Dangerous Secrets (70 page)

Miranda smiled, though she was not truly
inclined to do so.
‶
There, you see, we can just pretend that this never
happened. Grimthorpe may have my boots, but he does not have my name, nor my
description.″

He opened his eyes and his gaze lingered on her
face until she felt herself flush with heat, despite the morning chill. She
wondered if he was beginning to realize just how unsuitable she was as a
candidate for his duchess. With a shake of his head, he said,
‶
Should
Grimthorpe tease out the truth, we will marry.″

Miranda shook her head.
‶
You will see. He
will never discover that I own those boots.″ She grinned.
‶
Prince
Charming had to scour the land for his Cinder Ella. I doubt Grimthorpe has the
interest to search quite so long and hard for a woman he does not love. And you
must admit he is as far from charming as one can be.″

Simon did not manage a smile, only a solemn nod.
‶
On
that we can agree.″

He seemed to want to say something else, but
she sensed the danger that he might take her in his arms again. She did not
think she could withstand the temptation a second time. She ignored the pain in
her ankle and hobbled away as quickly as she could toward Anderlin and the
safety of her family.

Not even her injury could drive away the
thoughts of him, of last night when he had kissed her, when his fingers had
gently traced the scars on her back. Perhaps she should have agreed to marry
him. Surely then he would have had to help Valentine and Emily. But no, perhaps
on the physical level they suited very well, but he was too eager to take
control of her life for her own peace of mind. As her father and mother – as
Grimthorpe himself had learned once upon a time – she was not willing to be
forced into being or doing something against her will.

She let herself silently into the kitchen at
Anderlin and made her way down the darkened hallways to the study. The door was
locked; faint flickers of fading firelight showed infrequently under the door
jamb. She knocked softly but received no response. She pressed her ear against
the door, suddenly afraid that Valentine had taken his own life. But then she
heard the sound of shattering glass and a muttered round of unintelligible
curses.

She decided to take it for a good sign. After
all, he had not spoken two words together since he came home in disgrace, his
elopement forestalled. Perhaps tomorrow he would be able to deal with the
problem of their dwindling finances.

Not really believing that possible, Miranda
decided she would settle for his taking breakfast and shaving as a sign that he
might soon return to a semblance of his normal personality. If not, she would
have to do something about their finances herself — again. She closed her eyes,
leaning fully against the door as she remembered warm lips covering her own.
But, despite that memory and the problems of her family′s finances,
marrying the Duke of Kerstone was not in her plans.

Miranda took the bundle from deep within her
cedar chest. It was wrinkled and gray, and as she removed the items that had
been rolled within it and fruitlessly tried to shake the wrinkles from the
cloth, a smell of stale grease surrounded her.

Chapter 5

‶
Are you sure you should
go?″ her younger sister, Hero, asked, hazel eyes reflecting her worry
even as her nose wrinkled in distaste at the odor.

‶
Yes.″ She had hoped never
to have to wear it again.
‶
Valentine is being stubborn. He insists that he will
find a way to keep Anderlin afloat.″

‶
Perhaps he will.″ There
was little confidence in Hero′s voice.

Miranda was tempted to shelter her younger
sister, but she could not. Hero was the next oldest after Miranda and
Valentine, and she must be prepared to shoulder the responsibility of the
younger girls while Miranda was gone.
‶
He is coming around from his
disappointment. But not fast enough. He has not stirred from the study in two
days, except to bathe and shave.″

Hero protested.
‶
If you give him just a little
more time, Miranda – ″

‶
We′ve barely any flour
left, and the vegetable garden will not produce enough for eight people this
month,″ Miranda interrupted, trying not to breathe too deeply, as she
donned the wrinkled gray gown over her own plain blue, giving her figure a
bulkier look.
‶
Help
me with this, please, Hero.″ She turned away from her sister′s
stricken look and quickly tied the hideous yellowed linen cap onto her head so
that it hid every lock of hair.

As she had in previous trips, Miranda took two
balls of spun wool and stuffed them into the sagging bodice of the gown until
it was rounded and taut. One glance in the mirror convinced her that no one
would recognize her. But the final
coup
de grace
was the pair of padded bags that she tied under her skirts. Before
she tightened each bag′s drawstring, she inserted two carefully wrapped
sets of silver candlesticks and the glittering ruby neckpiece that had been her
mother′s prized possession.

‶
Oh, Miranda.″ Hero took
the necklace from Miranda′s hands and unwrapped it from the velvet cloth
that protected it.
‶
Must you pawn Mother′s necklace? She left it
to you to wear when you are married and give balls of your own.″

It was truly a work of art, with its intricate
working of diamond-eyed gold swans, each with its neck curled gracefully around
a ruby the size of Miranda′s thumb pad.

