Lord Haversham Takes Command Read online

  “But what of her wishes? Hasn’t she the right to marry whom she chooses?” Harry demanded.

  “No,” George said as he wagged his head back and forth in exaggerated arcs. “Too young. She don’t know by half what’s suitable. Women need a firm hand to guide them,” he managed to say just before he slid down the length of the leather sofa and dropped his snifter on the floor with a distinct tinkle of breaking glass.

  Harry set down his own glass and began a thorough inspection of George’s pockets; with any luck he had brought the paper with him rather than having left it unattended at home. Harry felt a surge of excitement when the crackle of vellum assailed his ears and a deep sense of relief when he had spread it open and verified that it was indeed his missing orders.

  Harry was not as cheerful about his instructions, however. He was expected to keep the letter meant to accompany these orders under close guard as he retired to Dover to await further orders, most likely to board ship for parts unknown. How could he leave Mira now, with so much unsaid between them? Besides, he could hardly protect Mira from George if he left London. It would prove difficult to protect the Queen from George if he left Dover as well, but his orders were clear, and Harry was already nearly twenty-four hours behind in their execution.

  He put the paper outlining his orders in the flames of the fireplace and removed all signs of the spree of drunken depravity he forced upon George, whom Harry settled more comfortably upon the sofa before he quit the room. His thoughts were dark and full of despair until he recalled Cedars, his country house along the Marine Parade in Dover, the one that came with the title, Viscount Haversham. It wasn’t of his own comfort he thought; Cedars was large and sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the perfect setting for a house party. He would invite the Crenshaws, including the shifty Duke, and keep everyone as close as possible until his next orders arrived.

  However, this plan presented a bit of a poser when it came to Harry’s mother. He had no hope at all whatsoever that she would feel disinclined to attend such an event. What new horrors awaited his guests under the roof at Cedars with Lady Avery in attendance? And what of Mira? Would she ever agree to be his viscountess if he couldn’t find his mother a more suitable means through which to acquire the constant attention she craved?

  He caught a strain of music from the drawing room and remembered how hopeful he had felt about this ball, one which should have included making amends to Mira. Instead, he had danced with another girl and stood by and watched as Mira tended to his mother. How kind Mira had been! How erratic he must seem in her eyes! The retrieval of his orders was paramount, and the reason for his impromptu party in the first place, however, Harry couldn’t help but feel that he had left his true work for last and went in search of the one who meant most to him in the world.

  When he returned to the drawing room, he expected to find Mira, an excellent dancer, making the most of a contradanse. Instead, he spotted her seated in a corner across the room in conversation with his mother. He had always known Mira to be as beautiful as she was intelligent, however, at this moment the beauty of her benevolence outshone even the sapphire of her eyes. As he witnessed her tender ministrations to his mother, he was gripped with a sudden, intense, and all-encompassing sensation; he must make Mira Crenshaw his own. She was much more than he had ever supposed, and he wasn’t worthy to so much as buckle her shoe; nevertheless, he vowed then and there that he would not rest until this kind-hearted, generous-spirited girl was plaited, inexorably, to his side.

  So deep in conversation were Mira and his mother that they appeared startled when he presented himself and executed a deep bow. “Mother, should I be a boor if I were to claim Miss Crenshaw’s hand for the next dance?” he asked with what he feared was a besotted grin, one impossible to suppress.

  “Of course, Herbert,” his mother replied, “but I do not like being deprived of her company for so long,” she added with a moue.

  “Then I trust you comprehend my current state of devastation,” he replied. His look of intense longing was for Mira alone, who blushed and looked hastily away.

  Lady Avery, whom Harry had rarely seen so happy and relaxed, rapped him on the arm with her fan and uttered a tsk. “You really should be less neglectful!” she insisted, but whether her admonition was for her own sake or Mira’s, he could not guess.

  “I cannot deny the truth of that,” he said and drew up a chair to join them until the next dance, which, by his calculations, should be another waltz. “I find I am in need of a rest,” he mused.

  “And to think, you have danced but the once!” Mira quipped.

  “If it please you, I intend to dance the rest of the evening,” he said as clearly as he dared, for he knew not whether she would refuse all other partners and he would not dance at all if it could not be with her. “But it is not to dancing that I refer. My years of travel have made me long for a respite at the seashore.”

  Mira gave him an arch look. “I would not have thought rusticating in Italy and France so tedious a prospect.”

  Harry knew he deserved her censure but pressed on. “My months abroad were surprisingly eventful, though not in the way you might suppose,” he hastened to add upon noting her frown. “I occupied myself greatly in the learning of languages, as well as the development of skills I had not the time to acquire as a schoolboy.”

  “Well, I should love a respite at the seashore above all things!” Lady Avery remarked with her usual enthusiasm. “Though I am persuaded it depends upon whom our hostess shall be.”

  “I thought to invite a great number of guests to Cedars and make it a regular house party; you might be my hostess, Mother, if you are up to it.”

  “Me? Your hostess?” she asked with a flurry of tiny claps. “In that, case, I know I shall have a lovely time! I am such an excellent hostess,” she remarked in an aside to Mira, “and am sure to treat myself with the deference owed my station.”

