Unconquered Read Free Page B

Please! Please! Please!” Amanda danced around her father, childlike. “Adrian says there are wonderful skating parties at Swynford Hall on the lake, andat Christmas the mummers and carolers go from door to door. There is a huge Yule log, wonderful wassail, plum puddings, and roast goose! Oh, Papa, let us stay! Please! ”
    “Oh, Mandy! Don’t be such a spoiled little fool!” came a sharp voice, and the voice’s owner emerged from the shadows where she had been sitting on the window seat. “Papa must return to Wyndsong. His obligations are there, and on the chance that your social rounds have kept you from noticing, things are not particularly cordial between England and America at the moment. Papa brought us to London as a treat, but we are better off going home now.”
    “Miranda!” wailed Amanda Dunham. “How can you be so cruel? You know the depth of my feelings for Adrian!”
    “Fiddlesticks!” said Miranda Dunham sharply. “You are always in love with one man or another, and you have been since we were twelve. You didn’t want to leave Wyndsong several months ago because you believed yourself in love with Robert Gardiner—or was it Peter Sylvester? In the time we’ve been in England you’ve had a tendresse for at least six young men. Lord Swynford is only your current beau.”
    Amanda Dunham burst into tears and flung herself into her mother’s lap, sobbing. “Miranda, Miranda,” scolded Dorothea Dunham gently. “You must not be so impatient with your twin.”
    Miranda made a derisive sound and clamped her lips together, a gesture that made her father chuckle. Twin daughters, he thought, as he had so often. My only legitimate descendants, and they don’t appear even to be related, let alone twins. Amanda was petite, dimpled, and round, like her Dutch-American mother, a pink-and-white feminine confection with large blue eyes and daffodil yellow hair. She was gentle, and fairly simple, a fluffy creature who would make a charming wife, a loving mother. He understood Amanda, as he had always understood her mother.
    He was not so sure about Miranda, the elder twin. She was a far more complex creature, a quicksilver girl of fire. Born two hours before her twin sister, she was five-feet-eight, four inches taller than Amanda. A coltish girl, Miranda was more angles than curves. The curves, he suspected, would come later on.
    Amanda’s face was round, but Miranda’s was heart-shaped with high cheekbones, a straight, elegant nose, a wide, lushmouth, and a small, determined chin with a little cleft. Her blue-green eyes were oval and fringed with thick, dark lashes. Where had she gotten those sea-green eyes? Both he and Dorothea had blue eyes. Miranda’s hair was another mystery, the color of moonlight.
    The twins were as different in temperament as they were in appearance. Miranda was bold and confident and brave. Her mind was quick and her tongue sharp. She lacked patience, but she was kind. He suspected that her wicked temper came from his having spoiled her.
    But Miranda had a deep sense of justice. She disliked cruelty and ignorance, and was quick to defend the helpless. If only, he thought sadly, if only she’d been the son he wanted. He loved her greatly, but he despaired of finding a husband for her. She would need a man who would understand her fierce streak of Dunham independence. A man who would handle her firmly, yet gently and with love.
    He had told young Lord Adrian Swynford, Baron Swynford, that his formal engagement to Amanda must wait until Miranda, the elder, was betrothed. Thomas Dunham had met no one in England he felt right for his oldest child. He did have an idea on that subject, but first there was a matter to be changed in his will.
    He smiled. Dear little Amanda! She was so sweet and gentle. She would grace the Swynford family table, and the Swynford family jewels. She would never be a particularly interesting conversationalist, but she played the pianoforte nicely, and she