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been rebuffed at every turn.
    “I am not interested in blame,” Mr. Benton said. “Miranda has never once attempted to blame you for, nor explain what occurred to cause, this rift in your marriage. She still refuses to, in fact. But I am asking you to tread lightly.”
    Miranda hadn’t told her grandfather the reason she had deserted her husband? Then again, she hadn’t told her husband the reason she had run out on their marriage.
    But why would she keep that from Mr. Benton? Did she feel guilty about leaving? Was she unwilling to open herself up to censure? He didn’t want to think about her reasons. He’d convinced himself long ago not to torture himself with questions that couldn’t be answered. The damage was done. All Carter could do was try to maintain a minimal degree of peace between them all.
    “Our circumstances are less than ideal,” Carter said. “But I will not do anything to humiliate her. She will be treated with the deference due her position as the de facto mistress of the manor.”
    “More is at stake here than her pride ,” Mr. Benton said.
    Now what did that mean? “Are you asking me to simply overlook the last three years? To pretend we are living an idyllic life with a perfect marriage?” Carter felt his defenses rising. Benton had played a role in Miranda’s defection after all. “She and I are avoiding topics that would inevitably result in an argument or worse. That is the best either of us, or you, sir, can expect.”
    “Do a favor for an old man.” Mr. Benton held a certain level of pleading in his voice that broke through all of Carter’s efforts to remain indignant. “Be kind to my girl.”

Chapter Four
    Be kind. Mr. Benton’s words repeated in Carter’s mind as he followed Miranda’s path down the back steps the next morning. She hadn’t come down for dinner the night before. It had been an awkward meal, with the tension between her grandfather and himself too marked to be easily overcome. The tension between Miranda and him was palpable as well. Avoiding topics didn’t mean they didn’t exist.
    Still, Mr. Benton had a point, Carter had eventually conceded after hours of tossing in his bed. If he and Miranda didn’t reach some kind of truce, the house party would be a complete disaster. Carter couldn’t entirely dismiss Mr. Benton’s cryptic declaration that “More was at stake than Miranda’s pride.” He hadn’t yet deciphered that warning, and it bothered him.
    He had nearly reached her; she was setting out across the back acres, and she walked slowly. Somehow he’d pictured her as a vigorous walker. He could still remember one particularly sunny afternoon during the first months of their marriage when he’d chased her teasingly around the gardens behind their home in Wiltshire. She’d moved quickly then.
    Carter fought down a surge of frustration at what she’d taken from him and everything he’d lost when she’d left without an explanation. A woman who would walk out on her marriage and never even look back was not to be trusted. He would work at establishing a temporary cessation of hostilities, but he was not foolish enough to expect anything beyond.
    Be kind. He could do that much.
    “May I join you?” Carter asked the moment he reached her side.
    She jumped at his sudden words, stopping on the spot, one hand instantly clamped over her heart, the other tightly clutching a small basket. “You frightened me,” she said after a couple of audible breaths.
    Her cheeks and nose were pink with cold. She looked adorable. The slightest of smiles escaped before Carter could prevent it. “May I walk with you?” he asked again.
    “What of your guests?” she asked, visibly wary.
    So he had made some impression on her. It seemed she wasn’t as unaffected by their circumstances as she usually seemed. Except for the teary scene with Miranda’s grandfather the night before, Carter had yet to see any hint of emotion in her other than momentary