The Fairy Tale Bride

by Kelly McClymer

  * * * * *

  Miranda could not help the frisson of guilt that assailed her at her intrusion into the dowager's privacy. She was in the garden gazebo, resting, a piece of sewing on her lap.

  The older woman had worked tirelessly these past weeks to ensure a successful party and deserved whatever moments of rest she might steal in between seeing to the needs of the guests and the duties of the servants.

  However, of all those involved, the dowager had motive. She had been vocal about the fact that she counted Arthur a worthless heir apparent. Though the thought was absurd on the surface, Miranda could not dismiss it. Arthur had nearly been killed. Who knew if his luck would hold him safe if there were to be another attempt? The question must be asked.

  And so she asked it boldly, without pretense. "Why do you object to Arthur as Simon's heir?"

  A sniff of disdain met this bluntness. "The sniveling ninny has lucked into being a duke's heir, and he hasn't got the sense to appreciate his fortune. Not to mention his lack of ability in running the affairs of his own wardrobe, never mind an estate the size he will inherit."

  Again, Miranda chose to meet the dowager's acidity with a blunt question. "Do you find his accidents suspicious?"

  The dowager paused in her stitching. "Odd, yes, but not suspicious. He is simply clumsy — carriage accidents, riding accidents, bees ... " Her voice trailed off and she met Miranda's eyes sharply.

  "I find them suspicious." Miranda did not elaborate.

  As the needle flew, the older woman dismissed the possibility. "Who could possibly benefit from his untimely death — especially now that Simon is married? You, perhaps?"

  The dowager shook her head, answering her own question. "But not unless you had a male child to be Simon's heir. Otherwise, you have naught but a few coins and baubles to pawn in your later years."

  The needle slowed. "Is that a possibility?" Her voice, uncharacteristically tentative, whispered across the distance between them.

  Inside, Miranda quivered, but she did not allow that to show in her curt answer. "I am not expecting a child."

  "I didn't think so." Her smile was bitter. "I do know my son after all these years." There was an infinite weariness borne of sadness in her words.

  Miranda abandoned any suspicion that the dowager might have poisoned Arthur. She couldn't believe it of her. For as much as Simon and his mother hurt each other, there was love beneath it. The dowager had never tried to physically force Simon to her will. She had fought her battles with words.

  Nerves raw, Miranda could not stop her own sharp words. "And yet, you don't know him well enough to know what he wants most from you."

  "Perhaps I do know. And, perhaps, in hard-won wisdom derived from all my years, I know that it would only make him hate me more."

  "What is it that divides you?" Miranda leaned forward, wondering if she might find the key to unlock Simon's heart in the dowager's answer. If she answered.

  "The truth."

  "How can truth divide you? I have always found it to be a healing thing." Except when she tried to tell Simon she loved him. Then it seemed to be razor sharp.

  "The truth is a regrettable thing in this case. And it would hurt Simon more if I were to tell it to him."

  "The truth can never be regretted, only dealt with," Miranda said with a practicality born of dealing with her own odd differences that had caused so much dissension for her with her parents. "Simon seems to be able to face truth. Why don't you try to patch up whatever rift has split you?"

  "If only circumstances had not been different. For a moment, I had hoped…but no, I cannot tell him."

  Angrily, Miranda turned to leave. "Of course you won't. Instead, you will poke and prod until his control hangs by a threat. Sometimes it seems you mean to provoke him to murder."

  The dowager's mouth tightened so that her lips turned white at the edges. But then, to Miranda's astonishment, she merely nodded. "Perhaps. I can see what you say. Although I can't appreciate how horrible you make me sound."

  "What I think of you is of no import. It is your son's desire to understand, to heal the hurt between you that you must concern yourself with."

  "And if it is not in my power to heal him? If I hold the power to hurt him immeasurably more?"

  "It seems impossible to me that either of you could hurt the other more. Especially if you tell the truth." Miranda felt the tears rising in her eyes, and added, "You might regret not having tried when he is gone." As she would. She knew she would.

  "And he will be going soon, will he not?"

  The dowager paled at the reminder of her son's pending death. "I suppose there is only one way left to break through to him. I shall tell him what he demands to know."

  Miranda felt as if a burden had been taken from her. "You will not regret it." She hoped this would be the beginning of peace between them. And then she looked into the dowager's face.

  "I will tell him." She looked grim. "But it will not make him happy."

  Miranda felt a chill of fear shiver through her, but she had no time to ask why.

  Simon's voice cut through the conversation as cleanly as a knife. "What will not make me happy?"

  ***