Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5)

by Heather Boyd

  “The soft blush of rose is not for you. Not with your complexion.”

  “I remember you telling me that before I married,” Miranda murmured.

  “Chéri, you are favored to wear an intrépide hue of blue, or chartreuse. There is a lovely spun silk just arrived, very bold. Very original, I think.”

  Madame disappeared into a back room and returned with a material so light but full of exquisite color that Miranda’s resistance teetered, then disappeared completely. “Yes.”

  Patterns appeared next, spread out before her to choose. It had been so long since Miranda had access to such a superior modiste that she couldn’t decide which she liked best. She shook her head at the choices. “They are all lovely.”

  Madame leaned forward and tapped a print. “That one to begin.”

  Miranda lifted the print to study it. “It’s a bit daring, isn’t it?”

  Madame clucked her tongue softly. “A decade married and still so unsure of your charms, non? Your husband will be ravenous before the first dance is over. My word, chéri. You will beguile him again with just one glimpse of your lush body in what I create for you.”

  “I don’t think…,” Miranda began, but the modiste had whipped out her measuring tape and was studying her intently.

  The Frenchwoman’s gaze lifted to hers, a question in her eyes. “I must take your measurements again before we begin.”

  Miranda stood still for the measurements, watching Madame’s face grow even more serious as her hips and breasts were measured twice. Yes, her measurements had increased since she’d last stood here and she began to feel uncomfortable about that. She’d had a child. Every woman gained a little more flesh after such an event. “Too much cake?”

  “Perhaps.” The modiste’s expression cleared, replaced with an amused smile. “Monsieur will be nibbling cake from your palm before I am through. Absolument.”

  Miranda wasn’t sure she needed Taverham to be any hungrier for intimacy than she suspected he already was. The way he watched her, studied her with such direct attention, reminded Miranda of a caged lion. Miranda might have been his supper once, but she wouldn’t be consumed willingly now.

  As she selected undergarments in similarly bold colors and styles to complement the gowns, she wondered if she knew what she was truly doing. Baiting Taverham with seductive garments, especially undergarments, without intent to please him seemed cruel. She’d never intended to seduce him. Teasing him a little seemed a fair punishment for the deception he’d carried out once if she didn’t take it too far. He was right when he’d claimed them equally attracted to the other. Yet that desire had been built on a lie. He didn’t, couldn’t, love her when he was still attached to Emily.

  She could not give her body to him knowing he was deeply in love with someone else. Besides, there was no need. Once Taverham understood he had an heir in Christopher, he’d turn away from Miranda instantly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “That woman does not like you very much,” Hallam pointed out before too many minutes had passed in the busy coffee house on Bond Street.

  Kit swirled the coffee around in his half-empty cup and frowned. Despite yesterday’s favorable reaction to his touch, Miranda was in no way warming to him that he could see. “So it seems.”

  He gazed out to the busy street where he could just see the dove emblem on the front door of Madame du Clair’s Salon. He was desperate to know Miranda hadn’t disappeared out the back door already. The only thing keeping him seated was his belief that Lady Hallam would return to her husband if Miranda did in fact run off. He glanced down at his cup, fighting to keep his anxiety contained and hidden.

  Hallam nudged his arm. “Does she know how widely you’ve traveled in your search for her all these years?”

  “I don’t know. I can barely get a straight answer from her, and we’ve not spent too much time talking about the past, although I’ve tried.”

  Hallam snorted and then drained his cup. “Perhaps that’s the problem. You should only discuss the future and the present moment most of all.”

  “How?” Kit glanced around the coffee house to check that they were more or less alone. The faces around them were unfamiliar, and that eased his mind. Kit needed a friend to talk to, one who might see the solution in a logical and clear manner and not gossip about him after. Hallam was something of an intellectual man and largely discounted emotional responses. “She won’t come home with me.”

  Hallam’s brow rose at his embarrassing confession. “Then the answer is clear. You will have to go home with her.”

