by Mary Birk
“But you were mad at me when you said that. After I explained I hadn’t known Andrew was coming to Scotland, things were good between us again. I thought you sent me away because you were afraid for my safety.”
“That was a factor, of course. But I’ve had time to think. We’re basically incompatible. Which probably explains our dismal history and inability to communicate.”
“I’ve been trying to communicate with you. I wrote to you all the time after I left Scotland. You got my letters, didn’t you?”
He nodded and gestured to his room. “I brought them to give back to you.”
“To bring back to me? But you read them?”
He shook his head. “I thought it would be better if I didn’t.”
She flinched as if he’d slapped her. Then she drew herself up. “Oh, I see.” She looked down and lightly took hold of the baby’s little foot, bouncing it gently. “God, I was stupid. I thought you just weren’t able to write back—that it was too hard. But you didn’t even care about me enough to open an envelope.”
“I didn’t see the point.” He wasn’t going to tell her that not opening them had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
She looked up at him and then down at the baby again. “Just throw them in the trash or the fireplace. I don’t want them back.” She pressed her hand down to her nipple and released the little mouth. “He’s finished, I think.”
Reid knew he should leave now, but couldn’t bring himself to move.
Anne sat up, drawing closed the bodice of her nightgown and put the child on her shoulder, softly murmuring encouragement to the satiated and sleepy baby. Then she looked up. “Why did you let your mother invite my family and me here?”
“She didn’t consult me.”
“I see.” She gave a small, mirthless laugh. “I should have figured that out by your overwhelming enthusiasm at my arrival. You don’t want me here. Or my family.” She patted the baby lightly on his back. “You want us to leave.”
“I didn’t say that. Michael should be christened at Dunbaryn. You’re his mother and your family is his family as well and should be present at his christening. I assume we can behave civilly to each other.”
“I guess that makes sense, and it certainly sounds civilized. So, is there someone else? That girl—Miranda whatever her name was?”
He shook his head. “Greene. No. We’re just friends.”
“Friends?” Anne’s voice was skeptical. “That’s not how she looks at you.”
“You know how I feel about that. We’re still married, and until we’re not, I won’t be with another woman. I’m old-fashioned that way.” He said those last words impersonally, but they were anything but impersonal. In the meanest part of his heart, he wanted her to hurt like he’d hurt every day since he’d last been with her.
“Terrence, we were separated for a long time when I started to see Andrew, and you’d told me the marriage was over. I thought you meant it. I was stupid, and I’m sorry.” Her face was strained, and he could hear her voice catch, but he didn’t allow himself to soften toward her.
“There’s that failure to communicate. Doomed us, I guess. You’ll be better with someone more like you.”
“And you?”
He was never going to marry again, but he didn’t want to tell her that. The last thing he wanted was her pity. “I need someone who wants what I want, something stable and without so much . . . I don’t know.” He spread his hands out, and shrugged.
“Passion?”
Something in him snapped. “I was thinking scandal. I don’t relish having to wonder every day if my wife and her lover of the moment will get us in the tabloids. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime. If I’m ever insane enough to marry again, I want a wife who feels the same way I do, a wife who respects her marriage vows.”
She caught her breath, and he realized he’d gone too far.
“I get it. You don’t want another whore for a wife.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She waved a hand in front of her face to stop him from continuing. “You didn’t have to. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ve said it, I’ve written it, so many times. But if what you want is to annul our marriage, then I won’t do anything to stop you. You’re free from me. You can go ahead and sleep with Miranda or anyone else you want—you don’t have to consider yourself married to me anymore. I won’t try to hold you when you don’t want to be held. I’m too tired to try anymore.”
She took her wedding ring from her finger, and tried to hand it to him without disturbing the baby.
“I don’t want it back. I don’t have any use for it.” He tried to keep his voice businesslike. “I’d pre-fer not to make the announcement about the annulment until after you leave. I know it’s asking a lot to have you not say anything, but it would probably make the whole situation less uncomfortable for everyone.”
“That is asking a lot.” She shook her head, as if she couldn’t think of what else to do. “I’ll try, if it means that much to you.” She put her ring down on the table next to the bed. “But I’ll only wear it outside of this room.”
He nodded. “That’s fine.”
She spoke in a carefully controlled voice. “I know you’ll still want to see Michael. It’ll be important to him, as well. Please don’t let how you feel about me affect that. You don’t have to see me at all. I can make arrangements so that doesn’t happen.”
“Anne . . .”
She put her hand over her eyes, shielding them from him. “Terrence, not to be ungracious, but can you just leave now? I’ll be down for dinner.”
He bent down to where the child lay on her lap, and kissed the baby’s head. Then he left the room without saying anything else.
It was finally finished between them.
