Dangerous Secrets (89 page)

Unconscious of her nudity, she bent toward him.
Her face was taut with grief for his betrayal.
‶
Then why did you marry
me?″

‶
Because I wanted you.″ It
was the wrong answer and yet he could give no other. It was time for the truth.
She had heard the worst and not flinched from him. Surely she could understand
how important it was to him that the Watterly name not be soiled by a bastard
duke.
‶
I
wanted just a taste of what could have been mine if I were not a bastard. I
wanted you as my wife.″

Incomprehension narrowed her eyes as she
struggled to understand his motives.
‶
But you refuse to make love to
me.″

‶
I cannot leave an heir
behind.″ He realized how foolish his words sounded to his own ears, they
must be doubly so to hers. She had argued against the marriage; he had been the
one to insist. He had thought he could control events, control his own desires.
But today had proved that near Miranda he had not nearly enough strength to
deny himself.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and
rocked back and forth, caught in her own misery. She whispered, almost to
herself, as if no answer he might give would satisfy,
‶
How can you do
this? I can′t bear the thought of being without you. And to know that it
isn′t death, but you yourself who have separated us? How can you ask this
of me?″

He reached out to touch her hair, but did not.
‶
I
have no other choice, Miranda, I will not breed a child to one day make false
claim upon the dukedom.″

She looked up at him, reached out her own hand
to grasp his, still hovering near.
‶
We can prevent that from
happening. We did not consummate our marriage for months, Simon. We shall
simply never do ... that ...″ Her nose wrinkled and he had the absurd
urge to laugh — or to cry. He didn′t suppose this was the time to confess
that even now his body was urgently requesting that he do ... that ... again.

‶
It is better if I go
alone.″ He had never thought she would agree to go; that was why he had
only dreamed it in his darkest nights, never spoken the thought aloud. But he
could not consider it. It was too dangerous. And she had not counted the cost
to herself.

‶
Of course it is not better that
you go alone.″

‶
Miranda, you do not understand
what would be required. I have another identity in Charleston. I am not the
duke there. I will have no contact with anyone here ever again.″

‶
I love you, Simon. I want to be
with you.″

The blood roared in his ears at her confession.
But he did not deserve her love and he could not accept it.
‶
Can
you imagine living your life without hearing another word, exchanging even a
letter, never mind visits, with your sisters? With Valentine? I have seen the
bond between you.″

She did not answer, which was in itself an
answer to his questions. Stung by the truth, however, she attacked.
‶
Do
you want to be alone your whole life? Haven′t these last five years been
enough for you?″

Yes, they had been. Perhaps that had been why
he was so vulnerable when the woman full of fairytales whirled back into his
life.
‶
I
grew used to it. I will grow used to it again.″ He stood and began to
dress. Presently, she did the same.

He noticed that she had not referenced one
single fairytale and knew in his heart that he would bear that symbol of her
despair as a sadness deep in his heart for a very long time to come.

There was a carriage in the drive when they
arrived home, both sunk in silent misery. Trunks sat upon the steps, and for a
moment Miranda thought that Valentine had sensed her distress and come to
support her. The thought of facing him, of explaining the nightmare her life
had become, filled her with dread. He had given up on happy endings for
himself; could he help her accept her own unhappy tale?

Chapter 23

To her horror her brother was not the one
waiting in the hallway. Instead, the American, with three young girls of
various ages surrounding him, stood speaking in hurried low tones to
Simon′s mother.

The dowager turned toward them, and Miranda
wanted to sink into the cool marble floor and disappear, as the keen eyes missed
nothing of her disarrangement.

Their eyes locked a moment before the question
came.
‶
Were
you reconciled?″ Evidently her unlocked secret had not softened the
bluntness of her tongue. Indeed, she almost seemed more distant then she had
been when Miranda met her.

‶
No.″ She could say no
more. Her throat was swollen with the need to cry, to scream, to deny what she
had learned.

The dowager′s brief nod, without comment,
surprised her — until she noticed that the older woman was unnaturally pale,
and trembling ever so slightly as she addressed her son.

‶
We must find room for an
unexpected guest. It seems your brother, Peter, has arrived. You are to be
allowed to live, after all.″ Her smile was half hearted .
‶
At
least, to live without the burden of the dukedom. Although I expect you will
find your wife and her family a handful to manage.″

Simon glared at her coldly.
‶
I
beg your pardon, Mother? What lies are you telling now?″

Miranda, numb with despair, wondered how he
could dredge up such anger.

‶
How dare you speak so
disrespectfully to your mother.″ The American ... no, Peter ... said.

Simon′s father. Simon′s brother?
Miranda sighed in confusion as he continued.

‶
She speaks the truth. I am
Peter Watterly, the eldest son of Sinclair Watterly.″

Simon snorted rudely. But Miranda, standing
next to him, saw the trembling in his fingers that he sought to hide with
clenched fists.

