Heat flooded Miranda’s cheeks at what he was asking. “No.” She started to pull her hand away, but he held fast.
“You are certain?”
She nodded, thinking she could never be more embarrassed, her natural reserve uncomfortable with this whole exchange and conscious all the while that he watched her closely.
His Grace was known for his ability to judge character. They said that more than one man had broken down in the face of such scrutiny.
Miranda could understand why.
To her relief, he gave her fingers a squeeze. “It’s all right,” he said, half to himself, and then said with more confidence, “Perhaps even for the best.” He nodded to the portrait. “She is my first and last love. I ask that you be faithful to me—”
“I will,” she vowed.
“Being my duchess is not an easy role,” he warned. “There is responsibility involved. My reputation is everything to me.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” And in this minute, she wanted him to believe her. It was important that she do this right. He was giving her a chance, and this marriage would make up to everyone she’d ever disappointed for all the times she had failed in the past.
He brought her hand up and pressed his lips against the tips of her gloved fingers, closing his eyes for a moment before saying, “I don’t believe we can be fortunate enough to love so deeply twice in one lifetime. Perhaps this is best. Both of us with our eyes wide open. You will remind me of Elizabeth, and in time, life will be easier. I respect you and will grow to care for you. Will you marry me, Miranda?”
She understood what he meant. A wide chasm had opened in front of her. If she stepped across, she could never return. Her mind went back to a forest clearing and a summer evening more than ten years ago when another man had asked her to be his. This was such a different moment.
“Yes, Your Grace, I would be honored to be your wife.”
He shook his head. “Yes, Phillip,” he instructed.
For the first time since entering the room, she smiled. “Yes, Phillip,” she repeated dutifully.
He took her in his arms then, and they kissed.
His cologne smelled faintly of citrus with maybe a hint of thyme. He was lean and muscular, and it was not unpleasant to be in his arms.
Still, this was an arrangement between adults…who would someday be lovers.
They returned to the paneled receiving room to break the news to the Seversons and Lady Overstreet. Dinner was a fine and celebratory affair.
And if something inside Miranda thought it all a bit flat, if she secretly wished for something more, she ignored it.
After all, she had already waited most of her life for that something more. The time had come to put the past aside.
It was no small matter to marry a duke, especially a powerful one.
Word of Miranda’s betrothal to the Duke of Colster was in all the papers the very next morning. Chaos followed. Visitors, most of them mere acquaintances, came flooding through the doors of Michael and Isabel’s house to pay their respects to the soon-to-be duchess.
Among the people traipsing in was Roland, Phillip’s personal secretary. He was there to start making the plans for the gathering to be held the next evening to celebrate their betrothal. Although, since everyone in town already knew, it seemed an unnecessary gesture.
Miranda said as much to Roland, who clapped his hands in horror. “Of course His Grace can’t do anything without everyone knowing, which is all the more reason why it must be done right.”
“I don’t know if I know how to do everything right,” Miranda confessed, intimidated by the meticulous secretary.
Roland smiled. “That’s why I’m here. His Grace is summoning his family from all corners of England.”
“Can they travel to London so quickly?” Miranda asked.
“They do anything he asks,” Roland replied dismissively. “Besides, there isn’t a person in England in his right mind who would miss such an evening. It will be on everyone’s lips Saturday morning,” he predicted dramatically.
Word also arrived that her sisters had finally arrived in Portsmouth and were on their way to London. This was good news. Charlotte would be present to see Miranda betrothed to a duke. Between callers, Isabel and Miranda scrambled to arrange that rooms be prepared and clothing from Miranda’s wardrobe be laid out for them.
Phillip did not pay a call. Flowers from him did arrive, precisely on schedule, only this arrangement was three times the size of the others. The visitors witnessing its arrival carried on about what a grand, romantic, and expensive gesture it was.
Miranda jumped to her feet to personally take the flowers from the footman. She was anxious to choose exactly the right place in the house for such a lovely bouquet. Or so she told everyone.
What she really wanted was to carve out a few moments of peace for herself. Already the pressure of the planning and so many questions was taking its toll. She was relieved Charlotte and Constance would soon be here.
She carried the flowers to the morning room. It was peaceful here. It gave her a moment to catch her thoughts. She crossed the room to set the bouquet on a side table, having to move a few knickknacks out of the way.
Suddenly she sensed she wasn’t alone. Someone had come into the room. The hairs tingled on the back of her neck. She turned—and there was Alex.
Or so she thought. It took her a moment to recognize him. He wore a waistcoat and neck cloth. His coat of dark blue superfine betrayed its fine tailoring by molding itself to his shoulders…and he’d cut his hair short in the most fashionable style.
Fifteen
Alex hadn’t expected to walk into the morning room and find Miranda. He had assumed she was in the middle of the crowd of people cramming themselves into the Severson sitting room. He’d escaped here because he needed a moment to comprehend what had happened.
She’d agreed to marry Colster. She was going to get her duke.
And now here she was in front of him.
