Free Glimmer of Hope by Sarah M. Eden Page A

introductions, Lady Devereaux,” Carter said, assuming the air of a top-lofty London gentleman. Miranda was hard-pressed not to laugh. He used to posture like that until she would be forced to hold her sides for laughing so hard.
    “’Twould be an honor, Lord Devereaux.” The beginnings of a giggle ruined Miranda’s attempt to match his tone.
    Carter offered her his arm, which she took. She had forgotten how that felt, walking with her arm through his, her hand resting on his sleeve. With Grandfather, the gesture was supportive and kind. But with Carter, it had always been something more; it had made her feel treasured and loved and special. A hint of those same feelings tingled through her in that moment. She quickly dismissed them, unwilling to open herself up to more disappointment.
    They walked into the nursery, and Miranda’s eyes instantly searched out the children. Liliana found them first.
    “Lord Debby!” came the shout from a voice Miranda knew well. A flash of black curls rushed past her and collided with Carter.
    “Hello there, Little Lili.” Carter laughed, spinning the girl around in his arms. “And how are you this lovely morning?”
    Liliana held up two chubby fingers. “ J’ai deux ans .”
    Miranda chuckled softly. What a darling she was!
    “And how old is Lord Debby?” Carter laughed, his arms crossed behind Liliana, holding her up so they were eye to eye.
    “I doubt there are that many fingers in the entire room, Carter,” Miranda replied with a feigned look of innocence.
    Carter could hardly have looked more shocked. For a moment, Miranda thought he was upset. But then his lips began to twitch and his eyes began to dance. Miranda bit down on her lip to keep back an answering smile, though she felt the heat rising in her face. She wasn’t entirely ready to laugh with this man who had shattered her heart.
    Carter turned the girl in his arms enough for her to face Miranda. Carter addressed Miranda with all the deference he would have afforded a duchess. “Miranda, I believe you have met Lady Liliana Benick. Lady Liliana, I am certain you remember Lady Devereaux.”
    “ Bonjour , Lady Debby . ”
    Miranda had noticed Liliana’s frequent use of French the night before, no doubt a legacy from her French mother. Miranda curtsied. “ Bonjour , Lady Liliana . ”
    “And that pea pod”—Carter nodded toward just behind Miranda—“is young Lord Mowbray, though Liliana and I call him Henry.”
    Miranda spun around. A plump, middle-aged nursemaid held the infant marquis in her arms. Miranda stepped closer, mesmerized. He had a head of night-black hair no thicker than peach fuzz, a tiny upturned nose, and a rosy pink complexion.
    “May I hold him?” Miranda was anxious to take the child in her arms.
    “ Bien sûr , Lady Devereaux.” The nursemaid laid the tiny bundle in Miranda’s arms and curtsied as she stepped away.
    Miranda gently ran her fingers through his fine baby hair. She held the infant close to her face, breathing in the clean, fresh smell of him. Miranda walked to the windows of the nursery, where the soft winter light illuminated the baby’s face.
    “Beautiful,” Miranda whispered as she kissed him. “Such a beautiful boy.”
    She cuddled the tiny Lord Mowbray as she watched Carter “meet” each of Liliana’s dolls. She’d dreamed of this once upon a time, of holding an infant in her arms while watching Carter with their children. Those children would have had dark hair like his, perhaps his green eyes as well. She’d pictured it so many times.
    Carter continued to entertain Liliana. Miranda remained near the window, rocking her bundle in her arms and humming a lullaby she’d known all her life. The tiny child dozed, and Miranda watched contentedly.
    After a while, the baby began to squirm. Miranda offered her index finger for little Lord Mowbray’s inspection. She was always amazed at the strength of an infant’s grip, an almost desperate need to cling to