Becoming his mistress would have been a more likely outcome — though, of course, she would not have considered such a thing. One night, that was all she would have wanted — one night to know what it was that his kisses promised her.
Thankfully, he had been too much of a gentleman to take advantage of her. She had to be honest — he had been meddling when he had kissed her the first time. Trying to teach her a lesson had taught him one. She smiled. Even though the kiss he had given her was more in the way of a lesson than a liberty, she knew that he had enjoyed it much more than he had expected.
Her smile died. He would have insisted that they marry if he had made love to her. Perhaps Valentine was right. She was foolish to think life was like a fairytale. Maybe there were not always happy endings. This ending was the happiest she would get — no marriage, no more of Simon’s kisses.
Still, there was a touch of regret she could not explain. Perhaps it had to do with the longings that had plagued her daydreams since he had kissed her. She closed her eyes: Daydreams were all she had of him. Though, perhaps if she had not been a silly young girl five years ago ...
Her mind refused to consider the painful possibility. She would simply have to be grateful that Valentine would never learn of this. He had become such a prude since his return from the military, he’d probably lock her in her room and feed her bread and water for the rest of her life. Or he would try, anyway.
There was a tapping on her door, and before Miranda had more time than to snatch the cap from her head and conceal her disguise in a swirl of dark gray cloak, her youngest sister dashed into the room, blonde curls straggling from the ribbon meant to hold them tight.
“Kate, you naughty girl, why aren’t you taking lessons with Juliet?”
The six-year-old’s lower lip extended in a pout. “She called me a terror and boxed my ears.”
Miranda suspected there was more to the story. “Whyever did she do that?”
Kate looked briefly discomfited. “Well ... “ But then, remembering something more important than her sad tale, the imp smiled. “I forgot, Miranda. Valentine needs you in the drawing room right away.”
“He does?” Miranda considered letting him stew until she got back from London, but decided that she couldn’t risk it. The trip would take the better part of today and most of tomorrow.
Absentmindedly, she stroked her sister’s hair back into place. “Go and make peace with Juliet. You know she has the most beautiful voice of us all, and I shall see that she gives you a singing lesson if you behave for her.”
“Will you also tell me a story?” the child wheedled. Miranda had no time to bargain. “If you behave, sweet, I will tell you a story tomorrow when I tuck you in to bed.”
Kate nodded, then dashed madly out of the room, ignoring Miranda’s shouted warning. “Don’t run, it is not ladylike.”
Miranda felt the weight of the silver thud against her legs, giving her strength to face Valentine. If only she could confide in him ... but no, he was no longer the loving, trusting brother he had been.
Responsibility was a weight on his shoulders he would not share. She pulled her cloak tightly about her so that the gray gown was not in evidence and quickly hurried to the drawing room.
She stopped at the sound of voices, shocked to find that Valentine had company. The visitor’s voice was unmistakable, and the muscles of her stomach tightened in dismay. Valentine’s guest was none other than Simon Watterly, Duke of Kerstone.
She hesitated, wondering if she dare enter. Surely he would not have spoken of their encounter to Valentine. That would be tantamount to ruining her. Her heart soared with hope for a moment. Perhaps he had come to help Valentine win Emily back? After all, he had had time to think over everything that Miranda had told him.
She took a deep breath and swept into the room, prepared to be surprised to see the duke after five long years.
Valentine’s frown stopped her cold.
His face was white and his lips were drawn into the scowl that he had inherited from their mother. “Have you completely lost your sense of propriety, Miranda? How could you have done this?”
“Done what?” Miranda asked innocently, refusing to believe that Simon would have told her brother the truth. After all, he had as much to lose as she. She would never forget that bitter laugh of his when she reminded him that they would not suit.
“Is something wrong, Valentine?” she asked, hoping that his anger had some other source than her ill-spent night with Simon. Perhaps Valentine had missed the silver candlesticks she planned to pawn in London?
“I expected you to have told your brother everything by now, Miss Fenster.” Simon was having none of the pretense. He made it clear with one crisp sentence that the truth was out.
Miranda spent one frozen moment in silent distraction as she stared at his beautiful, strong mouth. She could not help the rebuke that fell from her lips. “Some people keep their secrets, Your Grace — in leather pouches, perhaps, but they keep them.”
His lips pressed tightly together until they were a white line. But he said nothing in apology.
And then, turning to her brother, she tried to recover the situation before it got out of hand. “It was a dreadful mistake Valentine, but don’t blame His Grace for it, please...”
“You had to try to save the family your way, didn’t you, Miranda?” She’d never seen him look so drawn. There were lines of worry creasing his face that had not been there a few short weeks ago. His blue eyes showed clearly that he had lost all shreds of faith in her. “Why didn’t you tell me your plans?”
She was incensed at his accusation. He was speaking to her as if she were a child, not his twin sister. “If you recall, you were not speaking to anyone — including me when I climbed through the library window.”
“Then you should have waited until I was better able to deal with your foolishness.”
His words, so very like their father’s, stung Miranda deeply. “I don’t see any point in telling you anything any longer, Valentine. You’re not the brother I knew.”
