“Olivia!” Lady Rudland said reprovingly.
“Well, he does, Mama. I should be very handsome if I were a boy.”
“You’re quite pretty as a girl, Livvy,” Miranda said loyally, eyeing her friend’s blond locks with just a little envy.
“So are you. Here, pick one of Fiona-cow’s ribbons. I don’t need them all, anyway.”
Miranda smiled at her lie. Olivia was such a good friend. She looked down at the ribbons and perversely chose the violet satin. “Thank you, Livvy. I shall wear it to lessons on Monday.”
“You called, Mother?”
At the sound of the deep voice, Miranda turned her face to the doorway and almost gasped. There stood quite the most splendid creature she had ever beheld. Olivia had said that Nigel was nineteen, but Miranda immediately recognized him as the man he already was. His shoulders were marvelously broad, and the rest of him was lean and firm. His hair was darker than Olivia’s but still streaked with gold, attesting to time spent out in the sun. But the best part about him, Miranda immediately decided, was his eyes, which were bright, bright blue, just like Olivia’s. They twinkled just as mischievously, too.
Miranda smiled. Her mother always said that one could tell a person by his eyes, and Olivia’s brother had very good eyes.
“Nigel, would you please be so kind as to escort Miranda home?” Lady Rudland asked. “Her father seems to have been detained.”
Miranda wondered why he winced when she said his name.
“Certainly, Mother. Olivia, did you have a good party?”
“Smashing.”
“Where is Winston?”
Olivia shrugged. “He’s off playing with the saber Billy Evans gave him.”
“Not a real one, I hope.”
“God help us if it is,” Lady Rudland put in. “All right, Miranda, let’s get you home. I believe your cloak is in the next room.” She disappeared through the doorway and emerged a few seconds later with Miranda’s serviceable brown coat.
“Shall we be off, Miranda?” The godlike creature held out his hand to her.
Miranda shrugged on her coat and placed her hand in his. Heaven!
“I will see you on Monday!” Olivia called out. “And don’t worry about what Fiona said. She’s just a silly old cow.”
“Olivia!”
“Well, she is, Mama. I don’t want to have her back.”
Miranda smiled as she let Olivia’s brother lead her down the hall, Olivia’s and Lady Rudland’s voices slowly fading away. “Thank you very much for taking me home, Nigel,” she said softly.
He winced again.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I ought to be calling you ‘my lord,’ oughtn’t I? It’s just that Olivia and Winston always refer t
o you by your given name and I—” She cast miserable eyes toward the floor. Only two minutes in his splendid company, and already she’d blundered.
He stopped and crouched down so that she could see his face. “Don’t worry about the ‘my lord,’ Miranda. I’ll tell you a secret.”
Miranda’s eyes widened, and she forgot to breathe.
“I despise my given name.”
“That’s not much of a secret, Nig—I mean, my lord, I mean, whatever you wish to be called. You wince every time your mother says it.”
He smiled down at her. Something had tugged at his heart when he saw this little girl with the too-serious expression playing with his indomitable sister. She was a funny-looking little creature, but there was something quite lovable about her big, soulful brown eyes.