Lady Somers took to her bed, an unprecedented response. Lord Somers eyed Miranda with an unusually penetrating stare, but then patted her on the shoulder and retreated to his club. Miranda sat by her mother’s bedside, her hands still as cold as ice, and tried to explain her actions, a difficult task since she barely understood them herself.
“You told me you wanted to marry this Season,” her mother wailed. “You will not receive a better offer. Not only will Beaumont be an earl one day, he will inherit the neighboring property! Instead it seems that not only do you want to travel half a world away, you want marry a man without a title.”
“I did not refuse Beau because of Mr. Lang,” Miranda repeated for what seemed the twentieth time. It was a lie—Derek had everything to do with her decisio
