Free The Lady Risks All by Stephanie Laurens Page A

her plate. Roderick thought Wraxby a cold fish and no suitable suitor for her, but Roderick, with his light brown hair, clean-cut features, and significant fortune, wasn’t the one facing a lonely old age.
    The thought of Roderick’s sizeable fortune brought her discovery of what he was planning to do with at least some of it back into her mind. In the drawing room earlier she’d had a few minutes alone with him before Gladys had joined them, but she hadn’t yet made up her mind whether to broach the subject. If she did, how would she explain how she’d learned of his private endeavor?
    As Roscoe had implied, Roderick had grown to be no callow youth, no dissolute profligate, but a quiet, steady, and able gentleman. He’d thought things through and had decided to do good, and in joining the Philanthropy Guild he was on the right path.
    He’d found the Guild, and the support of its members, on his own.
    There was no avoiding the obvious conclusion: in this, Roderick didn’t need her help.
    By the time Hughes ferried in the trifle, Roderick’s favorite dessert, she’d decided that the time had come to step back and let her little brother have the privacy he was owed.
    “P igs’ trotters.” Mrs. Flannery made a note on her list. “Now, as for luncheon today, I was thinking of a light bisque to begin with, and then perhaps . . .”
    Miranda sat at her escritoire in the morning room and, with Mrs. Flannery in a chair nearby, worked through the menus for the day. They’d already settled sundry other matters, including the purchase of new linens and moving the tweeny’s day off.
    “Now, for dinner, Mr. Roderick told Hughes he wouldn’t be dining in, so as it’s just you and Miss Cuthbert, miss, I was thinking we could . . .”
    Miranda nodded but barely heard a word of what followed. Roderick had told Hughes, but she’d passed Roderick in the corridor earlier and he hadn’t said a word to her.
    “So, miss, do you think that’ll do?”
    Blinking back to the moment, she found Mrs. Flannery looking at her inquiringly. “Yes. I’m sure that will be ample.” She paused, then asked, “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
    “No, miss. I think that’s it for this morning.” Mrs. Flannery rose. “I’ll leave you to your work, and I’ll get on with mine.”
    She found a smile for the housekeeper, but it faded before Mrs. Flannery had quit the room.
    Roderick had always told her . . . well, until recently.
    Until he’d stepped into adulthood and taken charge of his own life.
    As he should.
    As she’d always hoped he would.
    But now he had . . .
    She shook her head irritably and told herself she would simply have to get used to not being Roderick’s keeper anymore.
    S he kept herself busy for the next two days, filling her time with all the minor household tasks she often let slide. She focused on her role as de facto lady of the house and filled it to the very best of her ability . . .
    Until the afternoon she found herself walking the garden, shears in hand, deadheading the numerous rosebushes dotted about the beds. The gardener, digging at the back of one bed, eyed her anxiously, as if worrying that her sudden burst of activity might presage a cutting back of his duties.
    Reaching a large bush of faded roses, she halted.
    What was she doing?
    Trying to convince herself that she had some real role, that running Roderick’s house wasn’t a temporary occupation, one she’d have to hand over to his bride when he married?
    The realization rocked her. She could manage this household to the top of her bent, yet it never would be hers.
    Just as Roderick, and managing his life, no longer fell to her.
    Neither Roderick, nor his household, could provide her with an ongoing purpose, could give long-term meaning to her life.
    She stared at the withered roses, one question, strident and unavoidable, in her mind.
    What am I going to do?
    With the rest of her life.
    A fter dinner two evenings later,