Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5)

by Heather Boyd

  He skimmed his hands lightly over her body, avoiding her breasts, her most sensitive parts, to help make his point. Miranda’s breath hitched, but her body tensed against showing further response. Kit continued to touch her lightly, even while his body craved action. As before, the moment he touched Miranda, the more he wanted her. A pity she still denied his presence didn’t affect her the same way.

  He lowered his eyes to her breasts, pleased to see the tips now revealed her arousal. He smiled at how her body betrayed her. “I never once cared about your pleasure. I took mine first and often. If I was such a beast, are you not in fear for your virtue now?”

  Her breath panted from her lips when Kit slid his hand till it rested against her ribs and paused beneath her breasts. This desire was their undoing. The cause of his misery. He cupped her breast and her breath left her in a ragged gasp. He lightly kissed the column of her throat as she squirmed against him, pressing her bottom against his thickening length. She’d always been a temptress. Everything about her set his desires alight.

  She must remember how insatiable their appetite for passion had been, but for some unfathomable reason she now meant to deny its existence. How many couples married for money and provoked each other like this? It wasn’t rational or normal. It was extraordinary. Kit brushed his arousal against Miranda just once.

  Then he dropped his hands and stepped back, pleased to see she had lost her careful composure and staggered a step. She met his gaze and her eyes glowed with a lust he remembered well. “If that is what you recall, Miranda, then I challenge your memory, because all I remember is the sweetness of surrender, yours and mine. Good day to you. Don’t think you can escape me again.”

  Kit snatched up his hat and Miranda’s reticule for good measure and strode out, his trousers too tight, his passions too high. He would not force Miranda, but he’d be damned if he’d let her forget the truth of how right they were together in bed while she tarred him with the brush of an utter scoundrel.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Three breaths into the morning, Miranda discovered she wasn’t alone. A woman’s soft steps crossed the room, approaching the bed in a stealthy manner. Her heart hammered in panic. She’d specifically told the maid she would call when she was ready for company. After the events of yesterday and her encounter with Taverham, she was feeling rather delicate and unsettled. “Have you never heard of knocking first before entering a lady’s bedchamber?”

  “My husband said knocking spoils the surprise.”

  Miranda levered herself to a sitting position to stare at Virginia—an old acquaintance from the days before her marriage. Since they’d last seen each other Virginia had married Lord Hallam, a man with no discernable sense of humor, and borne him a daughter. Or so her informant had told her. “Ginny.”

  “Merry.” She came closer and they embraced. “What in heaven’s name are you doing in a hotel?”

  “Bracing myself for Taverham’s next visit.”

  “He’s outside.” Virginia smiled a little sadly. “I could not believe my ears when I heard of your return after so long with no hope. I had to come see for myself that the tales were true.”

  Knowing it was beyond useless to remain abed, Miranda unwound the sheets from her body and peeled the remaining covers back from her legs to dangle them over the side. She discreetly placed her fingers over her wrist to count the pulses of her blood as doctors had suggested she do first thing in the morning and then again later in the day to see if there was any change. The beats seemed steady, at least for the present. “What is the gossip this morning?”

  “That you created such embarrassment for Taverham that he’s not receiving callers.”

  Miranda rubbed her wrist, then brushed her hair from her face. “Are those turned away not to be considered lucky instead to be spared his tiresome company?”

  “Merry,” Virginia said, chiding her. “This doesn’t sound like the girl I knew all those years ago.”

  “The Miranda you once knew trusted more. She was a fool.” Miranda stood and faced the window, noting the day was as gray as the one before. It suited her mood and the gnawing ache filling her as she thought of Christopher somewhere out there. He was the only good to come from marrying Taverham. “A simpleton with stars in her eyes and whipped cream in place of intelligence. I ought never have been persuaded to marry so young.”

  Virginia frowned. “At the time, I didn’t think anything would stop you having him.”