Chapter 10
MIRANDA decided she’d had more than enough tea while she waited for Terrence to return to the drawing room. She felt jittery in that way that always presaged an anxiety attack. Not now, she told herself. Whatever happened, she needed to project a calm, self-possessed image. Doubtless he’d gone upstairs to talk to Anne, presumably to discuss the annulment. Surely that was all that was going on. Surely they wouldn’t be doing anything else. Surely Terrence wouldn’t just jump back in bed with his wife. He was over her; how could he not be after all she’d done?
Miranda was fairly certain Terrence’s wife wasn’t over him, though. The stupid woman was quite obviously still in love with him. If that look of adoration on her face when she came in the door and saw him wasn’t real, then Anne Michaels was an excellent actress.
What could be taking him so long? How long did such a simple conversation have to take? Unless it wasn’t simple. Or it wasn’t a conversation. What if they were in bed?
Miranda couldn’t sit still. Nor could she make polite conversation while she waited for Terrence to reappear. She’d never seen Terrence’s wife in person before. The woman looked like that actress from the old American movies, the one that married a prince. Angelic. Just went to prove looks didn’t mean anything. Miranda remembered what Terrence’s sister, Darby, had told her about Anne not even knowing whether Terrence or the artist was the father of her baby. No, that woman was no bloody angel.
She found her way to the front stairway leading up from the reception hall. Starting up to her own room, Miranda decided she’d take a bath and try to relax before dinner. She felt a hand gently take her arm, and turned. Great buckets of steaming shite. It was her mother, looking at her with that patient-saint smile on her face.
“Darling, can I come up with you and have a chat? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
Miranda stifled the urge to say something cutting, like, when did you get so interested in me, and just nodded. At least talking to her mother might distract her from worrying about what Terrence was doing with that bitch. In fact, this would be a good time to have the talk with her mother she promised Rodney. She would ease her way into that subject, get it done with, and
that would be that.
“Great. I’ve been so busy at work, but I’ve been looking forward to catching up with you. Everything all right at home?”
“Everything’s fine. I can hardly believe Lance is halfway through his first year at university and practically all grown up.”
“Practically,” she said, not voicing her real opinion that he’d never grow up so long as their mother babied him all the time. “So you’re rattling around all by yourself in that big house?”
“Indeed, I am. As usual, Rafe is almost always in Glasgow. I’m thinking I might sell the house.”
“What does Rafe say about that?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to him yet. Would you mind? You’re not attached to it, are you?”
Miranda shook her head. “Not a bit. It never was really home to me.” Not like Greenebrae Lodge had been. Everything had changed in her life after her parents’ divorce. And in Rodney’s life. She and Rodney had moved to the new house with their mother and her new husband, and their father had stayed at Greenebrae, when he wasn’t haring and whoring around.
“You two were away at school most of the time by then.”
“Yes.” Not only had they abruptly been moved from Greenebrae Lodge, but they’d been almost immediately shipped off to school. School breaks spent at their mother’s new house would have been unbearable if she hadn’t had Rodney. Between their mother’s obsession with Lance’s health, their stepfather’s barely disguised dislike of both Miranda and Rodney, and their own father’s descent into his second bachelorhood, Miranda and Rodney had been largely left to their own devices. “Lance might miss the place.”
Not that Miranda cared a fucking fig what Lance wanted, but it always made her mother happy if she thought her children were close, and Miranda wanted her mother to be in a good mood so she could talk to her about Rodney’s problem.
Predictably, her mother smiled. “That’s sweet of you, darling. Lance might care, I suppose, but he’s got his own life now, or at least he will soon.”
About time, too, Miranda thought. “Fa didn’t bring one of his young ladies with him?”
“Apparently not.”
“Do you think his current Barbie doll will be joining us later?”
Lady Flora shrugged in a distracted way. “Juliette said he wasn’t bringing anyone for the holidays.”
“That’s a relief. They’re usually younger than me, and it’s always bloody uncomfortable.”
Her mother smoothed down her already perfectly smooth hair. “He hasn’t brought anyone the last few years. Didn’t Rodney mention that to you?”
“I don’t remember. If so, I guess I forgot.”
“I’m glad you decided to join us this year.”
“I heard you and Daddy were at odds over Greenebrae.” Miranda opened the door to the guest room to which she’d been assigned, and let her mother pass through first.
“How did you hear that?”
“When I rang the other day, Rafe mentioned it.”
“Rafe exaggerates. This is a nice room. One of my favorites.” Her mother looked around and sat down on one of the floral upholstered chairs. “Your father and I are having some differences of opinion, but nothing serious. Certainly nothing that would make us argue in public.”
Miranda kicked off her shoes, and sat on the canopied bed. The striped fabric of the counterpane complemented the floral fabrics in the room. She would have preferred a more contemporary décor, but it would be rude to complain. “Just don’t be quarreling.”
“When’s the last time you saw me fight with your father?”
“Not for years,” Miranda admitted. “Just don’t start up again now.”
“I promise to behave. I’m glad you’re so fond of your father, and I’m glad he’ll be here for you and Rodney for Christmas.”
