After The Storm (25 page)

If only it were as simple to blot out the memory of Miranda’s pain. No, he’d need a lifetime to forget the haunted look on her face as he answered her question.

“Do you love her?”

How the deuce was he supposed to answer when he didn’t know himself? How could he possibly explain he hadn’t a clue as to
how
he felt? No one had ever asked him if he loved Sally. All assumed the answer could never be anything other than yes.

In spite of her sometimes childish ways, he was fond of Sally, having known her all her life. But
fond of
and
in love with
were not the same thing. His heart didn’t beat faster simply because she brushed his hand with hers. His breath never seemed difficult to catch simply because she stepped into the room. He also couldn’t see himself trembling in her arms after making love to her.

He groaned. The very same things he couldn’t fathom happening with Sally were exactly what
had
happened with Miranda.

Another groan.
Miranda.
Soft and warm all around him. For those few hours, when their lips met, when their bodies fused, he loved her.

Bloody hell. He
still
loved her.

It would be so easy to seek her out and simply tell her. But she’d only be crushed further, for there was no future for them. His family expected him to ask for Sally’s hand. Sally expected him to ask. He’d given his word to his father. How could he possibly go back on that? How could he break his word now? The only thing he could do would be to make Miranda his mistress, and that would never be enough for either one of them.

He’d never forget how she seemed to wilt before him. And the more he thought on it, the more he realized her manner had changed over the last few days. She smiled less, laughed less, and even when Elyse found humor in Miranda’s mistakes, Miranda herself seemed to take them to heart.

Bloody hell
.

You fool
.
It isn’t a
game
to her.

While her lessons had been fun for him, they were serious business to her. They were her future.

Another groan. He’d ruined
that
as well.

“Bloody—”

“Hugh?”

He sat up with a start, sloshing water over the tub’s rim as Gerard’s voice came through the door in the other room. He reached for the towel laid out on the nearby stool, and lurched up from the tub, wincing as his knee exploded with fresh darts of pain. As quickly as possible, he dried off and then bundled himself into his dressing gown. That done, he leaned heavily on his cane and stumped over to open the door.

Hugh frowned at his brother. “I was in the bath.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to soak later,” Gerard replied brusquely as he shoved by Hugh to stride into the room. “I ought to lay you out flat. Of all the low—Why would you do this to her?
Why
?”

Hugh ignored the warning knot in his belly and took a deep breath as he closed the door before facing Gerard. “What the devil are you blathering about?”

Gerard’s forehead creased, his brows drawn together to create a deep furrow between them, his mouth vanished into a narrow, white line. “You know what I’m about. You know the reason she’s here and yet you…bloody hell…you bastard!”

“Calm yourself. Have you spoken to Miss MacDonough?”

“How? Am I to go to her chambers and make an already scandalous situation
worse
?” Gerard’s eyes blazed with fury. Hugh couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother so angry. His normally calm, smooth voice cracked as he snapped, “Have you no shame, man? No sense of
discretion
?”

“All you have is assumptions, Gerry. You saw us walking out of the woods. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“As if
that
matters!” Gerard paced the length of the room, a bundle of furious energy only barely contained in each step. “Tell me true, did you sleep with her?”

Hugh shook his head. “Gerry—”

“
Did you
?”

Hugh considered coming clean and telling his brother the truth. However, not only was Gerard likely to take him apart, he’d betray Miranda by doing so. “No.”

Apparently this admission stunned Gerard into immobility. Staring hard at Hugh, he asked, “Are you telling me true?”

Hugh hated lying to his brother, but he’d hurt Miranda too much already. “I never laid a hand upon her. I took a tumble from my horse and gave myself quite the bump on the head. She also took a tumble, and was a bit sore as a result. We built a fire and sat before it, trying not to freeze.” Hugh rubbed his hair with the towel still draped about his neck. “We talked and then we slept. True sleep. And that was it.”

Gerard still didn’t look convinced, but the tension eased from his shoulders. “Talked?”

“Talked. If you ask her, she will tell you the same thing.”

“You’d best hope so.” Gerard growled, his balled fists relaxing. “I should hate to think you were cad enough to ruin her so callously. It wouldn’t bode well for you.”

