CHAPTER FIVE
Miranda took the bundle from deep within her cedar chest. It was wrinkled and gray, and as she removed the items that had been rolled within it and fruitlessly tried to shake the wrinkles from the cloth, a smell of stale grease surrounded her.
"Are you sure you should go?" her younger sister, Hero, asked, hazel eyes reflecting her worry even as her nose wrinkled in distaste at the odor.
"Yes." She had hoped never to have to wear it again. "Valentine is being stubborn. He insists that he will find a way to keep Anderlin afloat."
"Perhaps he will." There was little confidence in Hero's voice.
Miranda was tempted to shelter her younger sister, but she could not. Hero was the next oldest after Miranda and Valentine, and she must be prepared to shoulder the responsibility of the younger girls while Miranda was gone. "He is coming around from his disappointment. But not fast enough. He has not stirred from the study in two days, except to bathe and shave."
Hero protested. "If you give him just a little more time, Miranda – "
"We've barely any flour left, and the vegetable garden will not produce enough for eight people this month," Miranda interrupted, trying not to breathe too deeply, as she donned the wrinkled gray gown over her own plain blue, giving her figure a bulkier look. "Help me with this, please, Hero." She turned away from her sister's stricken look and quickly tied the hideous yellowed linen cap onto her head so that it hid every lock of hair.
As she had in previous trips, Miranda took two balls of spun wool and stuffed them into the sagging bodice of the gown until it was rounded and taut. One glance in the mirror convinced her that no one would recognize her. But the final coup de grace was the pair of padded bags that she tied under her skirts. Before she tightened each bag's drawstring, she inserted two carefully wrapped sets of silver candlesticks and the glittering ruby neckpiece that had been her mother's prized possession.
"Oh, Miranda." Hero took the necklace from Miranda's hands and unwrapped it from the velvet cloth that protected it. "Must you pawn Mother's necklace? She left it to you to wear when you are married and give balls of your own."
It was truly a work of art, with its intricate working of diamond-eyed gold swans, each with its neck curled gracefully around a ruby the size of Miranda's thumb pad.
The jewels themselves held no dazzle for her. It was the memories that the piece conjured for her – her mother, dressed for a ball in a beautiful gown sweeping down the staircase at Anderlin under the awed gazes of her children.
Miranda sighed. "Well, I have no better use for these jewels, Hero, than putting food on the table. I'm afraid Mother would be disappointed, but I don't believe I'll ever marry. Like the girl in the tale who would do anything to release her brothers from the evil spell that has turned them into swans —" she ran her finger over the swans, feeling the hard smooth swell of the jewels under her fingertips — "I would give up anything for my family." She smiled at her sister and gave her an impulsive hug.
Hero's eyes shone with hope. "Perhaps the duke will come for you like Cinder Ella's prince. You'd make a better Cinder Ella than swan princess."
Miranda frowned. "It's Grimthorpe who has my "slippers", Hero, not the duke." She shuddered. "And I pray that he never finds out that they belong to me."
Hero laughed. "That would certainly change the way you told Cinder Ella's tale. You'd have one of the stepsisters fit into the boots, then, wouldn't you? Still, you'd be a marvelous duchess, even without boots. Wouldn't Mama just be delighted if she could look down and see her daughter a duchess?"
Miranda's smile died on her lips as she thought of her mother looking down from heaven. What would Mama have had to say about Miranda's folly? She had allowed the Duke of Kerstone unforgivable liberties.
Worse, in her own mind, as she was sure it would be in her mother's were she alive, Miranda had desired his kisses, his caresses. Silently she answered the question he had not made her answer that night. Yes. She would have allowed him to make love to her if they had not discovered Betsy in the loft. Indeed, she ached at the thought of what she had missed.
She knew with certainty that were he to climb into her bedroom window, like Rapunzel's love, she would give herself to him without hesitation. It was only marriage she didn't want.
What kind of a wanton was she to feel that way? If Grimthorpe had discovered her, her escapade would have afforded a week's worth of scandalous gossip in London. Miranda herself might have been completely ruined, but she gave little credit to that.
It was his reputation that concerned her. The Dukes of Kerstone had been above reproach since the title was conferred — before that even, when they were mere earls. Should the duke be made a mockery of for a situation not of his own making?
