blanche to spend his money, and I believe you should.”

  “I don’t accept charity.”

  “This isn’t charity. I don’t know what happened between the two of you or what your history is,” Isabel said, “but I do know that this is the first time I’ve seen Alex behave this way. Use the money,” Isabel urged, “to make him notice.”

  That was sound advice. There would be some vengeance in spending his money—but even more in marrying a man who wouldn’t look down his long nose at her. Or make promises he’d never keep.

  “My sisters are going to be coming to England?” she asked.

  “The message and passage for their fares was sent the day after you arrived in England.”

  “So they will be here soon.”

  “In a matter of months,” Isabel agreed.

  And Miranda would have a husband by then. There was no doubt in her mind. Alex had left. She owed him nothing.

  A calm settled over Miranda. She knew what she must do. “There is a woman I must locate. Her name is Lady Overstreet.”

  “Do you know where to find her?” Isabel asked.

  “Yes, aboard the merchant ship Venture. They should dock in Portsmouth soon, if they haven’t already.”

  “I’ll send a messenger,” Isabel said. “But why do you wish to see her?”

  “She’s going to find me a duke.”

  Twelve

  Lady Overstreet was giddy with relief when she arrived at Isabel’s home and learned that Miranda still expected her to search for a suitable husband.

  Upon seeing that Alex’s ship had left Ponta Delgada, she had assumed that Miranda had eloped. She’d been angry but she’d had Miranda’s money and apparently that bought some sort of loyalty from Her Ladyship who claimed she’d informed Sir William that Miranda had been “indisposed” when he came calling.

  And glad she was that she’d practiced such discretion.

  The Venture had just docked in Portsmouth when Isabel’s messenger arrived. Her Ladyship had been quite taken with the first-rate coach ride to London, the fashionable address of Isabel’s home, the idea of having servants a
t her beck and call. She was in such good humor she happily gave Miranda’s coin chest back to her, though it was obvious she had planned to keep the money for herself until she’d learned of Miranda’s new circumstances.

  Established in the Severson household, Lady Overstreet wanted to give the impression that such tasteful and obvious wealth was commonplace, but even a rustic like Miranda knew it wasn’t. In fact, the longer Miranda stayed under her hostess’s roof, the more her respect for Isabel grew. She was a kind, caring person whose priorities were, quite simply, her baby, Diane, and her husband, Michael. He was a very handsome man. That he and his wife were a love match was clear for all to see…and Miranda found herself wishing she could have what they had.

  Then again, the gleaming silver, the exotic woods of the furniture, even the meals made of the choicest and freshest of foods served to remind Miranda that Alex had played her for a fool.

  He and Michael Severson were equal partners. Alex was as rich as he was, although Isabel had even suggested he could be richer since he didn’t spend his money on much. Miranda wondered if Alex secretly was paying off his conscience, and the thought made her angry.

  Consequently, once she had sufficiently recovered from her illness, she went with Lady Overstreet to buy out all of London. Isabel joined them a time or two. They went only to the most expensive of dressmakers. Gloves and shoes had to be of the softest leather, hats the very height of fashion, and each and every accessory known to womankind had to be purchased for individual ensembles. They spent days, even weeks shopping and buying.

  At the same time, Miranda threw herself into her lessons on manners and deportment with Lady Overstreet. No longer a reluctant student, she surprised Her Ladyship with how quickly she could learn.

  All this activity helped her deal with her feelings about Alex. She would show him what happened when he walked away from her. She’d marry the most important noble in the land

  Pleased with her progress, Lady Overstreet began calling on all her old friends and acquaintances. They came to lunch and to meet Miranda and Isabel—but very few invitations were reciprocated.

  It also became clear as time passed that Lady Overstreet’s friends weren’t really good ton. Not to say they all didn’t drop names of titled gentlemen they thought were looking for wives. They knew that was the price of their invitation to lunch or dinner. Miranda was even introduced to two of the gentlemen. The first was a sluggish boor of an earl who didn’t have the wits God had given sheep. The other was a marquis of eighty who kept falling asleep during his call. His snoring was so loud, it was difficult for anyone in the room to converse.