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Authors: Cathy Maxwell
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it.
Servants went through the crowd with fluted wineglasses filled with icy cold sherry. With a flourish, Senhor Esteves introduced her, Lady Overstreet, and Captain Lewis to his guests. He included Captain Sir William at the last moment, pretending to have forgotten his presence.
It was a childish gesture, but one Miranda felt he deserved. Let Sir William see what it was like to suffer the small put-downs he enjoyed inflicting.
Senhor Esteves raised his glass. “ Saúde !” he said, and his guests echoed the sentiment before draining their glasses.
The sherry was quite different from the one she and Lady Overstreet had sipped aboard the Ven ture , more potent and somehow more fitting a drink for such an evening as this.
“Will you join me in leading the first dance?” Senhor Esteves said to Miranda.
Panic hit. “Lead the dance?” She had wanted to dance, but not with everyone watching her. “I am a poor dancer,” she offered.
He laughed. “And a charmingly honest one. How refreshing to have a woman who doesn’t claim to know everything!” he said, addressing the other gentlemen standing close.
They all laughed and nodded their agreement while their wives and escorts didn’t even smile. They stood so stiff and judgmental, they could have been carved out of stone. This type of attitude Miranda knew. The censure of women. She and her sisters had received more than their share of such scorn back in the valley—and whether it was their frowning faces, or the strength of the sherry, Miranda’s fighting spirit rose to the occasion.
Gifting Senhor Esteves with her most dazzling smile, the one Lady Overstreet claimed would make men forget their own names, she said, “I’d be honored, then, to be your partner.”
She placed her glass on a servant’s tray and placed her hand on Senhor Esteves’s arm. The older man’s chest puffed out as he led her to where tiles had been laid in the ground to create a dance floor. As they took their places, he whispered, “You outshine the stars, Senhorina do Ouro.”
Unaccustomed to such lavish compliments, Miranda murmured, “Senhor, you are teasing me.”
“Oh, but I am not,” he said with complete seriousness. “If you only knew what was in my heart, you would know I could never tease you.”
His grip tightened on her hand, and Miranda was suddenly worried that perhaps she shouldn’t have been so encouraging. To her everlasting relief, the music started.
It was a minuet, and a dance that she could follow easily enough. She and Senhor Esteves did not make too many mistakes. Slowly the tension left her as the music took over.
Charlotte had been right. This life was easier than the one they had left. The evening air was like velvet, and as the sun set, the stars were starting to appear. Big, lustrous stars. They seemed to her like notes in the minuet, intricate sounds that resonated in her soul.
It took a moment for her to realize Senhor Esteves was not dancing. She stopped, looking at him in confusion, the other dancers moving around them.
“I cannot help myself,” he said fiercely. “In this moment, your eyes glow with pleasure and you are so beautiful, I cannot resist. I could give you this every day of your life. I want you would marry me.”
He spoke just as the music ended. The words rang through the air, capturing everyone’s attention, bringing it hovering right over her.
Stunned, Miranda couldn’t speak. Lady Overstreet had made her practice gentle but firm ways of telling a gentleman she could not accept his offer. Miranda had thought the exercise silly. Furthermore, she had been prepared to fend off genteel declarations, not impassioned proposals in the middle of a crowded dance floor.
Her panicked mind groped for words. “I’m flattered, Senhor Esteves—”
“Then you say yes?”
“You barely know me.”
“I know you are beautiful.”
“But wouldn’t you want something more in a wife?” she asked.
He shrugged. “What more is
Servants went through the crowd with fluted wineglasses filled with icy cold sherry. With a flourish, Senhor Esteves introduced her, Lady Overstreet, and Captain Lewis to his guests. He included Captain Sir William at the last moment, pretending to have forgotten his presence.
It was a childish gesture, but one Miranda felt he deserved. Let Sir William see what it was like to suffer the small put-downs he enjoyed inflicting.
Senhor Esteves raised his glass. “ Saúde !” he said, and his guests echoed the sentiment before draining their glasses.
The sherry was quite different from the one she and Lady Overstreet had sipped aboard the Ven ture , more potent and somehow more fitting a drink for such an evening as this.
“Will you join me in leading the first dance?” Senhor Esteves said to Miranda.
Panic hit. “Lead the dance?” She had wanted to dance, but not with everyone watching her. “I am a poor dancer,” she offered.
He laughed. “And a charmingly honest one. How refreshing to have a woman who doesn’t claim to know everything!” he said, addressing the other gentlemen standing close.
They all laughed and nodded their agreement while their wives and escorts didn’t even smile. They stood so stiff and judgmental, they could have been carved out of stone. This type of attitude Miranda knew. The censure of women. She and her sisters had received more than their share of such scorn back in the valley—and whether it was their frowning faces, or the strength of the sherry, Miranda’s fighting spirit rose to the occasion.
Gifting Senhor Esteves with her most dazzling smile, the one Lady Overstreet claimed would make men forget their own names, she said, “I’d be honored, then, to be your partner.”
She placed her glass on a servant’s tray and placed her hand on Senhor Esteves’s arm. The older man’s chest puffed out as he led her to where tiles had been laid in the ground to create a dance floor. As they took their places, he whispered, “You outshine the stars, Senhorina do Ouro.”
Unaccustomed to such lavish compliments, Miranda murmured, “Senhor, you are teasing me.”
“Oh, but I am not,” he said with complete seriousness. “If you only knew what was in my heart, you would know I could never tease you.”
His grip tightened on her hand, and Miranda was suddenly worried that perhaps she shouldn’t have been so encouraging. To her everlasting relief, the music started.
It was a minuet, and a dance that she could follow easily enough. She and Senhor Esteves did not make too many mistakes. Slowly the tension left her as the music took over.
Charlotte had been right. This life was easier than the one they had left. The evening air was like velvet, and as the sun set, the stars were starting to appear. Big, lustrous stars. They seemed to her like notes in the minuet, intricate sounds that resonated in her soul.
It took a moment for her to realize Senhor Esteves was not dancing. She stopped, looking at him in confusion, the other dancers moving around them.
“I cannot help myself,” he said fiercely. “In this moment, your eyes glow with pleasure and you are so beautiful, I cannot resist. I could give you this every day of your life. I want you would marry me.”
He spoke just as the music ended. The words rang through the air, capturing everyone’s attention, bringing it hovering right over her.
Stunned, Miranda couldn’t speak. Lady Overstreet had made her practice gentle but firm ways of telling a gentleman she could not accept his offer. Miranda had thought the exercise silly. Furthermore, she had been prepared to fend off genteel declarations, not impassioned proposals in the middle of a crowded dance floor.
Her panicked mind groped for words. “I’m flattered, Senhor Esteves—”
“Then you say yes?”
“You barely know me.”
“I know you are beautiful.”
“But wouldn’t you want something more in a wife?” she asked.
He shrugged. “What more is
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