True, it would be a minor blot, nothing like the shame attached to her. But Miranda had been in London briefly. She knew the avid joy with which this piece of news would be passed from vicious tongue to jaded ear. No one was more mocked than a fallen saint. And no one deserved that mockery less than the duke.
Putting those thoughts aside, Miranda briskly hugged Hero and pushed her out the door. "Please make sure there is no one in the kitchen to see me slip away." She added, hoping to vanquish the odd stare her sister had given her as she turned away and headed down the stairs, "I have no wish to marry, Hero. Truly I do not. Not even the Duke of Kerstone, as much as I admire him."
Becoming his mistress would have been a more likely outcome — though, of course, she would not have considered such a thing. One night, that was all she would have wanted — one night to know what it was that his kisses promised her.
Thankfully, he had been too much of a gentleman to take advantage of her. She had to be honest — he had been meddling when he had kissed her the first time. Trying to teach her a lesson had taught him one. She smiled. Even though the kiss he had given her was more in the way of a lesson than a liberty, she knew that he had enjoyed it much more than he had expected.
Her smile died. He would have insisted that they marry if he had made love to her. Perhaps Valentine was right. She was foolish to think life was like a fairytale. Maybe there were not always happy endings. This ending was the happiest she would get — no marriage, no more of Simon's kisses.
Still, there was a touch of regret she could not explain. Perhaps it had to do with the longings that had plagued her daydreams since he had kissed her. She closed her eyes: Daydreams were all she had of him. Though, perhaps if she had not been a silly young girl five years ago ...
Her mind refused to consider the painful possibility. She would simply have to be grateful that Valentine would never learn of this. He had become such a prude since his return from the military, he'd probably lock her in her room and feed her bread and water for the rest of her life. Or he would try, anyway.
There was a tapping on her door, and before Miranda had more time than to snatch the cap from her head and conceal her disguise in a swirl of dark gray cloak, her youngest sister dashed into the room, blonde curls straggling from the ribbon meant to hold them tight.
"Kate, you naughty girl, why aren't you taking lessons with Juliet?"
The six-year-old's lower lip extended in a pout. "She called me a terror and boxed my ears."
Miranda suspected there was more to the story. "Whyever did she do that?"
Kate looked briefly discomfited. "Well ... " But then, remembering something more important than her sad tale, the imp smiled. "I forgot, Miranda. Valentine needs you in the drawing room right away."
"He does?" Miranda considered letting him stew until she got back from London, but decided that she couldn't risk it. The trip would take the better part of today and most of tomorrow.
Absentmindedly, she stroked her sister's hair back into place. "Go and make peace with Juliet. You know she has the most beautiful voice of us all, and I shall see that she gives you a singing lesson if you behave for her."
"Will you also tell me a story?" the child wheedled. Miranda had no time to bargai
n. "If you behave, sweet, I will tell you a story tomorrow when I tuck you in to bed."
Kate nodded, then dashed madly out of the room, ignoring Miranda's shouted warning. "Don't run, it is not ladylike."
Miranda felt the weight of the silver thud against her legs, giving her strength to face Valentine. If only she could confide in him ... but no, he was no longer the loving, trusting brother he had been.
Responsibility was a weight on his shoulders he would not share. She pulled her cloak tightly about her so that the gray gown was not in evidence and quickly hurried to the drawing room.
She stopped at the sound of voices, shocked to find that Valentine had company. The visitor's voice was unmistakable, and the muscles of her stomach tightened in dismay. Valentine's guest was none other than Simon Watterly, Duke of Kerstone.
She hesitated, wondering if she dare enter. Surely he would not have spoken of their encounter to Valentine. That would be tantamount to ruining her. Her heart soared with hope for a moment. Perhaps he had come to help Valentine win Emily back? After all, he had had time to think over everything that Miranda had told him.
She took a deep breath and swept into the room, prepared to be surprised to see the duke after five long years.
Valentine's frown stopped her cold.
His face was white and his lips were drawn into the scowl that he had inherited from their mother. "Have you completely lost your sense of propriety, Miranda? How could you have done this?"
"Done what?" Miranda asked innocently, refusing to believe that Simon would have told her brother the truth. After all, he had as much to lose as she. She would never forget that bitter laugh of his when she reminded him that they would not suit.
"Is something wrong, Valentine?" she asked, hoping that his anger had some other source than her ill-spent night with Simon. Perhaps Valentine had missed the silver candlesticks she planned to pawn in London?
