Rebel Baron by Shirl Henke Page B

does.”
           “And perhaps even stand for a seat in Commons?” he could not resist adding.
           Miranda became agitated. How could a man charm and infuriate at the same time? “Men and women of property should have the franchise, not those of the lower classes,” Miranda stated firmly. “We have not yet been able to sufficiently educate them to vote responsibly. That will occur over time.”
           “So will the Second Coming, but I don't hear any echo of trumpets yet,” Brand replied as their driver pulled up in the queue of carriages disgorging passengers at the estimable Lady T's front steps.
           “How cynical you are, my lord,” Miranda said as he assisted them from the carriage.
           “I've led that sort of life, I fear,” he murmured, then added in a lower voice for her ears only, “as I'm sure your reports made clear.”
           Once again Miranda felt herself vexed by his charm.
           The musicale was a crush with over a hundred people taking the seats assigned them by the beady-eyed Lady T, who held her lorgnette over her nose as if ready to swat flies with it...or anyone who displeased her.
           Just as they were passing into the room where the quartet was tuning up, a honey-dripping voice broke into their conversation. “Why, I do declare, if it isn't my old and dear friend from Lexington. How are you, Brandon?”
           The woman was decked out in a silvery shade of gray silk trimmed with black lace. The glimmering color was flattering, although she wore pearls at her throat and ears, a gauche display for an afternoon entertainment. She advanced toward them with a distinguished older man in tow. Miranda recognized him as the head of a rival banking firm in the City. The blonde had eyes only for the baron, and judging by her drawling speech and familiar manner, she was his countrywoman and well acquainted with him.
           Brand cursed inwardly as he forced a smile. There was nothing for it but to make introductions. ‘‘Ladies,” he said, turning to the Auburns, “may I present Mrs. Wilcox, late of Kentucky.” Damned if he'd call her a “friend,” dear or otherwise!
           “Charmed, I'm sure,” Reba said after he introduced the redhead and her vapid little daughter. “Oh, this is Mr. Harold Grimsley. He's in banking, just as my late husband was.”
           Miranda nodded as he bowed. “Mr. Grimsley and I are acquainted. You remember my daughter, Lorilee," she replied breezily, turning the tables on the lascivious younger woman by ignoring her.
           Lori made her curtsy to her mother's friend, all the while noting the subtle currents between the beautiful widow and the baron. Inexperienced as she was in society, she intuited that they had more in common than being from the same town in America.
           Moving closer while her escort and Mrs. Auburn chatted about some boring old banking matters, Reba tapped Brand on the arm playfully, saying, “You always detested Mozart, Brand. Why on earth are you here?”
           “I'm enjoying the company of two lovely ladies,” he replied, casting a smile at Lorilee. “The better question is why you're in England at all.” His tone indicated he didn't care a whit if Reba had swum across the Atlantic.
           “London is far more exciting than Lexington.” She raised her other hand to the heavy triple strand of pearls at her bosom and fingered them delicately.
           “I thought grieving widows were supposed to shun excitement,” he replied, removing her hand from his arm. “After all, Earl's barely cold in his grave.”
           “You know I never gave a fiddle what folks think,” Reba said with a smirk at Lorilee, who had emitted a tiny gasp of shock at Brand's last words.
           “Your dress and presence here make that attitude abundantly clear,” Miranda said cuttingly, making it obvious she found