Part 2 (1/2)
The current Lord Northrup's look of confusion faded. ”Ah,” he said with a little smile, and then sat a bit straighter. ”My father was Lord Alasdair Rossberry. It is a bit of a muddle, I grant you, but he and my grandfather both pa.s.sed”-a strange look flashed in his eyes before he continued-”around the same time. Thus I inherited two t.i.tles.”
The tips of his ears reddened as he grimaced. ”I beg your pardon for not making a proper introduction. Ian Alasdair Ranulf, previously known as Viscount Mckinnon, at your service... h.e.l.l, I haven't even asked your name.” One side of his mouth kicked up. ”I'm usually much better at this sort of thing, only I confess-”
”I distracted you,” she finished wryly, but her heart had started to pound. Mckinnon, the name was familiar. Why? Alarm bells clanged within her tender skull.
”You're very good it,” he admitted in a low voice.
”Only when I'm trying.” Daisy licked her dry lips and inclined her head. ”Daisy Ellis Craigmore.”
Whatever she expected of him, it wasn't the sudden shock in his eyes or the way he straightened and stepped away from her. ”You are Miranda's sister.”
Apparently shock was catching. All the warmth within her left as though she were caught in a draft, and then she knew. ”You!”
Northrup's slanting brows furrowed, but his tone was light when he spoke. ”Me? Whatever do you mean?”
Daisy's elbow slipped a bit as she scrambled to sit up straight. ”You're the beastly man who tried to poison Miranda's mind against Archer.” Miranda had told Daisy all about it months ago, how Mckinnon had tried his best to convince Miranda to carry on an affair with him. And now Daisy was sitting in the parlor with the vile man.
He scowled. Whether it was toward the veracity of her statement or the fact that he'd been caught out, Daisy couldn't be sure. The only certainty was the feral gleam in Northrup's eyes and the way it made Daisy feel unaccountably nervous. However, having lived with much worse, intimidation did not easily cow her. She returned his look pound for pound, and his irritation seemed to grow.
” *Beastly' is it?” he all but growled. ”I'll kindly ask you to remember who took you in and saw you set to rights.”
A qualm of guilt lit through her, and he must have seen it for he stepped closer to loom over her in righteous indignation. ”And I don't recall you thinking me so beastly a moment ago.”
No, she'd rather liked him, d.a.m.n the man. It made her cheeks burn to realize he had noticed this as well. In the heavy silence, she heard the clatter of a carriage pulling up beyond the front windows. A coach door opened and shut. Northrup's nostrils flared as if catching a scent, and a strange look pa.s.sed over his features. ”Well, won't this be cozy?” he said, as he straightened his coat. ”I believe the lady in question has come to call.”
Chapter Three.
She was here. Miranda. He hadn't seen her in months. And then it had been only a glimpse at some ball. He had wanted to speak to Miranda one more time. To apologize. Not for warning her about Archer-the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had no right to marry a woman without telling her the truth of what he was-but for putting the wariness in her eyes whenever she looked his way. Despite what others thought, Ian did not hold with frightening women. He had played out his dance with Miranda poorly.
He heard Miranda's voice in the hall, sharp with worry as she asked his butler Diggs where to find Daisy. How she knew to come here Ian did not know, but her presence plucked at the nerves on the back of his neck. Ian closed his eyes for a moment and pictured Miranda, golden-red hair, her long, willowy form, and alabaster skin.
At one time, he'd fancied himself in love with her. And now? Seeing her was the last thing he wanted. He was thoroughly tired of redheaded women.
Beside him, her sister gathered herself together. She looked nothing like Miranda. Curling hair of morning sunlight mixed with polished gold. Enormous doe eyes, not the color of celadon but of summer skies. Daisy. A preposterous name. Frivolous. And yet he could not think of her as Mrs. Craigmore. The name did not fit.
Ian's gaze slid lower. The unfortunate dressing gown she wore, a sad little orphan of some long-ago mistress's wardrobe, did not fit but most certainly highlighted her undulating curves and that plump a.r.s.e that practically begged a man to take hold of it. She surely was built for frivolity.