  Harry noted the flash of surprise that crossed Mira’s face and hastened to explain. “Cedars is my country house in Dover. Mother would doubtless enjoy more rest were she to remain in London, nevertheless, I was persuaded once she learned of my plans she would insist on being in attendance. Now, Mother, I promise not to expect of you more than you are able. Perhaps Miss Crenshaw shall take pity on you and be an arm to lean on in a pinch,” he proposed, fully aware of the risk he took.

  “I should be delighted to assist Lady Avery in any way possible,” Mira replied but Harry detected the hesitance in her voice. It was then that the contradanse came to an end, and the babble that always arose on such an occasion filled the air.

  “We shall discuss it further while we dance,” Harry said. He stood and offered his hand to Mira who took it and rose to her feet.

  “I shall return presently,” Mira promised Lady Avery with a smile before she gave Harry leave to lead her to the center of the room where they waited for the music to begin, their glances coming together to cling for a moment before they skittered away.

  Harry was painfully aware of Mira’s agitation and prayed he hadn’t overstepped his bounds. He waited until the music started so as to speak to her in relative privacy, but as they began to move to the music, he found himself caught up in the sensation of her hand in his own, so small and delicate, the other feather-light on his shoulder. The feel of his hand clasped round her tiny waist made him feel large and oafish in comparison, and he was afraid he would tread on her toes with his suddenly enormous feet. He reminded himself that he had danced all over Europe, indeed, had waltzed with a young lady only an hour since, and she had nothing of which to complain. With a mental shake, he took himself in hand and offered his apologies.

  “I pray I have not distressed you with my talk of a house party,” he started. “I realize it was a great assumption on my part to include you in my plans but I see how good you are with my mother and I must admit, I am rather desperate.”

  “Desperate? To throw a party?” Mira asked, clearly puzzled.

>   “No,” Harry said with a chuckle. “You are correct, a house party is not a desperate matter. However, I am wishful of removing from London to Dover for a time. It would be a pity to deprive myself of society in the middle of the Season, so why not bring society along?”

  “And your mother? Do not say that after four years abroad you cannot bear to be parted from her now,” Mira said with a pointed look.

  “Then I shall not,” he replied, matching her look with his own. “In truth, after four years abroad, a man does not return home on account of his mother.” He thought he saw a light flare in her eyes and took heart. “It is perhaps presumptuous of me to assume you on hand for such an event. This is your debutante Season after all, and there is the Duke of Marcross to consider.” He drew a deep breath and searched her eyes for what seemed an eternity, but she did not reply. When a surge of pain assailed his lungs, he realized he had ceased to breathe and released the stale air in a long sigh. “Say you will come, Mira,” he begged with a squeeze to her hand. He would not, could not, leave her. Not again. Nevertheless, he filled his memory with every detail of her face in the case they were parted after all.

  Mira seemed not to notice his scrutiny. It was as if she were in a world of her own, and he was a bit taken aback when she spoke.

  “Are you quite sure you must go?” she asked very matter-of-factly, as if she understood much more than he had supposed.

  He felt relief wash through his veins. “Your gift for perception fills me with admiration. Indeed, I have no choice in the matter,” he admitted. “I have so longed for the association of your brothers and esteemed parents. Do you think they would follow you to Dover should I invite them?”

  “You are obliged to ask! You must see that I can hardly make a journey to Dover on my own. And George will not hear of it if he is not to be one of the party as well.”

  Harry nodded and allowed his thoughts to be swallowed up in the music for a turn or two about the room before he returned to the subject of George. The concern he felt at the thought of Mira’s marriage to the Duke amounted almost to panic; he would not have her endure the trials of marriage to a traitor. If he were honest, that was as selfless as he was likely to become on the matter. The thought of being parted from her produced a pain so fierce it brought him out in a sweat and made him weak in the knees. He hadn’t any notion of how much time in England remained to him but he must make every moment count.

  “Mira,” he prompted and waited until she turned to face him and he could meet her eyes with his own. “Do you wish to marry the Duke?”

  “I only wish to make my parents happy,” she said with such clarity and swiftness that Harry could not doubt it to be her primary motivation.

  “Does your happiness mean nothing to them?”

  “Yes, of course it does! Only, they feel they are more suitable judges as to what shall constitute such happiness than am I.”

  “And they believe your cousin will make you happier than … than another?” Harry asked, hesitant to reveal the state of his heart before he was more familiar with hers.

  “Perhaps, though they have not always.” She looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze.

  “I had not thought them to be so changeable,” Harry accused.

  “Nor they you,” she shot back, then, with a deep sigh, appeared to relent. “Oh, Harry! I know it is not your wish to hurt me and I will always stand your friend … no matter what else might happen,” she added, her voice choking a little. “For I will not go against my parents.”

