Treasured Vows Read Online Free PDF Page A

gracefully rose and welcomed her mother with a small hug. “What good news do you have for me?”
    “My pet, this is our new houseguest, Miss Phadra Abbott. Your father and I will be introducing her into society.”
    Miranda looked from her mother to Phadra. Her wide blue, limpid eyes didn’t miss a thing, Phadra thought, and for the third time that day she was conscious of someone staring at her toes.
    Miranda smiled. “Oh, welcome,” she said pleasantly. She turned to her mother. “Was this your news?”
    “Did you have a good day?” Lady Evans asked, the smile on her face looking somewhat forced.
    “I spent it with Cousin Sophie. She is becomingquite a bore, really.” She rolled her eyes. “She goes on and on about how any day, any moment, she is expecting an offer. She’s certain that Dangerfield is going to ask for her hand. I’ve warned her that she has been out for only a year and shouldn’t have such high hopes, but”—she shrugged her elegant shoulders—“I only say it to be kind. Let’s be honest: Sophie doesn’t have a prayer at all of contracting any alliance, especially one as good as Dangerfield. She’s got those buck teeth, and Dangerfield knows he can do better. You must see her, Phadra. Her two front teeth are very pronounced. Very unattractive,” she finished, giving her own appearance a sweeping glance of approval in the glass over the vanity.
    Lady Evans took a very deep breath before surprising Phadra by announcing to everyone in the room, “Well, my good news is that your father has accepted a contract for your hand in marriage.”
    Miranda seemed both surprised and delighted. “Lord Phipps has called on Father.” She clapped her hands together. “I’m so happy.”
    “Well…no, not exactly,” Lady Evans answered, the lines of her face crinkling with worry. “Oh, dear, Miranda. Perhaps you’d better sit while I tell you this.”
    “Tell me what?” The joyful certainty in her daughter’s eyes turned to confusion. “Mama, what’s wrong? Father hasn’t bungled this, has he?”
    Lady Evans blanched. “My dear, you are contracted to wed a Mr. Grant Morgan.” Her words came out in a rush. “He’s a gentleman your father knows at the bank.”
    Phadra watched the sweet, pleasant expression on Miranda’s face change with the swiftness of rollingstorm clouds. “Mr. Grant Morgan? A Mister? ” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.
    Lady Evans nodded, the salt-and-pepper curls bobbing, her expression tight. “He will present himself shortly to ask formally for your hand.”
    Miranda stared as if she hadn’t heard her mother. “My father wants to marry me off to a Mister? ” Her voice began increasing in volume. “Didn’t you tell him about Lord Phipps? Didn’t you tell him I had more suitable prospects?”
    The maid and Lady Evans stepped back, leaving Phadra standing in the forefront. Phadra wondered briefly why they had done so—until the young woman, in a sudden, rash action, swept all of the glass bottles and pretty things from her vanity with such force that some hit the wall and broke.
    “I won’t do it!” she shrieked as the scent of lily of the valley filled the air. “I won’t marry a plain Mister. I want to marry Lord Phipps. Father can’t make me marry a stupid banker. Do you hear?” For emphasis, she crossed over to her bed and with one firm yank of her hand pulled down the bed curtains and flung them with surprising strength at her mother—but it was Phadra who caught them, taking a step back under their weight. Meanwhile Miranda beat her feet in an angry staccato on the India carpet. “I won’t have it! I won’t!” Her pretty face began turning beet red with anger.
    A knock at the door interrupted her tirade.
    “Who is it?” Miranda shouted, and stood there breathing in great gulps of air.
    The footman’s voice trembled slightly as he answered. “I have a message from Lady St. George and Lady Sophie.”
    Before anyone in the room could