by Mary Birk
“I’ll get it.” Reid went over and filled their glasses.
“Do you still love her?”
“What can I say? There comes a point when the moth that keeps flying into the flame needs to realize it’s a really, really, bad idea.”
“It’s hard for children to have parents who aren’t together, and even harder when the parents live on different continents.”
“It’s too late.” Reid handed his father his glass and sat back down with his own. “She kept up her relationship with Andrew Grainger even through her pregnancy. She let him be with her for Michael’s delivery.” He gave a short laugh. “So you see how in love with me she is. Now I have no secrets, and certainly no pride, left.”
“I see.” The Earl smoked his cigar and looked at his son. “What about financial arrangements, son?”
“Stone is putting together a settlement proposal to be paid from my holdings. She’ll be comfortable and won’t have to work unless she wants to do so.”
“Good.” The Earl shook his cigar to get the ashes off, and then replaced it in his mouth. “But I’ll wager she won’t take it. From what I can see, she’s as proud as you are.”
“She’ll likely marry Grainger as soon as she’s free, but I’d feel better if she took the settlement. She might need it someday—it will give her some independence.”
The Earl nodded.
“I’d like to keep this quiet until she leaves. It will be easier for us to act normally if we can keep up the illusion we're together. At least through the christening and Christmas.”
“Would you consider talking with Monsignor Morrell when he gets here? See if anything can be worked out to save your marriage? I know an annulment will allow you both to remarry in the Church, but I believe the Church, and certainly your mother and I, would prefer the marriage be saved, and the child left in an intact home.”
“I don’t think that’s an option. I’m fairly certain she has other plans. Plans that don’t involve me.”
The Earl rose from his chair. “Son, I’m sorrier than you can imagine I wasn’t more sensitive to what you were going through. I, more than anyone, should have seen it. I’m also sorry for Anne. Whatever’s gone on, I think she cares for you on some level. Besides, she’s the only woman I’ve ever seen that could keep your attention for any significant amount of time.”
“She keeps my attention, all right. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be able to keep hers.”
“You’re too much like me, I’m afraid.” The Earl’s voice held the hint of a deep sadness his father generally kept well concealed. His parents’ marriage seemed to have healed over the years. The Countess appeared devoted to his father now; there’d been no other rumors or even hints that cast doubts on her fidelity as far as Reid was aware. However, Reid knew his father well, had lived with him through the painful years when they were alone. A marriage could be mended, but the spot where the injury had been inflicted would always be tender. The Countess seemed aware of this, as well. She never so much as flirted with another man, and spent her time caring for her husband, children, grandchildren, and her husband’s ancestral home. A model wife. However, Reid doubted a man could ever completely forget he hadn’t been enough to keep his wife faithful.
Reid went to his father, put his arm around the older man’s shoulder. “I’m honored if you think I’m even the least bit like you.”
The Earl smiled, a wistful, lonely smile. “I thought I’d spend some time in the chapel. Would you like to join me?”
Memories of his boyhood came rushing into Reid’s mind. Hours they’d spent together praying companionably when the Countess had left them.
“I’d like that.”
Chapter 15
HEARING A SOFT knock on his bedroom door, Rodney Greene went to open it. Miranda, wrapped in a black silk kimono robe, smiled at him, her face teasing. “I thought you’d still be up.”
“Hi, there, beautiful.”
She made a show of looking around. “Nice.”
“Like it?” The room he’d been given was suitably masculine, with rich brown tones and dark woods predominating the décor.
“Totally. I like this room a lot better than mine. I guess I lost my rights to the room I used to get when I skipped out on the festivities for a few years. Where’s Krystal?”
“Bed. Diarrhea.” He made a face.
“Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose. “I brought us something.” She slid a joint out of her pocket.
“You’re a godsend. Do you have a lighter?”
Miranda nodded and lit the joint. She put it in her mouth, inhaled, and passed it to him, slowly exhaling. She shed her robe, revealing Chinese style black silk pajamas shot with scarlet peonies.
