first glimpse of Jared elicited the comment, “He looks like a pirate—an elegant one, but a pirate nonetheless. He’ll suit that vixen Miranda to a T, I’ve not a doubt.”
“Good Lord, Mother! What a thing to say.” Cornelius Van Steen the younger, current patron of Torwyck Manor, looked embarrassed. “I must apologize for my parent, sirs and ladies,” he nodded to the assembled gathering of Dunhams and Van Steens.
“No one, Cornelius, has to apologize for me,” snapped old Mrs. Van Steen. “Bless me, but you’re a prude! How I could have borne such a son is beyond me! I meant the observation as a compliment, and Jared knew it, eh, my boy?”
“Indeed, ma’am, I understood exactly what you meant,” replied Jared, his green eyes twinkling, and he raised her plump white beringed hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Bless my soul! A rogue as well!” exclaimed the old lady.
“I am that too, ma’am,” came the reply.
“Heh! Heh! Heh!” chortled the elderly woman. “If I were thirty years younger, my boy!”
“I’ve no doubt of it, ma’am,” was the smooth answer. He punctuated his remark with the lift of a bushy black eyebrow.
Miranda chuckled, remembering the incident. She was standinglooking out her bedroom windows at the dawn sky. It was going to be a beautiful day. Behind her, the fireplace crackled with a sharp snap as the applewood burned. Amanda inquired sleepily from the bed, “Are you up already?” The press of guests had made it necessary for them to share a bed these last few days.
“Yes, I’m awake. I couldn’t sleep.” Miranda glanced around her bedroom. Tonight she would sleep in the newly decorated master suite of the manor, and for days she had lived with that thought. All her life this had been her room. Her double-sized tester bed with its lovely green and white linen homespun hangings. The posts on the cherry-wood bed were turned, and as a child she had lain in bed imagining what it would be like to slide down the turning, going round and round and round until she slid dizzily into sleep. There was a beautiful cherry-wood chest-on-chest with flame finials on one wall of her room, the brass pulls always kept shining. Her dressing table had been made especially for her fourteenth birthday, its built-in mirror of precious glass, perfect and unflawed. There was a round piecrust table to one side of the fireplace, and on the other side, an armed ladder-back chair with a green velvet cushion.
The master bedroom had been entirely redone for her and Jared. The work had been going on for weeks. She had no idea what it would look like, for he wanted it to be a surprise. At least it hadn’t been her parents’ room, she thought with relief. When Thomas and Dorothea were married both of her grandparents and her great-grandfather had been living in the house. Her great-grandfather had died in 1790, and her grandparents had moved into the master suite. But when her Dunham grandmother passed on, her grandfather had not relinquished the room. When he died, four years earlier, her parents had decided to stay in their bedroom of over twenty years. So it was actually her grandfather’s room that was being redone for her and Jared.
The little clock on the mantel with the painted face chimed half-past seven, and Amanda muttered, “Why on earth did you choose ten o’clock in the morning for your wedding? I do not intend being married until late afternoon.”
“It was Jared’s idea.”
“What kind of a day is it?”
“Clear. Bright blue sky, no clouds, sunny. The bay is full ofboats coming from all directions. It reminds me of the hunt breakfasts Papa used to have.”
Amanda got reluctantly out of bed, squealing at the icy floor. “We had better consider getting ready,” she said.
Just then Jemima arrived with a heavily ladened tray. “Don’t tell me you can’t eat, for Lord knows when you’ll get to eat again, especially with those locusts arriving downstairs. ‘Serve a
“Good Lord, Mother! What a thing to say.” Cornelius Van Steen the younger, current patron of Torwyck Manor, looked embarrassed. “I must apologize for my parent, sirs and ladies,” he nodded to the assembled gathering of Dunhams and Van Steens.
“No one, Cornelius, has to apologize for me,” snapped old Mrs. Van Steen. “Bless me, but you’re a prude! How I could have borne such a son is beyond me! I meant the observation as a compliment, and Jared knew it, eh, my boy?”
“Indeed, ma’am, I understood exactly what you meant,” replied Jared, his green eyes twinkling, and he raised her plump white beringed hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Bless my soul! A rogue as well!” exclaimed the old lady.
“I am that too, ma’am,” came the reply.
“Heh! Heh! Heh!” chortled the elderly woman. “If I were thirty years younger, my boy!”
“I’ve no doubt of it, ma’am,” was the smooth answer. He punctuated his remark with the lift of a bushy black eyebrow.
Miranda chuckled, remembering the incident. She was standinglooking out her bedroom windows at the dawn sky. It was going to be a beautiful day. Behind her, the fireplace crackled with a sharp snap as the applewood burned. Amanda inquired sleepily from the bed, “Are you up already?” The press of guests had made it necessary for them to share a bed these last few days.
“Yes, I’m awake. I couldn’t sleep.” Miranda glanced around her bedroom. Tonight she would sleep in the newly decorated master suite of the manor, and for days she had lived with that thought. All her life this had been her room. Her double-sized tester bed with its lovely green and white linen homespun hangings. The posts on the cherry-wood bed were turned, and as a child she had lain in bed imagining what it would be like to slide down the turning, going round and round and round until she slid dizzily into sleep. There was a beautiful cherry-wood chest-on-chest with flame finials on one wall of her room, the brass pulls always kept shining. Her dressing table had been made especially for her fourteenth birthday, its built-in mirror of precious glass, perfect and unflawed. There was a round piecrust table to one side of the fireplace, and on the other side, an armed ladder-back chair with a green velvet cushion.
The master bedroom had been entirely redone for her and Jared. The work had been going on for weeks. She had no idea what it would look like, for he wanted it to be a surprise. At least it hadn’t been her parents’ room, she thought with relief. When Thomas and Dorothea were married both of her grandparents and her great-grandfather had been living in the house. Her great-grandfather had died in 1790, and her grandparents had moved into the master suite. But when her Dunham grandmother passed on, her grandfather had not relinquished the room. When he died, four years earlier, her parents had decided to stay in their bedroom of over twenty years. So it was actually her grandfather’s room that was being redone for her and Jared.
The little clock on the mantel with the painted face chimed half-past seven, and Amanda muttered, “Why on earth did you choose ten o’clock in the morning for your wedding? I do not intend being married until late afternoon.”
“It was Jared’s idea.”
“What kind of a day is it?”
“Clear. Bright blue sky, no clouds, sunny. The bay is full ofboats coming from all directions. It reminds me of the hunt breakfasts Papa used to have.”
Amanda got reluctantly out of bed, squealing at the icy floor. “We had better consider getting ready,” she said.
Just then Jemima arrived with a heavily ladened tray. “Don’t tell me you can’t eat, for Lord knows when you’ll get to eat again, especially with those locusts arriving downstairs. ‘Serve a
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