A Kiss from the Heart Read online

  “What an awful woman!” said Miss Jenkins, after the door closed. “And what a huge cheek to say that my handwriting is illegible!”

  “She thought it was mine, which is why she made the comment,” added Miranda in a bitter tone.

  The gong for luncheon soon sounded and Miranda checked the clock on the mantelpiece.

  “He is late,” she murmured.

  “Do you mean his Lordship?” asked Miss Jenkins. “I expect the three of them are busy with men’s talk!”

  “And they will have forgotten the time!”

  Just then Stringer came in with a tray followed by a footman with another one.

  “Luncheon, ladies! Miss Whitby, I apologise – ”

  “Sshh,” Miranda hushed him, aware that the earlier snub could only have come from the Countess. “Let us not make a fuss about it. In any case, Miss Jenkins and I have much to catch up on!”

  With that she lifted the lid off the first plate and found a delicious-looking chicken salad with cold new potatoes in mayonnaise. Underneath the second, was a beautifully glazed strawberry tart.

  “You must thank cook for looking after us so well!” Miranda enthused warmly.

  Although they had been made to eat in a separate room like servants, she had noticed the bill of fare was not what the servants would have eaten for their luncheon.

  Scarcely ten minutes later there was a commotion in the hall followed by the sounds of Alec being wheeled into the dining room.

  ‘He’s back!’ she thought to herself, thrilled.

  “Thank you so much!” she heard Alec saying. “I am so glad you have returned home. It was all becoming too much for me – and thank you as well for sorting out that business with the old gamekeeper. I did not think to go to Sir George and ask for his help.”

  “Then it is just as well I returned home!” came the Earl’s deep voice. “Now after luncheon I want you to meet my two new assistants. But, for now, Mama will be most displeased if we keep her waiting!”

  Miranda returned to her plate of chicken salad and smiled to herself.

  ‘He is, indeed, a changed man,’ she pondered. ‘I am ashamed I thought such bad things about him.’

  *

  Lord Brookfield was once more on the move.

  After bathing he left his suite at the hotel. His hired carriage was ready and waiting for him and he handed the driver his instructions on how to reach their destination.

  “Do you think you can locate it?” he barked, squinting at the man against the bright midday sun.

  “Course I can, my Lord,” came the crude response. “I can find me way in a blizzard to the North Pole!”

  “Just getting me to The Grange will be enough,” smirked Lord Brookfield, climbing up the carriage steps. “The concierge said it is quite easy to find as long as you keep Ledbury Hall to your right.”

  “Yah!” cried the driver, cracking the reins over the back of the rested horses.

  An hour or so later, the carriage trundled along the narrow road that led to The Grange.

  As the concierge had directed, the distant silhouette of Ledbury Hall with its castellated tower was to their right across the fields.

  Lord Brookfield stuck his head out of the carriage window to obtain a better view and glimpsed the low squat profile of The Grange in the distance.

  ‘It is not quite as grand as I would have thought,’ he mumbled, settling back in the interior. ‘Sir George is a man of means and I am surprised that he does not show it to the world in a more obvious manner.’

  At last they reached the drive.

  “Shall I take the ’orses up to the ’ouse, my Lord?”

  “No,” he replied with a sly smile. “You stay here with the carriage and I will approach on foot.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  Without waiting for him to jump down and open the door, Lord Brookfield leapt out and was soon striding up the short drive to the house.

  ‘It is a lot larger than I first thought,’ he muttered. ‘It may not be so easy to find her.’

  He looked at the horse’s trough outside the entrance and smiled.

  ‘This was once a farm!’ he sneered to himself.

  All seemed very quiet and he was pleased with that state of affairs.

  If Sir George was at home, he would be having luncheon and the servants would all be busy.

  ‘This is excellent! I know how fond Miranda is of gardens, so if I secrete myself somewhere in their garden, I can wait for her and then surprise her!’

  He let out a low cackle that sounded utterly evil.

  Of course he had no intention of giving Miranda any choice.

  He felt in his pocket for the chloroform and pad that he had bought in London.

  Yes, it was still all there.

  The garden was deserted with no signs of life.

  ‘I should make myself familiar with the layout of the house, just in case she is not at home today. That way should I need to return, I can find my way around more swiftly.’

  His boots crunched on the gravel path and he tried to walk quietly, eager not to alert anyone to his presence. He passed the open kitchen door and, sure enough, he could hear the clanging of pots and pans.

  Service for luncheon was underway.

  Next to the kitchen was a room with large picture windows. He crept along the path and was about to look through them, when a voice behind him made him start.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  He whirled round to face Mervin.

  “Oh, my man. I knocked on the front door and received no answer, so I thought I’d try the back.”

  Mervin eyed him suspiciously.

  There was nothing wrong with the front door bell and he wondered who this might be, creeping around to the rear of the house while luncheon was being served. It was all too odd for his liking.

  Lord Brookfield pulled out a card from his pocket.

  “I am a friend of Miss Whitby. Is she at home? I have come such a long way to visit her.”

