by Heather Boyd
The dowager must want a grandson very badly to play this game of forcing her into his bed for yet another night. A pity she didn’t know the truth and could cease her machinations. In a way, Miranda wasn’t altogether surprised she’d meddle. The dowager marchioness was just as bad as her son when it came to getting her own way. After all, he had to have learned the knack from one of his parents.
She allowed Kit to lead her to his bed. He turned back the comforter and sheets, helped her from her gown. She stood naked before him while his eyes skimmed her body, but then he shook his head and found her nightgown. Once she was clothed in it, he bore her down to the mattress, then all but trapped her in his bedding, tucking the comforter so tightly around her that could not move an inch in the vast bed, as if she were a child.
When he joined her after turning down the lamps, he wasn’t quite on his side of the great bed when he faced her. When he tried to capture her hand and discovered she’d been cut off, he chuckled softly and loosened the bedding at last. He found her fingers and brought them to his lips for a soft kiss. “I needed to know this, Miranda.”
“I believed the ailment under better control until tonight. You made a very bad match in me.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I never said I regret our marriage.”
“But it is true just the same.”
He rose above her, eyes hard as stones as he looked into her face. The next instant he kissed her brow, her cheek, the tip of her nose. A sweet gesture that once she would have believed meant something far more caused her heart to ache for what might have been.
“Sleep now,” he ordered. “We’ll talk tomorrow and over the days to come about what the doctors have told you and what we must do. No more secrets from now on. All right?”
That would be difficult to agree to until she found her son, but she nodded anyway.
He leaned close, pressed one final kiss to her temple, and then collapsed on his pillow.
Miranda didn’t want to argue with him now when he was being so nice and she was beginning to feel better. When her heart raced, she feared each beat might be the last it made, so she said nothing and twined her fingers tightly with his, pretending for the night that she could be loved by him, though she doubted he would like her enough to worry for her health after Christopher came into his life.
“Miranda,” he whispered. “I’m to go riding in Hyde Park tomorrow morning with friends, and while I’d like nothing more than for you to join us, I don’t think that’s wise given what I know of your health now. I’ll do my best not to wake you. Promise me you’ll rest as long as you can.”
It would be so easy to believe he cared, but she did have to go out herself to look for Christopher. “I’ll try.”
He kissed her palm and let her go but remained close by her side as her eyes drifted shut. The sound of his steady breathing was the last thing she heard till morning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Mornings hadn’t always been Kit’s favorite time of day. In the past he’d woken to an empty bed, and a day empty save for the business of appearing busy. He’d much rather still be in bed with Miranda now, watching her sleep so peacefully as if their problems didn’t exist and her heartbeat was as strong as his. It had taken all of his resolve not to wake her this morning just to check she was feeling better. Worrying for her was nothing new, but now he had a specific ailment rather than the vague idea of losing her as the world swallowed her up.
A troubled heart did not bode well for their life together though. What he knew of the complaint was very little. He remembered Lord Applebee’s face, alternatively pale and red, depending on the state of his health. Keeping to a sedate life had seemed to ease his complaints.
A quiet life was easier lived in the country than in Town. Knowing what he did now, he wasn’t sure why Miranda hadn’t jumped at the chance to return to the quieter pace of Twilit Hill when first suggested. Perhaps he would never understand what drove her.
Miranda’s possible mortality was not an issue he wanted to face yet, although he’d always been afraid to discover she’d died somewhere. There was so much he’d wanted to share with her and now might find that chance taken away. Every day would have to count as if it were their last together. He would spoil her as no woman had been before. He drew back on the reins. “Time to go back, Acton,” he shouted to his companion as Acton’s gray mare pulled away and Kit’s chestnut slowed.
Acton hauled his mount around rather carelessly and trotted back to where Kit had slowed to a walking pace. “We’ve hardly begun.”
“I have some business to take care of.”
“Does your wife demand your undivided attention now?”
“Miranda was asleep when I left.”
Acton smirked. “So ride farther with me. She’ll be none the wiser.”
Kit shook his head as he turned his horse toward the park entrance and home. Acton didn’t understand what it meant to Kit to be married and able to see his wife at last. He wanted to be with her more than anything. Miranda would hardly care if he was late, he expected, but it mattered very much to him. “Continue without me and I will see you later.”
After a few yards, Acton’s horse drew level. His friend’s face wore a bitter expression. “I guess this is how it will be now she’s returned. Your friends will come a poor second the moment she so much as snaps her dainty fingers.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? I don’t think so.” Acton scowled. “I waited for you to join me in the card room last night, except I understand your wife demanded to go home early instead. Emily was especially upset and had to be jollied into any sort of good spirits.”
Kit sighed. “Miranda makes no demands of me in public. She never would. It’s me that is eager to see her.”
A low chuckle left Acton. “So the rumors are true then.”
“What rumors?”
Acton seemed to consider his words a moment. “By all accounts your wife is a demon in the bedchamber.”