He gave an appreciative nod at her outfit, and she curtsied with a pretty smirk. She must have just bought the pajamas, probably for this trip. For Reid.
“New?”
“Yes.” She went over to the bed and pulled down the covers. “Okay?” Before he had a chance to respond, she crawled under the sheets. “I love the bed warmers they put in the beds here. God knows they need them.” She wriggled her feet deep down into the soft bed and propped herself up with pillows so she could watch him. “Have you talked to Mum about the money yet?”
He passed the joint back to her, exhaled the sweet smoke, then shook his head. “Not since I called her. Haven’t had a chance to get her alone yet. I’ll talk to her tomorrow morning. I wish you wouldn’t fight with her and get her twisted up. I need her to be in a generous mood.”
“Did she say something about me?”
“No, but I could tell something had happened between the two of you.” He sat on the bed next to her so they could pass the joint back and forth as they talked. “She didn’t seem happy when Rafe was going at it with Dad either. Or when you joined in.”
“That fizzled, I know, but actually, I was thinking about you and the money you needed. Giving any part of Da’s property to Lance would be beyond daft.” She shrugged. “But you should probably know, Mum and I did fight earlier. I’m tired of her being so nervous about me all the time. Like I’m going to fall apart again. She doesn’t think Terrence could ever be in love with me. She wants to tell him about what happened last time. I told her she’d better not. I’d have no chance with him if he knew. Even her version. Especially her version.”
Her brother held up the joint. “He wouldn’t like this either.”
“I’d never let him know about anything like this. But it helps relax me.”
“Me too. God knows I need it right now. Did you hear about Broddie Pooley?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s dead.”
“Broddie?”
“Aye. I got a call on my mobile on the way here. Apparently, it happened a day or two ago, and someone just found the body last night. A drug overdose.”
“Broddie got back on drugs? Fucking shite.” She frowned. “You realize now I’m totally screwed for a sponsor for my February casino party?”
“I’m sure his family will appreciate your condolences.”
“Don’t be like that. Of course I’m sorry about him. I’ll miss him.”
“Right.”
“What does that mean for you with him being the partner you worked with the most?”
“Not much. Broddie was a bit on the outs with management as it was. This same hedge fund mess I’m in. He’s the bastard who got me into it.” He reached out, rubbed her legs through the covers. “You’d better start looking for another sponsor. The firm isn’t likely to pick up the event for him.”
“Damn.” The tremble in Miranda’s voice set off a warning bell. Rodney couldn’t let her get too close to her personal melt-down ledge. Bringing her back could be hard.
“It’ll work out. Try to relax.” He passed the joint back to her. “This should help.”
She took it and inhaled deeply, then released the smoke slowly. “It makes me randy.” She stretched and then curled back underneath the c
overs.
“Did you bring more with you?”
She nodded. “Lots. I’m determined to stay calm. Even if it means staying half-stoned the whole time.”
“I’m with you on that. Great dress you had on tonight, by the way. Sexy.”
“Thanks, that was the plan.” She smiled. “Do you think Mum will give you the money?”
He shrugged. The pot was finally starting to help relax him. “I don’t see there’s any choice. I’ve got to get this prick off my back.” He couldn’t tell Miranda about the threat Von Zandt had made to him and Pooley.
“You don’t want to ask Daddy for the money?”
“Not unless Mum says no. I don’t want to face the bloody crushing disappointment I’m sure I’ll see on his face. Once again, I’d prove I’ll never measure up. At my age, he’d already made his first several millions.”
“I don’t think he’s disappointed in you.” She trailed her finger along the inside of his arm, and he felt goose bumps rise up. He moved his arm away. Miranda was in a dangerous mood. Dangerous for him.
“He would be if he found out about this mess.”
