Free Candlelight Wish by Janice Bennett Page A

lurking in her eyes. Just like you.”
    “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I told you I would prefer to find a wife on my own?”
    “Yes but you aren’t even trying.” She tilted her head to one side. “You’ve never shown the least interest in any of the ladies Juliana and Amelia and even Susanna have found for you and several of them have been diamonds of the first water. You only speak to the most docile of females who are quite beyond their last prayers and utterly boring into the bargain.”
    “And what, my dear Lucy, would you know about docility?” he asked, nettled by her assessment.
    “Pray do not be vexatious, dear Miles,” she said in a voice that perfectly mimicked her eldest sister Amelia in an exasperated mood.
    “Minx.” He caught himself before he tousled her hair. That she had delighted in his doing just that when she was seven had nothing whatsoever to do with her preferences now that she was elevated from the schoolroom. Now it would be unforgivable.
    A heartfelt sigh escaped Lucy. “Oh I do wish Juliana were not mired in the country with her sweet new baby or that Amelia could have come to town sooner or Susanna were not in the family way. They would have known just how to—” She broke off.
    Before Miles could demand just what it was his other three sisters would have known how to do, Mrs. Mannering hurried into the room draped in ells of lavender gauze, her hair festooned with matching ostrich plumes. She set them all to plumping cushions already plumped, checking decanters already filled and generally subjecting them to a fit of nerves at her first dinner party of the year. Miles pressed her firmly but kindly into a seat and presented her with a glass of negus. Just as she seemed about to relax the knocker sounded on the door and she sprang once more to her feet.
    “They are here!” she exclaimed quite unnecessarily. She cast a rapid glance over Lucilla then turned her attention to Miles. “Dear boy,” she said, “you will be an attentive host, will you not?”
    “When have I ever failed you?” With the ease of practice he fended off her misplaced attempts to straighten his immaculate neckcloth.
    He turned as the door into the salon opened and found himself facing a handsome woman of middle years, just above average height with pale hair and violet eyes, gowned in a becoming blue silk of exquisite cut and design. The material rustled softly as she glided forward, hands extended to greet Aunt Jane.
    “How glad I am you could come.” Aunt Jane kissed her cheek. “Dear Lady Xanthe. And Miss Caldicot.”
    Miss Caldicot. With a surge of unholy delight Miles saw the petite figure who stood rigidly a little behind Lady Xanthe. Nothing could exceed the haughty indifference of her features but antipathy welled out from her as tangible as if it had solid form. Good God, had she known where she came before she accepted? He doubted it very much. He could sympathize with the position in which she found herself but he intended to enjoy it none the less.
    “Miss Caldicot!” Lucy rushed forward, hands extended. “Oh my dearest Miss Caldicot! Whatever are you doing here? Aunt Jane, is she the one you told me about? Oh how droll! I never guessed it could possibly be my own dear Miss Caldicot.”
    “You are acquainted?” faltered Mrs. Mannering, looking from one to the other.
    “Dear Aunt Jane, Miss Caldicot is—was—quite my favorite of my instructresses. But whatever has brought you up to London? You said not a word about it.”
    “Like you, I am to enjoy the Season.” The soft musical voice conveyed complete confidence, the air of one in absolute control.
    It didn’t fool Miles. He could admire her manner—in fact the more he saw of her, the more he found to admire—but could sense her underlying uneasiness. He approved her ability to disguise it.
    “You must allow me to present my nephew—” Mrs. Mannering broke off in uncertainty. “That is unless you have also