  And there was the rub. Despite the time that had passed, she had desired her husband then and she still desired him now, apparently. The annoyance of that and the manner he’d left her in, aroused and furious to be feeling so strange again, had kept her awake until all hours of the morning. The tangled state of her bedsheets was proof she’d not passed a restful night.

  But she would resist his demands and not return to his house until she was free to do so with her son as leverage. There was no choice. She couldn’t become confined beneath Taverham’s roof until she had found Christopher. After she’d retrieved him, she didn’t much care what happened in her life as long as she could see her son every day. She would be at peace at last and done with hiding his existence.

  Miranda began to dress. There was only so long she could count on having privacy before Taverham forgot he was supposed to be a gentleman and barged in on her unannounced. Virginia helped dress her hair without a word and then held out a ring to her. “Taverham thought you might like this returned to you.”

  The ostentatious Taverham family heirloom, more emeralds and diamonds than she’d ever seen on anyone’s hand, gleamed in Virginia’s grip. Miranda had left it behind when she’d run away from her wedding day, and she’d not missed the silly, heavy thing.

  She took it with a weary heart. She’d sworn never to wear it again and wouldn’t until her mission was complete. “I expect it’s merely a means of reminding me of what he brings to my life. Gilded chains. Rules and obedience. I hope for your sake your husband is in love with you.”

  Virginia blushed. “He wouldn’t dare not be. Put it on so we may go?”

  Miranda placed the ring into a drawer instead. All she’d had with Taverham was misguided passion and that was merely a passing sensation. Lust was fleeting. Only love lasted and they were certainly not in love and had never been. In time, she’d learn to dull her feelings about him and ignore the reminders of what she’d imagined they’d once shared. “Then you are fortunate. Where are we going?”

  “Taverham wishes to spoil you and insists you need a new wardrobe.”

  Miranda’s wardrobe might not be in keeping with the latest fashions, but there was nothing wrong with her gowns in the least, not for the retiring life she preferred to live. She’d not been entirely without resources these past years to be considered an object of ridicule in her manner of dressing. Taverham would have to take her as she was or go to the devil. Let Lady Brighthurst continue to delight him with her appearance. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, come now. Madame du Clair will triumph if her establishment is the first business Lady Taverham choses to patronize after her return.” Virginia linked their arms. “It also gives us an excuse to send our husbands away, and you know we can talk openly before Madame. She’s been worried about you too, so expect to be completely smothered in delight by the little Frenchwoman.”

  Madame du Clair had been the kindest soul during Miranda’s short and only season in London. Miranda had genuinely liked the woman and had soaked up every scrap of advice offered on how to present herself to her advantage. That advice had won her a proposal from a marquess, but her prize was a man she could never fully claim. “Very well. For Madam’s sake only, but I will not returning to Twilit House at the end of the day.”

  “If that’s what you want, I will do my best to see it happen.”

  Miranda followed Virginia out into the hall with a heavy heart. She might have had a chance to slip away from her husband, but her chances now were much slimmer if she didn’
t want Virginia taking offense. She shut and locked the door, then looked up straight into her husband’s eyes, so like Christopher’s but a much deeper shade of green. A little startled by the resemblance, she eased away.

  “Good morning, my darling wife.”

  Miranda held on to her temper and tongue by sheer force of will. She didn’t need lies or reminders of what they were meant to be. Not yet. She addressed Virginia’s husband instead of responding. “Lord Hallam. A pleasure to see you again.”

  “Not so surprising to see you. Took you too bloody long to come back.”

  Hallam’s blunt remark had no power to hurt her, so she merely smiled tightly and contemplated how on earth the kindest woman she’d ever known had come to marry such a fustian ogre. He must have well-hidden positive qualities somewhere that only the most patient of souls could uncover. That explained why he’d proposed to Virginia. Virginia was entirely too softhearted.