“I am the head of this household. You should have told me your plans.”
Miranda felt the tears start in her eyes and was surprised to find that they were tears of happiness. Her brother was fighting with her again. “You’d have locked me in my room.” She smiled.
Though Valentine did not return her smile, irony was all that remained of his irritation when he replied, “I’d have locked you in the attic; you would just escape your room. Miranda, do you realize what you’ve done?”
She glanced nervously at the duke. How much had he confessed? Surely not about the kiss ... or anything else. He was being annoyingly stoic, though, for his expression betrayed nothing. “No one knows, Valentine. I’m sure that Simon will be discreet.”
“Simon?” Valentine’s eyes widened and his mouth tightened again into a scowl.
Miranda blushed. The familiar address had become natural in her daydreams.
“I mean His Grace, of course. I’m just rattled that he brought this matter to your attention. I thought we had settled it satisfactorily between ourselves.”
She turned a stern glance on the duke. “It was to be a secret between the two of us. No one else was to know.”
“What of Grimthorpe?” he asked in amazement.
Valentine exploded. “Grimthorpe? I don’t know how you manage these things, Miranda. To accost the duke was misguided, but to be caught by Grimthorpe is beyond the pale.”
“You sound as if you believe that was part of my plan. And His Grace is overstating the incident. Grimthorpe saw naught of me. He simply has my boots.”
Seeing her brother’s stubbornly set face, Miranda abandoned the attempt to reason with him and turned on the duke. “We agreed to keep this between ourselves, sir.”
“Unfortunately, I could not persuade Grimthorpe to see it our way. He is set on visiting you and no doubt is on his way here even as we speak.”
“What?” Vale
ntine and Miranda spoke together, their voices blending into one.
“He cannot know for sure it is me,” she said firmly, though she didn’t believe her own words. Grimthorpe coming here?
Her eyes studied the walls, where rectangular patched of lighter-colored wallpaper indicated the paintings that had been sold to cover her father’s debts. The mantel was nearly bare, when it had once held porcelain boxes and figures, as well as the two sets of candlesticks she had weighing heavily against her legs.
These were details in which Grimthorpe would delight. But that was of no importance at the moment. She turned to Valentine. “You must tell him that I am away visiting a sick relative.”
“Miranda ... “
Knowing she had to take the upper hand unless she wanted to become a duchess, she interrupted her brother. “Tell him I’ve been gone for weeks and will not be home again for a month. That will convince him that he is mistaken in his assumptions. And no one need know.”
She threw a reproachful glance at Simon. “I wish that you had come to me first, Your Grace. You have shared our secret with Valentine, and it will be a hard one for a dutiful brother to accept.”
“It will be impossible,” Valentine sputtered.
“There is no need for upheaval,” the duke said smoothly. “Your sister and I are now officially engaged. I sent an announcement to the Times last evening with my manservant. It should appear tomorrow.”
He had done what? Miranda and Valentine were both stunned into silence.
After a moment, Miranda demanded, “How could you have done such a thing?”
Simon addressed Valentine, brushing off Miranda’s question as if she had not spoken. “The marriage will take place in six weeks time, if that is satisfactory.”
His eyes touched on Miranda in a way that made her heart beat faster. “Since Miss Fenster and I were introduced five years ago, perhaps we could put it about that we nursed secret longings in our hearts that came to a quick fruition this past week, during my stay at the Camberley’s estate.” His smile had a twist of irony in it. “No one should find that difficult to believe of her, that she wished to live out one of her own fairytales.”
Valentine bristled. “How could you put an announcement in the paper without speaking to me first? That is simply not done, Kerstone.”
Miranda added, “I have no intention of marrying you.” Neither man paid her the slightest bit of attention.
The duke focused his attention on Valentine. “You must see that I had no choice, given the situation.”
“I should call you out for this.”
“Valentine.” Miranda was truly alarmed now. Shattered as he was at losing Emily, she was afraid that he meant what he said. “You may not call out the duke. He was not at fault in any of this.” The duke was a crack shot — and to have either man wounded would be unbearable. To have been the cause of their dispute would be ten times worse.
Valentine brushed off the restraining hand she laid on his arm. “Keep out of this, Miranda.”
Exasperation made her shout. “How I wish I had.” Both men, again, ignored her.
Simon stood straight, looking magnificently autocratic. “I should be the one calling you out. You are responsible for her. And she has made one hell of a mess of my life. I shall be months untangling this foolishness.”
For one moment Miranda thought her brother would strike the duke. She again rushed to grasp his arm. “Valentine, be reasonable. You of all people know how my plans sometimes go awry.”
Her brother looked at her as if she were a stranger.
Miranda continued, her heart squeezed with pain. “I simply wanted to help you and Emily be together.”
He stared blankly at her, and she continued, not looking at the duke. “His Grace has been very understanding, except for this nonsense about marriage. Can’t you find it within yourself to be the same?”
The old Valentine suddenly returned as his blue eyes gazed at her. There was warmth and amusement and affection radiating from him as he said, “You are right, Kerstone, she is my responsibility. Until you are wed. And then I’ll leave her to you.”