The late afternoon sun didn’t reach the corners of this room, giving it a cool feeling that was highlighted by the blue cushions on the furniture and the pale shades of the woven India carpet. The colors suited Miranda’s coloring, bringing out the blueness of her eyes and the silvery blond of her hair.
For a long moment, they could only stare at each other. Yes, she was physically beautiful, but another connection pulled him, one that defied reason and society. The one that had made it so difficult for him to free himself of her.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said stiffly.
“You know,” she answered, the heavy words a statement, not a question.
“I didn’t until I came into the house,” he said. “I’d not read the papers or spoken to Michael.”
“He knows you are in London?” Her voice rose with each word.
Alex shook his head. “I haven’t told him.”
A small, almost hysterical little laugh escaped her. “And you’ve been here for days? Why didn’t you tell him, Alex? Why did you wait until now?”
He didn’t understand how this was turning out to be his fault. “I was busy,” he said curtly. Busy remaking himself into the man he thought she wanted him to be. Didn’t he feel like an idiot?
“If you will excuse me,” he said, “I’ll be on my way.
He started out the door, but her voice stopped him. “Don’t run from me, Alex. Not a second time.”
He faced her. “I’ve never run from you.”
Laughter from the sitting room drifted down the hall toward them. A woman with a shrill, carrying voice asked if they would be seeing the duke today. Alex shut the door so they could be private. The time had come to have this out.
“You’ve always run,” she answered. “Every time we get close, you leave. And just when I believe I can manage without you, you appear again. You give no warning, no explanation, no anything,” she finished in frustration.
“I leave because that is what you wanted,�
�� he shot back.
“How do you know what I want? You’ve never stayed around to ask me.”
His temper ignited. “Oh yes, and you’ve always been so encouraging. Look at you. You’ve known Colster—what? Three weeks? And you are marrying him?”
“And why shouldn’t I?” she flashed back. “He wants me.”
“They all want you,” he replied viciously, slashing the air with his arm. “Every damn man that sees you.”
“Everyone save you.”
Alex pulled up short, startled by her accusation. “You think I don’t want you?”
“You’ve done nothing to convince me otherwise,” she answered.
“I’m here, am I not?”
His words seemed to hang in the air between them. Her stance changed. She tilted her head as if leery of him. “What does that mean, Alex? What does your being here mean?”
“I came for you.” Couldn’t she see that?
She sidestepped away from him. “Why did you come for me? I’d been told you were gone. I was led to believe you had no intention of returning.”
“I didn’t,” he admitted.
“Then why are you here?” she pressed. “And look at you. I’ve never seen you dressed so fine.”
“Or white,” he supplied.
Miranda raised a hand as if warding off his scorn. “That’s not true. You may not have dressed like the pink of the ton, Alex, but you had no trouble fitting into society.”
“My hair was long,” he started proudly, but she cut him off.
“I never cared how long your hair was or if you even had any.” Her hand doubled into a fist. “I never saw you on one side or the other.”
“Yes, you did,” he answered.
She stopped. Her hand lowered. “I did. Once. I was sixteen, Alex, and very afraid. You asked too much.”
“I asked you to trust me.”
Miranda crossed her arms around her waist.
“I would have taken care of you,” he said, and spread his arms as if showing his finery. “I did all of this for you. To prove to you that I could have taken care of you.”
“I would have gone with you after that night on the ship. And I didn’t know you were wealthy then,” she added in her own defense. “But you left me here.”
Alex walked over to the windows, standing directly opposite her. He wasn’t one to answer for his actions. He’d spent most of his life alone. Few had ever cared what he thought or felt. But Miranda did. He owed her an explanation.
“I was ashamed of what I did to you on the ship.” He pushed his fingers through the thickness of his newly short hair, uncomfortable. “I took you by force…I’ve never done that to a woman before.”
Her brows came together in a frown. “I don’t remember force.”
“Because you were afraid,” he told her confidently. Now that the words were out, he was not about to let her reject the truth.
“That’s not how it was,” she protested. “I was a willing participant, Alex. I wanted our joining.”
“I hurt you.”
Her eyes opened with memory. “Yes, the first time I was unprepared. I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, everyone in the valley had assumed you and I were lovers…but no one had ever touched me, Alex. I wouldn’t let them. I kept myself close—” She stopped, pressing her lips together as if she feared saying too much.
He took a step toward her. “You waited for me.”
Miranda didn’t speak, refusing to confirm or deny his statement.
Alex understood. He faced the same uncertainties, but one of them would have to take the first risk.
“I knew we’d meet again,” he said. “I thought of myself as married to you. I was faithful to you.”
“Then why did you bring me here and then leave?”
“I wanted to do what was best for you. I’ve always wanted to do what is best for you, even when it means stepping out of your life.”
“Then why are you here?” she pressed. “Why, Alex?”
He knew what she waited for. He saw it now. “Can’t you see?” he countered. “Must you make me say it aloud? Will you not rest until I have no pride left?”
“You said it once. I know you did.”
He had.
“Is it so much to ask you to repeat it?” she whispered.
It could be.