"I expected you to have told your brother everything by now, Miss Fenster." Simon was having none of the pretense. He made it clear with one crisp sentence that the truth was out.
Miranda spent one frozen moment in silent distraction as she stared at his beautiful, strong mouth. She could not help the rebuke that fell from her lips. "Some people keep their secrets, Your Grace — in leather pouches, perhaps, but they keep them."
His lips pressed tightly together until they were a white line. But he said nothing in apology.
And then, turning to her brother, she tried to recover the situation before it got out of hand. '"It was a dreadful mistake Valentine, but don't blame His Grace for it, please …"
"You had to try to save the family your way, didn't you, Miranda?" She'd never seen him look so drawn. There were lines of worry creasing his face that had not been there a few short weeks ago. His blue eyes showed clearly that he had lost all shreds of faith in her. "Why didn't you tell me your plans?"
She was incensed at his accusation. He was speaking to her as if she were a child, not his twin sister. "If you recall, you were not speaking to anyone – including me when I climbed though the library window."
"Then you should have waited until I was better able to deal with your foolishness."
His words, so very like their father's, stung Miranda deeply. "I don't see any point in telling you anything any longer, Valentine. You're not the brother I knew."
"I am the head of this household. You should have told me your plans."
Miranda felt the tears start in her eyes and was surprised to find that they were tears of happiness. Her brother was fighting with her again. "You'd have locked me in my room." She smiled.
Though Valentine did not return her smile, irony was all that remained of his irritation when he replied, "I'd have locked you in the attic; you would just escape your room. Miranda, do you realize what you've done?"
She glanced nervously at the duke. How much had he confessed? Surely not about the kiss … or anything else. He was being annoyingly stoic, though, for his expression betrayed nothing. "No one knows, Valentine. I'm sure that Simon will be discreet."
"Simon?" Valentine's eyes widened and his mouth tightened again into a scowl.
Miranda blushed. The familiar address had become natural in her daydreams.
"I mean His Grace, of course. I'm just rattled that he brought this matter to your attention. I thought we had settled it satisfactorily between ourselves."
She turned a stern glance on the duke. "It was to be a secret between the two of us. No one else was to know."
"What of Grimthorpe?" he asked in amazement.
Valentine exploded. "Grimthorpe? I don't know how you manage these things, Miranda. To accost the duke was misguided, but to be caught by Grimthorpe is beyond the pale."
"You sound as if you believe that was part of my plan. And His Grace is overstating the incident. Grimthorpe saw naught of me. He simply has my boots."
Seeing her brother's stubbornly set face, Miranda abandoned the attempt to reason with him and turned on the duke. "We agreed to keep this between ourselves, sir."
"Unfortunately, I could not persuade Grimthorpe to see it our way. He is set on visiting you and no doubt is on his way here even as we speak."
"What?" Valentine and Miranda spoke together, their voices blending into one.
"He cannot know for sure it is me," she said firmly, though she didn't believe her own words. Grimthorpe coming here?
Her eyes studied the walls, where rectangular patched of lighter-colored wallpaper indicated the paintings that had been sold to cover her father's debts. The mantel was nearly bare, when it had once held porcelain boxes and figures, as well as the two sets of candlesticks she had weighing heavily against her legs.
These were details in which Grimthorpe would delight. But that was of no importance at the moment. She turned to Valentine. "You must tell him that I am away visiting a sick relative."
"Miranda ... "
Knowing she had to take the upper hand unless she wanted to become a duchess, she interrupted her brother. "Tell him I've been gone for weeks and will not be home again for a month. That will convince him that he is mistaken in his assumptions. And no one need know."
She threw a reproachful glance at Simon. "I wish that you had come to me first, Your Grace. You have shared our secret with Valentine, and it will be a hard one for a dutiful brother to accept."
"It will be impossible," Valentine sputtered.
"There is no need for upheaval," the duke said smoothly. "Your sister and I are now officially engaged. I sent an announcement to the Times last evening with my manservant. It should appear tomorrow."
He had done what? Miranda and Valentine were both stunned into silence.
After a moment, Miranda demanded, "How could you have done such a thing?"
Simon addressed Valentine, brushing off Miranda's question as if she had not spoken. ''The marriage will take place in six weeks time, if that is satisfactory."