Peter′s eyes flashed with sudden fire,
and Miranda was painfully reminded of Simon. Her doubts dropped away as he
finished.
‶
Apparently
you and I think alike. I did not want the burden of the dukedom and chose to
allow the false notice of my death to go uncorrected. But I am back now, to
relieve you of the burden you no longer wish to shoulder.″

He looked over at the dowager in silence, and
added quietly,
‶
You
have your mother to thank for that. She persuaded me that there was no other
course.″

For a moment, the import of the words did not
come clear to Miranda. It was simply too much for her exhausted mind. First the
news that Simon had lied to her about dying, then the crushing truth that he
intended to disappear — and leave her behind.

She stared in bemusement as the man she had
known as Mr. Watson stepped forward and held his hand out to her.
‶
I′m
sorry to have caused you such trouble in your young marriage, my dear.″
She stared at the long, calloused fingers uncomprehendingly as he said,
‶
I
want to thank you for making things clear to me, young lady.″

‶
I beg your pardon?″
Miranda forced her mind to focus. Something important had happened. She knew
it. She just could not understand it yet.

Peter. Simon′s father, Hadn′t he
said he wanted no part of England? She had heard him with her own ears. But
then, she had not understood the full import of his words. He was not an
American. He was the rightful duke.

Simon stirred beside her, interrupting whatever
Peter had intended to say next. He met the older man′s challenge
directly.
‶
I
understood my brother to be dead, sir. And I had not heard that he was an
American.″

Peter shrugged his shoulders, his manner still
American, and still as rough.
‶
But as you can see, I am alive.″

‶
And what is that to do with
me?″

The older man looked torn.
‶
Perhaps
I misunderstood your mother?″ He flicked a glance at the dowager, but she
did not speak or move to indicate she heard. Her attention was fixed on Simon.

Peter′s eyes met Simon′s again,
direct and intent.
‶
If you want me here, if you don′t want to be
duke, I′ll do it. If you want me to go now and never come back,
I′ll do that.″

Simon flinched at the curt words, but said
nothing in return.

The dowager cut in with her usual acerbity.
‶
My
dear, why must you persist denying the obvious? Peter has returned from the
dead to give you back your life. There was no other answer once he
arrived.″ The dowager glanced at Peter.
‶
It just took him a short time
to recognize it. He is a Watterly, after all and stubbornness is inherent in
your line.″

All that she had learned that day pressed in on
Miranda′s heart. She wondered how Simon could bear it in silence as he
stood without speaking, his eyes traveling from his mother to his father and
back again.

They might have stood there in a mute tableau
for all time, if Betsy had not come running up to Simon at that moment, with a
note clutched in her fingers. She put the missive in his limp hand and tugged
at his arm impatiently. He looked down at her as if he did not truly see her,
until her words registered clearly in the hallway.
‶
The bad man said to
give you this. I don′t like him. I′m glad he′s going
away.″

At that very moment, while Miranda′s
heart was still between beats, Valentine strode into the hall. She had no time
to be glad as their glances met and she knew he had felt her distress and come
despite his own heartache.

‶
You′ve arrived just in
time.″ Simon spoke brusquely as he looked at the note, looked at Miranda,
looked at Valentine. And she could not breathe. For he handed the note to a
puzzled Valentine and her brother turned white.

Her brother′s eyes met hers and she could
not understand what could possibly be so awful about Grimthorpe having left the
house party early.

Until he said softly,
‶
The cad has eloped
with Juliet.″

Miranda raced upstairs to confirm that no one
had seen Juliet since she left for a walk in the gardens with Grimthorpe
several hours ago. Hero and the twins thoroughly searched the gardens and found
only several weekend guests calmly enjoying themselves with no idea of their
hosts′ growing agitation. The truth could not be denied any longer.
Juliet had run off with Grimthorpe. Plans were swiftly made to follow the
eloping pair.

Miranda gave orders for a basket of food to be
packed, and the servants, ashen-faced, had it prepared and ready before the two
freshest, fastest horses had been saddled. Valentine and Simon, changed into
fresh clothes, followed on Miranda′s heels out into the drive. She turned
to look at them in surprise at the sight of only two saddled horses.
‶
Did
you not know that I would go with you?″

Valentine, with a glance at Simon, walked to
his horse and mounted, so as to give them privacy. Miranda, hurt by his blatant
defection, turned her anger on Simon.
‶
She is my sister, Simon, and I
am the fool who sent the invitation to that malicious weasel and brought him
into our home —″

He smiled and she broke off, astonished at the
joy that radiated from him as he came toward her and crushed her into his arms.
‶
My
God, Miranda, he is malicious and he is a weasel, but I shall make sure he
suffers for what he has done to us, just when we have been dealt the happy
ending you believed in so fervently.″

She stared at him, trying to understand what
had caused this change in him. He looked as if years had been dropped from him
in a single stroke.
‶
Happy ending?″

As if he understood at last her bemusement, he
kissed her.
‶
I
know fairytale happy endings are possible, now. ″ His breath was warm as
he moved his lips to whisper in her ear,
‶
Peter is back, Miranda. I am
not the duke.″

The distance that had been between them for so
long was there no longer. She wondered if she should tell him what she had
overheard in the garden? She doubted he would be so joyful knowing what Peter
had turned his back on when he agreed to return to England and confess his
identity.

