“Nonsense.” Chapman shrugged, then took Miranda’s hand. The man was much more attractive than Win had noticed up to now. “This is far more important.”
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” Miranda said slowly. “I’m not entirely sure—”
“To be expected, of course.” Chapman chuckled.
Miranda’s brow furrowed in confusion. “To be expected?”
Win bit back a groan. It was fast approaching too late and there was nothing he could do about it.
“It’s been years, really, since I’ve actually been in the offices.” Chapman shook his head. “It was entirely selfish of me.”
“Selfish?” Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Of course not, as we have never actually met. But you are as lovely as your late husband said you were.” Chapman glanced at Win. “Lord Stillwell, would you be so good as to introduce us, as we have only met on paper?”
“No,” Win snapped without thinking. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to delay you any further.”
Miranda stared at him as if he had lost his mind. Perhaps he had or would at any moment. “What on earth has gotten into you today?”
“Do forgive Lord Stillwell, Lady Garret,” Chapman said smoothly. “His confusion is entirely my fault. You see, he did not expect to meet me here today, nor did I expect to see you. But I am delighted that circumstances have prompted our meeting at long last. Once again, an oversight that is my fault.” He continued to hold her hand. It was most annoying. “Allow me to introduce myself.”
Win stared in sheer horror, a voice in the back of his head noting this must be how one felt when one was about to plunge over a cliff and there was nothing that could be done to prevent the fall. Or slow the descent.
“My name . . .” Chapman’s gaze locked onto Miranda’s and he raised her hand to his lips. “Is Mr. Phineas Tempest. And I am at your service.”
Miranda’s eyes widened, her face paled and she snatched her hand from Chapman’s. “Tempest?”
Chapman smiled in an altogether too charming manner. “We meet at last, Lady Garret.”
“You’re my Mr. Tempest?” A horror akin to Win’s own sounded in her voice.
Chapman chuckled. “One can only hope.”
For a long moment Miranda stared at the man. Win held his breath.
“I see,” she said slowly, considering the investigator. Win had seen that look before. Miranda was obviously trying to determine exactly who this man was and what he might want. At last, she cast Chapman a brilliant smile. “This is indeed an unexpected pleasure then. Dare I ask why you are here?”
“Recently, I have come to the realization that I have been remiss in my responsibilities.” Chapman shrugged in an offhand manner. “I’ve been quite selfish and allowed first Lord Garret and now you to bear the burden of management of the firm.”
“Have you?” Her words were measured.
“It’s past time I took a greater part in this company than simply sitting at home, creating my plans and blueprints, in my own little world.” He paused. “I’m not certain how much your husband told you about me.”
“Very little,” she said cautiously.
“Ah yes, well, not surprising, is it? It was business after all and not of interest to a lady.”
Win winced.
“Perhaps I should explain,” Chapman said.
Miranda nodded. “That would be most appreciated.”
“Shortly after your husband and I started the firm I was taken ill. I shan’t go into all the details, but it was the sort of debilitating illness that saps a man’s strength. I much preferred to keep my health difficulties quiet, which is why I led everyone to believe I was too eccentric to meet with people.” Chapman shook his head in a regretful manner. “I was able to work but only within the confines of my own home. Which is why, even after Lord Garret’s regrettable death, I was not able to assume the duties of management of the firm in the way in which I should have.”
Win couldn’t help but admire the way the lie flowed easily from Chapman’s lips. He wondered if the man had made all this up alone or if this was Adrian’s fabrication. Either way, Miranda knew it was a lie. Still, she couldn’t confront him as doing so would reveal her own deception. It was little satisfaction to know that Waterston had been wrong about his sister’s reaction to coming face to face with the architect she had invented. She was entirely too intelligent to call the man’s bluff. No, she was obviously going to play this out until she knew exactly what this Mr. Tempest wanted.
“Understandable,” Miranda murmured.
“There was a time when I assumed I would never be recovered enough to take my place in the world outside the doors of my house again let alone my full position at Garret and Tempest. But recent treatments have proven most effective.” He drew in a deep breath as if drawing strength from the very air itself. “And so here I am.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Miranda studied him closely. “But why are you here? At Millworth Manor, that is?”
“Why, I called on you in London first, which seemed appropriate, and was told that you were residing in the country at the moment. So I thought why not come and see the progress for myself, as well as pay a call on Lord Stillwell? After all, it is his home we are reconstructing.” Chapman inclined his head toward Miranda. “It did seem wise to determine if he was pleased with my work and the progress at Fairborough Hall.”
Miranda’s jaw tightened at “my work,” as well it should. Here was a complete stranger taking credit for her work and preparing to take over management of her business. Win had to give her brother credit. It was a clever, if convoluted idea. Indeed, there might well have been a time when Adrian’s youngest sister would have faltered when confronted with her own imaginary creation come to life. But this Miranda was made of sterner stuff.
“I couldn’t be more pleased,” Win said quickly.
Miranda cast him a grateful if somewhat absent glance. Apparently, Win was the last thing on her mind. Damn it all. If Chapman had not shown up, she would even now be in his arms and they would be well on their way to resolving the differences between them. Now, the idiotic actions of her well-meaning brother had put another obstacle in their path.
