Free Candlelight Wish by Janice Bennett Page B

met?”
    “I have not had the pleasure.” Lady Xanthe held out her hand. “How do you do, Sir Miles?”
    Miles made a leg and found himself the subject of a rather amused scrutiny. His own humor welled and it was with difficulty that he turned a relatively sober countenance upon her companion. “Miss Caldicot I am acquainted with, though we have never been properly introduced. A pleasure as always, Miss Caldicot.”
    Her eyes, an intriguing shade of misty gray, flashed in what could only be sheer animosity. “You can have no idea how I have looked forward to it,” she said with a dryness only he could appreciate.
    His smile broadened. “Counting the moments, to be sure,” he said softly so only she would hear.
    “Until we leave,” she murmured in the same tone. Her polite smile belied the acidity of her words.
    Lucy, despite engaging in polite conversation with Lady Xanthe, had cast frequent furtive glances in their direction while they spoke. Now with all the air of one who could no longer contain her curiosity she joined them, taking Miss Caldicot’s arm and drawing her toward the sofa. “Pray tell me how this has come about,” she begged.
    So his littlest sister entertained hopes that he and her former instructress might develop a tendre for one another. Miss Caldicot would shortly set her straight on that account, he felt certain. He watched them, noting Lucy’s respect and obvious affection for her former preceptress and noting Miss Caldicot’s air of good breeding in the face of this adversity.
    He also noted the profuse amounts of her coppery brown hair, drawn up to the back of her head from where it cascaded to her shoulders in a riot of curls. He much preferred it to the rather austere chignon he’d seen her wear before. This style enhanced the delicacy of her features, the large wide-set eyes, the retrousse nose—and the very determined chin. He had noted her elegant carriage before. Now she wore a gown suited to it. He knew himself to be no expert on ladies’ fashions but he found her half robe of sea-foam green gauze, open over an underdress of white silk, to be attractive in the extreme.
    Abruptly and not quite sure why, he said, “I trust the remainder of your ride this morning was less eventful, Miss Caldicot.”
    “Ride?” Lucy looked from one to the other of them. “Miles, you never said anything about encountering her. And what was so eventful about it?”
    Miss Caldicot’s eyes kindled. “Your brother staged the most dashing of rescues but I fear I was wholly unappreciative. You see he believed my mount to be bolting with me when in fact I merely indulged in a gallop.”
    Lucilla fixed him with a withering eye. “Really, Miles, if that isn’t just like you! You are forever jumping in and fishing people out of troubles even when they don’t want your aid.”
    “Oh, Lucy, pray do not say so.” Her aunt regarded her in dismay. “Miles is such a gentleman, any lady must be delighted to be rescued by him. And dear Miss Caldicot, what a perfectly startling experience it must have been for you. Quite unpleasant, I fear. I do trust my nephew apologized.”
    Had he? Miles couldn’t remember but he rather doubted it. He’d been enjoying himself too much. But Miss Caldicot said all that was proper, winning a smile from his aunt and a rolling-eyed grimace from his sister who promptly drew Miss Caldicot back into an earnest conversation. Miles poured glasses of ratafia for their guests and engaged Lady Xanthe in polite small talk. His gaze though returned frequently to his sister and her companion.
    Lucilla laughed, cast a mischievous look over her shoulder at him and turned back to Miss Caldicot, speaking rapidly in a voice so low he could barely make out the sound. Minx , he reflected. Probably matchmaking with a vengeance. He’d take her to task for it at the first opportunity—if Miss Caldicot did not beat him to it.
    Chievers, his aunt’s butler for as long as Miles could remember,