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snugly fitted his broad shoulders. His charcoal-colored breeches ran down into high, black riding boots
that had not so much of a speck of dirt on them.
 Well, Miss FitzHubert, as I gather that is your name, he said with an aloof air,  it seems we meet
again. He took a step toward her.
 Stay back! she yelped, darting behind the large leather chair.  What are you doing here? What do you
want? How did you find me?
 Do not be afraid, he ordered, advancing slowly toward the chair.  I mean you no harm.
 Stay away from me, she warned, slipping around the desk, keeping the furniture between them like a
barricade.  If you ve come to make sure I keep quiet about last night, you needn t worry. I shall never
tell a soul.
 That is not why I am here.
 I m an honest girl! she cried.
 Oh, Miranda, calm down, he said crossly.  I have not come to seduce you.
 Then why did you tell Mr. Reed you are my guardian? It s not going to work! My guardian is Major
Sherbrooke of the Hundred and Thirty-sixth, and if you lay a hand on me, you ll have to answer to him!
A fleeting look of anguish skimmed his face.  Try to listen for a moment, Miranda. It s because of your
Uncle Jason that I m here.
She froze and mentally retraced her last words.  How did you know his first name? she demanded, a
prickle of foreboding rushing down her spine.  I didn t say he was my uncle, either. How did you know
that?
 Perhaps you should sit down.
Miranda was bewildered. There was such gravity in his countenance, however, that she felt compelled to
hear him out. She edged warily toward the chair and lowered herself onto it, ready to flee in a second.
As he took a step closer, she noticed his black armband, then furrowed her brow to note that it was
decorated with the insignia of her uncle s regiment.
Lord Winterley lifted his chin and clasped his hands behind his back.  I am the colonel of the Hundred
and Thirty-sixth Regiment of Foot, Miss FitzHubert.
Her eyes widened.
 I was Major Sherbrooke s commanding officer in the Peninsula. I had the privilege of serving with your
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uncle for six years. He was my lieutenant from the days when I captained my first fusileer company. He
paused, his gaze turning faraway.  We became close friends. The day he lost his arm at Albuera, I was
by his side when the surgeons seared the wound.
She stared at him, on her guard. She was not disposed to believe a word the man said, but it sounded as
though he reallydid know her uncle. Where the devil was the blackguard, then? she wanted to ask, but
before she could speak, he continued in grim resolve.
 At Albuera, Jason asked me to look after you if he did not survive. I gave him my word that I would.
He recovered from that wound, as you know, but our arrangement concerning you remained intact.
She shook her head in bafflement.  I don t understand. Did he send you to look in on me? Will I get to
see him soon?
 No, my dear, he said in a low, gentle tone.  I m afraid there has been some very bad news.
She stared at him, brought up short by the solemnity in his voice. Everything in her went quiet with cold,
sudden fear. There was some somber note in his tone that sent gooseflesh tingling down her arms,
something that brought back a memory of sitting in the front pew of the dim chapel in Papa s country
mansion, her feet dangling, not quite touching the floor, two coffins before her, a white one and a slightly
larger one of mahogany. Uncle Jason had sat beside her protectively, holding her hand, while grown-ups
she had never seen before went filing by pale, stiff-faced men and ladies in black veils who would look
at her in teary-eyed pity and murmur,  Poor little thing, and Uncle Jason would thank them for coming.
She stared at Lord Winterley.  What is it? she asked, her voice gone hoarse.
 Miranda, he whispered with a soulful glance, then squared his broad shoulders and seemed to gather
himself. He spoke with slow, deliberate formality.  It is my sad duty to inform you that Major Jason
Sherbrooke was killed last Wednesday night, the twelfth of December, during a burglary at his lodgings
in London. He was shot once in the heart.
Miranda barely heard the last part, her pulse roaring in her ears. Even his cultured baritone seemed
muffled. The room spun sickeningly.
 What I told Mr. Reed was the truth. Jason appointed me your guardian in his will. I am so very sorry,
Miranda.
A moment passed in utter silence.
Her mind reeled. She stared unseeingly at him until her eyes glazed over. Black rings exploded silently
before her field of vision. She gripped the chair arm so hard her nails dug into the smooth leather.
 Miranda? He approached hesitantly, crouching down beside her chair. He scanned her face in worry.
 Are you all right? Shall I send for the headmistress to sit with you for a moment?
She did not answer. She could not.
 My dear, you are so pale. He reached to steady her.  Let me call for smelling salts 
 Don t . . . touch me, she hissed, jerking away from him. She drew back, staring at him in loathing, her
whole body trembling.  This . . . is not true. This, she whispered,  is the cruelest, lowest trick I have
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ever beheld in my life.
He tilted his head back with a startled look as she swept to her feet before him.
 You re a fraud! she wrenched out, tears leaping into her eyes.  Do you take me for a fool? Uncle
Jason isn t dead! He did not survive six years of war only to be shot in his own home by a b-burglar! He
could defend himself against any stupid thief!
 He was drunk, he whispered.
 It s a lie! He s coming for me! Heis ! Why don t you admit what you really want, you disgusting brute?
My answer is still the same!
He rose, his face etched with taut self-control, as though he was determined to set aside her insults and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]