  Harry verged on asking if she did not love him more than that but swallowed the words. It was a question to which she very well might not yet know the answer. “Have I lost all hope, then, of their regard?” he asked instead.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head. She paused and gave him a keen look from eyes so blue, he found it difficult to think of aught else. “Keep your secrets if you must, Harry. I shall stand by you until you are free to tell me all. However, until my parents understand why you stayed away so long with no word and why you behaved such a fribble upon your return, they will not look on you with favor. And now you must dash off when the Season has barely begun! What are they to think?”

  “You are quite right,” he said with a slow nod. “I can see that my actions have sunk me below reproach. But, why George?” he demanded, barely able to conceal his frustration. “It is clear to me you are unable to tolerate the man. Have you reflected on how marriage to him will rob you of your happiness? Are they so bent on garnering you the highest title possible?”

  “Harry! You know my parents care little for such things! Perhaps you are not aware of how they once despised each other. As such, I believe they do not necessarily see our mutual dislike as an impediment to the development of an attachment at some point in the future.”

  These were surprising words indeed, however, Harry refused to give up. “Your father and mother are renowned for their obvious affection for one another, this is true, and you must know that I hold your parents in higher esteem than my own parents or any others’,” Harry said with a wealth of frustration that resulted in a jerk of his hand at her waist. It brought Mira a shade closer in proximity than the steps of the dance warranted, but he was past caring what others thought — save her parents. “But their case is not yours. You say they despised each other, yes? And you might very well despise the Duke. But what George feels for you isn’t anything as warm as that. He neither despises you nor loves you; you are merely a means to an end, someone on whom he wastes little thought except how, in spite of no official declaration, you belong to him — exactly as does his race horse. There is no hope that his utter lack of feeling could one day turn to love of any kind.”

  He would have gone on but he noted how her face had drained of color and thought better of it. He was at a loss as to what could have caused such distress until he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see the Duke of Marcross, his face dark as thunder.

  “I must insist you allow me the remainder of this dance!”

  “Your Grace, you are drunk,” Harry said and turned away, but George would have none of it.

  “Perhaps,” he said exactly as if he weren’t speaking into the back of Harry’s head. “But I can still stand and I’ll be damned if you dance one more step with my intended bride.”

  Harry whirled to once again face the Duke and put out an arm to prevent Mira from participating in their exchange. “Then to hell you must go. Who are you to decide with whom Miss Crenshaw dances? The papers have been decidedly bereft of any mention of her betrothal to you or any other.”

  “Harry,” Mira hissed in his ear. “There must not be another scene tonight, not on my account. I could not bear it.” He paid her words no heed, however, until he felt the touch of her gloved hand against his palm as she entwined her fingers in his. “Invite us, and I will see to it that we come,” she whispered, then let go, and made her way to the side of her cousin. “George, it is good of you to join us. I thought perhaps you had already departed.” And with that she put her hand in his and waltzed away.

  Harry could not abide the thought of standing by whilst Mira danced all night with the Duke of Marcross. However, he could hardly quit his own event. As such, he must remain and see to the comfort of his guests. But he did not dance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mira waltzed with George even as her thoughts were with Harry. She watched as he went to speak with his mother, who pouted and stamped her foot in response to whatever it was he had to say. It was distressing to see how much persuasion was required in order for Harry to help her regain control of her temper.

  “Surely, you cannot be so obsessed with him,” George sneered.

  Mira turned her attention to her cousin with a start. “I can’t think what you mean,” she said with a careless shrug.

  “It’s not what I mean,” George drawled. “It’s what he means to do,” he said with a jerk of his chin in Harry’s direction.

  Mira
turned to look and observed Harry, now by the fireplace in conversation with a group of gentlemen.

  “Why? Is he up to something untoward?” she replied, though her attention remained with Harry long enough to see him turn away from his guests to meet her gaze as the waltz brought her nearly close enough for the hem of her gown to sweep across his feet.

  “He means to thwart me at every turn,” George huffed and aimed a glare straight down his pointed nose at Mira.

  “You needn’t look as if you intend to eat me! And if you refer to Lord Haversham, I fear I remain at an utter loss.”

  George had the grace to look discomfited. “It is not fitting that I should condemn a man before he has made his actions known to the world.”

  “If by that statement you refer to his intention to woo me out from under you,” Mira said with a smile of pure sweetness, “I suppose you may be correct.”

  George pressed his lips together and said nothing. Grateful for the respite, Mira found her attention once again wander to Harry. She thought it odd that there were female guests who were without a partner, including Lucy Sutherland, and yet Harry did not dance. Once again, as she sailed past him, his green and steady gaze lifted from his study of the carpet to look into her eyes.

  “I wonder that your father has allowed you any association with Haversham at all whatsoever,” George said in low tones. “Lord Avery is a buffoon, Lady Avery displays her lack of breeding at every opportunity, and the Viscount, himself, is nothing but a charlatan.”

  “Why?” Mira asked, alarmed. “Do you consider his odd behavior as of late to be a pretense?”

  “Odd indeed!” George insisted. “He swings back and forth between acting the fool and behaving as if he is superior to everyone he encounters.”

  “Surely, you can’t mean to say he believes you his inferior,” Mira said with an arch smile.