The jewels themselves held no dazzle for her.
It was the memories that the piece conjured for her – her mother, dressed for a
ball in a beautiful gown sweeping down the staircase at Anderlin under the awed
gazes of her children.

Miranda sighed.
‶
Well, I have no better use for
these jewels, Hero, than putting food on the table. I′m afraid Mother
would be disappointed, but I don′t believe I′ll ever marry. Like
the girl in the tale who would do anything to release her brothers from the
evil spell that has turned them into swans —″ she ran her finger over the
swans, feeling the hard smooth swell of the jewels under her fingertips —
‶
I
would give up anything for my family.″ She smiled at her sister and gave
her an impulsive hug.

Hero′s eyes shone with hope.
‶
Perhaps
the duke will come for you like Cinder Ella′s prince. You′d make a
better Cinder Ella than swan princess.″

Miranda frowned.
‶
It′s Grimthorpe who has
my ″slippers″, Hero, not the duke.″ She shuddered.
‶
And
I pray that he never finds out that they belong to me.″

Hero laughed.
‶
That would certainly change the
way you told Cinder Ella′s tale. You′d have one of the stepsisters
fit into the boots, then, wouldn′t you? Still, you′d be a marvelous
duchess, even without boots. Wouldn′t Mama just be delighted if she could
look down and see her daughter a duchess?″

Miranda′s smile died on her lips as she
thought of her mother looking down from heaven. What would Mama have had to say
about Miranda′s folly? She had allowed the Duke of Kerstone unforgivable
liberties.

Worse, in her own mind, as she was sure it
would be in her mother′s were she alive, Miranda had desired his kisses,
his caresses. Silently she answered the question he had not made her answer
that night. Yes. She would have allowed him to make love to her if they had not
discovered Betsy in the loft. Indeed, she ached at the thought of what she had
missed.

She knew with certainty that were he to climb
into her bedroom window, like Rapunzel′s love, she would give herself to
him without hesitation. It was only marriage she didn′t want.

What kind of a wanton was she to feel that way?
If Grimthorpe had discovered her, her escapade would have afforded a
week′s worth of scandalous gossip in London. Miranda herself might have
been completely ruined, but she gave little credit to that.

It was his reputation that concerned her. The
Dukes of Kerstone had been above reproach since the title was conferred —
before that even, when they were mere earls. Should the duke be made a mockery
of for a situation not of his own making?

True, it would be a minor blot, nothing like
the shame attached to her. But Miranda had been in London briefly. She knew the
avid joy with which this piece of news would be passed from vicious tongue to
jaded ear. No one was more mocked than a fallen saint. And no one deserved that
mockery less than the duke.

Putting those thoughts aside, Miranda briskly
hugged Hero and pushed her out the door.
‶
Please make sure there is no
one in the kitchen to see me slip away.″ She added, hoping to vanquish
the odd stare her sister had given her as she turned away and headed down the
stairs,
‶
I
have no wish to marry, Hero. Truly I do not. Not even the Duke of Kerstone, as
much as I admire him.″

Becoming his mistress would have been a more
likely outcome — though, of course, she would not have considered such a thing.
One night, that was all she would have wanted — one night to know what it was
that his kisses promised her.

Thankfully, he had been too much of a gentleman
to take advantage of her. She had to be honest — he had been meddling when he
had kissed her the first time. Trying to teach her a lesson had taught him one.
She smiled. Even though the kiss he had given her was more in the way of a lesson
than a liberty, she knew that he had enjoyed it much more than he had expected.

Her smile died. He would have insisted that
they marry if he had made love to her. Perhaps Valentine was right. She was
foolish to think life was like a fairytale. Maybe there were not always happy
endings. This ending was the happiest she would get — no marriage, no more of
Simon′s kisses.

Still, there was a touch of regret she could
not explain. Perhaps it had to do with the longings that had plagued her
daydreams since he had kissed her. She closed her eyes: Daydreams were all she
had of him. Though, perhaps if she had not been a silly young girl five years
ago ...

Her mind refused to consider the painful
possibility. She would simply have to be grateful that Valentine would never
learn of this. He had become such a prude since his return from the military,
he′d probably lock her in her room and feed her bread and water for the
rest of her life. Or he would try, anyway.

There was a tapping on her door, and before
Miranda had more time than to snatch the cap from her head and conceal her
disguise in a swirl of dark gray cloak, her youngest sister dashed into the
room, blonde curls straggling from the ribbon meant to hold them tight.

‶
Kate, you naughty girl, why
aren′t you taking lessons with Juliet?″

The six-year-old′s lower lip extended in
a pout.
‶
She
called me a terror and boxed my ears.″

Miranda suspected there was more to the story.
‶
Whyever
did she do that?″

Kate looked briefly discomfited.
‶
Well
... ″ But then, remembering something more important than her sad tale,
the imp smiled.
‶
I
forgot, Miranda. Valentine needs you in the drawing room right away.″

‶
He does?″ Miranda
considered letting him stew until she got back from London, but decided that
she couldn′t risk it. The trip would take the better part of today and
most of tomorrow.

