Less Than a Treason

by Mary Birk

  “No, he kept that part of his life separate.”

  “Why do you think your mother and Rafe were on his invitation list to the museum party?”

  “I assume he thought she might be a good contact for him; she has friends with money. Rafe would’ve been invited as Mum’s husband. I don’t think he has anything significant to invest, but I don’t know that for certain.”

  The ladies began to drift down to the drawing room to join the men. Reid’s mother and Pippa came down with Pippa’s children, followed by Jeanne and Meg with Jeanne’s children. The chatter of voices rose, as everyone gathered, hungry and ready to celebrate.

  Miranda came over to where Reid and Rodney stood. “Am I interrupting anything important?”

  Rodney shook his head. “We were talking about Pooley. Terrence is helping with the investigation.”

  Miranda took a glass of champagne from a tray Bernard held toward her, giving Reid a mildly annoyed look. “You didn’t mention that to me. That’s why you wanted the guest list.”

  Reid smiled. “I confess.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “Perhaps I should have.” Reid turned back to Rodney. “What about Haney? Any idea why he’d be on the list?”

  “None.” Rodney turned as Krystal came up to them, smiling broadly.

  “It looks like a film set or something in here.” The girl’s enthusiasm seemed to have two settings, bubbly and bubbling over. Today she was definitely on the higher setting.

  Miranda let out a barely audible groan, raised a hand in greeting to Pippa, and deserted the group.

  Reid exchanged pleasantries for a while, then wandered away, keeping an eye on the stairs.

  Finally, Anne came down, carrying the sleeping Michael. Her mother, beside them, held the baby’s basket. Anne was dressed in a long burgundy velvet dress. Her hair was swept up softly at the back of her head, caught in some kind of clasp from which it cascaded back down past her neck. Her face was impassive, her expression polite, but strained, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She wasn’t wearing his present, neither the necklace nor the earrings. Instead, she wore the diamond cross and diamond earrings she’d had on at Michael’s christening. He suddenly knew, with a perfect certainty, that Andrew Grainger had given them to her.

  Miranda’s voice from behind him brought him back. She put her arm through his. “Let’s go over and see Michael. You must have been missing him.”

  Reid pulled his arm away abruptly and left her standing there. He wasn’t going to go over to his wife with Miranda holding on to his arm. But when he got over to Anne, he could tell she wouldn’t have cared or noticed who was with him. Her eyes passed over him almost as though he didn’t exist. It was as if she’d flipped off a switch inside herself. She was gone from here in her mind already, just biding her time until she could escape. She must feel she’d done her duty to try to make things work with him because he was Michael’s father, and his request for the annulment had relieved her from any further obligation to make the effort.

  Without speaking a word, she handed him the baby, then moved away to visit with some of the other guests and family members.

  He held the baby, using the warmth of his sleeping son to comfort himself. He watched her from the corner of his eye while making conversation with some of the other guests. She never looked his way at all.

  Reid headed over to talk to Rafe Kensington to get his account of why his son had been at his flat the night Pooley had been killed.

  *****

  His father gave the signal for everyone to go into the dining room. Reid went to find Anne to take her in to their places at the table. Christmas dinner was an exception to the rule about not seating married couples next to each other, at least at Dunbaryn. Moreover, each man was supposed to bring his own wife in to Christmas dinner. He’d get to bring Anne in, have an excuse to touch her arm, and be able to see how she was doing. Later, he’d get her alone so they could talk.

  When he saw George Greene was already taking Anne into dinner, his shoulders tensed. Surely the man wasn’t also planning to take Reid’s place next to Anne at the table? He quickly went in, holding Michael and not bothering to look for anyone else who might need an escort. He tried to look unconcerned while he confirmed that, as usual, there were place cards indicating where everyone was supposed to sit. But maybe his mother, now that she knew about the annulment, had decided not to place Anne next to him. He crossed the room to where George was holding out the chair to his father’s left for Anne. Reid checked the name on the card at the place on the other side of her, saw his own name, and exhaled in relief.

  He put Michael in his carrier basket near where they were sitting and sat down beside Anne. But he might as well have been at the other end of the table for all the attention she paid him. He tried to make polite conversation with her, to at least get back to how they’d been this morning, but she would only give perfunctory responses that quickly ended any conversational gambit he attempted, and instead, spent her time talking to the other people around them. He tried to think about what could have happened between that morning when she’d been friendly to him, and now when she’d turned back into ice. He’d tried to get her to sit with him during the present opening, but when she said no, he’d given up, and things were still fine. Not great, but civil. She’d still given him the occasional smile—again, not like when she’d been in love with him, but friendly. The last real smile had been before she opened his gift.

  It had to be the gift. After she opened it, she’d acted like he’d disappeared from the face of the earth. There had to be something wrong with it. He watched her while she talked to his father, the curve of her neck rising out of the soft velvet of her dress so alluring he could barely resist running a fingertip along its contours. He wanted to turn her around to make her talk to him, but he knew that would only make things worse.

