The Fairy Tale Bride (7 page)

Simon's swift movements caught her attention.
He plucked an apple from the floor where it had gone unnoticed
earlier and tidied the pile of blankets to make two neat heaps: one
for Betsy, she realized, and one for himself. Swiftly, he was
hiding all evidence of her own presence.

"You should hide my boots," she said the
third time he walked past them.

He looked up, and Miranda would have sworn he
could see her, though she knew darkness made that an impossibility.
"Miss Fenster, if you do not wish to suffer any embarrassment, may
I suggest that you remain perfectly still —" his voice deepened —
"and completely silent."

Still, he swept her boots under one of the
piles before he slipped out the door.

Miranda heard the sound of a horse being
brought up short, and a faint, desperate voice. Moments later Simon
reentered the cottage with a young woman. She held her lantern high
enough that the light bathed her face. Her resemblance to Betsy was
slight, just the heart shape of her face, and a certain arch of her
brows. Behind the two of them followed an older man, bent with
years.

He, too, carried a lantern, as did the three
or four others who crowded into the doorway. Suddenly the cottage
was fully lit.

The woman's gaze flew to the mound of
blankets where Betsy slept. With a cry of relief, she hurried
across the room and flung herself on the sleeping bundle. "Bets!
Bets, my love. What were you thinking, running off?"

Betsy woke, and her thin arms went readily
around her mother's neck. "Got lost," she said sleepily.

Miranda recognized blazing anger and fear in
the woman's gaze as she lifted it to Simon. "Didn't I tell you to
stay near to home? What were you doing going off with a
stranger?"

"Didn't go with 'im Mam, I was looking for
the gold piece that fancy gentleman who came to see ye dropped on
the road. Then I couldn't find home again."

Betsy continued her story, oblivious to her
mother's sudden pallor. "I hid in the loft, but I wasn't quiet
enough, so they found me, and the lady was so nice. She gave me
something to eat and something to drink and told me the story of
little redcoat. ... "

Miranda's stomach knotted as she realized
that Betsy was about to unravel whatever careful fiction Simon had
established. "She was purely kind, Mam ... " Betsy's tale broke off
at this point as she searched the cottage with a puzzled frown.

Her bright eyes rested on Simon. "Where's
your wife gone, Your Grace?" There was an audible intake of breath
from the assembled villagers, accompanied by an embarrassed
rustling of hasty curtsies and hats being removed.

"The little girl must still be dreaming,"
Simon said.

It was an absurd statement, but to Miranda's
surprise, no one in the tiny room reacted to it as if it were
anything but the honest truth.

"Of course, Your Grace." The older man spoke,
his eyes narrowing and his lips thinning. "I've seen you riding
this week past. You be up at the Camberleys', do you not?"

"Aye," Simon assented. "But I sheltered here
from the rain and came upon the child doing the same. I would have
returned her to Nevilshire in the morning."

"Thankee, sir." The old man answered before
Betsy's mother could speak, but his eyes grew no less wary than
they had been – nor did his daughter's.

Just then a man shouldered through the crowd
in the doorway and entered, his face momentarily obscured by the
shadow of one of the larger men in the search party. "See here
young woman, if you have damaged Atlas, I shall see that you pay
dearly …" The newcomer quickly regained his equilibrium and
inclined his head to Simon. "Kerstone."

He stepped from the shadows, and Miranda
blinked, at first feeling that the strain of peering through the
floorboards had ruined her vision. Grimthorpe. The cause of her
scandalous retirement from society stood in this very room,
lamplight glinting from the carefully tended auburn curls.

She had thought she did not care. But anger
shook her at the sight of him. His sneer was the same one that had
burned through the shock Miranda had felt at being dragged from the
dance floor into a secluded corner and kissed despite her protest.
That sneer had been the reason she had gone beyond a gentle protest
to give him, so Simon had told her, a black eye. In his eyes now
was a look of gleeful malice that took her breath away. Quite
obviously, he had never forgiven Simon for seconding Valentine – or
had he other some other reason for disliking the duke?

"Kidnapping young girls now, Kerstone?" He
spoke in the same half-amused, half- derisive voice that Miranda
remembered.

