Read Online Lord Haversham Takes Command by Heidi Ashworth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heidi Ashworth
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must discover the means to convince her parents of that fact. Last of all, though perhaps most imperative, was a much more pleasant task: to win Harry’s heart.
With enticement in mind, Mira spent an inordinate amount of time over her
toilette
and refused to be rushed when her mother entered the room with a reminder that their journey would be resumed directly after breakfast. As it was clear her admonitions to be quick were falling on deaf ears, Lady Crenshaw took one of Mira’s long, red curls in her hand and proceeded to pepper her daughter with questions as they pinned up her hair.
“Should you like your curls divided and off to each side or should we add a topknot at the crown?” Lady Crenshaw asked.
“A topknot, certainly!”
“And what about a ribbon? Blue to match your eyes or something to match your gown?”
Mira briefly considered the blue but finally decided on the green as it matched the color of the leaves on her bonnet to perfection.
Next were the difficult questions. “You are up rather early this morning. Did you not sleep well?”
“In fact, I did not. I should be surprised anyone did with all that commotion,” Mira answered with a nonchalant air while analyzing her mother’s face in the mirror for a reaction.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Lady Crenshaw said, her expression above suspicion, “but I doubt I would have heard a gale outside my window what with the way your father snores!”
“No! Not Papa!” Mira bantered, her mind occupied with the questions her mother should be asking, such as: What were you doing under the table with Harry Haversham yesterday afternoon?
To Mira’s great relief, her mother didn’t ask but her next question was far from better. “You seem a bit anxious to look your best this morning. Is it on account of your cousin?”
Mira bit back the sharp denial that came to her tongue. When the time came, it wouldn’t do at all for her mother to believe Mira had chosen Harry simply to escape marriage to George. Nor would it do for Lady Crenshaw to suppose that Mira was setting her cap for Harry, at least not at this point in her plans. “If I appear to be anxious, it is only in anticipation of arriving in London today. A girl has only one debutante Season, and I want everything to be flawless.” She twisted about in her chair to face her mother who was obliged to hastily release a clutch of curls from her grasp. “Mama, you know how much I love you and Papa, do you not?”
“But, of course, my darling!” Lady Crenshaw dropped a kiss on her daughter’s nose. “Goose! Why do you ask?”
Mira turned her attention to her reflection in the mirror and concentrated on holding still for the last few pins to anchor her coiffure. “It’s only that I am grown up now and shall soon be married. It is not a decision I take lightly. If I am to leave you and Papa, it would only be if I thought I should be truly happy with someone else.”
Lady Crenshaw caught her daughter’s gaze in the mirror and held it with her own. “So, this
is
about George, is it not?”
“I suppose, to some extent,” Mira admitted. “You know that I cannot abide him. Yet I do want to make you and Papa happy. Your happiness is my own.”
“Your father and I would never wish you to sacrifice yourself for us,” Lady Crenshaw insisted. “At the same time, it might surprise you how much better the older generation is at pairing men and women than we are ourselves,” she said with a coquettish smile. “I never would have married your father if your great-grandmother hadn’t taken steps.”
Mira had often heard the story of how her parents greatly disliked one another prior to being thrown together by Great-Grandmama. Mira rather doubted the quoting of a few lines from Shakespeare’s
The Tempest
at a house party forced upon the hosts by a pox quarantine could make her love George the way her mother and father loved one another. In the end, there was nothing about George she could find
With enticement in mind, Mira spent an inordinate amount of time over her
toilette
and refused to be rushed when her mother entered the room with a reminder that their journey would be resumed directly after breakfast. As it was clear her admonitions to be quick were falling on deaf ears, Lady Crenshaw took one of Mira’s long, red curls in her hand and proceeded to pepper her daughter with questions as they pinned up her hair.
“Should you like your curls divided and off to each side or should we add a topknot at the crown?” Lady Crenshaw asked.
“A topknot, certainly!”
“And what about a ribbon? Blue to match your eyes or something to match your gown?”
Mira briefly considered the blue but finally decided on the green as it matched the color of the leaves on her bonnet to perfection.
Next were the difficult questions. “You are up rather early this morning. Did you not sleep well?”
“In fact, I did not. I should be surprised anyone did with all that commotion,” Mira answered with a nonchalant air while analyzing her mother’s face in the mirror for a reaction.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Lady Crenshaw said, her expression above suspicion, “but I doubt I would have heard a gale outside my window what with the way your father snores!”
“No! Not Papa!” Mira bantered, her mind occupied with the questions her mother should be asking, such as: What were you doing under the table with Harry Haversham yesterday afternoon?
To Mira’s great relief, her mother didn’t ask but her next question was far from better. “You seem a bit anxious to look your best this morning. Is it on account of your cousin?”
Mira bit back the sharp denial that came to her tongue. When the time came, it wouldn’t do at all for her mother to believe Mira had chosen Harry simply to escape marriage to George. Nor would it do for Lady Crenshaw to suppose that Mira was setting her cap for Harry, at least not at this point in her plans. “If I appear to be anxious, it is only in anticipation of arriving in London today. A girl has only one debutante Season, and I want everything to be flawless.” She twisted about in her chair to face her mother who was obliged to hastily release a clutch of curls from her grasp. “Mama, you know how much I love you and Papa, do you not?”
“But, of course, my darling!” Lady Crenshaw dropped a kiss on her daughter’s nose. “Goose! Why do you ask?”
Mira turned her attention to her reflection in the mirror and concentrated on holding still for the last few pins to anchor her coiffure. “It’s only that I am grown up now and shall soon be married. It is not a decision I take lightly. If I am to leave you and Papa, it would only be if I thought I should be truly happy with someone else.”
Lady Crenshaw caught her daughter’s gaze in the mirror and held it with her own. “So, this
is
about George, is it not?”
“I suppose, to some extent,” Mira admitted. “You know that I cannot abide him. Yet I do want to make you and Papa happy. Your happiness is my own.”
“Your father and I would never wish you to sacrifice yourself for us,” Lady Crenshaw insisted. “At the same time, it might surprise you how much better the older generation is at pairing men and women than we are ourselves,” she said with a coquettish smile. “I never would have married your father if your great-grandmother hadn’t taken steps.”
Mira had often heard the story of how her parents greatly disliked one another prior to being thrown together by Great-Grandmama. Mira rather doubted the quoting of a few lines from Shakespeare’s
The Tempest
at a house party forced upon the hosts by a pox quarantine could make her love George the way her mother and father loved one another. In the end, there was nothing about George she could find
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