  A big roast turkey came out on a platter and was carved by Bernard at the side table. After he finished carving the turkey, Bernard began work on a large roast prime rib. The Madeira sauce, chestnut stuffing, roasted Brussels sprouts with shallots, spicy red cabbage, potatoes, cranberries, bread sauce, and Yorkshire pudding were passed to each guest by one of the serving maids.

  Pippa, seated on his other side, tried several times to talk to him, but he couldn’t talk to her and still hear the conversation Anne was having with his parents. Faced with his inattention, Pippa gave up and left him alone. He strained to hear as Anne, her head turned away from him, quietly recounted amusing stories about the work she’d been doing. Reid learned for the first time that while she was pregnant, she’d traveled all over and been in different states and even different countries on jobs, coming back for her doctor appointments, and that she’d worked up to and including the day she went into labor with Michael, even though it had been Thanksgiving.

  “I was trying to get the job finished before he came, otherwise I wouldn’t have been working on Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to make it to the hospital in time. When Michael was ready, he wasn’t going to wait for anything. So I had Michael in a garden shed.” She laughed. “I missed Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Reid’s stomach clenched. No one had told him. He searched his mind for any clue he might have been given that Anne hadn’t had Michael in the hospital. Nothing in Meg’s emails. Meg hadn’t shared any of those details with him, probably because he’d been careful not to show any interest in his asinine monosyllabic responses to her emails. She’d encouraged him to call Anne, and maybe Anne would have told him if he’d called. Or maybe she would have told him when he’d gone to see Michael in San Francisco, if he’d bothered to talk to her.

  The note. Now it made sense. Andrew Grainger wasn’t just at Michael’s delivery, he’d delivered him.

  His mother and father exchanged glances.

  “In a garden shed?” His mother’s voice was full of concern. “How dreadful. You must have been terrified.”

  “Maybe
a little. But it turned out okay.”

  “Were you alone, chérie?”

  She shook her head. “A friend was with me.”

  The Earl, appearing to sense Anne’s discomfort, changed the subject. Reid tried to will her to meet his eyes, but she divided her attention between talking to his parents and moving things around on her plate in a pretense at eating. He doubted Anne would confide any more details to him, even if they were alone. Doubtless she and Grainger considered the experience a private one, one they shared, one Reid had no right to ask about. Briefly he considered asking Meg for more information, but he wasn’t sure Meg was speaking to him. He certainly couldn’t ask Jeanne; Jeanne was definitely not speaking to him.

  He listened for opportunities to join in the conversation with Anne, but couldn’t find any. He couldn’t ask her about all the things he wanted to know in front of everyone here, and he couldn’t think of anything to say that Anne would be interested in hearing from him. Someday maybe they could be, if not friends, then at least friendly. But that day wasn’t today.

  Pippa nudged his arm and hissed at him. “Honestly, Terrence, quit glowering at Anne. No wonder she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “I’m not glowering at her. I’m listening.”

  Pippa leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear. “Why don’t you just admit you’ve been an idiot and apologize to her for this whole annulment business? You’re obviously miserable without her.”

  “You don’t understand. She’s the one that needs the annulment, not me.” He kept his voice low.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Andrew Grainger.”

  Pippa looked unconvinced. “Then why did she come?”

  “For Michael.”

  Pippa looked at Anne, then at him. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She put her hand over his. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Go on, talk to your husband, lassie. At least one of us got the marriage business right.”

  “I love you,” she mouthed, then patted his hand and turned back in Haney’s direction.

  The conversation on the other side of him had moved on to a discussion of the economic issues involved in a possible independent Scotland. All of which he’d heard before, and not a subject he could concentrate on today. He’d managed to talk to both Rafe and Lance separately before dinner. They’d given identical stories about Lance’s visit having been for the usual purpose a university student would apply to a parent, the need for more funds. They’d both denied seeing anyone come in or out of Pooley’s flat.

  Reid took a drink of his wine, glancing around the room. The children, uninhibited by any adult presence at their table, laughed and talked loudly to each other, naturally consumed with excitement about Christmas and their presents. Waving their Christmas crackers around, they shouted out a countdown, then began pulling the crackers apart to release the tiny toys and candies. Reid looked over at his son. Soon Michael also would be at the children’s table—at least on the years Reid had his son for the holiday.

  He felt little hands tugging at him and looked down to see Hannah looking up at him with her aunt’s big blue eyes. She handed him her Christmas cracker. “It’s thustuck.”

  He leaned down and scooped her up onto his lap. “Let’s see.” He pretended to study it. “You’re right. Definitely stuck. I had one like this before. First, you need to shake it.” He did so exaggeratedly, knowing there was nothing wrong with the cracker. “Now we pull. You on one side and me on the other.” They pulled, and it popped open.

  Giggling, Hannah slid down to gather her treasures from where they’d fallen. He leaned down to help, and she kissed him on the cheek, then scampered back to the children’s table.