  Could it be that simple? “I won’t force my way into her bed.”

  Hallam’s lips curled in disgust and the look he sent was rather frightening. He grunted after a moment. “I should hope not, but there are other ways to win her over. The solution is obvious. Take a room at the hotel. In my experience, proximity makes the heart grow fonder. Woo her, Taverham. It worked for me with my Virginia. But don’t expect the process to be quick or even easy.”

  Kit spluttered. That was the last thing he expected a man of Hallam’s intelligence to suggest. “She is my wife already. I should hardly have to seduce her to make her understand where she belongs.”

  “Women belong where they choose to belong, and there’s not a damn thing we poor besotted fools can do about it.” Hallam set his cup aside.

  Kit winced at hearing his complaints of yesterday repeated. “You spoke to Daventry?”

  Hallam’s expression turned pitying. “Didn’t have to, but thank you for confirming how you view marriage for me. We’ve all had obstacles to overcome—most have been our own pigheaded prejudices.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Hallam and Virginia’s marriage might have startled everyone, but once known, it seemed a sensible arrangement. “What obstacles did you face?”

  “Pure loathing.” Hallam gestured for another coffee while Kit stared at him in shock.

  That was the last thing he’d expected to hear from Hallam. The man worshiped his wife and the feeling seemed entirely mutual. What the devil had he missed?

  Once Hallam had his coffee, his expression turned thoughtful. “If you ask me, you’re going about this all wrong. She left you. She won’t return home with you to take up her life as your lawful wife. You cannot force her without building further anger in her and making yourself look like an ogre. This time you need to follow her and let her know why you’re doing so.”

  “She knows I want her. I always have.”

  “Do you hear yourself? The woman is not a possession, you clod. She is your wife. You could be talking of a whore for all the affection in your voice. Do you understand the difference?” He leaned close. “What do you really want, anyway? A marriage like most of our generation have, cold lives lived mostly apart, or something better? Drag her home to have the marriage you planned in the first place and be miserable. Strive for something more and listen to her for a change.”

  In the face of Hallam’s verbal challenge, Kit sank deeper into his chair as mortification struck deep. After ten years apart, perhaps it couldn’t hurt to be a little more obvious about his desire to just be near Miranda and hear her speak. He’d thought he’d been doing that already. He was unbearably attracted to her, and he’d always been drawn to her side. At the time of their marriage, he’d wondered why his feelings were so different with her. He’d not had time to sort that out before she was gone, and since her return he’d felt more than a little out of control.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maybe this time he’d have a chance to explore how deep his feelings for his wife went, but if Hallam disbelieved his intentions, then he could hardly blame Miranda for having some doubts about his motives for wanting to remain married. They’d already spoken of his need for an heir. That couldn’t be put off indefinitely at their age, but perhaps the discussion had been more than a little ill timed. “I’m trying to listen. But what more can I do to convince her?”

  Hallam glared. “Do I hav
e to explain everything? What did you do the first time, before you married?”

  “I…” Kit spluttered to a stop. They’d met and… His mind blanked. For the life of him, he could not remember what he’d done to win his wife. He drew out the little book he always carried, the one he used to record his goals and his successes. On the first page it said marry, but no other details. He shut the book slowly. What exactly had he done to win Miranda’s hand in marriage? There wasn’t even any evidence to prove he had. “I don’t recall.”

  “I see.” Hallam shook his head sadly. “A beautiful woman with an enormous dowry just fell into your lap, and you took what was offered because you could have her. You deserve what you got then, my friend. Congratulations. You’ve only yourself to blame for her resistance if you don’t remember the most important occasion in your lives together—meeting and getting to know her. No woman wants to think she isn’t wanted for herself.”

  Damn. Maybe he was to blame in part, but was there a way to fix their marriage after all these years? He’d never been able to imagine marriage to anyone else. That was why he’d avoided making a decision about her absence for so long. Miranda was his wife. The only one he’d wanted once they’d spoken. “I don’t see how to fix this. What do you remember most about Virginia?”