Hugh winced inwardly at the truth in his brother’s statement. He had no doubt Gerard would tear into him if he knew what really happened.

Sally had yet to confront him about the previous evening, but it was only a matter of time. While Gerard believed him because he wished to, Hugh was not foolish enough to think Sally would do the same, even if it
was
the truth.

Gerard cleared his throat, pulling his fingers through his hair. “Well, then…perhaps I ought leave you be.”

Casting a longing glance toward his bathing chamber, Hugh nodded. “If you’d not mind.”

Backing toward the door, Gerard gestured to the tub. “Then enjoy your soak. I need to speak with Mother. She’s tossed Miss MacDonough out on her ear, you know.”

“I didn’t.” It was all he could do to hold back another wince. His mother’s reaction wasn’t exactly a surprise, and he was not so foolish to think what happened was going to be swept under the rug and forgotten.
Bloody hell
.

“But perhaps her mind can be changed.”

Hugh squinted at his brother. “What?”

“I’m going to plead Miss MacDonough’s case. The weather was rotten, the lady was lost in the woods—even Mother couldn’t blame her for hiding in Nailor’s old shack. And...” A wry grin played at his lips. “Perhaps if
I
asked for her hand, all scandal regarding
you
will be forgotten.”

“Yes, but—” The words died on Hugh’s lips. He had to remain silent on the matter lest he raise eyebrows further by insisting
he
be the one to convince their mother. He’d done enough already, thank you very much. Rallying to Miranda’s defense now would only make her situation far worse.

There was nothing to do but allow Gerard to champion her cause, much as it pained him. His gut did a slow tumble and a sour taste rose in his mouth. It was on the tip of Hugh’s tongue to warn him off from asking for Miranda’s hand.

But Gerard didn’t seem to notice as he slipped out the door. Gerard
wanted
to hear how Miranda’s virtue remained intact, that Hugh would
never
be cad enough to ruin her, but their mother wouldn’t care one way or another. And she’d never give her approval. Difficult enough under the best of circumstances, it was impossible now.

“And Miss McDonough has me to thank.” He tossed the towel back on the stool and stumped to his dressing table.

It was just as well, really, for Hugh couldn’t imagine Miranda marrying his brother. A swift knot kinked in his gut at the very thought. He should hate to put Gerard through a wall for kissing her, never mind spiriting her away to a marriage bed.

The thought of
any
other man laying hands upon her was enough to fire his temper. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to ease the fury and helplessness - the tightness in his chest. This had to stop. He had no time to dwell on what should have been, no time for regrets. What was done, was done, and there was no undoing it. Besides, it didn’t matter. What he
wanted
to do had nothing to do with what he
needed
to do. And that was that.

Chapter Twenty

Sitting still was impossible.

Sally paced as she waited for Hugh to emerge from his chambers. Even her mother’s stern, ‘Sit and be still!’ didn’t halt her stride. Her belly churned, sending a wave of nausea rippling through her, and then anger struck and the nausea turned spicy hot.

Her cheeks burned each time she pictured
her
Hugh striding out of the thicket of trees with that
harlot
several paces before him. How dare she look so smug, so—

It couldn’t possibly be as innocent as the duchess tried to convince her earlier. Surely Miss Miranda MacDonough didn’t have enough decency, enough…
sense
…to keep her hands to herself where Hugh was concerned.
Hugh
would never betray her in so vile a manner. If anything
had
happened, Miranda was the cause. She had to be. No other scenario was possible. Sally planned to make certain the little wench knew exactly what happened when one ran afoul of her.

But that had to wait. First and foremost, Sally wanted to hear from Hugh’s own lips that nothing happened between him and the Scottish
whore
. If
he
said nothing happened, then she’d believe it to be true. However, if he confessed—

She halted as a lump leapt into her throat to choke off her breath. No. She mustn’t think that way. It hurt far too much. But then her mind betrayed her as a painful image of Miranda and Hugh locked in an embrace flashed before her eyes and she winced.

“Are you ill?” Lady Hevingford made to rise from her chair, but Sally waved her off.

“I am fine, Mama,” Sally muttered as she rubbed her forehead, where a dull ache knotted between her brows. “I am simply impatient for the duke to make his entrance.”

