Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves
Chapter Sixteen
“I’ve heard you intend to throw a dinner party. Is this true?”
Miranda stiffened at the shrill sound of her mother-in-law’s voice. Well, perhaps it wasn’t so shrill to anyone else who heard her. It very well could have been that Miranda had just grown an aversion for the Dowager’s intrusive tones.
Releasing an exasperated sigh, Miranda turned around to face the woman. She had been enjoying a quiet walk through the garden, taking in the fresh air to clear her head which continued to be rather jumbled after her conversation the day before with Benedict. The very last thing she wanted in that moment was a confrontation with her mother-in-law, but she supposed she had little choice in the matter at that point.
“It is true, Lady Morgan,” she replied, keeping her tone clipped and cool. “I thought it a good opportunity to hone my hostess skills. I wouldn’t want to do anything that might embarrass His Grace.”
The Dowager gave her a withering look. “Who gave you permission to play hostess in my home?” she spat.
Miranda frowned, taken aback by her vehemence. “Lady Morgan…this is my home now too,” she slowly said. “As such, I’m more than able to plan whatever events I so choose.”
“This is not your home,” the Dowager hissed. “You are an intruder here…nothing more!”
Miranda blinked. What in the world is she going on about?
“It’s unfortunate that you believe such a thing,” she slowly said. “However, I can assure you, I’m no intruder. Just yesterday the Duke assured me that he wanted me to feel comfortable here and to consider this my own home now.”
At that, the Dowager appeared livid. “He did not!”
Miranda nodded. “He most certainly did.”
Taking a threatening step toward her, the Dowager snapped, “Do not lie to me, you little snake. This is my home, and I am not about to surrender it to a lousy little upstart who doesn’t know her place–”
“Goodness, it seems rather early in the day for such biting speech. You would do well to calm yourself, Mother. I’d hate for you to fall into a faint.”
Miranda and the Dowager both froze and turned to find Benedict standing on the graveled path, watching them with narrowed eyes. He looked far from pleased. The Dowager didn’t seem fazed by her son’s appearance, though. Spinning to face him fully, she marched up to him until they were toe-to-toe.
“Are you trying to take my home from me?” she demanded to know. “I am the Lady of this Manor, and it is my duty–”
“I’m sorry, Mother, but Miranda is the Duchess,” Benedict calmly told her. “I know this is not the easiest situation…for any of us, in truth…but it’s the way things are now. Please try and be patient. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy transition for Grandmother when you became Duchess.”
“I was worthy of the title,” the Dowager bemoaned. “I didn’t trick your father into marriage. I–”
Benedict laid his hands on her shoulders. “That’s enough, Mother. Why don’t you go inside and rest? You are distressed and not thinking clearly. You are going to say something you’ll come to regret.”
Miranda doubted that, but shockingly, his words seemed to actually calm her somewhat. The Dowager lifted her chin before she slowly nodded. “You are right, Son, I am distressed. It likely would be best if I go and lie down for a spell.”
Her change in demeanor surprised Miranda, but then she quickly realized that the woman was garnering her son’s sympathy when he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight.
“I will come and check on you later,” he promised her once they’d separated again. He gave her a gentle smile. “All will be well, I promise.”
When the Dowager actually sniffled, Miranda just managed not to roll her eyes. The woman cupped Benedict’s cheek.
“You are such a good, loyal son,” she murmured. Then, with a sigh, she lowered her arm and turned toward the Manor, which unfortunately meant she had to pass by Miranda. The Dowager shot her a smug look as she walked past.
Waiting until the Dowager was well out of earshot, Miranda locked her eyes with Benedict’s and said, “I’m sorry, but your mother hates me.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” he replied with a sigh. “She’s just having a difficult time with the situation.”
Miranda frowned at him as frustration flared within her. She pushed her ire down, however, knowing there was likely little point in trying to correct him about his mother’s true concerns. It doesn’t matter. He won’t believe me anyway.
In that moment, though, they both seemed to realize that they were alone together again. Benedict glanced away from her, and Miranda felt her cheeks heat as she fumbled for something to say to him.
“Thank you,” she blurted. He glanced toward her with a raised brow.
“For?” he prompted when she didn’t continue right away.
Swallowing, she continued, “For defending me to your mother, regardless of what she may really think. I do appreciate it.”
“Oh, well…you’re welcome,” he replied. “She really shouldn’t have been speaking to you like that. I am sorry for it.”
Miranda shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s really all right. I shouldn’t be surprised.”
His brow furrowed. “No, really, no one should speak to you that way. I’ll make sure she understands that none of this is your fault.”
His willingness to stand up for her made her heart beat just a little harder. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. I doubt it will do any good.”
He looked as though he wanted to say something more, perhaps argue the point further, but he pressed his lips together and held back whatever words were bubbling under the surface. They gazed at each other again, and Miranda felt as though they were standing on the precipice of something, but neither of them were willing to take that final step forward into whatever it was that awaited them. Miranda was curious as to what might happen if she crossed the distance between them and touched him. Kissed him, even.
Would he push her away? Return the kiss? Run from her again? The possibilities were terrifying, which was why she stayed exactly where she was, her feet rooted to the ground.
“Well, I should continue on,” Benedict said at length. “I’m sorry your day was so unpleasantly interrupted.”
“Oh, there’s no need to apologize.” Her mind scrambled to think of something to say that wasn’t so stiff. “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you.”
He frowned. “You are?”
She nodded. “Yes…um…I’ve discovered this rather fascinating book in the library about the Sutcliffe lineage, and wondered if you had read it?”
Benedict’s eyes lit up with sudden interest. “Yes, I have. It’s been sometime, but when I was a boy, my father insisted that it be included among my schoolbooks. He wanted me to know the Sutcliffe bloodline inside and out. Said it was the duty of the future Duke.”
Miranda couldn’t help the small grin that tilted her lips up. “Really? And did you learn your bloodline inside and out? Did you fulfill your duty as the future Duke?”
He chuckled. “Hardly. You’ve seen that book. It’s monstrous. I learned enough to appease my father and promptly forgot everything I’d managed to cram into my head once I’d earned his approval.”
Miranda tilted her head, gazing up at him in amusement. “I never knew that. You never told me any of that.”
He scratched at the back of his head, looking a bit more somber. “Yes, well…I probably didn’t think it was all that important at the time.”
Miranda realized too late that provoking memories of their childhood together probably wasn’t a good idea. They had been so close then. Inseparable, really. Best friends as children, and as they grew, they had become much more than that. However, that was the past. They weren’t that close anymore. They weren’t even friends. He’d broken her heart and run away, ruining everything they’d had between the two of them.
Swallowing, she dropped her gaze from him, her good humor dimming at the memory of everything they’d lost. Everything that could have been between them. If he hadn’t left, would they have wound up in this situation, be happy and in love? Truly husband and wife?
She shook her head, banishing the very idea. It didn’t matter what could’ve been. This was the hand they’d been dealt, for better or for worse. They had better try and make the best of it.
“Well, I should be off,” she said in a forcefully cheery voice. “Much to do to prepare for the dinner. I don’t want my first foray as hostess to have any openings for criticism.”
He nodded and offered her a sympathetic smile. “Yes, I understand. I’m sure it will be a very fine time.”
“Thank you. I certainly hope so.”
With that, she turned and hurried back to the Manor without a backward glance. She couldn’t help but wonder, however, if he was watching her walk away from him and regretting when he’d done the same to her.