  Hallam swallowed coffee. “She threw eggs at me and I didn’t duck fast enough.”

  Kit gaped. Virginia wasn’t the kind of woman he’d ever suspect of such violent behavior. “She did? Why?”

  “She was fourteen and angry. I’d told her she’d be faster than Jack in a footrace if she wore breeches instead of skirts. Apparently that wasn’t the compliment I meant it to be.”

  No, it probably wasn’t. “Well, you’re married now, so it’s all turned out for the best.”

  “That wasn’t the only memorable clash in our relationship, but the most important. Never underestimate what a woman will do to be valued if pushed past her limits.”

  He shifted in his seat. Miranda appeared to hate him now. Could he expect to dodge eggs instead of eating them? “I’ll remember that.”

  “We had to earn our happiness. Me, Ettington, Daventry. Carrington most of all.” Hallam nodded sagely. “Since you appear clueless, I’ll help just this once. Here’s a list since you like making them so much. Take her driving in the park, attend the theatre, a soiree if she cares for dancing. Discover what she likes, and more importantly, stop doing what she doesn’t. Prove to her that her company is what you want most of all. Too late to explain you didn’t want her for her dowry. I imagine the bulk was spent years ago.”

  Heat crept up his cheeks and he looked down at his hands. Without Miranda’s money, he’d not be where he was today. Where they were. Their future was secure save for lack of an heir. “I can do that.”

  “Put your life, and the contents of that book, aside for a while.”

  Kit put his little book back into his pocket. There was but one thing left to accomplish from his book of plans and he knew it by heart. To have a son. For that, now Miranda had returned to resume the position of his wife, he needed her participation and agreement. Kit was ill used to failure, so he latched on to Hallam’s first suggestion in absolute desperation. He called the proprietor over and paid for paper and pen to scratch out two brief messages. A coffeehouse boy was dispatched to make the deliveries, and he returned to watching the front door to the modiste’s shop. Anticipation built as the first hour apart drew close to completion. He needed Miranda to see his intentions were sincere. Yet for the first time, Kit feared getting what he wanted might just be at the limits of his reach.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Miranda shifted her gaze to the man walking silently beside her. Something had changed in the past three hours, and she couldn’t put a finger on what that was. Taverham seemed more thoughtful now than bossy. She’d expected more bluster and orders from him once they’d left Bond Street, where she’d requested his driver take her from shop to shop after Virginia and her husband had left them.

  To see how far she could push Taverham’s newfound patience, she’d run up bills all over town, most for gifts to be sent to her cousin and her brood of children. Only things they had needed and a few small treats. No greater expense than her husband might wager over a game of cards among friends. Taverham made not one complaint.

  They were headed back to Mivart’s Hotel now and the quiet and solitude she craved. She had so much to do yet. With Taverham hovering, she’d had no chance to meet with Martin or even decide which London square she might wish to live in with Christopher. Something at a short distance from Taverham would be perfect: close enough for Christopher yet far enough away that Miranda need not see her husband’s comings and goings.

  She had hoped he would leave her at the hotel, yet Taverham didn’t appear in a rush anymore, not even to mention returning home with him once. He had become silent and watchful, and that completely unnerved her. A biddable husband she didn’t know how to manage.

  She stepped through the front door of the hotel, nodding to the doorman she passed and crossed the tiled floor toward the staircase. Miranda kept her gaze forward, hoping her husband would take the hint and go away. He followed a step behind. His silence was making her tense and profoundly weary. Every day away from Christopher was one more day on her conscience. She wanted her son desperately, but she also needed to lie down and rest her weary heart a few moments. She couldn’t do that with Taverham lingering.

  The proprietor hurried toward them with a welcoming smile. “Everything is in order, my lord. Welcome to Mivart’s, and may we say how honored we are to have you stay with us for this visit?”