“I should say so,” the countess huffed and struggled to lower herself back into her chair, which squeaked in ominous protest of her bulk. “He has a whit of explaining to do. I have half a mind to tell him to take his—”

“
Mama!
” Sally glared at her. The last thing she wished, or needed, was her mother’s interference. The situation was bad enough, no need to make it worse still. “The duchess has already assured me nothing happened between him and that…that…”

“Trollop? Harlot?” the countess supplied eagerly. Her chair groaned as she dropped into position, but thankfully remained in one piece.

“Yes.” Sally jabbed a forefinger at her mother. “And unless he tells me otherwise, I’ve no choice but to believe him.”

Eleanor snorted and lifted her ever-present box of chocolates. She dug pudgy fingers through the candy. “You do realize tongues will wag over this if they aren’t already. People will snicker and whisper about you behind your back.” She plucked a chocolate from the box to pop into her mouth.

It was most likely true, but she was at a loss as to what to do next. For most of her life, she’d dreamed of being Hugh’s wife. When he finally did ask for her hand, it was sure to be the happiest day of her life. He had no inkling as to how deep her love for him ran, and even when she offered herself to him, he’d been very much the gentleman, wanting to wait until they were married.

She glanced at her mother, so serene and outwardly calm, happy with her candy. “You do not believe it was entirely innocent, do you?”

The countess smacked her lips and plucked another chocolate from the box. “I do not.” She popped it between her lips and chewed, mouth open, and swallowed before saying, “But I cannot speak for you. I cannot tell you to end the courtship. That decision is yours and yours alone.”

Sally watched with disgust as her mother’s fat hand dipped into the blasted box a third time. Desperation and indecision ran rampant through her. The thought of ending her dream, of losing Hugh entirely, was enough to bring tears to her eyes and a heavy ache to her heart. Where had she gone so wrong? Why had he rebuffed her when she offered to allow him a taste of her charms? What sort of spell had Miranda cast over him to make him capitulate to her?

She looked up as Hugh stepped into the room, and her heart gave a mighty lurch. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, despite his limp and his silly reliance upon his blasted cane. He was dressed in dove gray trousers, a silk shirt of pale blue, and his boots gleamed in the glow of the fire crackling with mocking merriment on the hearth. His black hair was still wet from his bath, slicked back to prevent it from curling about his temples.

Eleanor struggled to free herself from her chair. She popped up, treasured candy box clutched in her pudgy fist, chocolate smeared along her upper lip. “I will be right in the hallway,” she said thickly, gathering her needlepoint before taking her leave.

Sally’s mouth went dry as she faced Hugh for the first time since his return from the woods. Her belly churned like swirling storm clouds. “Good afternoon, Duke.”

He nodded at her, his expression dour, without a hint of either guilt or innocence. “My lady.” He stumped over to the sofa, groaning softly as he settled and rested his cane alongside it. She turned as he grimaced and straightened his leg before him. “A bit achy, are you?”

He held her stare easily and nodded. If she made him uncomfortable, he kept it to himself. “I took a rather nasty tumble from Dante’s back yesterday.”

“And that is how you found your way to…
her
?”

There was no reaction to her words, but he did look worn out.
From what?
She wondered, fighting to ignore the bubbling in her belly. His voice was equally exhausted, thick and deep as he said, “In a way.”

“The thought never occurred to you to allow Gerard or Derek to go and search for her? There were, after all, enough able-bodied men to go floundering about in the woods at night. Why did you take it upon yourself?”

He brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed slowly. “It was partly my responsibility. I couldn’t simply sit back and let the two of them fumble about.”

“And what about your responsibility to
me
?” she countered, crossing over to her mother’s vacated chair. It was silly to think of sitting, as she was far too jumpy, but somehow she managed. “I was left here to worry, to listen as the others snickered and whispered amongst themselves about what you were doing once you happened upon…
her.”

“Enough.” His voice was weary and he halted his head-rubbing. His hand dropped onto his thigh. “Miss MacDonough has done nothing to warrant you besmirching her in such a manner.”

Her mood was hardly genial enough to tolerate listening to him
defend
that…
whore
, and it was high time he learned that. “She stole a horse, got herself lost in those blasted woods, and then spent the night with the man she knows will soon be
my
fiancé. You do not think that warrants a bit of ire?”