“Me, too. Especially if he’s not bringing one of his girlfriends. The one he brought the last time I was here was younger than me by years. Close to Lance’s age.”
Her mother made a face. “Bridgette. That was a low point, even for him.”
Miranda laughed. “Too true. I don’t think he actually knew what to do with her, at least outside of the bedroom, I suppose.” She went into the bathroom and opened the taps to run a bath. “There, I’ll let that run while we talk, then I need to bathe and get dressed for dinner.”
“As do I.”
Miranda hugged her arms across her chest. “This should be quite a Christmas.”
Her mother nodded. “I’m so glad you’re happy. I wish you would have brought a date with you. It may be a little boring for you here on your own, although I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to join us here this year.”
Feeling like she would burst with her secret if she looked straight at her mother, Miranda went to the closet. “I thought this dress for tonight.” She pulled out a black lacy dress, sleek and long skirted.
“Elegant. I’m sure it looks lovely on you.”
She took a deep breath. “Mum, I do have some news.”
“What kind of news?”
Miranda crossed to the mahogany wardrobe and took out a slip, underclothing, and nylons to go with the dress.
“It’s still a secret, but I think you should know about it. After all, you were there for me when I went through that break-up with Terrence, right before he met Anne.”
“Yes.” Lady Flora’s voice was tentative.
“Don’t look like that, Mother. It’s good news.” Miranda closed the drawer and laid the things she’d selected on the bed. Then she sat down again on the bed, facing her mother. “I bumped into him last summer, and we’ve been seeing each other. Casually, of course. He even came to one of my events at the museum with me.”
Her mother’s expression was pained. “Not after what you went through last time. It’s even worse now. He’s married, darling, and he has a baby.”
“He and Anne aren’t together anymore. I guess you could say the baby was the result of the last time they tried to make it work, and it didn’t. He’s asking her for an annulment.” She stood up and pulled off her sweater.
“An annulment?”
Miranda nodded, stripping off her leggings. “You know how Catholic the Reids are. He needs an annulment, not a divorce, so he can get married again.”
“I don’t understand. If they aren’t together, why is she out here with the baby?”
Miranda walked into the bathroom to check on the water level and temperature. Too cold. She shut off the cold tap and left only the hot water running into the bathtub, then rejoined her mother. “Aunt Juliette invited her. Anne and Terrence have hardly even spoken since she got pregnant. But Terrence decided to wait until after the baby was born to ask her for the annulment. He’s telling her now.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows. “Now? After she’s traveled all this way with a newborn, and his family has a houseful for the christening and the holidays?”
“I don’t think he’s planning to tell everyone until after she leaves. I wish he would, though. I just want her to leave.”
“Has he actually said he has feelings toward you?”
Miranda bristled at her mother’s suspicious tone. “He doesn’t have to say it. I can tell.”
“So, no he hasn’t?”
“He wouldn’t do that while he’s still married. You know how he is. But we see each other often. We talk, and sometimes we go to parties and things together.” She didn’t tell her mother that Terrence never initiated seeing her, or that she manipulated things so they’d end up at the same places. He was so old fashioned, he’d never cheat, even on a wife who was cheating on him.
“Darling, I want to be happy for you, but the odds of a man like him leaving his wife, especially when there’s a child, aren’t good.”
“No, Mum, he’s really finished with her this time.” Miranda went to the closet and selected some black very-high heels.
“Juliette doesn’t know?”
“I told you, not yet.”
“But you’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Just stop it.”
“I’m worried about you. You never told Terrence about what happened, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t tell him. It was years ago.”
“I know, dear, but if you’re truly to be close with him, you need to tell him. I still think you should’ve told him what his getting married so suddenly did to you. The whole story.”
“What good would it do?”
“He should know.”
“I don’t think he’d understand.” Miranda was sure he wouldn’t understand. Especially if she told him everything. He’d never have anything to do with her if he found out.
“I’d feel so much better if you’d wait until he is actually free before you allow yourself to become attached to him again.”
“I don’t know why I bother to share my good news with you.” Miranda started to cry in spite of herself. Her mother was so hateful. “You always do this. Ruin everything.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re never on my side. Rodney’s the only one who’s always on my side, and he’s happy for me. ”
Her mother sighed. “You need to stop being so dependent on your brother. Let him have his own life. And you know I’m always on your side, darling.”
“You are not. You’re on your own side. You were never there for me or for Rodney. If Rodney and I are too dependent on each other, you caused it.”
“That’s unfair.”
“You sent us away.”
“Everyone’s children go away to school, sweetheart. I wanted you to have the best education you could have. So did your father. We chose the schools together. I’ll admit I wasn’t the best mother during the time I was going through the divorce, at least until I got my bearings. But I’d like to think I’ve made up for it—I’ve certainly tried. I made some big mistakes, and they cost me as well.”
“Whatever.”
“Miranda.” There was a world of patience in her mother’s voice, but that just grated more at Miranda’s nerves.