Dangerous Secrets (72 page)

‶
Nay girlie,″ he answered.
‶
Give
up what′s under yer skirts – and maybe whatever you have tucked into your
bosom, if you please.″ He tried for a leer and found it surprisingly easy
as he visualized what lay under her bulky gown.

She clutched her hand to her bosom.
‶
No.″
He sighed loudly, making sure to aim his garlic-laden breath directly into her
face, but she gave no quarter, saying only,
‶
I am as poor as Cinder Ella
before she married her Prince Charming, I assure you.″

She was not going to make this easy. And Simon
did not want to prolong the lesson overmuch. Any moment some gallant swain
might rescue her.
‶
I′ve no time for foolery,″ he muttered,
lifting her skirt just enough to let her know he was serious.

She snatched the fabric from his fingers.
‶
Just
a moment.″ Her voice trembled as she turned away from him with a dignity
and modesty that surprised him. Truthfully, he could not understand why she was
not down on her knees, in tears, begging for her life.

He was a sight with the busy, unkempt beard he
had borrowed, and the clothes that stank from unwashed years on the beggar from
whom he had bought them.

Impatiently, as she fumbled with the ties, he
moved to help her. The back of his neck had begun to prickle with the second
sense that had kept him alive through many a skirmish.

She started at his touch and a bag fell at his
feet with a clink. Silver, definitely. She picked it up with a nervous laugh
and handed it to him. He opened it to see the silver candlesticks she had no
doubt hoped would afford her family some ready.

He hefted the bag, make sure to clink the
silver loudly.
‶
Thankee
girlie.″ As he turned to leave, the look of overwhelming relief that
spread over her face stopped him. Was she holding something back?
‶
Is
there any more girlie? Perhaps something to balance out the heft of
these?″ He clinked the bag again, pleased by her wince of disappointment.

Again, her face betrayed her.

He did not want to wait while she fumbled yet
again with nervous fingers to untie the second bag. Drawing her tight against
him, he untied the bag hanging against her slender hip. Her heart was beating
rapidly. This was a lesson he hoped she would never forget – although he would
see she was never in such want again. He found himself fiercely glad of that
fact. He took the second bag without examining the contents.

Remembering that he held all her coins, he
selected a few from the reticule.
‶
This is good booty. I can be
generous with ye, and leave ye fare to get home again. Such as ye should not be
visitin′ London, I′m thinking. Send yer husband next time.″

The tears welled up in her eyes and he flung a
few more.
‶
Here′s
enough for a room for the night and a cup of tea while yer waiting for yer
coach.″

He turned to leave then stopped once more. He
couldn′t have her enlisting the aid of any sympathetic young gentleman as
soon as he left her here.
‶
Don′t be calling for help girlie, don′t
think there′s won′t be questions about where a fishmonger′s
wife got her hands on a pair of silver candlesticks.″

As he left the alley, he was accosted by a
sharp-eyed older man who wore clothes almost as disreputable as Simon′s.
‶
Hold,
guv. Those bags look heavy. Show me what ye got.″

Simon held the bag up, as if to show his booty,
and then, using one of the candlesticks as a club, he struck the man a blow to
the side of the head. The man released him and Simon turned to find Miranda
staring straight at him, as if she might challenge him. He frowned ferociously
at her and was satisfied to see her turn and walk away at a fast clip, staying
far away from entranceways and alleys.

The man at his side made a feeble grasp for his
coat, but Simon struck his hand away easily. Free, he ran.

***

‶
Simon? It is you. I was
convinced Frederic was mistaken. But it is you.″

‶
Yes, Mother. It is I.″ He
ignored the plea in her eyes. She might have fooled London with her fragile
blonde beauty and her gentle voice, but he knew the true woman behind her soft
manners.

Seeing that he intended no gesture of peace,
she settled into a chair by the fire. He ignored her wave for him to sit.
‶
Have
you come then, to tell me …″ Her voice faded for a moment, then regained
its strength.
‶
…to
say goodbye?″

‶
I am to be married.″

She gave a shocked exclamation.
‶
Married?
Have you gone mad?″

Stiffly, Simon answered,
‶
The
matter is settled. I see no point in discussing it.″

‶
Then why did you come?″
she asked bitterly.

