CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
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?
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?"
"If you and I don't follow quickly behind my dear cousin and your darling brother, then your sister's carriage will plunge off a cliff before dusk."
"They will kill you when we catch up to them."
Silently, she wondered what would then happen to Juliet. Was there any way to keep Simon safe without sacrificing Juliet?
"Perhaps." He laughed, a squeaky-sounding hiss.
She began to realize that his sanity was not all that it should be.
"Or perhaps your husband will choose to strangle you when you tell him you are leaving him for a life of sin with me."
The evil of the man was unparalleled. "Run away with you?"
He gestured with the pistol. "We can better discuss this on the way, don't you agree?"
No, she thought silently. But she moved swiftly toward the stables anyway, her mind working furiously. She had just made love to her husband for the first time today. She had no intention of standing by helplessly while he died the same day.
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The Fairy Tale Bride Page 43
