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and she had been together that a lady always maintained her composure. There were, she’d discovered, many things a lady always did that Miranda couldn’t seem to manage.
    “I am, frankly, surprised you were invited to this house party.” Only the halting manner in the dowager’s speech gave any hint of discomposure.
    Miranda, on the other hand, could feel her legs shaking beneath her and her heart thudding almost painfully in her chest. How she was tempted to reach for Carter—he always used to hold her hand when she was nervous, especially around his parents.
    “She wasn’t invited, Mother,” Carter replied.
    His mother arched her eyebrow, a look Miranda remembered seeing on the faces of both of Carter’s parents. It was a look of disapproval, one that told the recipient rather instantly that he or she had committed an enormous faux pas.
    “Miranda was here already when I arrived,” Carter continued. “She had no idea I was due to arrive, and I had no idea she was at Clifton Manor.”
    The Dowager Lady Devereaux’s eyebrow dropped a fraction of an inch, a sign that her disapproval had eased a little.
    “Believe me, Mother, neither of us foresaw this . . .”
    “Complication,” the dowager completed the thought.
    Carter nodded.
    With effort, Miranda kept herself from jumping into the conversation. They were declaring her a complication? This house party and all of its frustrations had come to her home and invaded her life. They were the complication, not her. A lady maintained her dignity at all times and would not allow herself to be overset. She could hear the admonition echo through her thoughts, in her mother-in-law’s voice.
    “Your guests, Carter, are remarkably influential.” The dowager turned to face her son. “After all these years of presenting a good face to the ton— ”
    “Miranda and I have cried pax, Mother,” Carter said. “There will be no difficulties, I assure you.”
    They had cried pax, had they? Miranda wasn’t aware they’d been at war. Did he truly need another victory under his belt? Her needs and his had come into conflict once before. He had won that battle—he’d won it decisively.
    There will be no difficulties. Carter had with that simple sentence dictated how he insisted the next fortnight would play out. What he wanted and demanded would be the rule of law. She would be expected to set aside her needs and wants and wishes in the name of peace. Just like before. But this time, she wouldn’t let it hurt her. This time, she wouldn’t care.
    “I am pleased to hear you have brokered a treaty.” The Dowager Lady Devereaux straightened the mantel garland then turned, her gaze once again on Miranda. “We owe it to our name, if nothing else, to comport ourselves with dignity and grace. We may not be able to control our circumstances, but we can certainly control our behavior.”
    Miranda nodded as she always had when being reminded of her duty by her in-laws. She wasn’t sure she entirely hid her relief when her mother-in-law turned her attention back to Carter. She was beginning to remember how it felt to be under the watchful eye of her mother-in-law. She had listened intently to the lessons given her in proper comportment for a lady, had tried to be just what she ought, but had inevitably fallen short of the mark.
    “Miranda will, of course, need to act as hostess.” The Dowager Lady Devereaux didn’t sound optimistic. “Their Graces, especially, must see nothing wrong. That is imperative. Appearance, as you know, is everything.”
    Carter nodded his agreement. Miranda felt her stomach knotting. They must see nothing wrong. Comport ourselves with dignity and grace. She needed to be the Harford family’s idea of a perfect lady and a perfect wife, all the while ignoring their far-from-perfect past.
    “I will, of course, direct Miranda in her duties,” the dowager reassured her son. “Nothing will seem amiss. You will see.” She adjusted a bow on the garland.