“I assume you wish to see the progress at Fairborough for yourself?” Miranda said. “Perhaps Lord Stillwell would care to accompany us?”
Wise of her not to offer to go with this stranger alone. Not that Win would have allowed her to do so even if she knew the true identity of the fraudulent Tempest.
“I’m afraid Lord Stillwell is right.” Chapman shook his head. “I have miscalculated the amount of time I had to linger here and I do have to return to London at once.”
“We would hate to keep you.” Win again attempted to steer Chapman toward the door.
“I shall see you in London then, Lady Garret.” Chapman smiled pleasantly.
Miranda nodded.
“I believe we have a great deal to discuss about the firm and the future.”
“Indeed we do, Mr. Tempest.” Miranda paused, obviously to choose her words carefully. “I had planned to go into London next week. Perhaps we could meet Thursday afternoon?”
“Excellent, Lady Garret. I look forward to it.” Chapman stepped toward the door.
Win breathed a sigh of relief, although his relief would be short-lived. He was going to have to tell Miranda the truth about, well, everything. Why Chapman had pretended to be Tempest. What Chapman had learned about her. Why Win had hired that blasted man in the first place. She would be furious about all of it, of course. Indeed, her deception about her work did seem to pale in comparison with all he had kept from her. But if there was to be trust between them, he would have to make a clean breast of it and hope for the best. At least he had until Thursday next.
“Good day, Lady Garret, Lord Stillwell.” Chapman nodded and reached for the door. It abruptly swung open.
“Welcome me home, cousin.” Gray stro
de into the room, a wide grin on his face. “I can’t say I ever want to make another trip to America and back that quickly, but there is something exhilarating about . . .” He paused in mid-step, his gaze shifting from Chapman to Miranda. “Am I interrupting?”
“Does no one knock anymore?” Win snapped.
“Welcome home, Grayson,” Miranda said with a weak smile.
Chapman threw Win a warning look.
“It’s good to be home,” Gray said cautiously.
“Gray.” Win met his cousin’s curious gaze. “I don’t believe you’ve met my architect, Mr. Tempest.” He turned toward Chapman. “Mr. Tempest, this is my cousin, Mr. Grayson Elliott.”
“I’m honored to meet you, Mr. Tempest,” Gray said, as coolly as if he met investigators pretending to be imaginary architects every day. “I’m a great admirer of your work.”
“Thank you, Mr. Elliott. And I do need to be on my way.” Chapman cast a smile at Miranda and Win. “Good day.” With that, he finally took his leave.
“What an unexpected . . . pleasure.” Gray’s smile was noncommittal, but laughter danced in his eyes.
“Not exactly,” Miranda said softly, staring at the door.
“Miranda.” Win braced himself. “We have much to talk about.”
“Yes, of course.” Miranda wrenched her gaze from the door and smiled at him. “I am sorry that everything got so terribly out of control. And I do apologize for calling you a twit.”
He drew his brows together. “When did you call me a twit?”
“Oh, you might not have heard that.” She shrugged. “It scarcely matters now.”
Gray’s gaze slid from Win to Miranda and back. “Should I leave?”
“Yes,” Win said.
“No,” Miranda said firmly. “I’m sure you both have a great deal to talk about and I have a great deal to accomplish today. Lady Fairborough and I had planned to spend the afternoon at the hall in preparations for the ball.”
Gray’s eyes widened. “Is Fairborough complete then?”
“Not entirely. But the wings that were untouched by the fire are again habitable. As those included the family’s private rooms, your aunt insists that we dress at Fairborough and spend the day of the ball there. Which makes perfect sense, of course, as there are all sorts of minor details that will still need attention. As for the rest of the work, the finishes—woodwork, trims, plaster details and that sort of thing—will still take well into the autumn to complete. But as most of the destroyed portion of the hall has been rebuilt, the noise, the disorder and mess of construction is essentially over. The family can take up residence again within the next few weeks.”
Win stared. “I had no idea.”
“You haven’t been here,” Miranda said pointedly.
Gray’s brows drew together. “Where have you been?”
Win waved off the question. “It’s a long story.”
“However, the ball will be held at Fairborough as it has been for the last 127 years.” She turned to Win. “I know you and I have much to discuss as well, but it shall have to wait. I have other matters I need to attend to first.”
Win stepped closer to her. “I understand that, but—”
“We have time, Winfield,” she said firmly. “All the time in the world, really. This can wait until after the ball, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, I suppose, but—”
“But know this.” She met his gaze directly. “I do trust you. Now, I must ask that you trust me as well. Can you do that?”
He stared into her eyes, brown today and flecked with gold and simmering with promise and something else that was surely love.
“Of course,” he murmured. In truth, he had no choice at the moment thanks to the farce her brother had orchestrated.
“Good.” She turned to leave, then turned back, grabbed his jacket and kissed him fast and hard. Before he could so much as breathe she released him and turned to leave. She nodded at his cousin. “Your aunt will be so pleased you’re back in time for the ball.”
“I wouldn’t think of missing it,” Gray said with a stunned smile.