There was no time, however, she decided as he
kissed her cheek. After Juliet was safely home would be time enough. Then,
perhaps, they could find a way for Peter to be happy, too.

She kissed him back when he put his lips gently
on hers again, and felt the barriers drop away as he responded with a passion
that was held back only by this peril of Juliet′s. Shivering, she felt
his whisper as he said against her cheek,
‶
I am free to be your
husband.″

She wanted to believe it, so she pushed aside
the images of the miserable pair of star-crossed lovers she had witnessed in
the garden.

He pulled away then and smiled at her, a smile
such as she had not seen on his face since her long ago Season.
‶
So
you can understand why I will ensure this business with Grimthorpe and your
foolish sister is cleared away before the sun sets tonight.″

Reluctantly, but unable to argue with his
logic, Miranda nodded.
‶
Be careful of him, Simon. He is a crafty
devil.″

With one more fierce hug that made her believe
all would turn out right, Simon mounted and the two men she loved most in the
world rode off to face their common enemy and rescue the foolish and very young
Juliet.

Leaving Miranda to face the dowager and
Peter--back from the dead after nearly thirty years.

Before she could do more than step into the
hallway, though, Hero was upon her.
‶
Why would she do such a foolish
thing?″ Hero was pale, her hands wrung bloodless.
‶
She didn′t
even fancy him. She said she was simply giving him a taste of what he did to
you when she flirted with him.″

‶
What?″ Miranda stopped,
all thoughts of the dowager vanishing.
‶
When did she say this?″
She shook her head at the foolishness of her sister.
‶
He is much too
dangerous for a young girl to use as a toy.″

‶
But she didn′t like
him.″ Hero protested once again.
‶
She didn′t like him at
all. She said he made her feel as if there was a spider crawling down into her
bosom. What could she be thinking?″

Miranda remembered the determined look in
Simon′s eye, and thought of Valentine tall upon his horse.
‶
We
shall ask her directly when Simon and Valentine bring her safely home.″

‶
What if they are too
late?″

Miranda smiled ruefully, though the thought
shook her.
‶
Don′t
you recall how quickly Simon rescued Emily? And we both know that she did not
want to be rescued from Valentine′s arms.″

The words did not seem to ease Hero′s
anguish, Miranda noticed. Deliberately seeking something to distract her gentle
sister from her worry, Miranda added,
‶
Until then, I suggest you go
help Katherine with the girls — we should not want the young ones worrying, and
now with Peter′s daughters about, there are too many for her to manage alone.″

Hero took one deep sniff, before she nodded and
hurried away. Miranda hoped she had not imagined the flicker of relief in her
sister′s eyes — a relief to finally have something that could occupy her
hands and mind while her heart lay heavy as a stone.

She wondered if Peter′s daughters were as
capable of mischief as her own sisters. If so, Hero and Katherine would not
have much time to worry about Juliet. Perhaps she would join them, after she
had settled with the dowager the matter of how to announce Peter′s return
to life.

‶
Worry deepens the wine hue of
your eyes, my dear.″ With a startled gasp, Miranda glanced up to face the
man she thought had run away with her sister. Grimthorpe. Here. She looked
beyond him for Juliet, but he was alone.
‶
Where is Juliet? What have you
done with her?″

‶
Juliet is in a carriage bound
for her fate, my dear.″

‶
But you eloped ... ″
Miranda trailed off. Obviously, if he were here, he had not eloped.

‶
Certainly I told you I did. But
I would not want that penniless chit of a sister of yours.″

‶
Then who ... ?″ Miranda
had intended to ask who had taken Juliet off, but that was not the question he
answered.

‶
I want you, of course.″

She went cold. He wanted her, not Juliet? Why?
‶
I
am already married.″

‶
That would present a problem —
did I want to marry you.″ He smiled and Miranda′s stomach clenched.
‶
but
I merely want to ensure that you don′t present my dear cousin with a
little brat of an heir.″

She gasped. It was you, then? You poisoned
Arthur?″ She glanced toward the parlor door, gauging whether she could
make a run for it and enlist help quietly. Damage to the Watterly reputation or
not, perhaps it might be best to scream. Scandal was not the worst thing that
could happen to a family, despite the dowager′s convictions.

‶
I wouldn′t, if I were
you.″ he said softly. It was only then that Miranda noticed the pistol he
held in his left hand. It was pointed directly at her.
‶
At least, not if
you wish your sister′s life to be spared.″

She had tensed for a scream, but released it
when she realized that he was canny enough not to threaten her, but Juliet.
‶
What
do you mean?″