The Fairy Tale Bride (21 page)

"Your definition of right and wrong is too
restrictive for me." She shook her head. "Perhaps for any frail
mortal being, but especially for me. You were the one who insisted
we marry and now that I am here, as your wife, I feel as if you
wished me anywhere but here."

The truth of her statement jolted through
him, but he rejected it with his very soul as well as his words.
"Of course I don't want you to want to be rid of me. You do not
understand—"

"Oh, but I do, Simon." It was her turn to
override him. She did so with an imperious military flare, sharply
raising her arm high to halt his words.

"Katherine does not lie with men for money.
She is a vicar's widow. From her mother, she has learned herbal
healing. People come from London for her help, as Giles Grimthorpe
did."

He was surprised at her naiveté. "She is no
vicar's widow – she would not be living as she is, threadbare,
poor. You have been gulled by a pretty story. But then, you are
known to believe in fairytales."

Indignation burned in her eyes. "So you would
think, Simon. But that is because you are a man." She said man as
if it were an epithet.

"When you are a woman and your husband dies,
you must fall back on the kindness of relatives." Her eyes widened
and he knew she was realizing that very likely she would soon be in
a similar position.

Certainly, he was realizing what that would
mean to her as he watched her argue her case for her friend.
Thankfully, she had Valentine to fight for her. But it would no
doubt set her pride on edge to be beholden to her twin brother for
a home.

Her voice was slightly unsteady as she
continued. "Katherine's father was a humble man before his daughter
married the vicar, but he gladly gave her and her daughter room in
his cottage when her husband died and she was turned out of the
vicarage."

He saw the certainty in her eyes and realized
abruptly that he had been the fool, not Miranda. He had come to a
conclusion and forgotten to question it. Such things got men killed
in war. Fortunately for him, it only lost him this one skirmish
with Miranda.

He scrabbled for a place to make his stand.
Surrender was not his way. He had been raised a duke, even if he
should not have been. If the woman was not a slattern, then she was
worse, a healer.

Miranda's true purpose in hiring Katherine
became clear to him. He felt the anger swell within him as he
realized how she had meant to manipulate him. And he knew the
weapon to use against her. "You lied to me."

She did not deny it. But neither did she show
signs of remorse. "I intend to have her as my lady's maid, but
mostly, I want her so that she might help you. She might discover
something you or your doctors have missed. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes. I will not be lied to." He had made it
abundantly clear to her more than once that he did not wish to be
subjected to a healer's scrutiny. If Katherine were any good, which
was doubtful, she might uncover his secret--that he was healthy and
illness-free.

He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed
his features into the fierce officer's scowl he had used with his
men. "This tendency of yours to think you know what is best for
others, to try to force impossible happy endings upon situations
and people who cannot have them is what gets you in trouble. You
must stop at once before you hurt someone."

Or before you are hurt, he wanted to add, but
those words would not sway her. For someone who cared so much about
creating a happy ending for others, she didn't give a fig about her
own happiness. One of many reasons he had taken the task over
himself.

She flashed him a sad, but still triumphant
smile. "Then you agree I must leave."

Again he found himself speechless. She had
ambushed him with the skill of a professional. After a moment, he
found himself able to utter a strangled, "No—"

Again she interrupted. "I cannot touch you, I
cannot look for ways to cure you--" her voice cut with scorn — "I
cannot even hire a lady's maid without causing you undue agitation.
I believe, if I remain here, I shall shorten your already brief
life, just as that fairy-tale pea shortened the princess's night's
sleep."

"I am no princess."

That, he was relieved to see, provoked a
smile from her, despite her agitation. "No, you are not. But I am
definitely an irritation."

He crossed the distance between them before
she could react. He closed his fingers on her shoulders and looked
into her eyes. He wanted to make sure she understood him. This was
not a fair battle, after all. She was his wife, not his enemy. "I
crave the irritation you bring me. I'll never let you leave.
Never."