Simon stood as still as stone. "Grimthorpe.
What brings you out?"

With a sniff that made his ridiculous
handlebar mustache twitch, the man grimaced and pointed to Betsy's
mother. "The fool woman lost her wits when she found her urchin
gone. Took Atlas. I've been following her afoot half the night just
trying to get close enough to regain him."

The older man spoke deferentially, but
Miranda could read the hostility readily apparent in the tense set
of his shoulders and the clenched fist of his hands. "Your horse
has come to no harm, my lord. My daughter was foolish to take him,
but Betsy is her only child, and she was out of her head. Please
forgive her."

"I shall hardly take your word for the
matter, fellow. You should pray tonight that Atlas is not even
sweated, or she shall pay a pretty price. Theft of a piece of
horseflesh like that could get her hanged."

The old man lowered his gaze to the floor. "I
beg you to consider her distress, sir." Miranda could guess at the
sick fear that ate at him, but his face was so lined from a hard
life that it did not show.

"I beg you to consider having her chained to
her bed. Atlas has a sensitive mouth, and she could have ruined it
with her clumsy panic."

"Perhaps you should see to Atlas's mouth
before he wanders off." Simon had not moved, nor taken his eyes
from Grimthorpe.

Miranda resisted the urge to sneeze, holding
her breath against the hope that Grimthorpe would take Simon's
suggestion. For the villagers to find her would be misfortune
enough. That devil could attach a scandal to her name that no one
could prevent.

Apparently, Atlas's welfare was no longer
foremost in his mind, however. "Indeed." I shall, Kerstone, as soon
as I find out why you are spending the night here, instead of your
own most comfortable guest bed. Or were your accommodations less
satisfactory than mine?"

"I am not here by design," Simon answered
sharply and Miranda was flooded by guilt that her simple desire to
help Valentine had caused the duke such difficulty.

Grimthorpe, however, was delighted. "No?" He
paused, giving time for all to admire his infamous sneer. "You did
not have an assignation, then?"

CHAPTER FOUR

Miranda held her breath. She dared not move
lest the straw rustle or drop down through the loose
floorboards.

Simon said curtly, "The child was lost and
came here to escape the rain. I was unseated from my horse and did
the same. There is no source for gossip here."

Miranda marveled at his
sangfroid
. If
she did not know that he had someone hidden in the loft, she would
never have believed it. His entire bearing, even to inflection,
spoke of aristocratic contempt. Not even Grimthorpe could guess
that this man – but a mere hour ago – had held her in his arms,
kissed her, nearly made love to her. She scarcely believed it
herself.

Grimthorpe laughed sharply. "You? Unseated? I
should have liked to see the Duke of Kerstone unhorsed. Perhaps
this has not been a tedious waste of time after all. This will be a
worthy story to tell –"

"Shame on you!" The outburst came from
Betsy's mother, who now stood, clutching her daughter in her arms,
her eyes burning with fury. Her words were practically incoherent
as she forced them from her tear-choked throat. "Taking advantage.
First of me, now of him."

Grimthorpe gaped at her, as if he'd been
suddenly addressed by a wayward carp. And then his thin lips
thinned even further. "How dare you speak to me like that. I've a
good mind to see that you are prosecuted for horse theft."

Miranda felt a shiver of fear as her eyes
darted back to the mother and child, clinging together
protectively.

Betsy's mother was evidently beyond any such
fear.

Her chin was held high and her finger wagged
as she spoke with intensity. "It's you who should be hanged. My
Bets told me you said there was a crown in the crossroads." Miranda
had all she could do not to gasp. Grimthorpe had been the man who
visited Betsy's mother?

At the murmur of the crowd, Grimthorpe
stepped back. "My good woman, I assure you the child is
mistaken."

The woman hugged her daughter tighter. "Of
course. You're a gentleman." She sobbed softly. "I should never
have let you in my door. I knew you were trouble the moment I saw
you. You are nothing but a pig."

"You ... " Grimthorpe's face reddened.
Miranda feared for Betsy's mother as she saw he was angered so
beyond words that he stepped toward the woman with his arm
raised.