‶
I did not want to cause you any
undue embarrassment, should you appear ignorant of the engagement of your only
son. I would do nothing to break the promise I made the old duke, as you
know.″ He would have turned and left, but she laid a hand on his arm.

Sudden hope kindled in her eyes.
‶
Simon,
does this mean that you have decided not to go through with your foolish
plan?″

‶
No, Mother.″ He should
have guessed that would be her first question. Ever her thoughts revolved
around her position and her image in society.

‶
Then why?″

‶
It is a long and uninteresting
story, Mother. One I do not wish to share with you. Suffice it to say that my
bride is a resourceful, impetuous woman, whose parents did a lamentable job
with the extraordinary daughter they were given. I have decided to amuse myself
in my last months with turning her into a woman suitable to live in the world
in which she was born.″ He added, as a muttered afterthought,
‶
Without
turning it upside down and inside out.″

His mother flushed.
‶
You cannot marry
when you have no intention of remaining a duke. Do you plan to walk away from
your wife in six months′ time? You′d do better to leave her jilted
at the altar.″

‶
Perhaps that is true, Mother,
but I am not about to do so.″

‶
I see.″ The cold woman he
was more comfortable dealing with came again to the fore.
‶
You
are just like your father. What you want, you take, no matter the
consequences.″

‶
Are you referring to
him?″ Simon nodded toward the portrait of the former duke that hung above
the mantel.
‶
Or
were you speaking of my true father?″

Her cheeks grew pink.
‶
How dare you be so
insolent. The duke acknowledged you, Simon. He was your father in the eyes of
the law.″

‶
And in the eyes of God?″

With cold precision, she said,
‶
Truly,
you are as unfeeling as both of your fathers. You care nothing for this girl or
her welfare. You wish only to satisfy your own whims.″

His mother was more furious than Simon had ever
seen her, except perhaps at his father′s deathbed. The words she had
spoken were still burned into his memory.
I
find I cannot pray that the devil takes you, Sinclair. Though I wish I had
never clapped eyes on you, though I wish my father had not sold me to you
before I even had a chance at the marriage mart. I would not have Simon if it
were not for you.

Simon had not understood, as he stood listening
unseen from the doorway, until his mother had answered his father′s
inaudible whisper.
Yes, he is a fine boy.
My bastard son will make a successful seventh duke.

Bringing himself back to the present, he said
curtly,
‶
You
give me no credit, Mother. It is not merely my whim which compels the
marriage.″ He wondered very much the truth of that – he had evaded
marriage traps before with great skill. This one, it seemed, he was springing
on the bride. Was it only a whim?

Her eyes narrowed.
‶
You have gotten her
with child?″

‶
No, Mother. Though you are
hardly one to comment, are you?″

‶
Simon. I am your mother.″

‶
Of course. Please excuse my
intemperate speech, Madam.″ He felt a twist of pleasure and pain at the
color that washed her cheeks yet again. He sighed.
‶
Miss Fenster and I
have been discovered in a compromising position by a person who would delight
in trying to embarrass me, for which I care little. But I promised the old duke
I would not harm the family name, and I will not allow even a trace of mockery
to be attached to it as long as I am duke. After all, I know what my proud
lineage is, do I not?″

Her mouth twisted as she let out a cry. He had
never seen her lose control like this – except on the day of the old
duke′s death. She gazed at him steadily and said in a cold, hard voice,
‶
You
might not be his son, but you are more like Sinclair than you know.″

She closed her eyes and whispered,
‶
How
I wish it weren′t so.″ And then, her anger returned, she added,
‶
And
so will this girl you intend to marry – unless you give up your plan to run
away form your title and the duty you were bred to perform.″

‶
I believe we have covered that
completely in the past, mother.″

The duke knew, Simon. He …″ Her voice
trailed off, the emotion that had burst from her words going flat in a way he
knew well from the days when he had thought himself his father′s son, the
legitimate heir, and had listened to her rare arguments with his father. No one
ever won an argument with his father. After a while, most learned not to try.
‶
He
wanted you to inherit. If he had not, he would have disowned you without a
moment′s hesitation.″

‶
Good day, Mother.″

‶
Think of that innocent young
girl, Simon. Does she deserve what you want to put her through? Just so that
you can amuse yourself for a few months′ time? You will ruin her.″
When he would have answered, she allowed her voice to rise.
‶
I
don′t mean her reputation. I mean her heart and soul.″

He thrust that thought away from him. He wanted
Miranda as he had wanted no other woman in his life and Fate had dropped her
into his arms. No matter that it was foolhardy to marry for the few months he
had left, he would do so. He would be a good husband to her, no matter how
brief their time together. And for the rest of his life, he would know that he
had had at least a tiny part of the life he had dreamed of once long ago.

