Miranda looked at Samantha.
Her daughter might have tried to hide what had happened the previous night, but Miranda was her mother. She had survived enough wild nights with her own husband to recognize the signs.
And Samantha was glowing.
Miranda had a hundred questions, but one glance was enough to tell her that this was more than a one-night affair. Whatever had happened between them, there was something deeper underneath it.
Then she looked at Fitzgerald.
He stood calmly behind Samantha, his expression composed. Miranda's gaze flicked toward the open window.
Ah. Samantha had clearly tried to throw him out. And yet here he was, meeting her eyes without the slightest inclination to run.
Miranda almost smiled. Well. William might load his shotgun. She might have to stop him from actually using it.
"Will pancakes do?" she asked pleasantly.
Fitzgerald smiled and made an okay sign. "Splendidly, Mrs. Preston."
"They'll be ready in a jiffy."
Miranda walked away.