  As soon as Mervin read the name on the card, he knew at once who was standing before him. The very man that his Master had warned him never to allow past the front door!

  “I am sorry, my Lord, but Miss Whitby is not at home. However, should you wish to see Sir George, I am certain he will receive you once he has finished his meal.”

  “No thanks, that will not be necessary,” he replied, backtracking at once.

  “Perhaps if you would be good enough as to tell me where I might find her, I will be on way. Do not disturb Sir George on my account.”

  “I am afraid I am not at liberty to divulge where Miss Whitby might be at present,” replied Mervin sternly.

  ‘Damned fool of a man!’ fumed Lord Brookfield to himself whilst moving towards the front of the house.

  “I will return another time,” he snapped.

  Mervin watched him as he disappeared around the side of the house and then he ducked inside.

  Within seconds he was by the window looking out.

  He could just about see there was a carriage at the end of the lane and that Lord Brookfield was now making his way towards it.

  ‘I shall report this to Sir George at once!’ muttered Mervin, wishing he could crumple the card in his hand and the man now retreating down the lane along with it.

  *

  A few hours later at Ledbury Hall, Lady Waterton was returning from her drive, not with the Earl as she had hoped, but with Alec.

  The Earl had declared himself unable to accompany her that afternoon and Alec was only too pleased to leave the confines of the house for open countryside and a trip around Malvern.

  “It is such a pretty town,” she gushed, as they were helped down from the carriage. “I had not realised that this is where the famous mineral water comes from!”

  “It is world-renowned,” responded Alec enthusiastically, as he was helped into his wheelchair. “We were fortunate that it was not too busy at the spa so you were able to sample the waters
.”

  “Yes,” she replied, somewhat distracted. All she was thinking of was Alec’s elder brother. “I think I will just visit the study.”

  She did not even take off her hat as she swept along the hall towards the study door.

  Without knocking she opened it and entered.

  “Lady Waterton!”

  The Earl was bent over his plans with the owner of a firm of builders and Miranda was busily taking notes.

  Realising she had just crashed into a meeting, Lady Waterton blushed and began to back out of the room.

  “Oh, I am sorry. I thought I might find you alone,” she confessed, crimson in the face.

  “As you can see, I am occupied,” said the Earl in a cool voice.

  “Shall I see you at dinner?”

  “I expect you will.”

  He then returned to his plans and his conversation with his visitor.

  ‘She really doesn’t take the hint!’ thought Miranda, as she later saw the builder to the door. ‘Can she not see that Robert is quite clearly not interested in her?’

  But still there was a part of her that was distressed by Lady Waterton’s attentions and in a strange way she felt threatened by the older woman’s obvious attractions.

  *

  The bar at the Spa Hotel in Malvern was very busy. With so many tourists in town to take the waters and enjoy the wonderful scenery, there had been a sudden influx of guests that day.

  Lord Brookfield had been much looking forward to finding a quiet spot and was quite upset when he arrived in the bar to find that most of the tables were already full.

  He ordered a glass of whisky and then searched for somewhere to sit. Over by the window he noticed a space at a roomy table where two men were conversing.

  As he approached, he saw that of the two men, one looked rather distinguished, while the other had the air of an artisan about him.

  “Would you mind if I joined you, gentlemen? It is quite impossible to find a single table this evening.”

  Lord Brookfield smiled at the two men and, sensing that he was a gentleman of substance, the artisan waved him over.

  “Please, there is plenty of room here, sir.”

  The two men returned to their conversation in low voices.

  Lord Brookfield felt in his pocket for his cigarette case and matches.

  “As I was saying, fortune is smiling down on me today!” resumed the artisan to his companion. “Only this morning, I thought I was in dire straits and next the new Earl at the Hall summons me and offers me more work than I can handle!”

  “Tell me more! I am so curious as to what the Lord has planned,” said the other man. “There were rumours that he had deserted the place, but from what you say, that is not so?”

  “Aye, he has great plans for his estates. He wants to build a dairy, no less!”

  “That does not sound much.”

  “Then there will be new workmen’s cottages to be built and improvements to the Hall. I’d say all the work he has planned will be going on for many years yet!” He rubbed his hands together with glee. “And it was all thanks to that daughter of Sir George Whitby!”

  “How so?” asked the other man, draining his pint. “We did some irrigation work for them Whitby’s a year or so ago and, now that she is working alongside the new young Earl, she recommended us.”

  “Then we must drink to the young lady!” his friend suggested, getting up to buy more drinks.

  As he ambled to the bar, Lord Brookfield smiled triumphantly and tried to appear as if he had not been listening to their conversation.

  ‘So, that is where she is!’ he gloated to himself. ‘Tomorrow I shall pay a call on this Earl and find her!’

  *

  Back at the Hall, Miranda tidied up her desk before leaving for the day unaware of how much danger she was in.

  Miss Jenkins had left a few moments earlier to call upon her sick mother and it was now just Miranda and the Earl in the study.

  “There is no need to linger,” suggested the Earl, secretly pleased that she had. “There is nothing that will not wait until tomorrow.”