He was not without self-control and he knew
several methods that would assure he left no child behind. He was not, in
truth, being unreasonable. He could not risk marrying in his new life. Years of
deception would wear him down to nothing. But six months was a heartbeat in a
lifetime. If he could have her for six months, then so be it. Still, he could
not help his urge to justify himself.
‶
She will be ruined if do not
marry her, Mother. And she will only be a widow — heart, soul, and jointure in
her possession if I do.″

His mother winced.
‶
Simon, reconsider
this foolhardy action of yours. If you are determined to keep the integrity of
the Watterlys unscathed by scandal and pass the line to a true descendent, you
do not want to bring a wife into this mess.″

Simon refused to listen. She was not one from
whom he would take counsel.
‶
I must go mother.″ He bent to press a light
kiss against her cheek, avoiding her clutching hand.

Miranda slipped soundlessly into the darkened
main hallway of Anderlin. She stopped for a moment to shoot the bolt, leaning
against the sturdy oak door. Safe.

Chapter 7

Gradually, the trembling within her abated as
she drew strength from the peaceful familiarity of Anderlin at night. No
servants or younger sisters stirred to ask embarrassing questions, or silently
note her discomposure.

The incident yesterday had affected her more
than she supposed. As she walked the familiar pathway from the village to
Anderlin she had seen highwaymen in every sway of a tree branch in the breeze.

She straightened and headed for the library to
check on Valentine. What was she going to do now? Simon seemed intent upon
marrying her, Valentine upon marrying her off. And now, at the whim of a
scoundrel, she had lost her chance to put the family finances back in order for
a while longer.

Her hands clenched. If she had carried a small
dagger or a pistol with her, maybe she would have had a chance to fight the
cutthroat off. It was amazing the way he had known she had something hidden
beneath her skirts, almost as if he could read her mind.

She felt a shiver go through her. He had been
one of the meanest, ugliest creatures she had ever had the misfortune to meet.
She would never forget the stink of his breath, nor the bushy dark beard that
hid his face from her. She hoped never to come across him again.

She entered the darkened study quietly, so as
not to disturb Valentine if he were sleeping. The fire had burned low and she
could make out only a shadowy outline in the chair by the fire. The sound of
his breathing was even and light. She hoped he slept soundly, for then she
could avoid any awkward questions.

With an ease born of a lifetime′s
familiarity, she moved carefully through the darkness. One thing she needed,
whether he approved or not, was a medicinal glass of brandy to steady her
nerves.

She nearly dropped the crystal decanter when
she heard the duke′s familiar voice.
‶
How does the invalid you tended
fare, Miss Fenster?″

She whirled to face the figure in the chair. If
he was still here, it meant that he intended to try once more to convince her
that the marriage was necessary. She would need all her wits about her. Looking
at him she had to suppress a shiver of anticipation when it crossed her mind
that he might kiss her yet again in his attempt to change her mind.
‶
Where
is Valentine?″

Fortunately, he dispelled the image of a
passionate embrace when he said calmly,
‶
I imagine he has quite sensibly
retired, considering the hour. I expect he thought you would stay the night
with your invalid.

She flushed in the dark, wondering what had
possessed her to think of kissing when she needed to think of how to convince
him that she was not interested in marrying him.
‶
Yes. Well, as you can see, I
did not.″ She replaced the lid on the decanter, and put the bottle back.
She wasn′t comfortable taking a drink with Simon present.

‶
What kind of an illness was it,
Miranda, to be over so quickly?″ he asked.

