Page 41 of A Scot on Duchess Square
“Yes, I do make rather a ritual of it, don’t I?” she said with a mirthful chuckle.
“We all have our odd little ways. It is what forms our character. But why do ye make such a fuss over yer tea?”
She glanced down at her hands, which were lightly clasped together and resting on the table. “It calms me.”
Bram frowned. “Do I upset ye so that ye need calming when ye are with me?”
“No, not at all,” she said, looking up at him in surprise. “This is a habit I developed from my younger days, when I was first a widow. You see, I could not go out anywhere, not even for anafternoon with friends to someplace as harmless as a tea shop, without people stopping to stare at me and whisper. So I learned to maintain my composure by busying myself with an elaborate preparation for my tea. Simply adding sugar was not enough. I had to pile on everything I could. Milk, honey, lemon. I thought it would appear as though I had to concentrate on adding all these ingredients. In truth, I was desperate to avoid meeting their mocking gazes.”
He shook his head and groaned. “Och, I am truly sorry. I’ll never tease ye about this again.”
She cast him a soft look. “Oh, you can, and I won’t mind. My little ritual may have started out of cowardice, but I rather enjoy it now. It turned out to be quite effective, too. I was rather proud of having outwitted those horrid gossips. It was the smallest vengeance, but quite satisfying to have them stand there and wait for me to look up in the hope I would notice them.”
“And ye never did?”
“The lengthy ritual always worked and they were the ones to end up feeling foolish. Most of them just gave up and walked away.”
Bram rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck in agitation. “Miranda, that ye had to endure this makes my blood boil. Where was yer family all the while? I am no’ speaking of the Lawsons, who are obviously odious and were never going to offer ye comfort. I am speaking of yer parents and siblings.”
“I am an only child,” she said as her pot of tea arrived, and with it a sugar cone, a jar of honey, a ripe lemon, and a small pitcher of milk. She smiled at the serving maid in appreciation and kept her smile when turning back to him. “You ordered all these accompaniments for me? You’ve thought of everything.”
“Go on with yer story, lass,” he said, taking a drop of the milk for his coffee. “I’m interested to hear more.”
She nodded. “Ah, yes. About my family. In truth, I was my father’s little princess and he would have done all he could to support me. But he and my mother, thinking I was well settled with my new husband, had traveled to Italy in the hope a warmer climate would ease their aches and pains. They adored Italy, and the warm Mediterranean air did work wonders on their aging bones. They were so happily settled, how could I ask them to return to England and involve themselves in the misery of my scandal?”
Bram frowned, but he understood this was Miranda wanting to stand strong and handle things on her own.
“Besides, it would have destroyed them to learn their daughter was atonlaughingstock.”
“But they might have been just as hurt knowing ye did no’ confide in them or trust them enough to ask for their help.”
“I know. Believe me, I gave it so much thought before deciding not to say anything to them. Any letter I sent would have taken weeks and possibly months to reach them.”
Bram still thought she ought to have done it, but he was not going to judge her harshly at all. Miranda’s nature was to be proud and fight for herself, but it was obvious this situation was too much for a young widow to handle all on her own.
Without her family to stand beside her, she was easy prey. Thetongossips were carrion birds circling her and waiting to pick her apart.
Miranda continued, unaware of his thoughts. “I felt more time would be lost while they packed up their Italian villa and returned to England. How could I force them to come back to the cold and rain when I was certain people would lose interest in me by then? Surely another scandal would come along to distract them. Also, I was not completely helpless, for my father had the best solicitors and they protected me quite nicely in the ensuing legal proceedings. The Lawsons could not steal back anyof what I had gained from the marriage, much as they wanted to grab everything they could.”
She sighed and shook her head, then continued. “Had the Lawsons shown me an ounce of kindness, I would have given them whatever they wanted, be it a priceless artifact or a trinket of sentimental value. But they tossed me out of Lowery Hall so fast, I hardly had time to pack a bag or even grab my cloak. Since my parents had let their London townhouse to friends of theirs, I could not even return to my home.”
Bram was ready to leap out of his chair in agitation. Every protective bone in his body was aroar. It destroyed him to think that Miranda had been tossed out by those heartless creatures and left to fend for herself.
“Och, Miranda. Where did ye go?”
Chapter Eight
Bram knew hehad to settle down, because it was obvious Miranda had not only survived indignity at the hands of the Lawsons but flourished in many ways since that horrendous time. “Where did ye go after they threw ye out?” he repeated when she did not immediately answer.
She gave a wry laugh. “I resided in a hotel for several months until I purchased my townhouse on Duchess Square.”
Her admission only added to his quiet fury on her behalf. “Och, lass. Ye were so young.”
“Yes, young and foolish. Certainly too prideful for my own good. My mother and I corresponded frequently, and I never said a word about the mess I was in. My father’s solicitors might have told them, but they would only have reported the legal challenges, and we won those handily.”
For this, he silently cheered. “I’m glad that worked out for ye.”
“So was I,” she said, wrapping her hands around her cup of tea to warm them. “Not for the financial outcome, mind you.”