Somehow, Simon inserted himself deftly
between them and stood there, blocking any further threat. Miranda
was not even sure how he had moved; he was simply there, between
one blink and the next.

Grimthorpe stopped as if held in a grip of
steel. He threw Simon one furious glance, and then turned his
attention to the woman who had dared to criticize her betters. "I
paid you good money for your services, woman. I merely wanted the
brat out of the way for a time. You should have taught her the way
home. Children are known to wander."

Especially when promised a gold coin, Miranda
added silently, her dismay at the sight of Grimthorpe rapidly
growing into panic. The man seemed to be intent on shaking Simon's
secrets out of him, no matter what kind of fool he made of
himself.

With a whimper of rage, the woman tore at a
small leather bag around her neck. Coins clinked in her hand for a
moment before they littered the packed dirt at Grimthorpe's feet.
"Keep your coins, then. I'll have nothing more to do with you."

Grimthorpe bent with self-conscious grace to
sweep the coins into his hand. "I'll consider this repayment for
the use of Atlas."

His smiled burned fury into Miranda when he
said, as if amused, "After all, your brat led me into the scandal
of the century — the upright Duke of Kerstone prefers little
girls."

Simon's fury was apparent to all in the room,
judging by the way everyone seemed to shrink from him, including
the fool Grimthorpe, who had baited him. "You go too far. These
people were distraught about a lost child. They have found her and
do not need your insinuating lies."

The troublemaker's smile flashed as Simon
scowled.

His silvery tone reminded Miranda of the time
when a younger Giles Grimthorpe had chided her for being missish.
"You should thank me, Kerstone. Once the mothers know of your
predilection, they might stop throwing their daughters at your
head." He laughed. "Even Camberley will think twice about allying
his daughter with you, dukedom or no."

Miranda's breath caught in her throat. Had
Simon been planning a marriage with Celine Camberley? She did not
want to believe it, even though she knew that she herself did not
want to marry any man — not even Simon. To kiss him further
perhaps, to feel his hands on her bare arms as she had this
evening, those things she wanted. But they only came with marriage
— and marriage was too high a price to pay for the dizzying taste
and feel of the Duke of Kerstone.

Betsy's grandfather had had enough. His spare
form straightened and he said softly, "Come, daughter. We must get
the child home." He put an arm around the woman's shaking shoulders
and cupped Betsy's chin in his hand to give her a reassuring smile.
The child did not seem to notice the sad cast to her grandfather's
expression, for she beamed at him with all the brightness she had
shown earlier in the evening.

Miranda vowed to herself to stop in and make
certain that Betsy and her mother were not harmed by this night's
events. Perhaps some of the fruits of Anderlin's gardens would be
welcome to mother, daughter, and grandfather.

A moment more and she would be free, she
hoped. And then Betsy said, "I want to say good-bye to your wife,
Your Grace."

Simon could not fault the child for her wish.
Miranda had treated her with kindness and it was natural to want to
say goodbye. Still, as the room fell silent, every eye upon him,
the quiet hope that, for once, Fate would be thwarted, died. He
wished he had thought to stuff an apple slice in the child's mouth,
while he was hiding all other evidence of Miranda's presence. But,
truly, what could he have expected? He had heard Fate laughing.

Grimthorpe's eyebrow raised. "Have you
married since I saw you this afternoon, Kerstone?"

Simon tensed. Under no circumstance would he
allow Miranda and Grimthorpe to meet. Not here. Not like this.
"No."

Not content with his answer, Grimthorpe
turned to Betsy and asked with a charming mockery of a smile, "Just
what does the Duchess of Kerstone look like, child?"

"She's beautiful and kind," Betsy said with a
hint of belligerence.

"Of course. But I must know if she's fair or
dark." Betsy remained obstinately mute, for which Simon blessed
her. He would need to marry Miranda, now, of course. But he would
prefer that no one know for a certainty that she was with him
tonight. Inexplicably, even as he focused on protecting her from
humiliation, his thoughts raced ahead to marrying her. There was
not a trace of regret, despite the shambles it made of his careful
plans.