  Taverham took possession of a key, one very similar to Miranda’s. Her blood boiled in her veins. No wonder her husband had left off demanding her return to his London town house. The nerve of the man to move into her room without a word to prepare her for the surprise.

  She continued on her way without a word, walking swiftly ahead of her husband and toward the staircase. She’d fool him; she’d leave and stay elsewhere. Maybe even scandalize the ton by accepting Martin’s generous invitation to take over his town house for the duration of her stay. She’d originally declined due to its proximity to her husband’s residence and the potential to fuel harmful gossip that she was involved with Martin in a romantic way. His cousin was also in Town and that gave her pause too. She wouldn’t cause problems for anyone but Taverham. There had to be another establishment that he couldn’t find her in so quickly.

  As she reached her door, her hands shook, but Taverham merely leaned against the wall beside her and gave her a lopsided grin. “Have supper with me this evening?”

  Spending time with her husband, even for a simple meal, was not part of her plan. “You’ll give me time to eat? How charitable of you.”

  His brow furrowed as he followed her inside. “I’ll collect you at eight. The hotel boasts a private dining room, and I’ve made arrangements for its use.”

  Miranda checked the room. When she looked about, it became clear that none of Taverham’s things had been moved into her room during her absence. Relieved, she dropped her reticule on her bed. Taverham shutting the door behind them gave her no satisfaction. She removed her hat and gloves, then shifted to stand before the fireplace while her pulse raced. Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to his. “I see. And what else have you arranged?”

  His smile widened, a flash of teeth that made her heart leap at the playfulness behind it, but he was still standing beside the door and she considered him no threat yet. “A bath to refresh you after your long and arduous day. The servants should be here momentarily and will give you anything your heart desires.”

  A bath would be wonderful and just what she needed. But the fact that Taverham had organized it made her wary of seeming too pleased. Her gaze narrowed on him, looking for flaws and finding few besides his nature. “Will they toss you out if I ask?”

  “Not a chance.” His relaxed stance disappeared as he drew closer.
“You came back to see me, and I intend to be seen.”

  “I’ve seen enough.”

  He laughed at that and reached for her hand. Although her heart clattered against her ribs, she allowed him to play with her fingertips. “I’ve not seen enough of you. I’ve not heard your voice and opinions anywhere near enough to be content.”

  His head tilted a little to the side, as it would if he intended to lean in for a kiss. And yet he merely watched, fingers restlessly shifting over hers. She caught her breath and he smiled softly. Very gently, he lifted her hand and rained light kisses over her knuckles.

  The warmth of his breath across her damp skin made her anxious for an entirely different reason. Her body hummed in anticipation of where he would kiss her next. And kiss her he would. He would drown her in desire before she’d realize she was thoroughly seduced.

  With his head bent over her hand, Miranda’s eyes flickered over the only dark hair she’d ever run her fingers through. Despite her first impression being that her husband hadn’t changed, she saw tiny strands of gray peppered through the top.

  They were both growing older. Too old for games and pretense. She jerked her hand back finally, embarrassed she’d allowed him so many liberties already. She refused to lead him on, to let him think he was welcome in her bed. That would be cruel. She’d keep him at arm’s length by any means possible. Decisive and discouraging words should be enough.

  Instead of the protest she expected, he merely shook his head somewhat ruefully and took a pace back. “Your effect on my senses hasn’t changed. Until later, my wife.”

  He gave her another lopsided grin and turned away, heading for the door. He left it open as he stepped into the hall and crossed it. When he reached the opposite door, he inserted the key he carried into the lock and swung that door wide. Beyond, she saw signs of new and rushed occupation. Trunks were thrown open and in varying stages of being unpacked. As he was closing the door behind him, he glanced at her one more time. She saw devilry light his eyes and her heart plummeted. He was staying across the hall? She would not have believed he of all people would occupy a room in this establishment.