by Heather Boyd
Martin eased her up from the chair and placed his arm around her back to support her first steps. “Remaining here will gain us nothing more. I am certain Mr. Fenning has told us all he can by the sound of it. He can make his way to Holly Park tomorrow by the stage if he’d prefer. I must get you back to where you belong now.”
“And where do I belong without my son?”
Desolate, Miranda allowed Martin to place her, unresisting, into the carriage and order the driver to take them away, back toward Mivart’s Hotel and the cold comfort of her memories and the few things she’d tucked away in her traveling trunks. That was all she’d had of Christopher for the past two years. It wasn’t enough.
She needed his laugher in her ears and his smiles to light her days.
Once the carriage began to move, the tears began to fall and she couldn’t hold them back. Her son was lost to her. Martin passed her a large handkerchief, then caught up her hand and squeezed it tightly. “You belong with your husband. It’s time to go home.”
“I cannot go without Christopher at my side.”
Martin chafed her hand. “Today’s the first time since your return that you’ve said the boy’s name.”
“Christopher is never far from my thoughts. Saying his name causes me great pain. I miss him dreadfully.” She brushed tears from her eyes and fought for breath to speak. “I don’t think I can forgive myself if he’s lost forever. Who do you think came to Fenning’s door two years ago? Who could want to harm Christopher?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Taverham found him.”
Miranda shook her head immediately. “No. I’m sure he has no idea about Christopher. He wouldn’t want me to come home so badly if he thought he had an heir. He wouldn’t need me at all then.”
Despite the impropriety, Martin put his arm around her and she sobbed even harder. He rocked her gently until she pulled herself together and set herself away from him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite all right. Do you not think that taking your place as Lady Taverham in society might bring the boy to you? It seems clear to Fenning that Christopher left of his own accord.”
Miranda had told Christopher time and again that she would not return to the Taverham estates without him. Now she might have no choice because she couldn’t think of another option at this moment. Christopher was bright. If he read of her return in the newssheets, surely he would try to reach her if he could. “There is hope in what you suggest. I’ll pack tonight.” She shook her head. “Taverham must remain in the dark though about why I’ve returned to live under his roof.”
“Are you sure that is wise? He is better placed to search for him.”
Miranda dabbed at her eyes. “He will never believe Christopher is his if I just say he exists.”
Martin patted his pocket. “I do have these letters as proof too. He’d be a fool to dismiss the claims of his own former guardians when they were the ones who watched over you from the day after you married.”
Miranda bit her lip. The Earls of Applebee, Sorenson, and Watts were the most devious and slippery lords she’d ever been acquainted with. Alternatively kind and ruthless, the trio of crusty bachelors had at first grudgingly conspired with her to help her temporarily escape her marriage and her hurt. By sheltering her in their own homes, places her husband would never wish to visit, they had taken on the role of doting uncles since her own father cared nothing for her distress. But when it became obvious some months later that she carried Taverham’s child, a fact they’d never doubted, they had embraced the roles as substitute family completely. When she’d gone into labor, they had even remained to witness the event despite protests that it wasn’t proper. “Have you seen them?”
“From time to time.” Martin grimaced. “They don’t have the child in their care, I’m sure of that. They would have said something about him to me if they did, brought the boy back to you since you were finally on the mend, or to Taverham himself. They’re meddlers, not monsters.”
Kit would not be pleased his guardians had kept her location and Christopher’s existence a secret all these years either.
She shook her head restlessly. “The letters are meaningless without Christopher standing right there in front of Taverham to speak up and claim his place. But where has he gone? I’ve no doubt Applebee, Sorenson, and Watts would swear it to the king himself that the boy was Taverham’s son and heir, but that means nothing without Christopher. I cannot tell him until our son is found. It’s too risky.”
Martin stretched out his legs. “You play a dangerous game. I don’t think Taverham will forgive you the deception easily.”
“The only thing that has ever mattered is Christopher’s happiness.” She shrugged. “What happens between myself and Taverham matters little.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Silence could be a comfort or pain. Today’s silence proved to be the latter. It was almost eight o’clock and Miranda had still not returned to Twilit House to even berate him for the theft of her few possessions. He poured another whiskey and swallowed it in one gulp. In truth, Kit was beyond disappointed. As the hours progressed, his hope was fading and he’d begun to worry for her well-being once more.
Despite their unresolved separation, he couldn’t seem to stop feeling concern for her. She had not returned to the hotel at midday. She had not even returned by the fashionable hour. No one had laid eyes on her since the night before when they’d left the dining room and gone to his hotel bedchamber. He was the last person to see Miranda before she’d fled from him and desire.
He glanced outside at the darkened skyline and fretted over where she was now, and more importantly who’d collected her from the lane behind the hotel that morning.
“Better you give up than look any more the fool,” Lord Acton advised as he joined Kit at the sideboard and poured himself a refill. “Looks like the lady has vanished again.”
Acton sounded so sure she wouldn’t come back, as he had been all along through the empty years of Kit’s marriage. Kit continued to stubbornly cling to hope. But could he do that for the rest of his life?
