Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5)

by Heather Boyd

  Besides, she’d learned long ago not to believe what she didn’t see with her own eyes. Perhaps Taverham was planning a surprise for her.

  Cheered by that idea, she resolved to forget her nasty suspicions and look forward to tomorrow. Miranda rolled onto her side and stared at the darkened windows of her bedchamber. It was her last night as Miranda Birkenstock. Tomorrow she would become Lady Taverham, a marchioness no less, a pillar of society, and she would be the happiest bride that ever lived.

  ~ * ~

  After the Wedding

  Miranda stepped into the quiet garden and whispered, “Lady Taverham.”

  She was a marchioness now and married. She could barely contain her happiness and danced a few steps across the terrace to express the thrill gripping her.

  A male voice chuckled to her right, startling her.

  She spun in that direction. “Who is there? Taverham?”

  “An old fool.” Lord Applebee, one of her husband’s guardians, emerged from the shadows. “Your husband should not leave you to dance alone.”

  She smiled despite her disappointment that she’d been unable to convince Taverham that his conversation with Emily should wait until tomorrow. “Lord Applebee, forgive me. I didn’t see you there, and you certainly are not a fool. You see more clearly than anyone.”

  He smiled kindly. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

  Miranda glanced over her shoulder to the crowded room she’d just escaped. “I just wanted a moment to myself. I feel like I’ve been smiling for hours.”

  To prove her point, she brushed her fingers across her jaw because the strain of smiling at everyone had made her face ache. Her smiles now were for herself alone. She was a married woman and excited about her new life.

  “Then take in the air and return inside quickly.” He shifted to stand between her and the gardens she’d hoped to escape to. “A new bride should lap up every bit of attention she can on her special day. And you deserve it all and more.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  Applebee smiled and bowed. As he did, she saw the shape of two figures stumbling toward the relative privacy of the rose garden.

  Miranda chuckled softly. “Well, it seems I’m not the only one to have had the same idea of escaping the ballroom.”

  She wished her husband was done with Emily and would want to sneak away with her.

  Applebee glanced over his shoulder, then caught her arm. “Time to dance. Will you do this crusty old bachelor the honor of the next set, my lady?”

  Although her husband’s guardian wasn’t the partner she wanted, she nodded quickly, eager to stay on his good side. “I’d love to dance with you.”

  Applebee propelled her toward the open French doors rather quickly, and Miranda almost stumbled. As they reached the threshold, Lords Sorenson and Watts appeared, her father and Lord Louth trailing after in deep conversation.

  Of all of Taverham’s friends, Lord Louth had been the first to offer her friendship. He was a nice man, one of quiet wit and boundless faith that she would be an exceptional marchioness. She smiled at him in relief. She had no need to guard her words with Louth.

  “Now, my dear, do not be distressed,” Sorenson said soothingly, catching up her hands and squeezing them gently.

  “She’s not,” Applebee replied, his head tilting at an odd angle.

  “Oh, I thought…” Watts glanced into the garden beyond them and Miranda followed the direction of his gaze. She spied the pair in the rose garden again and noticed that they didn’t seem the least bit concerned about propriety. She frowned at that, trying to picture which of the wedding guests would behave in such a bold manner.

  She took a pace in that direction, but Applebee tugged her back. “Come dance with me.”

  “Why shouldn’t I know who they are?” A discomforting sensation filled her as no one answered. She shook off Lord Applebee’s grip. “This is my home and I want to know everything that happens here.”

  She cut across the lawn, aware of their whispered pleas to wait. To stop. To not approach the rose garden. Their steps were soft behind her and when she paused, they did too.

  At this distance she could not see the pair clearly, but she could hear their words… and their gasps and moans of ecstasy.

  She would recognize her husband’s deep, rumbling voice anywhere.

  A few more steps and she could see him better, clutching the breast of a woman, the pair of them deep in the throes of a passionate tryst.

  She forced air into her lungs as he chuckled softly and urged the woman to go with him.

  “I don’t believe it,” Lord Louth whispered from where he’d paused at her side. “That bastard.”

  As Louth made to move toward the pair, Lord Watts restrained him. “It’s none of your business, lad.”

  She reached for Louth too, but only to keep him from blocking her view.

  The woman stood, and it was Emily. Miranda stifled a gasp as Emily curled her arms around Taverham’s broad shoulders. They kissed urgently and then Taverham swept her up into his arms and carried her away into the darkness.

  “Well,” Miranda’s father said as he studied Miranda in disappointment. “He’s taken a mistress a bit faster than I was led to believe he would, but there you have it. Can’t help where a man’s passion leads him if he doesn’t find it with his wife.”

  He turned away and left Miranda standing in shock among near strangers. Her father had expected this betrayal?

  Miranda certainly had not. She brushed away the tears that slipped over her cheeks, hoping for one last glimpse that proved her husband had not just run off with Emily on their wedding night.

  The hope that had filled her since Taverham had proposed began to burn, the trust and love she’d felt for him curling into ash within her heart.

  They were only just husband and wife!

  How dare he make such a fool of her.

  Lord Applebee moved to stand before her. “Surely you suspected?”