Ian resolutely tore his eyes from her lush form as the door opened and Miranda appeared, so beautiful it made a man's chest hurt to look upon her. She spared him but a glance before rus.h.i.+ng to her sister's side.
”Daisy!”
”Panda. Oh, G.o.d.” Daisy pulled her close and shuddered so hard that Ian feared the woman might faint.
Miranda hugged her sister tight. ”I was so worried. When you sent word that you'd been hurt...” She said nothing further but held on as if she might never let go.
They stayed like that, their bright heads close, glowing like sunrise and sunset, their slim arms locked in an embrace. Too pretty a picture for him. d.a.m.n, but he did not want this woman to be Miranda's sister.
”Where is Archer?” Ian asked. The man usually hung about her skirts like an overgrown shadow.
Miranda lifted her head. Her words came out halting and reserved. ”Home. Given the way you two are apt to get at each other's throats, I thought it best that I come alone.”
He couldn't help but laugh a little. ”I am surprised he let you go.”
She gave him an admonis.h.i.+ng look that was much like the one her sister had given him earlier. ”It is you whom Archer does not trust, not me.”
Touche. He inclined his head in deference.
Miranda turned back to Daisy. ”Are you harmed?”
Daisy shook her head, which made the wild tumble of her curls tremble. ”I am well. Only frightened.”
A pair of green eyes turned to Ian, and he found himself bristling. ”Because I get such joy in frightening innocent women.”
Miranda blanched. ”Of course not. I am simply curious as to how my sister came to be in your care.”
”Then let us sit,” he said.
The sisters immediately curled up together on the settee, Miranda clasping Daisy's hand in a show of comfort. Oddly, this made Ian want to smile. The temptation faded when Miranda pinned him with her green gaze. ”Well then, how did you come across my sister?”
He hesitated. h.e.l.l, it was one thing to coax a story out of a frightened young lady. It was another to give up his secrets. Archer knew them. At least some. What was not clear was how much Archer had told Miranda. Right now, she was looking at him with a mixture of weariness and impatience. As to Daisy, he rather thought that if he revealed himself at this moment, she'd up and flee the room. He would not resent her one bit if she did.
Ian ran a hand through his hair. ”I was in the area. I heard a scream and caught the scent of blood and ran to help. I found Mrs. Craigmore-”
”Daisy,” interrupted the very woman. She glanced around, taking in their shocked looks. ”Don't go reading anything into it. Given the choice between having to hear that name in reference to me and shocking society, I'll take the latter every time, thank you.”
Ian admired her nerve. ”For the sake of fairness, you must call me Ian.”
Miranda's eyes narrowed a fraction. Good. He ignored her, or did his best to appear that he was. ”At any rate, I found Daisy, saw that she was overcome, and took her to safety. End of the story.”
It was clear that Miranda didn't believe that was all to the story, but she held her tongue, and Ian took advantage of the moment to turn to Daisy. ”I am more interested in knowing what you saw, Daisy.”
Daisy took a deep breath and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s strained against the tight confines of the hideous green dressing gown. Ian found he couldn't stand the sight of the gown. It shamed him that she should wear a wh.o.r.e's clothes.
”I fear you will not believe me,” she whispered.
”Be a.s.sured, madam,” Ian said, ”I will.”
Her bright blue eyes surveyed him as if checking for any sign of insincerity. ”You seem so certain”-a bitter laugh escaped her-”when I wouldn't believe myself.”
Ian leaned against the settee back. ”What you saw appeared as something out of a fantasy, yes?”
”More likely a nightmare,” Daisy said with a burst of breath. But she would not continue. Her golden brows drew together as she glared down at her tight fists.
Ian looked at Miranda. Initially, he had wished she hadn't come. But now he wondered if her presence might help. ”I do wonder,” he said to Miranda, ”how close a family you are.”
Fortunately, she read the question lurking there. Miranda touched Daisy's hand. ”Daisy, Lord Northrup knows about me.”