She touched his chest and whitened. "Simon,
your heart." She tried to push him toward his chair. "You must calm
down, this disagreement isn't good for you."

He resisted the force of her hands easily.
"Agree to stay." He knew he was using the lie of his health to
coerce her, but he didn't care. Neither life, love, nor war was
fair. If she left, his remaining days here would be unbearable.

She reached up and gently touched his cheek.
Her fingers were cool and trembled lightly against his skin. "I
want you to live, Simon. Is that so terrible?"

He shook his head. "Herbs will make no
difference to my fate." He felt a bittersweet regret that there was
no herb to cure bastardy. And no way he would win this battle
without concessions. "If you wish her to attend you, she may."

He wagged his finger sternly, though, with a
need to prove he was master in his own home. "But at the first sign
that she is interfering in matters of my health, I shall send her
packing."

Relief shone on her face and he felt a
curious lightening of the heart to see it. He wondered if he had
set a bad precedent, letting her threaten him this way. And then he
realized that it would make no difference in a few months. He put
his arms around her, determined to indulge her for the short time
he could. She leaned her head against his chest, resting against
him. He felt the smooth lump of the leather pouch between them.
"Katherine will do well enough, you'll see."

"Just don't expect me to become an experiment
for every obscure remedy she can concoct." He caressed the back of
her neck. "I want to spend the time with you, like this. Can you
understand that?"

She sighed. "I do understand, but — "

He quickly moved to cement his position and
distract her from this matter before she had managed to persuade
him to physic a body that had no need of it. She was formidable in
battle and it would take all his wits to outflank her.

"If we are to introduce you and your sisters
to society, we should do so immediately. So you had best see to
ensuring that Katherine is adequate to the task of dressing you and
putting up your hair. No one is so cruel as the ladies of the
court."

He saw the shadow alight in her expression
and cursed the thoughtlessness of his words. She, better than most,
had cause to know exactly the measure of that cruelty. Her voice
broke as she began, "Perhaps we should wait ... "

"We cannot afford to wait. We will have a
house party in mid-June."

She drew in her breath. "What?" The color
drained completely from her skin. He watched in alarm as it bloomed
again in her cheeks.

To calm her panic, he added soothingly,
"Nothing large, Miranda, just thirty people or so." The thought
seemed to distress her even more, so he added, "My mother can put
herself to use in helping you plan the thing."

A memory came to him, unbidden, of the large
summer parties his mother had hosted for his father. She had seemed
so beautiful as she drifted through the groups of guests in her
flowing pastel gowns; cool, laughing, sneaking bits of pastry and
sweetmeats for her son.

That was before he understood that the
laughter wasn't real, it was rehearsed, calculated, cold. That
after every weekend party his parents would argue bitterly, and his
mother would retreat to her wing for days.

But there was no doubt that these parties had
been successful affairs for all but the host and hostess. In fact,
it was to her credit that no one realized how much she hated her
husband. "She has a great deal of experience. I daresay she could
impress Grimthorpe himself."

Her mouth quirked downward. "Shall we invite
him also, then?"

"By all means. We have nothing to hide — or
so we shall have them all believing before the weekend is
through."

Her brow wrinkled and he longed to bend and
brush it smooth with his lips. "Do you suppose he still has my
boots?"

He knew what she feared — that Grimthorpe
would somehow brew a new scandal. "It matters little, now. You are
my wife."

"I suppose it is too late to cause trouble
with a pair of old boots." The doubt did not entirely erase from
her face.

"No doubt, if he hasn't already thrown them
away, he's given them to one of his servants."

She nodded, but he could feel the worry
radiating from her.

"The best way to ensure Grimthorpe's gossip
is neutralized is to have you quickly accepted back into society."
Knowing her weaknesses well, he urged, "We must be bold about
introducing you. You do not want your sisters to suffer because of
rumors and gossip, do you?"