“Valentine! You cannot agree to this preposterous farce!” Her brother merely laughed and moved to embrace her.
Aware of her bulky disguise — and somewhat miffed, Miranda stepped away. “Would you sell me to the duke, then?”
“Mother always told you to think of the consequences before you acted, not after.” He reached for the brandy — the last of their father’s stock, Miranda knew — and poured two liberal drafts.
“As I am. Should this marriage take place, the consequences are too horrible to detail.” When Valentine did not respond, Miranda continued. “You promised me that I would not need to marry if I could not find a man content to let me run my life.”
Still he said nothing. “Valentine, this man kissed me and unfastened my dress simply to teach me a lesson!” Miranda blushed, realizing that she had gone too far in her desperation.
As if he had not heard her, Valentine handed Simon a glass. “She is a fine woman. You will not be sorry to have her to wife. Certainly, Kerstone, you are the one man who just might manage to slip the bit in her mouth and charm her into liking it.”
Simon spared her one grim glance before he swallowed down his brandy. “I will consider it my very first duty as her husband.”
Miranda watched the two men talking each other around to the reality of the marriage with growing frustration. They treated her statements as if they were less than the flap of gnat’s wings.
Worse, she realized, she had no time for this nonsense if she were to catch a coach to London. “I’ve no intention of marrying you, Your Grace. Grimthorpe knows nothing for a certainty.”
She faced her brother. “Valentine, you must tell Grimthorpe that I am away, and have been for the last two weeks. I am certain he will lose interest in this matter in less than a week’s time.”
With that directive, she spun around and left the room to the two men. Perhaps their drink would bring them back to their senses.
If not for the imminent arrival of Grimthorpe, Miranda would have exited from the front entrance to save precious time. The past few days had taught her to opt for discretion, though. She turned toward the back hallway and found two stunned men standing at the library door, their eyes trained on her.
She realized that she had forgotten to give her brother an excuse for her upcoming absence. Just what she needed, Valentine trailing her to London now. “I’m sorry I can’t stay to discuss this further with you, Valentine, but I am late already. I have promised to help an invalid.”
She pulled her cloak tight around her, hoping that he wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t yet wearing a bonnet. “She’s seriously ill, so I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
The silver thudded against her legs as she said encouragingly to her brother’s blank face, “Perhaps you might tell Grimthorpe that I won’t return for an entire month. I’m sure that will put him off the scent.”
Chapter 6
Simon stared in bemusement down the hallway after Miranda. It took several moments before he realized that she had refused his offer — again. Would he have had this much trouble if he had proposed marriage five years ago? He spent several more moments battling his astonishment before he realized that she meant to leave Anderlin as if that were the end of the matter.
His surprise was quickly overtaken by a trifling sense of something out of place, not quite right about Miranda’s hasty departure. He carefully reviewed the previous conversation.
She had been nervous, but that was to be expected. She had thought to escape unscathed from her escapade.
He frowned. She had even dared chide him, reminding him of the leather pouch of papers she seemed so damnably curious about.
Still, he held an unshakeable conviction that something was off. A small yet significant inconsistency came to his attention. Miranda had not been wearing a bonnet when she left.
To hi
s knowledge, young ladies, even unconventional young ladies like Miranda Fenster, did not go visiting engulfed in shabby, oversize cloaks and forget their bonnets.
Sprung into action by that small inconsistency, Simon clapped Valentine on the shoulder. “Don’t look so glum. I’ll have her smiling at me by the time we take our vows.”
Valentine looked at him dubiously. A smile crept to his lips, chasing away the shadows in his gaze for a moment. “You will, if anyone will. Good luck, Your Grace.”
Even though the smile faded quickly, the deep weariness that had etched his face when Simon found him foxed and distraught in his study was somewhat faded. There was a spark of life in the blue eyes that had not been there at the first.
With a confidence he had not felt but a moment ago, Simon held out his hand to Valentine. “As we are to be brothers, please call me Simon. I’ll leave you to handle Grimthorpe alone. Perhaps it will be wise to imply the engagement is of long standing.”
Valentine shook his hand heartily. “Certainly. Anything but Miranda’s tale — can’t count how many people have seen her about, even these last few days. She’s always been one to fly off to someone else’s aid.
Simon wasted no time getting to the stables. There was no sign of Miranda. Both of her horses were unsaddled. Where the devil was she? Before he could leave the stable, he heard voices.
Quietly, so neither of the speakers would make note of his presence, he slipped to the door. His view of the yard was good, but he was disappointed to see that it was not Miranda that Grimthorpe had accosted, as he had first thought, but a heavyset older woman, obviously a servant, dressed all in gray with a yellowed linen cap covering her head, obscuring her face.
“Where is your mistress?” Grimthorpe demanded for the third time. He was no more patient this morning than he had been in the hunter’s cottage with Betsy’s mother.
The servant, her head bowed low, spoke in a thick German accent. “Vich mistress do you mean? His Lordship is not married and he hast six sisters.”
[Once Upon a Wedding 01.0] The Fairy Tale Bride Page 7
