Now that he knew where she was hiding, he had to see her again. Aside from his unwelcome feelings for her, there were too many questions to which he needed answers.
It took him two more days to reach her. When he finally arrived at the village where she’d last been seen, it was almost evening, and he stopped at the posting inn to leave his horse and ask for directions. He was hot and dirty, and politeness dictated that he rent a room and bathe first before calling on Miranda. He was too close, though. A small, irrational part of him feared that if he delayed further, she might slip away yet again and he would lose his opportunity to see her.
By the time he reached the small cottage twenty minutes later, the sun had almost set. As he stood before the modest home, he couldn’t deny the irony that it was, in appearance, very similar to the house he’d rented so he and Miranda could meet in private.
He rapped on the door and didn’t have to wait long before a stout woman he assumed to be the housekeeper answered.
“I am here to see Lady Hathaway.”
The woman was clearly surprised that a gentleman, alone, would be paying a call on her mistress, but she didn’t comment as she showed him into a small sitting room. Miranda sat by the fire, working on a small square of needlepoint, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of her. He enjoyed the way the golden light of the fire gilded her skin and reflected the chestnut highlights in her dark brown hair.
“Who was it, Mrs. Evers?” She looked up then and paled when she saw him standing in the doorway. “I see. Thank you, Mrs. Evers,” she said in what was clearly meant as a dismissal.
Andrew didn’t miss the way the older woman glanced between the two of them, a speculative gleam in her eye, before inclining her head and turning to leave.
Miranda placed her needlework on a small table and stood. She smoothed her hands over her black skirts in a nervous gesture, and he was alarmed to see she’d grown even thinner over the last few weeks. Seeing the wariness in her expression, he held back the almost overwhelming need to start demanding answers.
“Good evening, Miranda.”
She licked her lips before replying, and his groin tightened in response.
“Andrew,” she said, allowing him the briefest of curtseys. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I can imagine,” he said, unable to keep the note of bitterness from his voice.
She sat again. “Are you hungry? It is late, but I can ring for tea and refreshments.”
He lowered himself into the chair opposite her. “I see we’re back to social conventions.”
She looked away without replying.
“I thought,” he continued, “that after everything we’d shared, we could have parted on better terms. A farewell, perhaps, or a small wave as you ran away from me again.”
She raised her shoulders in a small shrug, but he could tell from how stiffly she held herself that the casual movement was far from indicative of how she truly felt. His presence here had rattled her.
“I didn’t see the point,” she said, meeting his gaze. “You were tired and needed to sleep. And when I returned home I discovered my courses had arrived. Since I’d failed to conceive a child, I saw no point in remaining.”
“Tell me, Miranda. When did James Hathaway move into the house?”
Her lips tightened before she said, “If you’re implying that there was anything untoward between us—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even if he was tempted, Hathaway’s heir would hardly be foolish enough to do anything to risk the line of succession at this point. He certainly wouldn’t want you to fall pregnant.”
Her breath blew out in an offended hiss and he didn’t know what he’d said wrong.
“Meaning it was James’s ambition that kept him from accepting my wanton advances?”
“No, of course not. You are hardly that type of woman.”
She was silent for a moment before replying. “I was with you.”
How well he remembered. “I find it most curious your husband didn’t try harder to produce an heir.”
It took her a moment to adjust to the abrupt change in subject. “I think he took comfort in the knowledge that James was such a capable young man.”
She held herself almost unnaturally still when she replied, just as she had when he’d first seen her again in her drawing room almost two months before. He’d been watching her closely and it didn’t escape his notice that she couldn’t meet his eyes when she spoke the lie. How had he not noticed that telltale giveaway during his first visit when she’d laid out her ridiculous proposal? He’d been so astonished by her suggestion that he hadn’t been paying attention to the signs that revealed what was now obvious to him—Miranda was lying.
“That may be true, but a man still wants to have his own son inherit. Nephews and such are never a first choice.”
She met his eyes then and he couldn’t tell at first what he was seeing in her expression. Defeat? His conscience pricked at him. He’d have preferred her anger. But damn it, he wasn’t the one who’d lied.
“It is late and I am tired. I don’t have the energy to play these games with you.”
He suspected she’d lied, as well, about having received her monthly courses that last night they were together, but he didn’t think she was with child. Not after all those years of trying if Hathaway’s nephew was to be believed. Despite that knowledge, his eyes moved down to her midsection. She noticed and stiffened.
“What is it you want to hear, Andrew?”
“The truth would be a pleasant change.”
She glanced away and considered her response for several seconds before finally saying, “I was wrong to leave without a word to you. I felt awkward after everything we’d done together. I knew we’d failed, and I was a little ashamed at my attempt at deception.”
“Liar.”
The accusation was softly spoken, but echoed in the room.
