He shoved the thought aside. Father was in good health and there was no need borrowing trouble. They had enough already.

“Have you accepted all this?”

“I don’t know.” Win’s gaze drifted over the house once again. The overcast skies only added to the dreary scene. It was as if all color had vanished from the world, leaving everything gray and black and dull and dingy. He wasn’t entirely certain it hadn’t all been a dreadful dream brought on by something he’d eaten that disagreed with him or some odd story he’d read that lingered in the back of his mind. “I shall have to, I suppose.” He glanced at his cousin. “Have you?”

Gray stared at the house for a long moment. “I was able to prepare myself, I suppose, after I received your telegram. Waiting for the next train and the hour-long trip here, I had the time to imagine the worst and ready myself.”

Win started down the drive toward the dower house. “You should see Mother and Father. They’ll be pleased that you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Gray took a last look at Fairborough Hall, then shook his head and joined his cousin. “It could have been much worse, I suppose.”

“That’s what I keep thinking.”

A crash sounded behind them, reverberating through the air and the ground beneath their feet. The two men swiveled back and stared at the house. A cloud of ash and dust hung in the air directly above the mid-portion of the building. Win winced.

Gray’s eyes widened. “What on earth was that?”

“I’m fairly certain that,” Win said with a weary sigh, “was the roof.”

Yes, indeed it could have been worse.

And now, it was.

Chapter 1

Three weeks later ...


“. . . and you will not believe what I was told about Lady . . .” Mrs. Bianca Roberts continued without so much as a pause for breath. And why should she? The latest on-dit about Lady Whoever-she-was-talking-about-now was entirely too tasty to keep to herself.

Under other circumstances, Miranda, Lady Garret, would be alternately amused or annoyed at her inability to get a word in. Today, she appreciated her sister’s ramblings. She had entirely too much on her mind to pay any attention at all, and Bianca’s enthusiastic and incessant chatter made it unnecessary to do so. All Bianca really required in terms of a response was the occasional nod or a murmur of surprise or a clucking of the tongue. In the last year or so, Miranda had become quite adept at it. It did seem she did some of her best thinking when Bianca was confident she had her rapt attention.

“. . . can imagine my surprise, of course. Particularly when I heard, from a quite reliable source mind you, that she had had quite enough . . .”

Miranda sipped her tea and smiled with encouragement. She had long gotten over this particular deception. It did no real harm and kept her sister from prying too deeply into Miranda’s activities. Activities she would much prefer to keep private. Who knew how her family—especially her brothers—might react? The Hadley-Attwaters considered themselves a fairly proper family.

Adrian, of course, would be most disapproving. Her oldest brother and the current Earl of Waterston was a great stickler for propriety even if, on occasion, he could also be most surprising. Miranda suspected that was due to the influence of his wife, Evelyn. Still, one couldn’t count on most surprising. Her next older brother, Hugh, was a barrister and, as such, all too cognizant of proper behavior. Her remaining brother, Sebastian, who had always flouted tradition in his own life, might well be her greatest ally given his wife, Veronica’s outspoken tendencies and penchant for support of various rights for women. Although, on the other hand, what one overlooked in one’s wife, one might not accept in one’s sister.

As for the female members of the family, one never quite knew on which side of a debate her mother and her oldest sister, Diana, would fall. Mother could be startlingly progressive when she wished to be, and Diana had always had an independent nature. Even so, this was not the sort of thing with which one wanted to test. Bianca might think it rather exciting, but she had never been particularly good at keeping a secret. Precisely why Miranda had gone to great pains not to reveal so much as a hint of her activities. There was nothing Bianca liked better than ferreting out secrets. Her cousin, Portia, who was as much a sister as Diana and Bianca, would certainly be shocked. Why, it was one thing for a lady to dabble in the arts or to take up the cause of charitable works, and quite another to become involved in business. This simply wasn’t the sort of thing a Hadley-Attwater did.

The fact that this was Miranda and not another member of the family would only add to their shock. Her family considered her the quietest of the lot and the most reserved. She was the youngest and the others had long felt she needed their protection. It was a source of annoyance even if she had never said anything. It had always been so much easier to avoid confrontation than to exhibit outright defiance. John had recognized, and indeed admired, her strength of character, which was yet another reason why she had loved him.