  Miranda shook her head, darting a glance at those standing around her. She had only been married for her money, and the heir she would carry, and everyone knew it. She covered her face, too humiliated to let anyone see how deep his betrayal went, hiding the depth of her hurt.

  What of the babe she carried? Taverham would never listen to her opinions on how children would be raised when he clearly cared so little for her.

  “Ah,” Watts said as he patted her shoulder awkwardly. “We should have prepared you better. He’s never going to give her up, I’m afraid. Couldn’t marry her in the first place because she’d not the funds to repair Twilit Hill, and now he has won you…”

  Miranda glanced swiftly at Lord Louth and saw her own astonishment reflected in his face. He hadn’t known either. At least here was one man who had never deceived her.

  When their eyes met, his expression was one of fury on her behalf. “I’ll call him out.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Miranda caught his clenched fist. She couldn’t allow him to risk his life or ruin his standing in society just for her. She wasn’t worth it. “You do not have the right to stand up for me, and I won’t risk seeing you hurt.”

  The young man glanced away, and she winced as his jaw firmed into a belligerent line. Maybe Louth had developed feelings for her, but Miranda did not care for him that way. She’d loved Taverham and only him until this moment, and she’d been utterly wrong that she’d had a hope of winning his love in return.

  She grew aware of a sharp pain in her chest and she backed away from Taverham’s guardians and Lord Louth.

  She had to get away. Miranda might have been beguiled into ruin, into a marriage she couldn’t escape, but she would not expose her innocent child to such a father. She wouldn’t stay at Twilit Hill.

  Applebee watched her with a keen eye. “Now, Miranda. Don’t do anything rash that you’ll regret tomorrow.”

  “What is there to regret?” Fighting back tears, she managed to choke out, “Do excuse me. There is
somewhere else I need to be.”

  Miranda fled before her heart smashed to pieces as her world had surely already done tonight.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Season, June 1814

  When a man settles on a new course for his life, it’s necessary to relinquish the old and learn from his mistakes. When a marquess, disappointed, requires a replacement bride, it becomes absolutely certain that his next choice will live up to his expectations. Kit Reed, Marquess of Taverham, might not understand why his first wife had disappeared without so much as leaving a note, but that departure hadn’t been anything to do with his behavior.

  He focused on the stage of the Theatre Royal, but his mind was distracted by what he needed to do tomorrow. He had to convince those who mattered that his marriage should be set aside and soon.

  He had last seen The Beggar’s Opera with Miranda, his first and fleeting bride, a few months before their marriage. He thought it fitting to see it one last time before he took the first steps on the path to have her declared legally dead after a ten-year inexplicable absence.

  He drew in a deep breath. There was no possibility she was coming back. He’d searched and hoped for so long after he could have had her declared legally dead that his friends were looking upon him with pity. He was done with the past.

  He might not have loved Miranda, but she was his wife and he owed her for the dowry she’d brought to him through their marriage. A fortune that had saved him and their home from the tumbledown ruin it had been.

  She should have stayed to see the good their marriage had brought to those connected to the estate. Because of her, every situation had improved greatly over the years.

  His gaze flickered across the theatre briefly to where his married friends sat in their own box. Lovers surely, their hands linked, their eyes meeting and soft smiles twisting their lips. He looked down at his clenched fist and forced himself to relax. Miranda would have loved to see the performance again. There was nothing Miranda had liked better than theatricals, even badly performed ones that made her laugh uproariously and earned her so many disapproving looks. Miranda had been so different in her manner than anyone he knew that he could only conclude he’d been so blinded by her zest for life that he’d proposed before he’d thought the matter through properly. He knew better now.

  He turned to Lady Brighthurst to whisper, “How goes plans for this year’s hunt?”

  A longtime friend and confidant, the recently widowed Emily knew only a portion of his reasons for attending this play. Emily wasn’t as enthusiastic about the opera as Miranda had been, but since she’d come up to town for the season to discuss their arrangement and had no other engagements tonight, she’d humored him by accepting an invitation so he wouldn’t have to sit alone.

  “It is well in hand, although”—she eased closer—“we have a great many more acceptances than usual this year. I cannot account for the increase in numbers.”

  Kit smiled, noticing a few familiar faces watching them closely rather than the performance on stage. When he frowned, they quickly turned their attention elsewhere. To Emily he said, “They come this year for the pleasure of your company and because of your renown for designing the most elaborate feasts. Acton’s warm and gracious hospitality has always drawn the most avid hunters north, but you are the icing on the cake.”

  Her brow creased into deeper concern. “I fear the number of guests this time around may be even too great for us to host.”

  Kit patted her hand soothingly. “Nonsense, the more the merrier is Acton’s motto, and I’m sure with the continued help of staff and funds from Twilit Hill the event will be a merry one. Acton would sulk if I offered my estate as an alternative location for the hunt.”

  “Acton loves you as a brother,” Emily continued with considerable feeling. “He would give way should you ask and particularly if doing so made me happy, too.”

  Kit shook his head. “But I will not ask. I will continue to support the event in my own quiet way. It’s worked this way since I inherited the title and there’s no need to change anything about our arrangement in the foreseeable future.”