Miranda frowned. She felt that if she told
another lie to him she would become the poor bitter girl in the tale who spit
frogs and snakes when she spoke.
‶
That is of no consequence, Your
Grace. No doubt you wish to discuss another, more pertinent matter, but
I′m afraid this very conversation with you is improper. Perhaps we should
continue it tomorrow, in Valentine′s presence.″

‶
I will be taking my leave at
sunrise.″ He rose from the chair and crouched by the fire.
‶
Besides,
I find I enjoy speaking with you at night, by firelight. And my question is a
simple one – do you wish to be married here, in your family home?″

Unbidden, the image of Simon in the old chapel,
smiling as he awaited her vows, came to her. Miranda brushed it aside.
‶
What
has made you change your mind about marriage? I recall when you thought I was
trying to entrap you, you were quite certain that you did not want to marry
me.″

He did not look at her as he answered.
‶
I′m
surprised you need to ask, after the night we spent together.″ Suddenly,
he looked deep into her eyes.
‶
Remember – you are the one who is so certain that
physical attraction can cause a man to behave foolishly. Surely you can
understand that I have accepted that the only way for me to have you in my bed
is to marry you.″

Miranda felt the heat of his words all the way
to her toes. She refused to give in to it.
‶
But I am a woman, Your Grace.
And my mind has not been changed. I do not want to be married to a man who does
not love or trust me –″ Afraid her words were too harsh for his, after
all, gallant behavior, Miranda tried to soften them with a touch of honesty.
‶
Even
though there is a physical attraction between us.″

His whisper was as loud as a shout in the
silent room.
‶
A
strong attraction. The kind worth risking a little pain for.″

‶
Surely you would not force me
to marry you when I am so set against it? This is not the eighteenth century,
sir.″ She appealed to his honor, knowing how much a part of him it was.
‶
You
are too fine a man to do so.″

There was a short silence and then the shadowy
figure stood.
‶
Perhaps
it is the taint of bad blood in me, Miranda, but I want you and I will do
everything in my power to have you.″

‶
Bad blood? The Earls and Dukes
of Kerstone have an impeccable line.″

He stirred restlessly.
‶
Perhaps from my
mother′s side, Miranda. One never knows these things, does one? Now,
about the wedding – will it take place here? Or shall I make arrangements at my
seat? Or would you prefer London, perhaps?″

Discomforted, she noticed that there was an
edge about him that there had not been there earlier. Somehow, he was quite
certain she would marry him – and it was not simply masculine arrogance. She
had dealt with that before.

This was more, and she was afraid of his
intensity as he stared down at her in the darkness of the quiet study.

‶
Why? When we neither of us have
a true desire to be wed?″

In the darkness he moved to light the candles,
one by one from the dying glow of the fireplace until the room was filled with
leaping shadows and she could see his implacable eyes.
‶
That makes us a
perfect matched pair.″

Aware that a scream would merely complicate
matters and bring the rest of the household down around their ears, she settled
for grinding her teeth.
‶
Your Grace, please, I would prefer that you allow me
the liberty of crying off.″

He came toward her, until she could see his
face clearly.
‶
But
my dear, the ink on our engagement announcement is still wet. Surely you will
not embarrass me so?″

She bit her lip. That was a dilemma, was it
not? If she cried off …
‶
Well, then,
you
cry off. My reputation and feelings are of no consequence.″

He shook his head and smiled.
‶
I
cannot humiliate myself that way. I made a promise to the old duke on his
deathbed never to disgrace the family name. I have made an honest bid for you,
and Valentine has accepted it.″

‶
Valentine is not thinking
clearly.″

‶
Your brother knows his duty, my
dear. And I mine. I don′t know why you persist in fighting your own. Have
you a tendre for some other fellow?″

‶
Of course not.″

‶
Then why not marry me?″

‶
Because Grimthorpe is the only
reason you feel the need to marry me. I know it is not physical attraction that
compels you to make the offer – it is your damnable sense of honor.″

He interrupted the abrupt silence with a deep
laugh that held an irritating amount of smug satisfaction.
‶
I
think you have mistaken the reason for my offer, my dear. Though, of course, it
might not have happened if not for Grimthorpe. I look forward to the task I
have set myself.″

She was confused.
‶
Task?″

‶
I have decided it is my job to
make you into a wife any man might take pride in – especially your next
husband, should you decide to marry again.″

She felt the sting of his insult first, then
took in the import of his final words.
‶
My next husband?″

He sighed.
‶
I want you, my dear, but I
cannot keep you.″

‶
You are making no sense.
Marriage is not a temporary state. Are you foxed?″

‶
No. I have not been drinking. I
am trying to explain that you will have me as a husband for only six
months′ time.″

‶
Are you going away?″ Some
former soldiers did that, she knew, to explore India and Africa. But, as duke,
Simon had responsibilities. Surely he would not shirk them?