“Excuse me?” she managed when she overcame her surprise.
“I’m tired of your lies, Miranda. Tell me, truthfully, why did you leave?”
“I told you everything. I’m sorry if it’s not what you want to hear—”
“Do you want to know what I think?” The room was small, their chairs placed close together, and when he leaned forward Miranda had to lean back to maintain the distance between them.
“No” she said, but the words, again, were obviously a lie.
“I think you ran away because you were overwhelmed. I think you knew from the beginning that you couldn’t have children, but you latched on to this mad scheme as an excuse to lure me into your bed.”
She laughed, the sound brittle. “You have a very high opinion of yourself.”
But he’d seen her shock before she’d attempted to conceal it behind false levity.
“I know it’s the truth.”
“It’s clear to me that you wouldn’t recognize the truth if it walked right up to you and introduced itself.”
“Enough, Miranda.” His voice was louder than he’d intended and a stab of guilt went through him when he saw her flinch. He continued in a softer tone. “I spoke to James Hathaway. According to him, his uncle was quite desperate up until the end to ensure he never inherited. A man in that situation would never leave his wife alone year after year. No, a man who wanted to secure his succession would keep trying. I know you lied about that.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes and silence stretched between them for what seemed an eternity before she finally looked at him.
“You are correct. My husband wasn’t at all happy when I failed to fall pregnant each month.” She must have seen the anger that surged through him at her admission, because she hastened to add, “He didn’t treat me badly, but he was very disappointed in me.”
He didn’t want to hear the details. Twelve years, and in all that time she’d never known pleasure in the bedroom until she started her affair with him.
“Would you care to
know what else I believe to be true?”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug that was meant to seem indifferent. He could tell she’d guessed he knew everything, but she wasn’t about to betray herself.
“I think you still care for me. Why else would you go to such lengths and concoct such a lie to be with me?” He was bluffing, but a man could hope, and hope was all he had to go on at the moment. “But what I don’t know is why you ran away.”
She laughed at that, a small, self-deprecating sound. “I propositioned you one week after my husband’s death and betrayed his memory in the worst possible manner. Do you honestly believe I could go on pretending to be the respectable Dowager Viscountess?”
Now it was his turn to tread carefully. Miranda was as tense as a doe he’d once stumbled upon in a field, and he didn’t want to frighten her away by being too aggressive.
“I never would have called at your town house if you hadn’t left without a word. Never would have had a reason to question James Hathaway and learn that you’d lied.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
He reached out and took her right hand in his. She tried to draw it back, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Why not?”
He didn’t think she was going to reply, but when she did she met his gaze straight on.
“Because you are right. I still care for you, but I know you no longer feel that way about me.”
“Miranda—”
“Yes, you agreed to bed me, but I know I was no different to you than the other women you’ve been with.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She swallowed visibly and nodded. “I don’t blame you. I know I hurt you when I accepted Hathaway’s suit. I could try to lay the blame on my parents, tell you they were relentless in pressing me to agree. Which is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was weak. Too worried about disappointing them. So, instead, I disappointed you. I have no excuses, nor do I deserve your forgiveness.”
In the face of her misery, he kept his growing good cheer in check. “You’re right,” he said softly.
She merely nodded again, but her eyes appeared over-bright.
“We seem to have a problem, then,” he continued.
“A problem?”
“Yes. In the beginning, I told myself I could do what you asked. Get you with child, then leave, all the while congratulating myself on having bested Hathaway in the end. And I could finally satisfy my curiosity about what it would be like to have you under me, screaming out my name.”
She looked away, saying nothing.
“It did not take me long to realize I was wrong. I could never have left you to raise our child alone, let alone allow you to pass him off as another man’s son.”
She swallowed. “Yes, well, you needn’t worry about any of that now.”
“Perhaps not, but what about my discovery that I can’t let you go a second time?”
When her eyes met his again, they were wide with disbelief. “What are you saying?”
He clasped her hand between both of his and prepared to bare his soul. “I love you, Miranda. I’ve always loved you and I know now that will never change. I want you for my own.”
“As your mistress?” The words were barely above a whisper.
“No, Miranda, as my wife.”
Her choked sob was not the reaction he’d expected. He’d hoped to see joy at his declaration, but instead a tear escaped and trailed down her cheek. She brushed it away with her free hand and he noticed that it shook. His heart squeezed painfully as she tried to pull away again, but he wouldn’t release his grip on her hand.
“You deserve to marry someone who can give you children.”
“We still don’t know that you can’t.”
“Robert has a daughter,” she said, her voice flat. “She was born to a mistress years before he married me, so the fault for my never falling pregnant did not lie with him.”
He’d already come to terms with the possibility he would never have children before he’d set out after Miranda. But now he had to make her believe that.
“These last few weeks without you have shown me that I cannot bear to live without you. I barely survived the first time. Don’t ask me to go through that again.”