  Miranda looked up at him thoughtfully.

  “You know, Robert, I do feel I must apologise for misjudging you so. When I first returned home and heard the news of your Papa and saw that you were not here, I-I thought unkind things of you.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “They were not unkind things, Miranda, they were simply correct observations. I was happy to leave Alec to the task of taking care of the Hall. I was – somewhat ill-prepared for the task of Earldom, I will admit to that.”

  Miranda looked up at him with her soft grey eyes and his heart melted.

  He wanted to tell her right then and there that she had captured his heart, but the words would not come.

  ‘The time is not yet right,’ he told himself.

  It was as if Miranda sensed he was experiencing some great emotion, she hurriedly looked away and picked up her straw hat quickly.

  “I must go. Papa will be impatient to dine.”

  “Does he still prefer to eat at seven o’clock when everyone else dines at eight?” asked the Earl with a hint of affectionate mockery in his voice.

  “We shall not change Papa now!”

  He walked to the front door with her and watched as she strode across the grass and up the drive. She waved as she reached the bend before disappearing out of sight.

  “I am glad she has gone,” came his mother’s voice from behind him. “There is something I would now wish to discuss with you, Robert.”

  He turned around and gave her a quizzical look.

  “I have been thinking of giving a ball this weekend to welcome Lady Waterton to Ledbury Hall.”

  The Earl paused for a moment before answering. He did not wish to upset his mother, but –

  “But, Mama, we are still in mourning. What will people think?”

  “Oh, it will not be a grand ball!” she exclaimed, with a wave of her hand. “Just our closest friends and a few locals. We have a duty to our visitor to entertain her. Besides I want everyone to see my fine son and hear of his excellent plans to turn our estate into the most significant in the County!”

  “Very well, Mama, I will not disappoint you.”

  He kissed her and, as he did so, he could not help noticing the slinky figure of Lady Waterton hovering in the background.

  She was clad in pale-pink silk and her pretty face wore the unmistakeable look of triumph.

  As he took his mother’s arm, he nodded at her.

  ‘So, it is she who is at the bottom of this barely appropriate ball,’ he said to himself. ‘And what is more, I would wager that there will be no invitation for Miranda, although she would not stoop to exclude Sir George!’

  Walking around the garden with his mother, he was hardly listening to her conversation.

  All he could dwell on was how was he going to obtain an invitation for Miranda without causing a furious row.

  ‘She just has to be there,’ he resolved. ‘And it is up to me to find a way. Yes! I will find a way whether Mama cares for it or not!’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next day Lord Brookfield was up early and after a light breakfast promenaded around Malvern with a spring in his step.

  He was convinced that Miranda was now within his grasp and very soon they would be in his carriage and on their way to Gretna Green to be married!

  He had planned his whole strategy the moment she had escaped from him in London.

  Although he realised that abducting Miranda from Ledbury Hall would not be possible, he believed his best course of action would be if could lure her to somewhere quiet during the day and then carry her off.

  But first he needed the help of the Earl.

  He smiled to himself sinisterly as he considered Lord Templeton’s part in the abduction. Yes, that was the sweetest part of all – he would lead her to him!

  ‘I will pay him a call this morning and I just cannot wait to se
e Miranda’s face when I saunter in and make friends with the new Earl.’

  Moving through the crowds, he was congratulating himself on being possessed of such a cunning brain.

  With the aid of a good whiff of chloroform and by the time she realised where she was and with whom, they would be almost in the Lake District.

  ‘And after the ceremony I shall take her, as my wife, to my home in Northumberland and she will remain there. Lord Templeton will never see her again!’

  *

  Meanwhile, over at Ledbury Hall, Lady Waterton was sitting at the breakfast table, talking non-stop about the ball and the next day’s hunt.

  “I am so excited!” she babbled. “It has been a while since I last rode to hounds. Tell me, Robert, do you lead the pack?”

  “I am sorry but I cannot claim that distinction,” he replied a little stiffly.

  It seemed a great pity that for his first hunt since his return home, he would have to suffer the annoying Lady Waterton hanging off his coat tails.

  “It doesn’t matter at all,” she answered, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “I shall enjoy seeing more of your lovely countryside. Will I know anyone else going?”

  He knew full well she was referring to Miranda, but, since Miranda had no stomach or interest in the chase, she would not be there – more the pity!

  “Alec is not well enough to chance another injury,” he replied infuriatingly. “And, as you know, my other brother, Charles, is ensconced at University whilst my two sisters are mid-Grand Tour.”

  “So, it will just be the two of us?”

  She lowered her chin and looked back up at him in what she hoped was a seductive and appealing manner.

  “It rather appears so,” he said without enthusiasm.

  His mother shot him a stern look from the other end of the table.

  She still harboured high hopes of a union between her eldest son and her friend, but since the arrival of Sir George’s girl at the Hall, she had observed the cow-eyed looks that passed between them.

  Which is why she had deliberately sent Sir George an invitation that was worded to clearly send the message that only he was expected.

  As soon as the ordeal of breakfast was over, the Earl made his excuses and proceeded straight to the study.