She was so precious to him. He’d learned to live once without her, but if she rejected him again, if he laid bare his weakness for her and she did not respond?
Some risks were too big to take. Not without a sign from her. “And what of you?” he challenged. “The vow you once made to me, you betrayed. I’ve come this far, Miranda. I’m here. Now, you come to me.”
Miranda wanted to go forward, to walk into his arms, but her feet stayed rooted to the floor.
On one side was Alex…but on the other was her sisters and her obligation to them.
But would they not want her to be happy? What was it Constance had asked in New York? What about love?
Could she ever love the Duke of Colster as she did this man standing in front of her?
The answer was clear in her heart. Miranda took a step toward Alex—her Alex—just as the door to the morning room opened.
They both turned to see who was entering.
Isabel, baby Diane in her arms, stopped short in the doorway as if she hadn’t expected to see anyone. Alex was by the windows, so she didn’t notice him immediately. She smiled at Miranda.
“Here you are,” she said. “I couldn’t take it any longer, either. Lady Overstreet is doing an admirable job handling all the guests. I had to have a moment alone with my baby. Of course, I didn’t want to be caught hiding in the nursery—”
Her voice broke off and her smile vanished at the sight of Alex.
She shut the door.
“What is going on here?” she asked the room in general. Then to Alex, she said, “We’ve missed you.”
“I can see,” he said.
“You’ve cut your hair.”
“It was time.”
Oblivious to the tension among the adults, Diane cooed. Isabel shifted the baby’s weight to her other arm, stretching her neck to keep her jeweled earbobs away from Diane’s questing fingers. She looked to Miranda. “It’s too late,” she said quietly. “Do you realize that?”
Alex stepped forward. “There’s nothing that can’t be undone.”
“Have you lost your senses?” Isabel challenged. “This isn’t just anyone we are talking about. This is the Duke of Colster. The most powerful man in London. Mayhap in all of England.”
“She belongs with me,” Alex told Isabel. “She’s my wife.”
If the ceiling had dropped down on her head, Isabel could not be more shocked. She rounded on Miranda. “Is this true? Are you already married to Alex?”
Miranda could hear how upset her friend was. She didn’t want to repay Isabel’s many kindnesses in this way…especially when there was no clear answer. She and Alex were not truly married, not in English eyes.
But in their hearts? That was something else. No matter what happened in life, she knew her heart would always belong to Alex. That was why she could understand the duke’s loyalty to his first wife.
She opened her mouth to explain—she owed that much to Isabel—but she had hesitated for too long.
“You can’t say it, can you?” he accused, his temper back.
Miranda faced him. “It’s not that simple, Alex.”
“Yes, it is,” he answered. “All we have to do is walk out that door and never look back.”
“Are you married?” Isabel interjected.
Miranda stood between the two of them. To answer one would hurt the other. And yet there was no escaping the truth. There were too many people involved.
She had to turn her back on Alex to say, “Not legally.”
Isabel released her breath with a sigh of relief.
Miranda turned to Alex, afraid of his reaction. His features could have been se
t in stone. She lifted her hand to plea for understanding. “We aren’t, Alex. Not in this world.”
“Then come with me now,” he answered coldly. “I’ll have us in Gretna on the morrow.” He referred to Gretna Green on the other side of the Scottish border, where a couple could elope and be married without banns.
Before Miranda could reply, Isabel stepped forward. “And what about us, Alex? What about Michael and me and the baby? What about Miranda’s sisters who are already on their way to London? What will we all do?”
Obviously annoyed by her interference, he replied, “You don’t have to do anything. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Yes, it does.” She moved to stand next to Miranda. “Michael would let you do anything you wish, Alex, but I will tell you the truth. If the two of you elope, Severson and Haddon will be finished.”
“Why? Because Colster will be angry?” he taunted.
“Yes, because Colster will be angry,” she agreed. “He seems the most amenable of men now, but I’ve heard stories of him. How do you think he gained his power? By being accommodating to any man who would make a public mockery of him—especially by one eloping with his intended?”
She turned to Miranda. “Do you not see that you have gone too far to turn back? The announcement was in all the papers. If you cry off, the gossips will have a fine time, as would any of Colster’s enemies. Can you do that to him?”
“I don’t want to,” Miranda said, her voice faint. She liked this man. She’d seen how vulnerable he was.
“And can you do this to your sisters?” Isabel pressed. “Because I promise you, Miranda, before they step one foot in London, they will be ruined. No one will touch them. Not if your enemy is Colster.”
It would be as it had been in the valley, Miranda realized. They would be ostracized, and all because of her.
“I thought you my friend, Isabel,” Alex charged.
“I am, Alex, but my first loyalty is to Michael and the Severson name. I can’t let you destroy everything the two of you have built. Not without a fight.”
“He can have my share—” Alex fired back.
“It won’t be worth anything,” Isabel interrupted. “And please, believe that Michael and I would give it up for you, but we have Diane to think about now. And there are Michael’s nephews. He has an obligation to protect the Jemison title.”
The Price of Indiscretion Page 18