  Taverham thrust out the reticule he’d taken from her yesterday, possibly in the vain hope of preventing her escape. Miranda kept little of value in it, scarcely enough to identify her to anyone, but she took it so he wouldn’t know. The purse felt heavier and she concluded he’d provided her with pin money. Her first.

  Although she hated giving in, the money would go a small way to repay Martin’s expenses as he searched for information about Mr. Fenning’s whereabouts. Martin was right that she couldn’t go into the Seven Dials unprotected, especially if Fenning might not even be there anymore. She would take Peter Landry and maybe hire another man as a bodyguard for her protection. Someone loyal to her and to her money.

  Before she’d gone too many steps, Taverham caught her hand and spun her about to face him. His grip was cruel as he jerked them up to look at her bare fingers. “Your ring?”

  Miranda gestured behind her to her room.

  His jaw clenched. “Get it and wear it now.”

  Miranda glared at him in answer rather than refuse. Oh, she could easily find more reasons to hate him when he told her what to do. Bossy and stubborn were not character traits she found admirable. When Virginia slipped the key from her fingers and returned to the room, Miranda kept her gaze on Taverham. Frustrating, demanding fiend. What did she need jewels for at a time like this?

  She needed their son at her side more than new dresses or any diamond ring. She wanted to tell him to get out of her way so she could retrieve Christopher, but the words stuck tight in her throat. He’d never believe her without proof, and Martin had that.

  When Virginia returned, eyes downcast and apologetic, she handed the ring to Taverham because Miranda’s hands were clenched into fists. Taverham pried her fist open. “With this ring…”

  Knowing resistance would lead to a worse scene, she opened her fingers and let him place it on her, uncomfortably aware that the piece fit her hand better now than it had when she’d first received it. Clearly pleased with himself, Taverham held out his arm. Miranda strode forward without his aid. There was only so much idiocy she would endure so early in the day.

  Together they started down the stairs and swept out into the street where Taverham’s gold-crested black carriage waited to take him wherever he wanted at a moment’s notice.

  Once outside, her gaze darted down the street and she spotted Martin, frozen several feet away. She shook her head the tiniest amount to warn him back, hoping Taverham didn’t see him and wonder why he was there. Martin disappeared into the crowd, and to her relief, it was clear after a few anxious moments that Taverham hadn’t seen their friend at all. Once she was at Madame’s place of business, she would send Martin a message and arrange to meet at a later time. Although her arms ached for Christopher, he could wait a few more hours until she could escape Taverham.

  For now, she would suffer Taverham’s company, gleaning what information she could to help Christopher adjust to his future life.

  Aware that eyes everywhere had turned in her direction, she entered the carriage and took a place beside Virginia.

  Silence reigned. Not one word was spoken until the carriage stopped on Bond Street. When they stepped out, Taverham caught her hand and wrapped her arm around his. “My dear, this way.”

  “Actually, no,” Virginia interrupted brightly. “Our appointment is this way, and I have no need for your aid in picking out my fashions if you don’t mind.”

  He frowned. “Mrs. Denning’s salon is, I’m told, highly fashionable. Everyone says she is the best in Town and I have arranged an appointment. Lady Brighthurst and my mother raved about her just the other day. Why not a fresh start?”

  “Good grief.” Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose as her temper climbed. Taverham intended to restart their marriage without mercy. She would not do things the same as everyone else in his life. She would patronize the shops she liked and to hell with his suggestions. Miranda freed herself from his grip. “I will not go there because I already have an exquisite modiste here who knows my tastes better than I do. I’ll not change just to please you or the women in your life.”

  Miranda would fight with him right here on the most popular street in London just to prove he couldn’t order her about. She would make him see she wasn’t a brainless ninny without opinion and opened her mouth to do so.

  Lord Hallam began to laugh, cutting off her tirade before she could start. “Well, I’m not going in there. It’s all pins and lace and yards. Does a man’s head in. Besides, I like the surprise that comes later at the private unveiling.”

