Free A Noble Masquerade by Kristi Ann Hunter

of her morning dress fluttered in the air as she spun in a small circle. “Do you like it?”
    Miranda raised a single brow. “Is that one of your new dresses?”
    â€œYes. Isn’t it pretty?”
    â€œIndeed. It’s also meant for London.” Miranda turned her attention to her plate and took a small bite of eggs.
    Georgina shrugged. “Mother isn’t here. Besides, what could possibly happen to it? I’m hardly going outside in this weather. I’ll probably spend the rest of the morning playing the pianoforte and working on my embroidery.”
    Her excitement over the very activities Miranda was dreading inspired a short laugh. She had to acknowledge the veracity of her sister’s statement, though. It was highly unlikely that anything would happen to the dress. She felt rather petty for having brought it up in the first place.
    The butler entered as Georgina settled into her seat across from Miranda. A stack of correspondence filled the silver platter in his hand. “The post, my lady.”
    â€œThank you, Lambert.” Miranda set her toast to the side and began sorting through the stack. She could have Lambert sort through them, but she liked having an idea of everything that went on in the house. Taking over the housekeeping duties after her mother remarried had given her a sense of accomplishment when she’d desperately needed something to value about herself.
    There were two letters addressed to Georgina. Miranda slid them across the table, knowing they would be ignored for the time being. Georgina handled all of her correspondence, what little there was, in complete privacy. A time or two Miranda had wondered if she chucked the things into the fire, unwilling to be bothered with anything that wasn’t immediately pressing in her life.
    There was nothing for Griffith—hadn’t been for more than a week now. Somehow Marlow got to the post before anyone else and pulled anything for Griffith out of the stack.
    Was it normal for valets to be so involved in every aspect of their master’s affairs? The question was quickly banished to the back of her mind. She may be bored silly, but she still didn’t need to concern herself with Griffith’s valet.
    She frowned again at the rain. Perhaps it would clear this afternoon and she could go visit some of the crofters. Mary Blythe was supposed to have a baby soon.
    There was a bill from the dressmaker, an invitation to a country house party, and a handful of personal letters fromfriends she’d made in London. Answering those would give her something to do with her morning.
    The last letter had no identifying marks and the handwriting was decidedly masculine. Her brow puckered in confusion. It was clearly directed to her, not Griffith. A cousin, perhaps?
    The seal was plain pressed wax, without a crest or even an initial pressed into it. She eased her fingers under it, nodding and making affirmative noises to whatever Georgina was blathering about. It had something to do with society and London and her planned coming out in a few months. Georgina was quite capable of performing a dozen monologues on the subject, so there was no real need for Miranda to contribute to the conversation.
    She picked her mug of chocolate up to take a sip as she flattened the paper on the table. A glance at the contents was all it took for her to start sputtering and choking as she inhaled the hot, sweet liquid. Her hand flailed in front of her mouth as she tried to regain her breath and composure. One errant swing knocked the edge of her plate, sending eggs, toast, and marmalade flying through the air.
    A loud shriek accompanied Georgina’s scurry out of her chair as she avoided the shower of breakfast food. She frowned at her sister. “You made your point. I’ll go change my dress.”
    She swiped up her letters and left the room, muttering under her breath about overbearing siblings.
    Miranda dismissed her