nature, but methinks there is a better way.”
“What?”
“By letting Sir Brandon’s dilemma take its own course.”
A plan began to form in Kat’s mind. “Meanwhile, I shall remain Mistress Miranda, and wait until Brandon makes his move.”
“And Miranda herself? By our larkin, my ladyl I have not seen her so happy in many a year.”
“Neither have I.” Kat considered the future, her thoughts leaping on top of each other as frogs on the same lily pad. “We will not tell Miranda this new information. If she knew that she was being wooed by a reasonably handsome, somewhat intelligent and eminently available man, she would retreat inside her shell and so throw away this sudden chance at love. Nay, let her be me awhile longer, and so ensnare John Stafford, until he begins to woo her for himself, and not for my Lord Cavendish. Indeed, I do believe Stafford has already fallen under Miranda’s spell. When Midsummer’s Day comes, and all truths are revealed, I will provide a generous dowry for her. My Lord Stafford will fall to the marriage yoke as if he had been poleaxed.”
“And me, my lady? What if I bring my great hunter to heel?”
Kat hugged Sondra. “Then you shall have a goodly dowry, as well, and a new gown to be wed in.”
“All will come out pat in time, mark my words, my lady.” Sondra drew out her measuring string from her deep apron pocket. “Speaking of wedding gowns, Lady Kat, what of yours? Surely you do not want to go to the altar in your old blue dress now, do you? Not when you’ll be a-marrying for love.”
“Do you really think so, Sondra?” Kat feared to hope for such a happiness. “Does he love me truly?”
“Aye, my lady. They say the third time is the charm, and pays for all. Now as to your gown. What about that white damask brocade and golden lace you bought at the Whitsuntide fair for next Christmas? ’Tis a fine cloth, and all the maids are a-perishing to make a hundred love knots to adorn it.”
Kat wrinkled her nose. “The damask would be heavy for this season of the year.”
Sondra winked at her. “Mayhap, but you could wear fewer petticoats underneath it. I am sure your noble lord would not mind having less to peel away.”
Kat swallowed. The vision of Sir John—no, Sir Brandon—untying the laces of her shimmering gold and white gown swam through her imagination. “Is there enough material for two gowns, exactly alike?”
“Aye. What new mischief do you plot now, Lady Kat?”
“And have we veiling thick enough to hide my features, if I wore it over my face?”
“We do.” Sondra arched one brow.
“Then here is my device. Come my wedding day, both Miranda and I will be garbed and veiled exactly alike, so that none can tell the difference. We shall not unveil, until after the vows have been exchanged.”
“Even if the noble lords have confessed all?”
Kat nodded with a smug expression. “Aye. Miranda and I will play our parts to the very end, and my cunning, crafty, double-dealing Lord Cavendish will not know whom he has married, until the sticking point. That should teach him that I can play his game as well as he—and beat him at it.”
“And Miranda?”
“She will never confess our disguising on her own, for she is tried and true to me. She will play my part, willingly or not. But, let us hope, Sondra, that, for good Miranda’s sake, my Lord Cavendish does not sound the retreat too soon. I think I shall much enjoy watching him spin around in this whirlwind of his own creation.”
Stretching his feet out under the table, Brandon tried to concentrate on the chessboard before him. His mind was hardly on the game. He took a long swallow of his warm spiced wine. Considering the past twelve hours, he was forced to admit that this was one of the worst days of his life.
Despite his honorable intentions to do right by his bride to-be, things had gone wrong from the start—beginning with the hurt expression on sweet Miranda’s face, when he
“What?”
“By letting Sir Brandon’s dilemma take its own course.”
A plan began to form in Kat’s mind. “Meanwhile, I shall remain Mistress Miranda, and wait until Brandon makes his move.”
“And Miranda herself? By our larkin, my ladyl I have not seen her so happy in many a year.”
“Neither have I.” Kat considered the future, her thoughts leaping on top of each other as frogs on the same lily pad. “We will not tell Miranda this new information. If she knew that she was being wooed by a reasonably handsome, somewhat intelligent and eminently available man, she would retreat inside her shell and so throw away this sudden chance at love. Nay, let her be me awhile longer, and so ensnare John Stafford, until he begins to woo her for himself, and not for my Lord Cavendish. Indeed, I do believe Stafford has already fallen under Miranda’s spell. When Midsummer’s Day comes, and all truths are revealed, I will provide a generous dowry for her. My Lord Stafford will fall to the marriage yoke as if he had been poleaxed.”
“And me, my lady? What if I bring my great hunter to heel?”
Kat hugged Sondra. “Then you shall have a goodly dowry, as well, and a new gown to be wed in.”
“All will come out pat in time, mark my words, my lady.” Sondra drew out her measuring string from her deep apron pocket. “Speaking of wedding gowns, Lady Kat, what of yours? Surely you do not want to go to the altar in your old blue dress now, do you? Not when you’ll be a-marrying for love.”
“Do you really think so, Sondra?” Kat feared to hope for such a happiness. “Does he love me truly?”
“Aye, my lady. They say the third time is the charm, and pays for all. Now as to your gown. What about that white damask brocade and golden lace you bought at the Whitsuntide fair for next Christmas? ’Tis a fine cloth, and all the maids are a-perishing to make a hundred love knots to adorn it.”
Kat wrinkled her nose. “The damask would be heavy for this season of the year.”
Sondra winked at her. “Mayhap, but you could wear fewer petticoats underneath it. I am sure your noble lord would not mind having less to peel away.”
Kat swallowed. The vision of Sir John—no, Sir Brandon—untying the laces of her shimmering gold and white gown swam through her imagination. “Is there enough material for two gowns, exactly alike?”
“Aye. What new mischief do you plot now, Lady Kat?”
“And have we veiling thick enough to hide my features, if I wore it over my face?”
“We do.” Sondra arched one brow.
“Then here is my device. Come my wedding day, both Miranda and I will be garbed and veiled exactly alike, so that none can tell the difference. We shall not unveil, until after the vows have been exchanged.”
“Even if the noble lords have confessed all?”
Kat nodded with a smug expression. “Aye. Miranda and I will play our parts to the very end, and my cunning, crafty, double-dealing Lord Cavendish will not know whom he has married, until the sticking point. That should teach him that I can play his game as well as he—and beat him at it.”
“And Miranda?”
“She will never confess our disguising on her own, for she is tried and true to me. She will play my part, willingly or not. But, let us hope, Sondra, that, for good Miranda’s sake, my Lord Cavendish does not sound the retreat too soon. I think I shall much enjoy watching him spin around in this whirlwind of his own creation.”
Stretching his feet out under the table, Brandon tried to concentrate on the chessboard before him. His mind was hardly on the game. He took a long swallow of his warm spiced wine. Considering the past twelve hours, he was forced to admit that this was one of the worst days of his life.
Despite his honorable intentions to do right by his bride to-be, things had gone wrong from the start—beginning with the hurt expression on sweet Miranda’s face, when he
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