The Fairy Tale Bride

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Simon stared in bemusement down the hallway after Miranda. It took several moments before he realized that she had refused his offer — again. Would he have had this much trouble if he had proposed marriage five years ago? He spent several more moments battling his astonishment before he realized that she meant to leave Anderlin as if that were the end of the matter.

His surprise was quickly overtaken by a trifling sense of something out of place, not quite right about Miranda’s hasty departure. He carefully reviewed the previous conversation.

She had been nervous, but that was to be expected. She had thought to escape unscathed from her escapade.

He frowned. She had even dared chide him, reminding him of the leather pouch of papers she seemed so damnably curious about.

Still, he held an unshakeable conviction that something was off. A small yet significant inconsistency came to his attention. Miranda had not been wearing a bonnet when she left.

To his knowledge, young ladies, even unconventional young ladies like Miranda Fenster, did not go visiting engulfed in shabby, oversize cloaks and forget their bonnets.

Sprung into action by that small inconsistency, Simon clapped Valentine on the shoulder. “Don’t look so glum. I’ll have her smiling at me by the time we take our vows.”

Valentine looked at him dubiously. A smile crept to his lips, chasing away the shadows in his gaze for a moment. “You will, if anyone will. Good luck, Your Grace.”

Even though the smile faded quickly, the deep weariness that had etched his face when Simon found him foxed and distraught in his study was somewhat faded. There was a spark of life in the blue eyes that had not been there at the first.

With a confidence he had not felt but a moment ago, Simon held out his hand to Valentine. “As we are to be brothers, please call me Simon. I’ll leave you to handle Grimthorpe alone. Perhaps it will be wise to imply the engagement is of long standing.”

Valentine shook his hand heartily. “Certainly. Anything but Miranda’s tale — can’t count how many people have seen her about, even these last few days. She’s always been one to fly off to someone else’s aid.

Simon wasted no time getting to the stables. There was no sign of Miranda. Both of her horses were unsaddled. Where the devil was she? Before he could leave the stable, he heard voices.

Quietly, so neither of the speakers would make note of his presence, he slipped to the door. His view of the yard was good, but he was disappointed to see that it was not Miranda that Grimthorpe had accosted, as he had first thought, but a heavyset older woman, obviously a servant, dressed all in gray with a yellowed linen cap covering her head, obscuring her face.

“Where is your mistress?” Grimthorpe demanded for the third time. He was no more patient this morning than he had been in the hunter’s cottage with Betsy’s mother.

The servant, her head bowed low, spoke in a thick German accent. “Vich mistress do you mean? His Lordship is not married and he hast six sisters.”

“Do you expect me to be interested in any schoolroom misses? It should be obvious that I mean his eldest sister, Miss Miranda Fenster.”

“Oh. Dat one.” The servant scoffed. “She hast been gone two veeks, a mont’.”

“Gone? Gone where?” The doubt in Grimthorpe’s question echoed Simon’s own. When had she had time to coach her servant about her story?

“Avay. Far avay. She’ll not be home for veeks.”

“Nonsense. I’m certain I saw her but a day ago.”