“You’ll come to resent me. After all, a man still wants to have his own son inherit. Nephews and such are never a first choice.”
Her mimicry of the words he’d used when he was trying to draw the truth from her sent a surge of anger through him.
“I’m not Hathaway, damn it, so don’t tar me with the same brush. Do I want you to have my children? I won’t lie and say no.” This time he allowed her to pull her hand away, but he followed and kneeled before her, grasping her thighs in a vain effort to keep her anchored, because he was suddenly afraid she would disappear from his life again. “Unlike your husband, I love my sisters and their many children. Given a choice between Jane’s eldest inheriting and marrying some other woman just to procure an heir…” His grip tightened. “I’d much rather have you.”
She closed her eyes and a spasm of pain crossed her face.
He didn’t bother to hide his hurt when he continued. “Why is it so easy for you to cast me aside?”
She opened her eyes and looked down at him. “You think this is easy for me? I’ve barely eaten or slept since I left you. I could think of nothing else but how much I wanted to go back and beg you to allow me some small part of your life. But marriage…” She shook her head. “I can’t do that to you. You deserve better.”
“What I deserve is the woman I love.”
She started to reply but instead burst into sobs. Horrified, he pulled her from her chair until she kneeled on the floor with him and drew her into his arms. He was afraid she’d resist, but instead she clung to him until her tears began to slow.
“I am so ridiculous,” she said, the words muffled against his shoulder.
He pulled back so he could see her face. “I refuse to allow you to insult the woman I love.”
The smile she gave him was tremulous, but it made his heart lighten.
“What am I going to do with you?”
He raised a brow and gave her an exaggerated leer. “I can think of a thing or two.”
She laughed—a genuine sound of joy this time—and he’d never heard anything so wonderful in his life.
“I’m still in mourning and will be for the next ten months.”
“I can wait if I know you’ll marry me at the end of it.”
“Then I suppose we’re waiting.”
He gave a whoop of joy and sprang to his feet, drawing her up with him so he could swing her around. She gave a small squeak of surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“But I refuse to wait a moment longer before making love to you again.”
This time when she smiled her tears were gone, as was her uncertainty.
“Then you should put me down so I can tell Mrs. Evers she can go home now.”
His eyes followed her as she left the room to find her housekeeper. It would be hard to wait until he could claim her as his own, but he’d do it. Miranda was worth it.
Epilogue
They waited only eleven more months to announce their engagement—one month after Miranda’s period of mourning had officially ended. Miranda returned to town after Andrew found her and they were careful to keep their relationship a secret from everyone until she was out of mourning. Shortly after the announcement was made, they were married in a private ceremony with only their family as witnesses at the chapel on Andrew’s estate.
“I’m worried about James,” Miranda said.
The wedding breakfast had ended a short time before, and she and Andrew had left their guests to escape to the bedroom.
“Perhaps we can talk about your nephew another time,” Andrew said, frowning down at her.
She ignored him and continued. “He’s so aloof around Sarah. I don’t think he’s happy.”
An
drew snorted. “Hathaway adores his wife.”
He tried to draw her to the bed, but she held her ground.
“How can you say that? The two of them barely looked at one another during breakfast.”
“Only a man in love can see the signs in another. He was trying too hard to make it appear as though he was barely aware of her presence. A man does that when he cares too much and doesn’t believe his affections are returned.”
Miranda frowned. “Is that what you did?”
“Of course. After being tossed aside once by you, I wasn’t going to let you know how much you still affected me.”
She allowed him to turn her around and begin undoing the row of buttons down the back of her wedding dress while she went over the meal they’d just shared in her mind.
“Why do you think he doesn’t want her to know he cares about her?”
“I can’t imagine. Perhaps the fact that she can barely bring herself to even look at him?”
Miranda had noticed that as well. “It could be she’s shy. I’ve known a few women who were that quiet, and yes, even with their husbands.”
Andrew laughed. “The new Lady Hathaway is not shy.”
He’d finished the buttons and was working now on untying her corset.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve been to a few social events when her parents were trying to marry her off. She could flirt with the best of them.”
He drew her dress down her arms and removed her corset and she turned to face him again. His eyes were hungry as he took in her shape beneath the near-transparent chemise. Her blood heated in response, but she held him back with a hand to his chest.
“Do you think her parents forced the marriage?”
He shrugged. “They would hardly be the first set of parents to set their cap for the Hathaway fortunes.”
Miranda frowned at the reminder that her parents had done just that. “But if she cares for him and he cares for her, why would they need to be so formal with one another?”
Andrew exhaled, the sound impatient. “I think your romantic imagination is running away from you. I saw no indication that she cares for him.”
“She does. You didn’t see the look in her eyes when we were talking about him earlier.”
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