Disgust that he had let down his guard and allowed himself to enjoy the comfort of holding Miranda as he fell asleep, for enjoy it he had. He’d clung to her the night before like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. Hoping to fix the damage he’d caused by spending the night, he dressed and went in search of Miranda so he could take his leave. He expected to find her in another room, perhaps the kitchen, but the annoyance he felt at his unwelcome sentimentality the night before changed to disbelief when he realized she wasn’t in the house. She hadn’t even left a note. A dark sense of foreboding settled over him like a shroud as he made his way from the house. Not caring who took note of his visit, he called on her later that afternoon. The very last thing he’d expected to learn was that Hathaway’s heir had taken up residence. Andrew was shown to the library and was taken aback by the tall, dark-haired man who joined him a few minutes later. The new Viscount Hathaway bore no resemblance whatsoever to the old one.
