Glimmer of Hope Read Online Free PDF Page B

Miranda toward the far corner of the room. “George’s been beside ’imself, fearin’ he’d never get his Lady ‘Verow’ blankie back.”
    Miranda followed their hostess without looking back at Carter.
    “Lady Verow!” a childish voice exclaimed downright gleefully. A blond head popped up from behind a high-back chair.
    “George,” Miranda replied, the first hints of cheerfulness Carter had yet to hear surfacing in her voice.
    “I hope, my lord, you’ve not come ’cause you’re unhappy with my work,” Mr. Milton said, obviously uneasy.
    Carter looked away from Miranda, who had lowered herself to little George’s level—he being probably about three years old. “Not at all,” Carter reassured him. “I was simply accompanying Lady Devereaux.”
    “Her ladyship’s awful good to the missus,” Mr. Milton said with a fond look at his family. “And the children. Right good to all the children hereabouts. She must’ve made a score of them blankets.”
    Carter allowed his own eyes to travel back to Miranda. Little George was enthusiastically showing Miranda a roughly carved soldier, telling her something Carter couldn’t overhear, though he thought he recognized the word Christmas form on the boy’s lips.
    “My George there was the first,” Mr. Milton said. Carter could hear the pride in his voice. “Got the first blanket Lady Devereaux made. Treasures it, he does. All the children love the blankets she makes them.”
    Just how many children in the area had she made blankets for? She must have visited several times to have become acquainted with the local families, or her current visit to Clifton had simply been longer than a few days. It seemed an odd choice for a holiday location. Then again, he had chosen Clifton Manor for his holiday.
    Mr. Milton’s ears reddened, and his eyes and head lowered. “Apologies, Lord Devereaux. Here I am chatterin’ on when I have work to do. You’ll think you’ve a layabout kinda man workin’ for you.”
    “Not at all, Milton,” he reassured the man and held his hand out.
    Mr. Milton’s relief was palpable as he enthusiastically shook Carter’s hand. “Lady Devereaux said you was a right one!”
    Miranda said that? Or anything remotely resembling that compliment? The woman who’d run out on their marriage? Left him no word of her whereabouts? Rebuffed every effort he’d made to see her once he’d finally tracked her down? The two images couldn’t be reconciled. Why would a woman with such an obviously low opinion of her husband be willing to praise him to strangers?
    “Carter.” Miranda whispered from surprisingly nearby. Carter turned toward the sound of her voice, only to be greeted by the cottage’s low light reflecting off the golden-brown hue of her hair. For a moment, he was tempted to reach out and touch it.
    With a shake of his head Carter pulled himself together. Mrs. Milton stood not far off with little George clasping his mother’s hand. At some point during Carter’s ruminations, Mr. Milton had left.
    “If you’re ready to leave,” Miranda hinted.
    “Of course. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Milton. And you as well, George.”
    The little boy laughed up at him. Carter had to laugh back.
    He held the door for Miranda, decidedly ignoring her tempting hair, then followed her through. Mrs. Milton stopped Miranda at the gate. In a quiet and obviously concerned voice, she said to Miranda, “I hope my Joseph didn’t talk too much to Lord Devereaux. He sometimes forgets himself and chatters on when he really oughtta hold his tongue. I wouldn’t want his lordship offended or—”
    “Lord Devereuax is a good and kind gentleman.” Miranda touched the woman’s shoulder softly. “You have no reason to worry on his account.”
    Carter wondered about that as they walked back toward the house. Why would she run from a man who was “good and kind”? But she had. The words were clearly for Mrs. Milton’s benefit, to ease her worries. Miranda, after