beyond a lady’s lack of breeding. And Miss MacDonough here is a strong-looking girl. She’s obviously of hearty stock.”
Miranda might have laughed if she wasn’t afraid she’d be scolded. A strong-looking girl. She tried to imagine Aunt Arabella’s reaction, as she’d most likely round on the pudgy countess and tell her exactly what she thought of Miranda’s being described as strong-looking .
Before the silence thickened into discomfort, Elyse cleared her throat. “Oh, don’t be silly, Countess. She is hardly lacking in anything, and besides, it is rude to speak of her as if she weren’t sitting right here with us.” She cast Miranda a warm smile. “And you are going to be just fine. I’ve yet to fail at matchmaking. It’s a gift, you know. When we are finished, you will have suitors six deep hoping to claim your hand.”
The heat in her face receding, she gave Elyse a grateful smile. “I thank you for your kindness, but I am not so certain I agree.”
“And why not?” Derek set his knife alongside his plate.
“Yes,” Hugh added, “why not?”
She glanced across the table to find him gazing at her with those hypnotic green eyes. He held her stare as her mouth went dry and her heart sped into a triple-time beat. Then she became aware of Sally’s stare, which was far less friendly than it had been earlier. “Most men seem a bit…surprised…by my candor. Or my tactlessness, as Mrs. Anderson likes to call it.”
“That’s utterly ridiculous,” Hugh replied, still looking at her and earning her another glower from Sally. “I find it refreshing, to be honest.”
“Do you?” Sally’s voice was light, though the corners of her mouth tightened ever so slightly. Still, she smiled and sliced off another sliver of venison to pop in her mouth.
Hugh broke his contact with Miranda and his gaze shifted to Sally. “I do. I think it a trait that ought be more acceptable.”
The duchess’ smiled wanly. “There is a time and a place for speaking one’s mind. If one chooses poorly, the repercussions can be great.”
“Ladies should be seen and not necessarily heard,” Eleanor mumbled around a mouthful of buttered squash.
“I am afraid I must disagree,” Hugh broke in as he set down his fork. “I find that rather silly, actually. What rational man wants a wife who never voices an opinion or disagrees with him? I imagine that makes for a rather suffocating marriage. Not to mention quite dull, indeed.”
“I shall remember that,” Sally replied icily, her elegant fingers curled about the stem of her goblet to draw it near.
Miranda also reached for her glass and lifted it to sip the heady ruby-colored wine swirling about the bowl. She watched from the corner of her eye as Sally turned her glare in her direction, and she fought the urge to fidget in her chair. There was no sign of Sally’s earlier warmth now. Her glare radiated pure, bright green venom.
Sarah cleared her throat to shatter the swirling tension like brittle glass. “I think you can be a success, Miranda. You simply need to keep in mind what is expected of you.”
“I only hope I can.” Miranda smiled at the dowager. “I should hate to disappoint my aunt when she’s already been so good to me.”
Sally twisted in her chair to bestow on her another chilly smile. “Why, I am sure some lucky gentleman will snatch you up.”
Miranda cringed at the malicious undertones to Sally’s words. One desperate enough to settle for you is what she implied.
Still, she held her temper and returned Sally’s smug smile. If Sally wished to provoke, Miranda refused to fall into her trap and make a fool of herself. “I am equally optimistic, my lady. After all, there is someone for everyone, isn’t there?”
“Well, that’s what they say. But it matters not to me, as I’ve already found mine.” Sally popped the bite of venison between her lips.
Miranda fought the urge to kick her. Drat it all, anyway. Why did the one man she felt
Miranda might have laughed if she wasn’t afraid she’d be scolded. A strong-looking girl. She tried to imagine Aunt Arabella’s reaction, as she’d most likely round on the pudgy countess and tell her exactly what she thought of Miranda’s being described as strong-looking .
Before the silence thickened into discomfort, Elyse cleared her throat. “Oh, don’t be silly, Countess. She is hardly lacking in anything, and besides, it is rude to speak of her as if she weren’t sitting right here with us.” She cast Miranda a warm smile. “And you are going to be just fine. I’ve yet to fail at matchmaking. It’s a gift, you know. When we are finished, you will have suitors six deep hoping to claim your hand.”
The heat in her face receding, she gave Elyse a grateful smile. “I thank you for your kindness, but I am not so certain I agree.”
“And why not?” Derek set his knife alongside his plate.
“Yes,” Hugh added, “why not?”
She glanced across the table to find him gazing at her with those hypnotic green eyes. He held her stare as her mouth went dry and her heart sped into a triple-time beat. Then she became aware of Sally’s stare, which was far less friendly than it had been earlier. “Most men seem a bit…surprised…by my candor. Or my tactlessness, as Mrs. Anderson likes to call it.”
“That’s utterly ridiculous,” Hugh replied, still looking at her and earning her another glower from Sally. “I find it refreshing, to be honest.”
“Do you?” Sally’s voice was light, though the corners of her mouth tightened ever so slightly. Still, she smiled and sliced off another sliver of venison to pop in her mouth.
Hugh broke his contact with Miranda and his gaze shifted to Sally. “I do. I think it a trait that ought be more acceptable.”
The duchess’ smiled wanly. “There is a time and a place for speaking one’s mind. If one chooses poorly, the repercussions can be great.”
“Ladies should be seen and not necessarily heard,” Eleanor mumbled around a mouthful of buttered squash.
“I am afraid I must disagree,” Hugh broke in as he set down his fork. “I find that rather silly, actually. What rational man wants a wife who never voices an opinion or disagrees with him? I imagine that makes for a rather suffocating marriage. Not to mention quite dull, indeed.”
“I shall remember that,” Sally replied icily, her elegant fingers curled about the stem of her goblet to draw it near.
Miranda also reached for her glass and lifted it to sip the heady ruby-colored wine swirling about the bowl. She watched from the corner of her eye as Sally turned her glare in her direction, and she fought the urge to fidget in her chair. There was no sign of Sally’s earlier warmth now. Her glare radiated pure, bright green venom.
Sarah cleared her throat to shatter the swirling tension like brittle glass. “I think you can be a success, Miranda. You simply need to keep in mind what is expected of you.”
“I only hope I can.” Miranda smiled at the dowager. “I should hate to disappoint my aunt when she’s already been so good to me.”
Sally twisted in her chair to bestow on her another chilly smile. “Why, I am sure some lucky gentleman will snatch you up.”
Miranda cringed at the malicious undertones to Sally’s words. One desperate enough to settle for you is what she implied.
Still, she held her temper and returned Sally’s smug smile. If Sally wished to provoke, Miranda refused to fall into her trap and make a fool of herself. “I am equally optimistic, my lady. After all, there is someone for everyone, isn’t there?”
“Well, that’s what they say. But it matters not to me, as I’ve already found mine.” Sally popped the bite of venison between her lips.
Miranda fought the urge to kick her. Drat it all, anyway. Why did the one man she felt
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