“. . . given that it was her fortune, after all . . .”

Not that her family had any say in the matter, not really. Miranda was, after all, twenty-eight years of age, financially independent and had been a widow for nearly three years. She was used to making her own decisions now and make them she would. Besides, she enjoyed what she was doing. While she did appreciate her family’s advice—and as the youngest of seven children, advice was in abundance—she would follow her own path. A path that had begun innocently enough. Indeed, one could say she had taken the first step upon that path when she had first met her late husband.

“. . . and needless to say, at first, I was shocked by the mere thought . . .”

Miranda had met John Garret, younger brother of Viscount Garret, at a lecture on the influence of Palladio on English architecture. Miranda had been one of the few women present, but she had always had an interest in the design of buildings. Indeed, she had drawn houses—both practical and fanciful—for much of her life. So she had summoned her courage, enlisted the assistance of an elderly aunt as a chaperone and attended.

The lecture had been fascinating but not nearly as interesting as the dashing Mr. Garret. He was handsome and amusing and of good family. To her eyes, he was very nearly perfect. He encouraged her interest in architecture and a good portion of their courtship consisted of attending lectures and viewing exhibits. Years later he admitted his encouragement had as much to do with being in her company as anything else. He quite swept her off her feet and they married within a few months. Shortly after their marriage, John opened his own architectural firm, thanks in part to funding from an anonymous investor who wanted nothing more than repayment and his name as part of the business. Thus was born the firm of Garret and Tempest.

Miranda had a good eye and an innate grasp of design, and when John would bring home drawings she would make a suggestion here and point out a problem there. Before long, she was quietly working by his side. John was proud to admit she was much more creative than he, and during the six years of their marriage, he taught her everything he knew and she gradually took over most of the design work, whereas he was the public face of the firm.

“. . . could scarcely avoid the comparison as it was so annoyingly obvious . . .”

When John died in a construction accident, along with his construction supervisor, Mr. West, Miranda inherited the company, and its debts, and the firm continued with the projects already under way. Miranda hired Mr. West’s sister, Clara—who had a clever mind with figures—to assist Mr. Emmett Clarke, who had been John’s assistant. But the second year after John’s death Clara pointed out the firm would not survive without new business. For that they needed an architect. Upon reflection, Miranda still wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, but there was a void in her life and doing the design work she had done with John filled that emptiness.

Now, Emmett was the liaison with clients, Clara ran the company and Miranda produced the designs. There were a handful of additional employees as well. Garret and Tempest had endured, and Miranda continued to make regular payments to Mr. Tempest’s financial representatives. While the firm was prospering, Miranda, Clara and Emmett knew if Miranda’s involvement became public knowledge, the company would not survive, no matter how good its reputation. But Miranda had an obligation to the people who had worked for John, and now worked for her, to avoid failure at all costs.

Keeping this a secret, even from her family, hadn’t been easy, especially when it came to Bianca. She wasn’t merely Miranda’s sister but her dearest friend. But Bianca hadn’t seemed to notice that Miranda was unusually busy these days and that the sisters were meeting more and more often here at the Ladies Tearoom at Fenwick and Sons, Booksellers. It was convenient to the Garret and Tempest office, was a favorite of Sebastian’s wife, Veronica and, more importantly to Bianca, had become quite the place for ladies of society to frequent.

“. . . and I thought, if she could, why couldn’t I? After all, it’s not . . .”

Miranda had just come from a meeting with Clara and Mr. Clarke about a lucrative new commission to redesign and rebuild a manor house that had been devastated by fire. While they couldn’t afford to pass on the job, taking it would be difficult. Fairborough Hall was a hour away from London by train and the work would require the presence of someone from the firm nearly every day during construction. But Emmett’s wife was with child and she was having difficulties. She had already had two previous miscarriages and her doctor was insisting she stay bedridden. Emmett did not want to be away from London should she have need of him. Miranda and Caroline could not fault him for that, although the two women acknowledged between themselves, if his employer had been male, his reluctance might not be tolerated. The three decided there was no choice but to have Miranda meet with Lord Stillwell and, should they get the commission, she would present the plans and represent the firm. They agreed there was no need to reveal the true architect.