“Yes. I can only assume peace continued for so long because the agreement had been signed before your uncle’s untimely death.”
“It continued until the residents of Laswell wrecked a Bocka Morrow ship.” Miranda rose and began to pace. “Somehow we need to fix this.”
Wesley scrubbed a hand over his face. It was rather archaic that a marriage was necessary for two communities to get along, but it still happened, to this day. Usually it involved two kingdoms, not smugglers.
Would the residents of Bocka Morrow and Laswell both demand the same? Would they be agreeable and cease the need to fight?
Wesley pulled himself from the settee. While he’d contemplated a match between him and Miranda, the possibility obviously hadn’t occurred to her, and thus, he now knew for certain she’d never consider his suit. She might enjoy his kisses, but not enough that she forgot herself or she wouldn’t have pushed him away. “We should speak to our families.” Certainly there was another way to bring peace without marriage.
Chapter 12
Miranda was certain that her heart had skipped when Epworth first mentioned the marriage clause. But, as he didn’t even hint that the two of them should consider the possibility, Miranda had to conclude that he would not consider her for his wife.
It hurt, more than she’d anticipated, especially after the kiss they’d just shared. Goodness, had Uncle Jonathan not appeared, who knows how long they would have been on the floor, embraced and heated. Who knows what else might have occurred?
Embarrassment engulfed her at the memory of finding Uncle Jonathan hovering above them. He must think her quite wanton, though he wasn’t in any position to judge her after all the time he’d spent alone with Her Grace. And even though the details were not written, thank goodness, Miranda was certain the two had anticipated their marriage vows, several times over.
However, that was not what should concern her. King Merrik, through Endellion, required marriage for peace and if it wasn’t reached, far more damage could be done to the villages of Bocka Morrow and Laswell. It certainly explained why the seas had been churning, the tide higher these past days, and why storms had hovered in the distances, threatening to move closer to shore. Endellion was angry, and they needed to appease him quickly.
Miranda glanced across the room to Epworth, her heart aching. If he had no desire to marry her, why had he kissed her so thoroughly? After they’d fallen, he could have allowed her to stand, and they would have gotten about their business of reading the treaty. Instead he’d held onto her and kissed her so thoroughly that Miranda had wanted to strip out of her gown to cool her body.
Miranda pushed the questions and memories to the back of her mind and hurried from the attic. At the first servant she encountered, she asked that her family be asked to join her and Epworth in the private family sitting room, and that Her Grace should be advised as well.
It didn’t take long for them to join her and Epworth, with Diana and Somerton the last to enter, closing the door behind them.
“What have you learned?” Her Grace demanded.
Epworth quickly explained what had been written in every document, from the first to the last.
“Do you believe if a marriage takes place, it will sooth the insult for those in Bocka Morrow?” he asked of Adam.
“Perhaps. Will it stop those in Laswell from wrecking any ships?” Adam countered.
“I’ll make certain of it,” Her Grace decreed right before there was a knock at the door.
“Come,” Adam called.
A footman entered, carrying a silver tray. “An urgent message for Her Grace from the Duke of Arscott.”
Miranda’s stomach tightened in fear Laswell had taken another ship.
Her Grace tore open the missive as soon as the footman had exited and then gasped.
“What is it?” Epworth demanded.
She glanced up, her face pale and fear in her eyes. “A storm blew into Laswell as soon as my son sent his last missive. Waves larger than anyone had ever seen. They crashed onto the shore, flooded the streets and two homes were lost.”
“Anybody injured? Did anyone die?” Epworth asked anxiously.
“Only one.” She let the letter drift to her lap. “Mr. Alby. The man who set the lights that lured the ship.”
“A price will be paid,” Miranda whispered almost to herself as a shiver snaked up her spine.
“I fear our problems are much larger than anger between the residents of Bocka