Miranda smiled, cast a last look at Win and sailed out the door, closing it firmly in her wake.
Win stared after her. It was at once a pity and a very good thing she had left so abruptly. Otherwise he wasn’t sure he could have resisted the need to pull her into his arms and ravish her right here in the library in front of his cousin and anyone else who might burst in unexpectedly.
“Well, that was certainly interesting.” Gray studied his cousin. “I gather a lot has happened in my absence.”
“You have no idea.” Win sighed and returned to his chair behind the desk.
Gray settled in the chair in front of the desk. “Then perhaps you could enlighten me as to what I have missed.” He grinned. “I too have all the time in the world.”
Win narrowed his eyes.
“Come now, cousin. It’s obvious you and Miranda have resolved your differences. Given her comment when she left, I am curious as to what end.”
“That does seem to be the question, and at the moment I’m not sure of the answer. This is a reprieve, Gray, nothing more than a pause in the battle. I suppose I should start at the beginning.”
“That does usually work best.”
“Usually.” Win blew a long breath. “The day you left for America, I was invited to join Miranda’s family for dinner. . . .”
Quickly Win recounted all that had occurred since Gray had left, starting with his defense of Miranda at dinner and her subsequent standing up to her family. He did, of course, skip the more intimate details of that night. Win explained Miranda’s reluctance to accept an engagement, the questions of trust that had risen between them, his continuing concern about her feelings for her late husband, his sojourn in London, his meeting with her brother and Chapman’s subsequent visit today.
Gray stared in disbelief. “I can’t leave you alone for a moment, can I?”
“Not all of this is my fault.”
“No, not all of it.” He shook his head. “But I never thought you were a coward.”
“I’m not.”
Gray’s brow rose.
“I’m not,” Win said staunchly.
“What do you call a man who flees before the battle is ended?”
“Intelligent,” Win snapped.
“An intelligent man would have stayed here. Once the two of you had calmed down, you could have worked out your differences. Then you would not have met with Waterston and he would not have set this absurd plan in motion.” Gray studied him closely. “But you know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I know that. I am apparently much smarter than I look. Or less, I suppose.” Win ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not certain of anything at the moment. Nor have I been since the moment her ugly shoes stalked into my life.”
Gray considered him thoughtfully. “You’ve always been able to charm a woman into doing very nearly anything you wished.”
Win snorted. “With the notable exception of those I have asked to marry me. They seem well able to resist my charming nature.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Obviously, I am going to have to tell her everything.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Timing is crucial if I don’t want to lose her.” Win drummed his fingers on the desk. “I have until next Thursday, when she intends to meet with Chapman. She has to know the truth before then.”
“Not that he will actually appear for their meeting.”
“There is that.” Win brightened. “Perhaps I could simply do nothing and this will all work itself out.”
Gray scoffed. “Coward.”
“There is a fine line between cowardice and wisdom,” Win said in a lofty manner.
Gray laughed. “No, there isn’t.” He paused. “It will only get worse, you know. The longer you put off telling her who Chapman really is, as well as how long you have known the truth about her
work.”
“I know.” Win thought for a moment. “It seems to me, it might be wiser to wait until after the ball to reveal my, oh, let’s call them mistakes in judgment.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what Miranda will call them.”
Win glared at the other man. “I know you find this all most amusing.”
“Forgive me, cousin, but as I was not here for your first three engagements . . .” Gray snorted back a laugh. “Yes, I do find this extremely entertaining. I must say, I cannot wait to see what happens next.”
“Neither can I.” Win blew a long breath. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I finally found the one woman I cannot live without when I wasn’t actually looking at all. And now, it’s all so very messy and complicated.”
“In my experience, love is usually messy and complicated.”
“You could have warned me.”
Gray chuckled. “I only recently discovered that myself.”
“I’ll do what I have to do. Tell her everything and hope for the best. I can no longer imagine my life without her.”
“You’ve never had to fight for a woman before.”
“I’ve never met one worth fighting for. No matter what else happens, I will not give up.” He met his cousin’s gaze. “I will not lose her.”
Miranda closed the library door behind her and collapsed back against it. Who was this man? And more to the point: What did he want? There was, of course, a Mr. Tempest, but he was a silent investor, not the primary architect of Garret and Tempest.
Damnation, she did not need this now. When she and Winfield were so close to resolving their differences. She suspected—no, she knew—he would come to her rescue if asked, but she would much prefer not to have to be rescued. Besides, if she asked for his help now she would have to tell him everything, and while she fully intended to do so, she hadn’t planned to do so quite yet. She would much prefer to reveal that she had, well, misled him after another night in his bed. And perhaps after she told him she did indeed want to marry him. And even possibly after she agreed to an engagement, a short one. Yes, that would be a good time to tell him everything.
Still, the very idea was terrifying. After all, while she didn’t consider that her deception had been directed at him—she had fooled everyone after all—he might not see it exactly the same way. He could be most annoying in that respect. Besides, as questions of trust seemed to be the biggest difficulty between them, even if he did love her, he might feel he could never trust a woman who had not been completely honest with him.
The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor) Page 29