His eyes touched on Miranda in a way that made her heart beat faster. "Since Miss Fenster and I were introduced five years ago, perhaps we could put it about that we nursed secret longings in our hearts that came to a quick fruition this past week, during my stay at the Camberley's estate." His smile had a twist of irony in it. "No one should find that difficult to believe of her that she wished to live out one of her own fairytales."
Valentine bristled. "How could you put an announcement in the paper without speaking to me first? That is simply not done, Kerstone."
Miranda added, "I have no intention of marrying you." Neither man paid her the slightest bit of attention.
The duke focused his attention on Valentine. "You must see that I had no choice, given the situation."
"I should call you out for this."
"Valentine." Miranda was truly alarmed now. Shattered as he was at losing Emily, she was afraid that he meant what he said. "You may not call out the duke. He was not at fault in any of this." The duke was a crack shot — and to have either man wounded would be un
bearable. To have been the cause of their dispute would be ten times worse.
Valentine brushed off the restraining hand she laid on his arm. "Keep out of this, Miranda."
Exasperation made her shout. "How I wish I had." Both men, again, ignored her.
Simon stood straight, looking magnificently autocratic. "I should be the one calling you out. You are responsible for her. And she has made one hell of a mess of my life. I shall be months untangling this foolishness."
For one moment Miranda thought her brother would strike the duke. She again rushed to grasp his arm. "Valentine, be reasonable. You of all people know how my plans sometimes go awry."
Her brother looked at her as if she were a stranger.
Miranda continued, her heart squeezed with pain. "I simply wanted to help you and Emily be together."
He stared blankly at her, and she continued, not looking at the duke. "His Grace has been very understanding, except for this nonsense about marriage. Can't you find it within yourself to be the same?"
The old Valentine suddenly returned as his blue eyes gazed at her. There was warmth and amusement and affection radiating from him as he said, "You are right, Kerstone, she is my responsibility. Until you are wed. And then I'll leave her to you."
"Valentine! You cannot agree to this preposterous farce!" Her brother merely laughed and moved to embrace her.
Aware of her bulky disguise — and somewhat miffed Miranda stepped away. "Would you sell me to the duke, then?"
"Mother always told you to think of the consequences before you acted, not after." He reached for the brandy — the last of their father's stock, Miranda knew — and poured two liberal drafts.
"As I am. Should this marriage take place, the consequences are too horrible to detail." When Valentine did not respond, Miranda continued. "You promised me that I would not need to marry if I could not find a man content to let me run my life."
Still he said nothing. "Valentine, this man kissed me and unfastened my dress simply to teach me a lesson!" Miranda blushed, realizing that she had gone too far in her desperation.
As if he had not heard her, Valentine handed Simon a glass. "She is a fine woman. You will not be sorry to have her to wife. Certainly, Kerstone, you are the one man who just might manage to slip the bit in her mouth and charm her into liking it."
Simon spared her one grim glance before he swallowed down his brandy. "I will consider it my very first duty as her husband."
Miranda watched the two men talking each other around to the reality of the marriage with growing frustration. They treated her statements as if they were less than the flap of gnat's wings.
Worse, she realized, she had no time for this nonsense if she were to catch to coach to London. "I've no intention of marrying you, Your Grace. Grimthorpe knows nothing for a certainty."
She faced her brother. "Valentine, you must tell Grimthorpe that I am away, and have been for the last two weeks. I am certain he will lose interest in this matter in less than a week's time."
With that directive, she spun around and left the room to the two men. Perhaps their drink would bring them back to their senses.
If not for the imminent arrival of Grimthorpe, Miranda would have exited from the front entrance to save precious time. The past few days had taught her to opt for discretion, though. She turned toward the back hallway and found two stunned men standing at the library door, their eyes trained on her.
She realized that she had forgotten to give her brother an excuse for her upcoming absence. Just what she needed, Valentine trailing her to London now. ''I'm sorry I can't stay to discuss this further with you, Valentine, but I am late already. I have promised to help an invalid."
She pulled her cloak tight around her, hoping that he wouldn't notice that she wasn't yet wearing a bonnet. "She's seriously ill, so I don't know when I'll be back."
The silver thudded against her legs as she said encouragingly to her brother's blank face, "Perhaps you might tell Grimthorpe that I won't return for an entire month. I'm sure that will put him off the scent."
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The Fairy Tale Bride Page 9