‶
You might say so.″

‶
Do not be cryptic with me now.
Where will you be in six months′ time?″

His gaze focused on the leaping flames in the
fireplace.
‶
In
six months′ time, Simon Watterly, Duke of Kerstone, will be dead.″

She gasped.
‶
But how? Have you the
pox?″

It was the duke′s turn to gasp.
‶
Where
the devil did you hear about something like that?″

‶
I overheard Valentine′s
friends. They say many soldiers …″

‶
No, Miranda, I do not have the
pox. And I assure you that you will not be overhearing such conversations in
the future. As my wife, you will begin to keep suitable company and discuss
suitable subjects.″

She ignored his comments, more intent on the
unbelievable thought that this vibrant man was dying.
‶
You are certain of
this? Perhaps if you see another doctor?″

‶
There is no hope, Miranda. I
have seen all the doctors I need to see to be certain.″

She stared at him as she reeled under the
impact of the news, unable to accept it. Her objections to the marriage were
swept away in a single breath.
‶
Perhaps we should apply for a special
license?″

For a moment, there was the faintest of smiles
on his lips.
‶
I
would not be averse, but do you think Valentine can stand the strain of
gossip?″

‶
Valentine admires you very
much. I should think he would be happy to know that I will be applying my
abilities toward getting you through this crisis and making you well
again.″

The smile on his lips was not at all faint this
time.
‶
Ah,
yes. I would delight in as quick a recovery as your patient had.″

He looked at the mantel.
‶
It
is quite dark in here. I can′t see your face. Perhaps that is because of
the lack of candles. You really ought not to allow the servants to polish the
silver without replacing the candlesticks promptly.″

She suppressed a start. The candlesticks would
never be back and it was certainly not the servants′ fault. She realized,
very suddenly, that if the duke married her, all would be well for her brother
and her sisters.

It was only her own foolish, miserable heart
that would suffer. And certainly she deserved that.
‶
I hope you never
regret marrying me. I am impetuous and …″

In a moment he had crossed the distance between
them and swept her into his arms.
‶
And loyal and brave and
sweet.″ His lips brushed her neck as he whispered.

‶
I don′t know what good I
can do your health, Simon, but I will do all that I can and more to see you
well.″

‶
I won′t need anything but
your companionship.″

His arms tightened around her, leaving her in
no doubt about what he meant.
‶
Although perhaps your nursing skills might be
brought to bear upon my heir apparent. He always seems to be sniffling — when
he isn′t falling off his horse.″

‶
I have enough patience for two
patients.″ Miranda gave herself entirely up into his embrace.
‶
I
shall do my best to make you a good wife.″

She had expected a look of subdued triumph to
overtake his features, not the bitter twist that came to his mouth.
‶
I
think, Miranda, that I will be the one making you into an excellent wife. And
your next husband will no doubt thank me.″

Miranda would have protested, but his mouth
came down on hers and all thoughts were swept away in the pleasure of the kiss.

***

Betsy swept a pretty curtsy as Miranda came up
the pathway to the neatly kept cottage. Unfortunately, in her excitement, she
forgot that a young lady never ran and dashed away behind the cottage calling
loudly for her mother.

Miranda had to quickly stifle her laughter
behind her palm as Katherine came running, clutching two handfuls of uprooted
herbs. Her eyes lost some of their panic when she saw Miranda. Her face became
quite pretty when she smiled.

‶
How did the wormwood tonic
do?″

‶
Oh, quite successfully, thank
you. Valentine′s spirits and his appetite have both picked up,″
Miranda answered, her smile disappearing as she remembered her task here.
‶
But
I′m afraid I need more than a simple remedy this time.″

Katherine′s expression grew grave.
‶
For
yourself?″

Miranda shook her head.
‶
No.″ She
looked into eyes she had learned to trust, after only one short meeting a few
days ago. Katherine had been nothing like Miranda expected. She was indeed a
good mother — and no lightskirt. Grimthorpe had come to her for a remedy of a
very personal — and herbal nature.