“We sat by a fire, trying to keep warm, my lady. Neither of us was in any condition to brave the elements. Nor were we doing anything else.”

“How silly of me to think otherwise. It was all perfectly innocent, wasn’t it?”

Hugh hesitated a moment, for the first time his expression pained, and it was enough for her nausea to return in a rush. It was fortunate she sat, for her head spun so badly she would have swooned, had she stood.

Still, she swallowed hard against the queasiness, her voice a thin whisper as she said, “That is what I thought.” She stared down at her hands, trembling as they lay folded in her lap. Her insides ached as though he’d impaled her with the blunt tip of his cane and twisted slowly, her heart ached as though he’d stomped on it while wearing those heavy boots. The urge to retch rose hard and fast. Her mouth filled with a sweet, brackish taste. Never did she entertain the thought that Hugh might prefer another woman over her. It simply never crossed her mind. Men desired her, they always had, and not one had ever preferred another over her. They competed for her attentions, for something as small as a smile. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Hugh wasn’t supposed to have his head turned by another woman. No, he was supposed to thank God every night for winning her hand, for having her as his wife.

Now it was all unraveling before her eyes.

Much as it pained her, she had to know the truth. “Did you dally with her?”

“Sally—”

“Did you? Tell me true. Did you bed her?”

He drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he replied, “I’ll not answer such a question, my lady. It matters not what happened or what didn’t happen. The gossips will say what they will regardless. It is up to you to decide what you wish to believe.”

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked quickly to keep them from falling. The pit of her stomach dropped into her staid leather walking boots. “Do you wish to be with her?”

“That also matters not.”

“It most certainly
does
matter!” She leapt to her feet as fire filled her. She wanted to scream, to hit, to throw something at him. Anything to relieve the searing hot coil in her belly. “It matters to
me
. I was to be your
wife
, Hugh. It matters not you had yet to officially ask. We both know it to be true. And yet you thought nothing of playing about with her?”

He was exasperatingly calm, not fidgeting or looking about. Instead he just looked…tired. “My lady, you need understand, I—”

“You bedded that bitch!” Sally couldn’t hold back her shout and she didn’t care who heard.

“I’d rather the entire household
not
overhear this quite private discussion, my lady,” he growled, his brows pulled together and his lips arced slightly downward.

“Well, perhaps you should have thought of that
before
you plowed her,” Sally fired back, hands on her hips as fury threatened to devour her alive. “Perhaps you should have thought of that
before
you let your bloody rod think for you.”

He stared at her for a long moment. An infuriating grin pulled at his lips, though he managed to hold it back, and her fury increased tenfold when she realized he was actually
amused
by her choice of words. She almost choked on her ire. “Think me funny, do you?”

“I had never considered you might actually know such words,” he answered tightly, though his urge to grin did not entirely fade. “Not very ladylike, are they?”

“As if that matters. Tell me, did you think me so foolish, so stupid, that I’d never figure it out? Or did you think you’d be able to play about and I’d remain blind?”

“My lady, it was not something I planned.”

“Do you wish to be with her?”

“Sally—”

“
Do you
?”

Her screech echoed through the library and he sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “It matters not what I want.”

“Dear God…” His words sliced through her, cut off her breath, and slashed at her heart. This was not happening. Her knees threatened to give way beneath her, and she reached out to steady herself against the sofa arm. “I cannot believe this…” She fell silent for a long moment, and then added, “Do you no longer wish to continue this courtship?”

“Is that what you wish?”

The tiny hint of hopefulness in his voice did nothing to ease her fury. If anything, it made her angrier still. Oh, he’d not extricate himself so easily. Not at all. “Do you wish me to end it, then?” She shook with anger as she waited for him to answer. “Because if that is what you are waiting for, I am sorry to disappoint you, Hugh. I have no intention of doing any such thing.”

“Very well.” He rose slowly and leaned heavily on his cane. “Then you will live with the snickers and the whisperings if you insist on having your way in this. I will not bring even greater scandal down upon my family, but I will not be a true husband, either. Any marriage between you and I will be one of convenience, in name only.”