Absentmindedly, she stroked her sister′s
hair back into place.
‶
Go and make peace with Juliet. You know she has the
most beautiful voice of us all, and I shall see that she gives you a singing
lesson if you behave for her.″

‶
Will you also tell me a
story?″ the child wheedled. Miranda had no time to bargain.
‶
If
you behave, sweet, I will tell you a story tomorrow when I tuck you in to
bed.″

Kate nodded, then dashed madly out of the room,
ignoring Miranda′s shouted warning.
‶
Don′t run, it is not
ladylike.″

Miranda felt the weight of the silver thud
against her legs, giving her strength to face Valentine. If only she could
confide in him ... but no, he was no longer the loving, trusting brother he had
been.

Responsibility was a weight on his shoulders he
would not share. She pulled her cloak tightly about her so that the gray gown
was not in evidence and quickly hurried to the drawing room.

She stopped at the sound of voices, shocked to
find that Valentine had company. The visitor′s voice was unmistakable,
and the muscles of her stomach tightened in dismay. Valentine′s guest was
none other than Simon Watterly, Duke of Kerstone.

She hesitated, wondering if she dare enter.
Surely he would not have spoken of their encounter to Valentine. That would be
tantamount to ruining her. Her heart soared with hope for a moment. Perhaps he
had come to help Valentine win Emily back? After all, he had had time to think
over everything that Miranda had told him.

She took a deep breath and swept into the room,
prepared to be surprised to see the duke after five long years.

Valentine′s frown stopped her cold.

His face was white and his lips were drawn into
the scowl that he had inherited from their mother.
‶
Have you completely
lost your sense of propriety, Miranda? How could you have done this?″

‶
Done what?″ Miranda asked
innocently, refusing to believe that Simon would have told her brother the
truth. After all, he had as much to lose as she. She would never forget that
bitter laugh of his when she reminded him that they would not suit.

‶
Is something wrong,
Valentine?″ she asked, hoping that his anger had some other source than
her ill-spent night with Simon. Perhaps Valentine had missed the silver
candlesticks she planned to pawn in London?

‶
I expected you to have told
your brother everything by now, Miss Fenster.″ Simon was having none of
the pretense. He made it clear with one crisp sentence that the truth was out.

Miranda spent one frozen moment in silent
distraction as she stared at his beautiful, strong mouth. She could not help
the rebuke that fell from her lips.
‶
Some people keep their secrets,
Your Grace — in leather pouches, perhaps, but they keep them.″

His lips pressed tightly together until they
were a white line. But he said nothing in apology.

And then, turning to her brother, she tried to
recover the situation before it got out of hand.
‵
″It was a dreadful
mistake Valentine, but don′t blame His Grace for it, please …″

‶
You had to try to save the
family your way, didn′t you, Miranda?″ She′d never seen him
look so drawn. There were lines of worry creasing his face that had not been
there a few short weeks ago. His blue eyes showed clearly that he had lost all
shreds of faith in her.
‶
Why didn′t you tell me your plans?″

She was incensed at his accusation. He was
speaking to her as if she were a child, not his twin sister.
‶
If
you recall, you were not speaking to anyone – including me when I climbed
though the library window.″

‶
Then you should have waited
until I was better able to deal with your foolishness.″

His words, so very like their father′s,
stung Miranda deeply.
‶
I don′t see any point in telling you anything
any longer, Valentine. You′re not the brother I knew.″

‶
I am the head of this
household. You should have told me your plans.″

Miranda felt the tears start in her eyes and
was surprised to find that they were tears of happiness. Her brother was
fighting with her again.
‶
You′d have locked me in my room.″ She
smiled.

Though Valentine did not return her smile,
irony was all that remained of his irritation when he replied,
‶
I′d
have locked you in the attic; you would just escape your room. Miranda, do you
realize what you′ve done?″

She glanced nervously at the duke. How much had
he confessed? Surely not about the kiss … or anything else. He was being
annoyingly stoic, though, for his expression betrayed nothing.
‶
No
one knows, Valentine. I′m sure that Simon will be discreet.″

‶
Simon?″ Valentine′s
eyes widened and his mouth tightened again into a scowl.

Miranda blushed. The familiar address had
become natural in her daydreams.

‶
I mean His Grace, of course.
I′m just rattled that he brought this matter to your attention. I thought
we had settled it satisfactorily between ourselves.″

She turned a stern glance on the duke.
‶
It
was to be a secret between the two of us. No one else was to know.″

‶
What of Grimthorpe?″ he
asked in amazement.