She lay back against his pillows, her dark hair framing her ivory face. “I’ll be all sweetness and roses with Mum the rest of the time, I promise. And I’ll tell her she has to help you.”
“Thanks ever so much. So, no luck in getting St. Terrence to fuck you tonight? Even with that dress and those stiletto heels?”
“I can’t even get him to kiss me yet. Married is married to him. At least that will make him a good husband for me once he gets loose of that scrubber of a wife. I won’t have to worry about him with other women.”
“Did he tell Anne he wants an annulment?”
She nodded. “She’s agreed to it.”
“That’s great news. The sooner she leaves, the better. You don’t want him changing his mind. She certainly hasn’t gotten any worse looking since last time I saw her.” Rodney had gone to the party the Reids had for Terrence and his wife after they got married, even though Miranda had refused to come. “In fact, she’s probably better looking now.”
“Oh, just shut the fuck up. I’m so tired of everyone saying how beautiful she is.”
He leaned over to her and put his arms around her. “You’re more beautiful than she could ever be.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I’m lonely by myself. Can I sleep in here?”
He sighed. “Have I ever been able to say no to you?”
*****
Rafe Kensington checked the watch on the table next to the campaign bed where he was sleeping alone. Three a.m. He laid his head back down on the pillow. Flora and he were always given this two-room suite at Dunbaryn: a full bedroom and another room that was more of a gentleman’s salon, each with a separate bathroom. Flora took the large bedroom, and he slept on the smaller bed in the salon. They slept better apart. Probably not unusual, especially as couples got older. It had been their pattern for so many years he couldn’t even remember exactly when it had started. Probably after Lance was born. At first Flora had protested, but eventually she’d seen the practicality of the arrangement.
The night before they’d left for Dunbaryn, he’d forced himself to call on Flora for one of his rare connubial visits. He’d mustered up a show of enthusiasm, but she’d declined, saying she was tired and fighting the headache that did indeed materialize the next day. He’d been relieved. Mission accomplished. He’d shown he was interested, but didn’t actually have to go through with the deed. Should he try again while they were here? No, surely it could wait until after they got back home.
He closed his eyes, though he doubted he’d be able to sleep. He was still trembling from the shock he’d received when he went to the media room to check on his son and his friend. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat.
That the two young men hadn’t locked the door appalled him. Anyone could have walked in, as he had. When he’d opened the door, it took him a few minutes to adjust his eyes to the dim light. The throbbing drumbeat of the music pounding out of the built-in speakers filled the room with a crescendo of thunderous sound. At first he’d been annoyed at the volume of the music, then shock at what he was seeing shot all thoughts of the music out of his mind. A searing pain washed over him, almost dropping him to his knees.
Darryl Duggan, his strong naked thighs flexing their sinewy muscles as he thrust into an equally naked Lance from behind, almost looked like something drawn by Michelangelo—an angel or a god. But the triumphant expression on his face when he saw Rafe was purely demonical. It was as if he’d hoped to be caught, by someone, by anyone, in this great house in the act with Rafe’s nineteen-year-old son.
When Lance turned and saw him standing there, he’d momentarily froze. But Darryl, his eyes still on Rafe, lazily dipped his finger in a white substance on the coffee table, reached his hand up to Lance’s mouth and rubbed his finger on the gums underneath the boy’s lip. Then the blond Satan had smiled at Rafe, flicking his tongue along his upper lip in an inviting gesture, as he grabbed Lance’s hips. Lance didn’t pull away, too much under Darryl’s, or perhaps the drug’s, power to stop even while his own father watched.
As Rafe closed the door, he heard Darryl shout out his son’s name. He almost wept as he’d stumbled his way to his bedroom.
Now he lay in bed in the dark, trying to erase from his mind what he’d seen. He’d caused this, he knew. He’d tried to have an ordered, conventional, unemotional life. A life where he’d kept what he needed and what he wanted, separate. But apparently, no matter how much one tried to keep life compartmentalized and neat, it managed to seep out and take its own form.