  Emily laughed softly. “If only you let others see your generous heart more often, they would know how truly worthy a gentleman and dear friend you are.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured while thinking he’d been a failure as a husband. Miranda had not thought him worthy in the end.

  “I believe you are seated in my place.”

  Kit closed his eyes and willed the voice of his wife to leave him in peace. Miranda’s place at his side had been empty for so long. He had at last reconciled to never seeing her or hearing her voice again. It’s too late now.

  Emily jostled against his sleeve. “I don’t agree.”

  Had he spoken out loud? He’d been a poor escort so far, burdened by a heavy heart in the face of his decision. “Forgive me, my dear,” he murmured. “My mind wandered for a moment and I spoke out of turn.”

  Emily turned fully to look behind him. “Madam, you are simply in the wrong box.”

  Oh. There was always someone blundering into a box in search of friends and vacant seats. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d leave Emily to shoo them away.

  Emily had been a great comfort to him. She alone out of all his friends had counseled patience when taking his next step to secure a wife and heir, especially since his first attempt had been thwarted by Miranda’s sudden and shocking disappearance. She’d understood and accepted his hesitation. He could have taken steps to have Miranda declared dead three years ago. No one had heard news of her, but with no body found there still seemed a chance she lived, so he’d continued to delay. The problem now was that Kit was having trouble letting her memory go. She had made a lasting impression on him, despite their short time together.

  Married a day. Not even the wedding night spent together.

  It was the two dozen nights spent in her bed before the wedding that made Miranda impossible to forget.

  “Unfortunately not.” A feminine sigh sounded behind him, one edged with sadness and regret. “I’ll allow you to lay claim to the chair in Taverham’s box for the night, but the man you cling to so firmly is certainly taken.”

  The hair on the back of Kit’s neck prickled with awareness, but he dared not turn around. It was only a waking dream of Miranda. He had chased after shadows for a very long time. He was done with hoping that she would be found or return to him of her own accord.

  Emily’s fingers tightened over his sleeve in a startlingly strong grip. She gasped suddenly. “Why have you returned to haunt us?”

  “Haunt you?” the voice taunted. “I’m not a shade of times past. I merely intend to make sure you understand that he cannot offer for you, even if he wished to.”

  Kit’s heart raced. He did recognize that voice, even after so long apart. Miranda’s voice had never failed to send shivers down his spine with just a few words.

  The comedic actress on stage faltered and fell silent, her gaze turning to his box. She lifted one arm to point and then used the other to cover her mouth as if she were stunned. With the performance so suddenly halted, the audience followed the actress’s direction to stare at his box too. By his estimation, several thousand sets of eyes turned to discover the source of her distress. It was not a pleasant feeling by any stretch of the imagination to be the focus of such widespread scrutiny.

  Lady Brighthurst stroked his arm. “I’m not in receipt of an offer of marriage, but I can assure you I am wanted here tonight.”

  “Tonight perhaps, but come morning the whole of London shall know your efforts to win yourself a marquess will amount to exactly nothing,” Miranda’s voice said mockingly. “Enjoy the theater, my dear. I am sorry the dowager marchioness has led your hopes on a fool’s errand. Everyone is usually so blunt about the practicalities of marriage to Taverham. I remember his guardians left me with no illusions of marital felicity thanks to your existence.”

  Unable to remain seated, Kit stood an
d spun around. His breath ceased in his lungs and he took an involuntary step forward when he saw the woman standing behind him. Miranda! This could not be real. Not now. How could his wife come back to him when he’d just made the decision to bury her memory?

  Even though shadows cloaked her features, he recognized her. “Miranda?”

  The lady had the audacity to dip him a low curtsy and flutter her fan as if she were overcome. A curtsy of all things! She stepped farther into the light and the crowd in the theater gasped loudly, the theatergoers beginning to mutter to each other.

  The last time he’d seen Miranda, she’d just spoken her vows after a long night of making love to him. That had been ten years ago. Since then, little had changed of her looks except she had become even more beautiful. She was still as elegant as his memory remembered, still as desirable as his fantasies supplied. His eyes lowered slightly from her startlingly direct gaze, skimming along her flawless skin and dipping into the cleavage her scandalously low-cut gown revealed.

  He still wanted everything he saw.

  “Darling,” she replied in a clear, strong voice that must have carried far in the unusually hushed theatre as she rose. Her gaze raked him from the top of his head to the tips of his boots with a bold, proprietary eye. “You’re looking well. The new fashions agree with you. You look very fine in blue, but I don’t suppose I’m the first to flatter you with that fact tonight, am I? Your good friend there was just complimenting you on your boundless generosity.”

  He stared at the woman he’d married a decade before. Same dark hair curling around her ears and nape, same almond-shaped gray eyes that he could lose himself in. Her cheeks were flushed with hot color and her breath was quick, forcing her breasts to rise and fall seductively. However, her smile wasn’t the one he remembered from before their marriage, though that might stem from finding him attending the theatre with a pretty widow on his arm and secret plans in his mind to marry again.