  Hallam’s face softened when his gaze turned on his wife and Virginia blushed a little. Miranda made the mistake of looking directly at her husband. Judging by the change that had come over Taverham’s eyes, his mind had turned to private unveilings too.

  His brow rose expectantly. “Something to look forward to?”

  Miranda shook her head quickly. No matter what she had imagined might happen on her return, it was clear she hadn’t convinced him they didn’t have a chance of being together the way he planned. He wanted a son but didn’t know he already had one. Taverham clearly thought that once bedded, Miranda would fall straight back into his arms without hesitation. This time around making love to him was something she did not intend to do. There was no need anymore.

  Hallam kissed Virginia’s cheek. “Send word when you need me. We’ll be at Hoxham’s Coffee House for the next hour.”

  When Taverham made no similar move to say good-bye but stood there staring at her intently, Virginia tugged Miranda toward their modiste’s shop. At least there Miranda could look forward to an uninterrupted hour or more, discussing everything from fans to muslin and every speck of gossip between before she’d need her wits about her again. When she could, she’d scrawl a note to Martin that they’d go collect Christopher and everything would be well again.

  With that thought before her, she could move on.

  The little shop was exactly as she remembered—cozy, warm, and a bustle of activity that paused as the bell on the door twinkled. Madame glanced up from her patterns and her eyes widened. She clapped her hands together in delight. “Chéri, so it is true you have returned to set the city enflammé?”

  Miranda laughed at the idea and drew closer. “Hardly. It is good to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is with me.” Madame beamed and glanced around her shop to her workers. “Is it not correct that the Marchioness of Taverham should seek out the best seamstress in London immediately on her return to société? Magnifique. We shall be beset by orders within the space of a day and entirely run off our feet.”

  Miranda exchanged a glance with Virginia and saw the merriment glittering in her eyes. Miranda allowed herself to be drawn into the excitement of meeting friends and to the corner where comfortable chairs waited for customers to take tea and eat little cakes while important decisions were made. Miranda had spent hours here on her first visit and easily found herself comfortably at home once more.

  Madame clapped her hands and the women returned to their sewing and cutting. She
perched on a delicate chair facing them, her hands clenched tightly together. “It is so good to see you after so long a time apart. Are you in the great city for long?”

  The workers paused.

  Miranda shook her head. “Not too long, I imagine.”

  Madame’s face fell and she clutched her hands to her chest. “We are désolant. We must talk of the gown you wore to Covent Garden last night. They say it was a triomphe even if I did not sew a stitch myself.”

  Madame regarded her with a raised brow. It was a well-known fact that she did not like to see her customers wearing another seamstress’s creations. Miranda patted the woman’s hand soothingly. “The gown came from a small shop far north of London. It is beautifully made and I wish you could meet the seamstress. In fact, I would be happy to offer you a letter of introduction. I fear the woman is struggling a little and she is quite young. She might value the guidance of an astute businesswoman to aid her. I told her all about you when we met and I thought she looked a bit wistful about being so far away from London.”

  “It is a possibility I am willing to entertain. A shop such as mine requires the correct management to ensure our clients are well tended. You may write her indeed.” She straightened up, clearly having ascertained the information she needed most—that the gown wasn’t from a nearby London competitor. “How may we help you today?”

  Miranda fidgeted as Virginia discussed her needs. A nightgown of the finest pink silk, a robe to match, and lacy garters completed the order. Madame scratched down her requests with a murmured word of approval as they selected fabrics and embellishments. “Oh la la, Lord Hallam has a tendré for the softest rose on you.”

  Madam loved to gently tease her clients over their many admirers and Virginia blushed as bright as a new bride. “It looks very good on me.”

  “Absolument,” Madame agreed. She then turned to Miranda. “And for you, chéri?”

  Miranda winced at the turn of conversation. She hadn’t really intended to have anything made, but she could see Madame and Virginia expected her to order at least something. “What do you recommend?”