“She will come.” She had to. He had all her clothes. Everything she owned. A surprisingly small amount for a marchioness. When his mother traveled, a second carriage had always been required just to transport her clothing. “Supper is not late until nine o’clock.”
“As you say,” Lord Acton said, a look of irritation passing over his face as he glanced about the room, his gaze settling on the ticking clock. “I suppose we must put our lives on hold until her arrival then, as we have done these last dozen years. Care to play cards while we wait?”
“It was only ten. Ten years, ten months, and a handful of days.” Kit knew the number by heart, and even understanding that their estrangement had halted, he was still so anxious he could barely keep still. He wouldn’t rest again until Miranda was here, beneath his roof, sleeping in one of his beds, preferably his own, though he would not force that issue. Perhaps he’d have to go so far as to fetch her from Mivart’s himself. Was she sitting there stubbornly on the front steps as staff tried to shoo her away?
He shook his head to clear that image away. Surely Miranda couldn’t be that mulish, but he had to acknowledge that her mind was very much a mystery to him. “I think not. You’ll only line your pockets with the spoils of my distraction.”
Acton smiled and looked over at his sister. “There was that bonus for me.”
Emily, ever the peacemaker, glared at her brother in disapproval even while she wrung her hands. “Everett, behave yourself. Can you not see Kit is beside himself for his wife’s disobedience? This will be all settled tonight and then we need not think of it again.”
Acton patted her hand. “Let us hope you are right, but can you not imagine a better distraction than watching Taverham lose so completely to me?”
She shot him a warning look. “Bend your mind to swindling funds from some other source; pick someone you dislike rather than a friend. Perhaps Kit would be ki
nd enough to show us the book he offered to explain more of the other day. I find Italy fascinating and cannot wait to travel.”
Kit groaned. “Forgive me. Showing you the book entirely slipped my mind. You are both so keen to travel, but I am afraid our plans for next year must be put off. I’ll get it at once.”
Acton groaned loudly and shook his head.
Emily shot to her feet, eyes wide. “We’re not going now because of her?”
“How can I?”
Emily’s face fell and Kit winced. She of all of them had been most looking forward to their adventure, a delayed grand tour for Kit, but Acton and Emily’s first opportunity to leave England’s shores too. She moved toward him, her face switching from desolation to acceptance quickly. “I’d be happy to accompany you to the library. Will you join us Everett?”
Her brother smiled and arched a brow. “No, I’ll stay here and wait for Kit’s mother so I can tell her the latest development. I trust you two not to misbehave while you’re alone.”
Kit laughed. “No danger of that.”
He waited for Emily to gather up her shawl and precede him from the room. Once in the hall, she wrapped her arm through his and sighed. “The trip would have been just the thing for us. You’ve been very upset of late.”
“Forgive me. Miranda’s return has me at sixes and sevens.” He patted her hand. “We’ll muddle through.”
Once inside the private library, she lifted her face to his. “I apologize for Acton. He is terrible at waiting around on most days, and you know he finds your lack of action concerning your wife unfathomable.”
“Don’t I know it? He’s no patience for waiting for anything, least of all my wife.” Kit chuckled. “I hate even attending the races with him. Barely possible to gather one’s winnings before he’s off to look over the next pretty filly, but it is entirely different when one waits for one’s wife.”
“My brother’s eye does rove quite a bit.” She smiled shyly. “I cannot understand what keeps her from you. If you were my husband, I’d never let you go.”
Kit sighed wearily and released Emily’s arm. “I thought she’d be here long before this. I did take all her clothes and possessions from the hotel.”
“And what did you discover among her belongings?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. A maid packed and unpacked for her. I’ve no idea what Miranda owns beyond the few gowns I saw her wear these past days or what she purchased yesterday.”
“Whyever not?” Her shawl slipped from one shoulder as she shrugged, revealing a low-cut gown that showed a great deal more of her cleavage than she likely intended. “Are you not in the least bit curious about her life? You said she lives very spartanly. A man in your position would be undoubtedly curious about what items of importance travel with her. Any letters she kept could tell you a great deal about her character.”
She smiled shyly and rested against a tabletop, her manner changing to provocative in the blink of an eye. Kit moved away from Emily, disturbed at how uncomfortable he felt in her presence suddenly. They had been alone many times in his life and never once had he been tempted by his widowed friend and neighbor. She couldn’t know what she’d unwittingly done.
And yet she smiled even more widely at his discomfort, and the suspicion that Emily had moved in a deliberate manner to tempt him alarmed him and caused him considerable pain. Was his mother right that Emily had expected he would pursue her once he was free? Was society gossip that they were involved based on Emily’s secret hope for more between them?
Kit dug his finger into his cravat as unaccustomed nervousness filled him, and he eyed the door longingly. “I would never consider pawing through Miranda’s life by going through her possessions. I never cared for my mother’s prying when I was young and will gladly give Miranda that same consideration. She will confide in me in due course.”