  The flambéed Christmas pudding was presented on a silver tray by Bernard, and the cook’s brandy butter was passed around the table. Everyone clapped for Mrs. Paulson to come out of the kitchen and take her bows for having given them another wonderful holiday feast. The woman bobbed her head in acknowledgement, her face glowing in the appreciation of the family and its guests.

  Reid tried again to start a conversation with his wife over the dessert. They could be friends, at least.

  “You should check to see if you got the silver coin. It’s supposed to bring you good luck.” He smiled at her, trying to engage her attention, to get back to where they’d been this morning.

  Anne pushed her plate toward him. “You can have mine if you want to look for it.”

  This wasn’t going well. “I don’t want your pudding. I was just trying to explain . . .”

  An exclamation came from the other end of the table.

  “I got the silver coin!” Miranda’s voice was exultant.

  Anne slanted her eyes toward him. “That’s just perfect, isn’t it?”

  “There are other prizes. Maybe you got one of the others.” He picked up his fork, pointed it to her plate. “Check your pudding.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Anne . . .”

  But she’d turned away again.

  After dinner ended, they adjourned to the drawing room. Anne immediately excused herself, leaving Michael with him.

  Jiggling the baby in his arms, he walked around the drawing room.

  Stirling approached him. “I see your wife’s deserted you. Not going well?”

  Reid shook his head.

  “Go talk to her.”

  “No use.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn.”

  “She’s going to marry Grainger.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “She’s got an engagement ring from him.”

  “She’s got a wedding ring and a baby from you. I think those trump the engagement ring. Go on up and fight for her.”

  “I wouldn’t be welcome. She’s made it crystal clear. I can’t do anything right.” He made a wry face. “She hated the gift I gave her.”

  Stirling frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she hate it?”

  Reid shrugged.

  Stirling said, “I thought it was a good gift, myself. It matches her wedding ring perfectly.”

  “It does?”

  “Wasn’t that the plan?”

  “I didn’t actually have a plan.”

  Stirling inclined his head, gesturing. “This young lady seems to want you.”

  Reid looked down. Hannah, a wide, sweet smile on her face, was pulling on his sleeve. “Thit down.” She motioned to the sofa behind him, then plopped herself down in the middle.

  Obediently, he eased himself down beside her, still holding Michael. Hannah tried to crawl into his lap, but the baby was in the way. He shifted Michael up further on his shoulder to make room for her. “There, now.” He put his free arm around her, and she settled herself in his lap.

  Stirling sat down in a nearby chair and watched, amused. “Good to see not all females hate you.”

  “One down, five hundred million to go.”

  “You have to start somewhere.”

  “True.”

  “Actually, Reid, if you have a moment, I want to run an idea by you.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Actually, it’s something that occurred to me after talking with your sister-in-law.”

  “My sister-in-law?”

  “Aye, the beautiful marine botanist. I’m thinking it’s time to shed the oil production part of my company and expand into remediation and reclamation, along with emergency response to industrial oil accidents. It would create a lot of opportunity for interaction with other companies all over the world, including the Middle East.”

  “And give you a reason to be certain places.”

  “A side benefit.”

  “It would take a lot of work.”

  “I like work.”

  “And play.”

  “True. You could use more play.”

  “I could indeed.” Reid glanced down at his son, now asleep. "Speaking of play, Hannah, why don’t you round up you
r brother and the other children, while I turn Michael over to his grandmother? Time to go sledging.”

  Chapter 32

  ANNE WAS SO TIRED she just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. She’d made it through Christmas dinner, which in other circumstances, she’d have found delightful. Mrs. Paulson and her staff had done a wonderful job of making it perfect. But being seated next to her husband had totally ruined it for her.

  She looked over at the dress she’d just taken off. She’d spent more than she should have on her wardrobe for this trip, for him. Stupid and juvenile. Someone had taken the white dress out of the trash and hung it up for her—probably Meg—but she didn’t want it anymore. She didn’t want any of the dresses she’d brought. Maybe Mrs. Paulson knew someone who could use them. Her suitcases going back would be a lot lighter anyway. She took the dresses out of the wardrobe and laid them at the foot of the bed, with the dreadful white dress on top.

  At least she was pretty much cried out. She was just numb now. As much as she wanted to call Andrew, she’d wait until everything here had been finalized and she could leave without having to worry about Terrence anymore. She’d always have to see him or talk to him at least to some degree because of Michael, but after she left this house, she’d never have to do anything this excruciating again. She put on a soft white robe, let her hair down, and began brushing it.

  There was a knock on the door. It was the door to the hallway, though, not the door leading to Terrence’s room, thank God. She opened the door a slight crack to see who it was. She stifled a groan. Great. Now what?

  “Miranda, what can I do for you?”

  “I hope you don’t mind my coming to see you. I thought we should talk, try to be friends, as much as possible in the circumstances.”

  Anne searched for the appropriate way to respond to this extraordinary overture. If Terrence did marry this woman, she’d end up being Michael’s stepmother, and they would share all kinds of events in Michael’s life.

  “Sure, come in. Excuse me for being in my robe so early. I’m just a bit tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night with Michael being sick.”