Page 47 of A Damsel for the Wounded Earl
The only person who seemed to be having a good time at all was Beatrice. Lucy and she won, to the chagrin of Lord Vincent and Mr. Thornhill, who apparently resented losing the game to a pair of women.
Then, quite suddenly, it was all too much for Arthur. Pain pulsed in his head, not the dangerous kind that ran beneath his scar, but a more ordinary kind of headache brought about by tension, too much sun, and too much talking. Miranda plucked at his sleeve again, and Arthur was struck by the realization that if he didn’t leave immediately, he was in great danger of hitting someone with a Pall-Mall mallet.
It would probably be Lord Vincent, who now had his hand possessively on Felicity’s elbow.
Arthur muttered an excuse, something about a headache, and went immediately inside. Once safe, he sent word to Julius to bring down his book from upstairs and retired to the library. To avoid being found and dragged out, he chose a secluded seat at the very back, entirely hidden by a maze of bookshelves. Sitting down with a sigh, Arthur closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.
And then he heard approaching footsteps.
“Julius? I’m back here,” Arthur called, eyes still closed. The footsteps approached, and there was a delicate, feminine gasp.
He opened his eyes, heart already sinking. And there, of course, stood Miranda Sinclair, hands pressed to her mouth.
“Oh, Lord Lanwood, I had no idea you were here!” she gasped. “I thought this little corner of the library was mine alone. I come here to think, you know.”
Arthur bounced to his feet, clearing his throat. He was more or less cornered, with Miranda blocking the only exit. He’d have to push past her to leave, and she showed no signs of moving.
“It’s quite alright,” he said uncomfortably. “I’ll move.”
“No, no, I won’t hear of it!” she said, a trifle too quickly. She took a step forward, and Arthur stepped involuntarily back. The chair was behind him, and then there was the wall. There really was not anywhere for him to go.
“The only thing is…” Miranda whispered, eyelashes fluttering again, “…we really shouldn’t be here alone, together, should we? I know it is wrong, but we are such old friends, and we were once so close…”
A flash of panic went through Arthur.
“Ah, I don’t think…”
Miranda advanced another step but was cut off when the door to the library opened.
“Oh, if we were to be discovered…” she breathed.
“Your lordship?” Julius called. “Are you here?”
“Yes, Julius, here,” Arthur called, almost giddy with relief. “Have no fear, Miss Sinclair. I sent for Julius the moment I came inside, the butler will tell you. I’ve been expecting him any minute. Nobody would think that we had an assignation. It was nothing more than coincidence.”
The expression of annoyance on Miranda’s face was almost comical. Julius pattered across the room, blinking in surprise when he rounded the corner and came face to face with Miranda.
“I brought your book, your lordship,” he said uncertainly, glancing between them. “Have I interrupted?”
“You have not,” Arthur said instantly, before Miranda had a chance to speak. “I believe that Miss Sinclair intended to use the library, so we’ll take ourselves off and leave her be, shall we?”
There was really nothing Miranda could say to this, beyond a weak, tight-lipped smile. She did not move aside, obliging Arthur to shuffle nervously past her, and stood in the doorway as they hurried across the library. She was still staring at them, arms folded, as Arthur hastily shut the door behind him. He let out a long sigh of relief. His head hurt worse than ever, and he found himself thinking of the herbal remedy Felicity Thornhill had mentioned.
Would it really have worked? She seemed clever enough, and some herbal remediesdidease the pain of headaches. He’d never tried anything which successfully eased his own pain, but perhaps that was because the pain in his head went deeper than a simple headache.
“Perhaps it’s not my place to say, sir,” Julius began uncertainly, “But I don’t like that young woman. Miss Sinclair, that is.”
“It’s your place to hold whatever opinion you see fit, Julius. But why don’t you like her? Just for my own curiosity, you understand.
Julius sighed. “She’s sharp with the servants, sir. No, not just sharp – downright cruel. One of the upstairs maids, Susie, has been assigned to help her dress and so on, and you’d never believe the stories she tells. Just last night, she threw a vase at her, if Susie is to be believed.”
Arthur bit his lip. He knew Susie – a cheerful, round-faced girl who liked Julius a little too much – and knew that she had a reputation for truthfulness. It was unlikely that she would lie, and it was just as likely that Miranda would do something like that.
“Have you spoken to my mother about this?” Arthur asked seriously. “She won’t be happy to hear that her servants are being badly treated, in her own home no less.”
Julius shook his head. “We didn’t want to cause problems, your lordship. Miss Sinclair is, after all, a guest.”
“Yes, and isn’t that just the problem?” Arthur murmured, caught off guard. Julius shot him a surprised look.