"You are right. We will be bold." She turned
her lips up in a half smile. "Although, perhaps I shall temper my
boldness with a touch of wisdom. Katherine, as a former vicar's
wife, has much to teach me about patience."

She stretched up on the tip of her toes to
press a kiss to his lips.

Fortunately, before he could move his arms to
her waist and capture her against him, she slipped away. "I must
tell Katherine and Betsy the good news."

"Curing someone who will not even admit the
possibility for cure is difficult, Your Grace." Katherine's tone
was grave, but her color was no longer pale. In fact, her cheeks
had actually taken on color rather rapidly when she learned what
Simon's objections had been. "I didn't realize ... in our
discussions he made it seem that he wanted someone with
experience." Her mouth twisted with uncharacteristic bitterness. "I
should have realized ... everyone thinks such things."

"I don't," Miranda comforted her.

Katherine smiled in response. "Thank you for
giving me a chance. Ever since my husband died and Betsy and I came
back to live with my father, I have known what others suspect of
me. I just don't know how to make them realize it isn't true. I've
tried speaking the way they do, dressing the way they do, helping
them. But nothing seems to work."

"What happened to you wasn't fair. You went
out of your way to be kind to others, you deserve to be rewarded
like the good kind sister in Mother Holle and be showered with
gold. Instead you are showered with pitch, as if you were lazy and
unkind."

Katherine laughed. "It is not so bad. I am
paid for healing, and the money helped Da buy a cow and some
chickens. We are better off than many. Perhaps that is why the lies
persist."

Miranda understood too well how that might
happen. And it was a worry she must overcome before her house was
overrun by those who would delight in her social downfall. "Well,
Simon now knows the truth. About you, and about my motives for
bringing you to work for me. And, as I had feared, he has forbidden
you to concoct any tonic for him."

Katherine pressed her hand against Miranda's.
"I'm sorry."

"Not that I will let his reluctance stay me —
he will die if we do nothing. We shall just have to be
cautious."

"Perhaps we should simply tell him the
truth?" Katherine's voice was gentle, and her sojourn as a vicar's
wife came through clearly. Miranda squirmed under the patient gaze,
unwilling to give up any chance that Simon might have.

Betsy stirred and whimpered. The child,
unaware of the reprieve she and her mother had been given, lay
flushed and still upon a chair. It was perhaps for that reason that
Katherine's hushed tone conveyed so much concern. "Any patient,
duke or no, must want to be well."

Miranda sighed. "I know. But for now, I shall
have to do the wishing for Simon. He is beyond influence about his
chances for survival."

Katherine nodded. "He is a lucky man, if only
he knew it." She rose to her feet. "It would help if I knew what
ailed him."

"He will tell me naught. But when we ... "
Miranda broke off, blushing. "When we are close, his heart beats
impossibly fast, his breathing becomes labored, and his face
becomes quite flushed."

Katherine searched Miranda's face. "More so
than usual?"

Her face must have revealed her confusion,
because when she did not answer, Katherine waved her hand
dismissively. "Never mind. We shall both watch him from now on. Any
unusual behavior, temperament, or daily habits shall be noted down
so I may find out what is wrong with him."

With a tired smile, Katherine scooped her
sleeping daughter up into her arms. "I had best get this little one
tucked in for her nap."

"Yes." Miranda smoothed a stray lock of
Betsy's hair, as she might have done to a sleeping Kate. "You and
Betsy have a place here with us from now on."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Less than a month to prepare a house party
to reintroduce you to polite society? And I suppose it must be
perfect? How very like Simon to set such an absurd standard."

The dowager sat at a fragile cherrywood
writing desk, a pile of invitations in front of her, her quill
waving through the air for emphasis as she spoke.

Miranda wondered, not for the first time, if
she would be better served to permanently alienate the dowager,
rather than attempt a reconciliation between Simon and his mother.
She smiled with strained patience. "We certainly have made a good
start on it in these last weeks. I thank you for your help, despite
the need to do so much so quickly. It's just that there are
considerations ..."