Emily frowned and straightened again, drawing closer. “If Miranda does not come, you would be well within your rights to be sure her behavior brings no further shame on the family name.” Emily circled him before she looked about the room as if for listeners. “You could peek and no one would know. Besides, should you decide her character is unsuitable to be your marchioness, you would need some sort of evidence should you wish to petition for divorce. You should marry someone worthy of your regard this time. Someone who adores you and would never be an embarrassment.”
Kit pressed his lips together. Divorce again, and from a source he’d never suspected would consider that an option for him. He’d thought she understood that he wanted Miranda as he’d never wanted another woman in his life. He shook his head. His mother might be entirely correct in that Emily had assumed a closer relationship was possible between them without Miranda in the picture. But he was disinterested in Emily in that way. Miranda lived and he’d never let her get away again.
He met Emily’s gaze firmly, hoping she understood his wishes clearly by what he said next. “If I didn’t attempt to declare Miranda dead before she returned, then I certainly would not trouble myself for the scandal a divorce would bring upon the family now. I am married to Miranda and wish to remain so.”
“I see.” Emily nodded slowly, then looked about the room again. Her shoulders lifted as she sighed. “Where did you say that book was?”
Relieved that the conversation was over, he pointed across the room. “Over there on the lectern. Let me collect it and we can return to your brother to see what mischief he’s gotten himself into.”
As she turned, the shawl around her slipped and fell to the floor. Kit bent to pick it up and hand it back, but she appeared oblivious to the loss and had moved away. He hurried after her, shaking it out. “Your shawl, madam.”
“Oh, thank you, sir,” she said with a smile that made her eyes glow with unmistakable warmth, proving she’d not given up hope. “What would I do without you?”
Kit stepped back quickly. “Perhaps its time to find out. You’ve been a widow long enough, don’t you think? I know of several fine gentlemen who always have a ready smile when they see you at parties.”
She laughed softly. “Do you now? I told you that one love was enough. That’s all I have room for.”
But whom did she love? Kit was almost certain her marriage to Brighthurst hadn’t been a grand passion. Their relationship had been for mutual gain. Kit had never much cared for the man himself but had kept that to himself.
She turned back the cover and paid fierce attention to the new book he’d found in Gilbert and Hamilton’s charming bookshop. The pages had entertained him for hours, and he had considered allowing Emily a chance to borrow it. Given his suspicion that Emily was pining for an offer of marriage from him, he decided to withhold the invitation.
At least for the present until he could persuade her to look elsewhere for romance.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Miranda hated her husband with a renewed passion that eclipsed her previous ill feeling toward him. He’d stolen her possessions from Mivart’s Hotel and brought them here of all places. He had every keepsake of Christopher’s childhood beneath his roof. He’d suspect Christopher’s existence if he looked through her trunks. He would ask questions. If she couldn’t distract him and he learned she’d borne him a son, he would demand to see him immediately.
She stared up bitterly at the façade of Taverham’s London residence. Martin led the way, helping her out of the carriage and uttering soothing words of encouragement and cautioning her not to worry too much. He’d endured without complaint the brunt of her temper and despair that afternoon since the discovery of Christopher’s disappearance and the shock of Taverham’s theft, only muttering an occasional reminder that she needed to calm herself.
“Remember what I said.” Martin drew closer so his words would not carry. “If you feel threatened in any way, you may come to me no matter the hour. I’ll alert my staff to shelter you should I be away from home.”
Miranda gripped Martin’s hand tightly. “I will. Thank you. I
will endure the first night.”
Martin snorted. “Hardly your first night in Taverham’s bed, is it?”
She smacked his chest as she saw the humor lighting his eyes. She had confided in him about sharing a bed with the marquess before marriage, and when Christopher had come along he’d never judged her for being a silly fool. “Mind your manners. That was the past, not the future.”
He shook his head. “My dear, you are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met. Behave and all will be well.”
“Am I not always a proper lady?”
“Always, and I will challenge any man who dares besmirch your character by saying otherwise.” He let her go. “I will send out discreet inquiries tonight and I will call on you tomorrow to strategize our next step. Now go in, smile at your husband, and don’t let him see how upset you are unless you plan to be truthful at last.”
Miranda drew in a deep breath. “He won’t fool me into confiding in him. He’ll never even notice my distress.”
Martin shooed her inside without another word.
Miranda climbed the stairs to Taverham’s house, Peter Landry trailing behind, and before she could even knock the door was flung open. Beyond the butler, Taverham stood waiting. She crossed the threshold and let out a breath, surprised to find herself relieved.
She handed her bonnet and gloves and reticule to the butler. He was familiar to her—Addison, she thought his name was, but couldn’t be sure. “Thank you.”
When she raised her eyes and met Taverham’s, her world tilted just the slightest amount. Last night she’d made him wild for her and retreated before he could claim more intimacies. Tonight? Miranda didn’t think he’d let her escape him twice. She was too tired, too upset, to worry about what he might do next.