Kit wrenched the reins of his horse, stopping him dead in the middle of the path and blocking Acton’s way. “Who the hell said that about my wife?”
Acton appeared startled and jerked on the reins so his horse stopped, dancing in place. His face paled. “Surely you’ve heard the worst by now.”
Kit gripped the reins tight, overcome by fury. “No one has ever mentioned seeing her before,” he growled.
“Well, they are saying it now. It’s not good.”
“Tell me.”
Acton considered it a long while, then shook his head. “Wives have affairs all the time and no one thinks twice about it. I’m on your side.”
Kit’s temper, barely in check, soared. “I want to know what they say about my wife.”
Acton rubbed his jaw and leaned forward. “Everyone is talking about her appetites. Gobbles a man up and makes him beg for more. You were better off without her.”
“I want a name for the source of that rumor.”
Acton’s face fell. “She really has blinded you, hasn’t she, even when you have Emily to distract you. It’s not one man talking about her, but many. I don’t think it’s in your best interest to know those names. They’ll just deny the rumor to you, and you’re bound to look a jealous fool.”
Acton moved off, shaking his head.
Kit kicked his mount forward. “Acton,” he growled.
Acton turned in his saddle, his expression distressed. “Yes, I think you were right to head back home and set your mind at ease. Keep close watch over her. Who knows what the lady could be up to with so much time on her hands?”
Acton kicked his horse into a trot and changed direction, leaving Kit free to head directly home. But he kept his mount still and swore. Damn it all, he would be jealous of anyone his wife so much as looked at twice. He’d already considered at length what he’d do to Louth should they be involved. He retained a niggling doubt about them, a suspicion that had burrowed deep in his mind and refuse
d to be quieted despite reassurances.
It was just a rumor and not necessarily a fact. The same as the rumor about himself and Emily, which was certainly malicious speculation and should not be believed. Miranda could not engage in so many affairs if her heart was truly fragile. He did not believe she lied about the state of her health.
Suppressing his suspicions, though, took work, and he walked his horse through the park instead of galloping. He and Miranda were mending their relationship a bit at a time. He would not risk it by making an unsubstantiated accusation until he had proof she’d been unfaithful to him.
On his way through the park, he stumbled upon Lord Carrington with his large brood of adopted children about him. Seeing the family together in so happy a group made him wish his marriage was vastly different than what it was now—barely held together. He’d always wanted a large family instead of continuing the Taverham tradition of such a lonely childhood as he’d endured. Miranda had seemed interested in the same, although she didn’t want to talk about having offspring now.
Since he was overdue in paying the promised call to the Carringtons, he drew to a stop and swung down from the saddle. The chestnut was trained not to wander or start at sudden noises, so he let the reins dangle on the ground and walked to join them. He would invite them to visit Miranda today and maybe that would make her happy. “Carrington.”
The man glanced up from his conversation with the youngest child and smiled broadly. “Well met, my friend. How did Miranda enjoy the party last night?”
“Very well, although I’m not certain she was at ease in the crowd, and we left early to spare her the discomfort of greeting so many people.” He smiled ruefully. He’d probably caused her considerable distress. “I’m sorry we have not called on you yet.”
Carrington held up his hands. “I quite understand. I am sure there are many who wish to make her acquaintance again. Agatha would likely be cross if she hadn’t seen her for herself already, but she hoped to call on Miranda today if she will be at home. I think Agatha’s finally over the shock of having her cousin return.”
“I wish I were so lucky.”
Carrington tipped his head to the side to distance them from the children. “I take it the happy couple still has a way to go before they can be called such a thing?”
“Miranda is different.”
“How so?”
Kit removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “The things I thought I knew about her seem entirely wrong. It’s as if she’s a complete stranger to me.”
“Marriage takes some adjustment. Give it time, or are you reconsidering a divorce? There are many in society who would understand she doesn’t suit anymore.”
Kit met Carrington’s gaze and the other man looked away quickly. Had he heard rumors of Miranda and her lovers too? “I dislike the idea of a divorce immensely. I won’t give up on her just because she’s become a greater challenge.”
Carrington nodded. “I’m glad to hear you have so strong a view. May we call on you then? Today. Agatha has it in her head to introduce all the children at once but perhaps that is too many if she has had a difficult night before. The youngest three have been remarkably well behaved of late. I’ll convince her those three will be enough to begin with and they can convey their thanks for the gifts she sent yesterday. The children have talked of nothing else.”
Kit glanced over at the children where they stood about his horse. He should have considered a similar thing, surprise gifts for the struggling family, but truthfully until he’d watched Miranda pick and choose gifts for them all, he wouldn’t have done well at all. She’d seemed to understand intuitively what was most likely wanted.
All but Simon were fixated on patting the chestnut’s nose, and Kit smiled at him. A remarkable boy. Simon never caused the slightest trouble for Carrington. That in itself was impressive for an orphan.
The boy left the others to come closer. His expression was keen. “You found your wife?”
“I did.”
“Is she well now?”