Flora could never find out the truth. Not about Lance, not about Darryl Duggan, and most definitely, not about Rafe himself. He could not let her divorce him. He’d go to her tomorrow night without fail. He could stand fifteen minutes in her bed to ensure his financial security, couldn’t he? But something in his gut twisted, and his eyes burned with the tears he couldn’t keep back.
Just when he thought his despair would drive him crazy, the door to his room opened. He blinked, swiped his hand across his eyes, wiping away hot tears. “Yes? Who . . .?”
Then, by the faint light shining in from the hallway, he recognized the unmistakable form entering his room. He lay perfectly still as the door shut and his visitor entered. The lock clicked. Darryl Duggan turned toward Rafe, untied his robe. Rafe sat up on the edge of the bed, watching mesmerized as the robe dropped to the floor.
The young man grinned. “Missed me?”
Unable to speak, Rafe nodded and rose to meet his lover.
DECEMBER 24 -THURSDAY
Chapter 16
ANNE TURNED from the child she was nursing to see the door to her bedroom open slowly, and her sister, dressed in a thick robe and slippers, quietly slide in.
Meg whispered. “I thought you’d be up. I woke up with icicles for feet.” She wrapped her arms around her chest. “My room’s freezing, and my hot water bottle gave up the fight.”
Anne nodded toward the fireplace where a gas fire was burning. “That helps. You should have a switch in your room to turn yours on.”
Meg frowned. “I missed that. Good to know. When did you wake up?”
“Quite a while ago. Michael’s just finishing his breakfast.” Anne smoothed the soft down on the baby’s head.
“What about us? Do we go downstairs for breakfast? I’m starving.”
“You can ring and have a tray brought up, but that’s just tea and toast.” Anne gestured over to a table holding a pot of tea, cups, and the remnants of toast. “Downstairs, though, there’ll be a full breakfast. I’ll definitely need more than toast to make enough milk to feed this hungry little boy.”
Meg helped herself to a cup of the fragrant breakfast tea. “This place is so huge. And the servants—I’ve never seen so many.”
“It’s a big place, I guess they need them.”
“No kidding. How would you like to be in charge of cleaning bathrooms here? They must have like a gazillion.”
Anne laughed. “I wish you could see the gardens. They’re wonderful, but right now they’re covered with snow, of course. I think I told you they were redone years ago by Gertrude Jekyll, though they’re overdue for an update.” She pointed vaguely to one side of the house. “On that side is a potager where the fruit trees are espaliered wonderfully. It’s been there for centuries. Absolutely spectacular.”
“I have no idea what that means, but I believe you. This place is a little daunting.”
Anne gathered her hair together and put it behind her shoulders so it fell down her back and not on the baby’s face. “A little, maybe. At least Darby’s not here. That would have made it a perfect hell.” She bit her lip. “Oh, God, Meg, I wish we hadn’t come. This was such a mistake.”
“It’s too late now. We’re here.”
“I’d like to hit the rewind button.”
Meg took a drink of her tea. “I tried to call Mom and Jeanne to give them a heads up, but I couldn’t get them. They must not have any cell reception.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking coming here. I should have made sure I wasn’t reading too much into his mother’s invitation. You guys tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen.”
“He should have told you not to come.”
“He said he didn’t know his mother was inviting us. Then, when he found out she had, he thought it made sense for Michael to be baptized here at Dunbaryn. Tradition and all. We’re going to have to be able to act civilly for Michael’s sake, so I guess we can start showing we can do it now.”
“This should certainly put us all to the test. I promise I’ll behave. I guess if you can do it, I can.”
“I think it’s best for Michael if I just accept how it is, and get through this as gracefully as possible.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I should have known better. When a guy doesn’t write or call for months, you have to be pretty stupid to think he still wants you. But thinking he cared got me through the pregnancy, so I guess that’s all right.” Then her lip started to quiver.