Tremont, 9th Duke of Parkerton, Tremont Lord Michael.) Current residence: Thistleton Park.
Miranda glanced up at the girls. So they'd known all along that Lord John was in residence here. Instead of remarking on this happy coincidence, she continued to read:
Having disgraced Miss Miranda Mabberly, a former student of Miss Emery's, Lord John has been given the cut direct by all Society. His income, if rumor is to be trusted, is nonexistent and is supplemented by gambling and other reckless pursuits. He is a rake in all the worst ways.
And this was the man they had diverted their journey out of the way to meet? Miranda could only guess why they thought him worthy of a closer inspection.
Lord John, while ancient by the exacting standards of these Chronicles…
Miranda suppressed a smile and wondered what the man would think of being described as "ancient." Then she read the words that wiped even the lingering beginnings of a grin from her face.
…
has left behind the fashions of Town and now maintains a pirate look about him that some ladies claim is intriguing
.
The pirate comment, Miranda guessed, had probably come from Tally, given all her gothic fancies.
While his age and lack of a title relinquish him to the lower rungs of eligibility, it has been noted that he admits to a fondness for red hair and appeared quite taken with Miss Porter this afternoon in the downstairs foyer.
They'd been in the foyer? Watching him arrive… come down the stairs… catch her in his arms.
Miranda's gut twisted as she started to see the threads of their outlandish plan weave together, and she read on only with the hope that her supposition was entirely wrong.
However, the sentences that followed pushed Miranda right past surprised and into stunned.
As a respectable lady with excellent manners and now a good inheritance (if Sarah Browne's maid is to be believed), Miss Porter would be the perfect bride for a former rake of limited means like Lord John.
"Me-e-e?" she managed to stammer. The perfect bride for Lord John? "You thought to match me with… with… with that—" She couldn't even say the word.
"Rapscallion?" Thalia suggested.
"Ruffian?" Pippin offered.
"Rake," Felicity said unrepentantly. Now that her plan had been unmasked, she wasn't above getting to the point. "It is undeniable, Miss Porter. You are a perfect match for Lord John."
"Me?" Miranda shook her head at them. "I think not."
Tally rushed forward, taking her by the hand and settling her down on a large stone. "I know it seems a little bit hard to believe, but he already has a
tendre
for you."
Miranda snorted. Of all the ridiculous, irresponsible…
"It's true," Pippin said. "At least with your hair, he does. And if he likes your hair, it is only a matter of time before he likes the rest of you."
"Think of it, Miss Porter," Felicity rushed to add, "you could be Lady John Tremont, the mistress of all of this." She glanced over her shoulder at the leaning wall and tumbledown manse beyond and bit her bottom lip. "Such as it is," she conceded. "But you have a way with such things, Miss Porter. You would be a considerable asset to Lord John. And you of all people can't forget Miss Emery's credo: It is the duty of every lady to seek a respectable union."
A respectable union with Lord John? Now that was absurd. The man knew nothing of respectability, let alone responsibility—hadn't he refused to marry her when Oxley had cried off? Not that she had wanted to marry such a faithless rogue, but it was telling as to his character.
Why, she'd never even had the chance to refuse him. For certainly she would have. She had wanted to marry a gentleman, an honorable man. Not a rake.
Liar
, a small voice whispered.
Would your gentle hero have kissed you like Lord John?
"Did you ever consider that I might like being a respectable spinster better?" Miranda asked, folding her hands in her lap.
Felicity shot her a look that
Miranda glanced up at the girls. So they'd known all along that Lord John was in residence here. Instead of remarking on this happy coincidence, she continued to read:
Having disgraced Miss Miranda Mabberly, a former student of Miss Emery's, Lord John has been given the cut direct by all Society. His income, if rumor is to be trusted, is nonexistent and is supplemented by gambling and other reckless pursuits. He is a rake in all the worst ways.
And this was the man they had diverted their journey out of the way to meet? Miranda could only guess why they thought him worthy of a closer inspection.
Lord John, while ancient by the exacting standards of these Chronicles…
Miranda suppressed a smile and wondered what the man would think of being described as "ancient." Then she read the words that wiped even the lingering beginnings of a grin from her face.
…
has left behind the fashions of Town and now maintains a pirate look about him that some ladies claim is intriguing
.
The pirate comment, Miranda guessed, had probably come from Tally, given all her gothic fancies.
While his age and lack of a title relinquish him to the lower rungs of eligibility, it has been noted that he admits to a fondness for red hair and appeared quite taken with Miss Porter this afternoon in the downstairs foyer.
They'd been in the foyer? Watching him arrive… come down the stairs… catch her in his arms.
Miranda's gut twisted as she started to see the threads of their outlandish plan weave together, and she read on only with the hope that her supposition was entirely wrong.
However, the sentences that followed pushed Miranda right past surprised and into stunned.
As a respectable lady with excellent manners and now a good inheritance (if Sarah Browne's maid is to be believed), Miss Porter would be the perfect bride for a former rake of limited means like Lord John.
"Me-e-e?" she managed to stammer. The perfect bride for Lord John? "You thought to match me with… with… with that—" She couldn't even say the word.
"Rapscallion?" Thalia suggested.
"Ruffian?" Pippin offered.
"Rake," Felicity said unrepentantly. Now that her plan had been unmasked, she wasn't above getting to the point. "It is undeniable, Miss Porter. You are a perfect match for Lord John."
"Me?" Miranda shook her head at them. "I think not."
Tally rushed forward, taking her by the hand and settling her down on a large stone. "I know it seems a little bit hard to believe, but he already has a
tendre
for you."
Miranda snorted. Of all the ridiculous, irresponsible…
"It's true," Pippin said. "At least with your hair, he does. And if he likes your hair, it is only a matter of time before he likes the rest of you."
"Think of it, Miss Porter," Felicity rushed to add, "you could be Lady John Tremont, the mistress of all of this." She glanced over her shoulder at the leaning wall and tumbledown manse beyond and bit her bottom lip. "Such as it is," she conceded. "But you have a way with such things, Miss Porter. You would be a considerable asset to Lord John. And you of all people can't forget Miss Emery's credo: It is the duty of every lady to seek a respectable union."
A respectable union with Lord John? Now that was absurd. The man knew nothing of respectability, let alone responsibility—hadn't he refused to marry her when Oxley had cried off? Not that she had wanted to marry such a faithless rogue, but it was telling as to his character.
Why, she'd never even had the chance to refuse him. For certainly she would have. She had wanted to marry a gentleman, an honorable man. Not a rake.
Liar
, a small voice whispered.
Would your gentle hero have kissed you like Lord John?
"Did you ever consider that I might like being a respectable spinster better?" Miranda asked, folding her hands in her lap.
Felicity shot her a look that
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