Kit frowned, startled that the boy knew his wife had been ill when he’d only learned about it last night. “As well as can be expected.”
The boy frowned fiercely. “You did not bring her to see us.”
Kit squirmed at the child’s surprisingly hostile accusation. “My apologies. We will be home today and I think Carrington here is going to bring some of the younger children to see her.”
Simon stared at Carrington. Simon was the eldest boy. “You are making me stay in Berkley Square?”
Carrington attempted to ruffle his hair, but the child stepped back out of reach. “We are overwhelming in great numbers, and the marquess thought his wife might not like that. You can see her another day. Perhaps next week if we are all still in London then.”
“I see.” The boy’s eyes lowered.
Moved by the boy’s disappointment, Kit placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and leaned down to look into his face, which was difficult to do since the boy seemed long overdue to have his hair trimmed. Kit could barely see his eyes behind his fringe of hair. “I’m on my way home now and will tell her myself that you were keen to see her.”
The boy bit his lip, eyes darting left and right, anywhere but at him. “She’s at your town house now.”
“She is. When I left to go riding this morning she was still asleep in my bed. I hope she’ll still be there when I get back as she was very weary after last night.”
The boy nodded again and stepped back, apparently satisfied with his promise. Kit watched him after he left them, puzzled by his obvious disappointment. Simon surveyed the park in swift glances, almost as if he were studying who was around him. Tension gripped Kit. What was the child about? He returned to the other children, leaned down to speak to little Mabel, who hung on his every word. Kit sighed and dismissed his anxiety as inconsequential as the boy straightened.
As Carrington began to ask if Miranda might not be too tired to have visitors at all, the boy met his gaze and grinned.
Kit’s heart stopped at that expression.
The next moment, Simon bolted for the gates of Hyde Park, running in the direction of Mayfair as if he were being chased by the very devil.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
There was one thing to be said for the life of a peer in that doing nothing and resting seemed rather easy to manage. Miranda sat forward as April plumped cushions behind her back and urged her to lie against them. “Is that better, my lady?”
“They were fine to begin with, you know. I’d like to get up if you don’t mind.”
April, who had been showing more promise each day until today’s fussing, ignored her soft reproach and turned for the breakfast tray. “His lordship said I have to make you happy, and you needed another pillow behind your back to be comfortable. If I were a lady, I’d stay there for hours.”
April’s brow furrowed as she lifted the heavy tray, tiptoed across the chamber, and gently deposited it over Miranda’s lap. When she let go, her sigh of relief was loud.
“Hours in bed make me very cross.” Miranda chuckled softly. “I am not made of glass.”
“Yes, but his lordship said I had to take care of you and wanted you to rest until he comes back.”
“I don’t believe he meant I couldn’t get up at all. Who knows how long he’ll be?” Another hour yet she hoped. Long enough for April to tire of fussing and allow her to dress. Then Miranda could slip out and begin her search. A walk in the square seemed to be a good start. Miranda picked up a corner of toast and buttered it while April crept about the room. Miranda frowned. “April, where have you gotten the idea that you need to tread so quietly? Surely I never told you that.”
April fidgeted. “The dowager marchioness’s maid said I had to learn to be quiet or expect to be sent to work in the kitchens.”
“The dowager marchioness’s maid has no idea what I expect from you. I don’t believe I have even seen her. Go on as you have, dear girl, and if
you do something I do not like then I will assuredly suggest a change, but you will hear it from my own lips and not the dowager’s servant.”
April bit her lip, but the tension seemed to ooze from her limbs. She sighed. “If you say so.”
“I do indeed.” Miranda stretched out her hand. “Now, where is today’s paper?”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Addison wouldn’t give it to me. He said the master of the house always reads it first before anyone, then the dowager receives it.”
“Even when he’s out he gets his way,” Miranda muttered under her breath. Reading the papers on the day they were published rather than a week later was an advantage she enjoyed when in town. “I’ll make arrangements for Landry to secure my own copy from tomorrow onward. You will ask him for it rather than Addison.”
“Mr. Addison won’t like that. Landry’s not popular as it is.”
Miranda leaned back. “Landry is popular with the person who employs him. Addison’s opinion is no more valuable than the air he spoke with.”
April giggled and then hurried into the other room where Miranda’s clothing and possessions were stored.
Miranda finished her toast, dusted off her fingers, and considered the rest of the feast set before her. Unfortunately, her appetite had waned already. She had so much to do today, and nothing was more important than slipping away to find her son.
Miranda finished the last of her tea, calling for April to take the unwieldy tray from her lap.
A loud bang sounded through the house, and Miranda frowned at the rare noise. Usually the servants were so quiet as to be unheard, except perhaps for April and Landry when they were close, but that noise couldn’t be one of them. Miranda always knew when that pair was approaching and that fact kept her happy. She detested creeping servants surprising her when she suddenly noticed them at her elbow. Her heart couldn’t take the strain of enduring such behavior all day and every day.
A man shouted stop at the top of his lungs beyond her bedroom door and Miranda flinched.