Dangerous Secrets (69 page)

He could almost hear laughter in the creaking
of the wheels of fate as they drew closer. Someone had come looking for Little
Redcape.

¶***¶

Miranda woke to the warmth of Simon′s
breath in her ear.
‶
Wake up, Miss Fenster.″ She thought he would
kiss her again, at last. She did not think she would have the strength to resist
him and strangely, she had no regrets. Instead of his lips, his hand crushed
her mouth in a warning for silence as his lips brushed her ear. A shiver ran
down her spine.
‶
Little
Redcape′s Mam is searching for her, and she apparently has half the
village with her.″

Miranda stilled, and he rose abruptly. By the
light of the single candle he had lit, she could see that he was dressed as
neatly as his wrinkled clothing allowed. Despite the state of his breeches and
shirt, the villagers would know they dealt with no ordinary man.

‶
You must leave, Your Grace, or
we will be compromised.″

He turned toward her, his expression calm, and
there was a hint of a smile on his lips that made her uneasy.
‶
They
are nearly upon us. Hide in the loft while I get rid of them.″

The urgency in his voice, and the sound of
approaching villagers quieted her urge to argue. Snatching up her clothing,
Miranda quickly climbed into the loft. She lay still in the shadows, positioned
by the large gap between the boards that gave clear view to the room below.

Hidden now, she spared a glance for the
sleeping Betsy. Earlier, she had wondered what kind of woman would entertain
strange men in her cottage, leaving a child like Betsy to wander away in her
little patched dress that offered no shelter from the night chill. But any
mother who would come searching in the dark and rain must care for her daughter
greatly. The patches — and even the visitor — must be for want of funds, not
want of love.

It was much too easy for Miranda to imagine her
youngest sister Kate like this. She was barely older than Betsy, after all.
Though they still had silver to sell, and there were investments that held hope
for the future, putting bread on the table was difficult at the moment.
Simon′s intervention in Valentine′s elopement was more unfortunate
that she was prepared to let him know.

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?″

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

Chapter 4

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.

Grimthorpe coaxed with false sweetness, his
gaze trained on Simon.
‶
Perhaps I know her — the lovely new Duchess of
Kerstone that we knew nothing about ....″ His glance slid to Betsy, who
was saying nothing further. Giving up on the child, he turned his attention
back to Simon.

‶
How long were you planning to
keep this marvelous news a secret? How interesting the ton will find this,
Kerstone.″

All Simon′s concentration focused on
removing this man from the cottage so that he could be alone with Miranda. Her
naïveté was such that he could not be sure she understood the implication of
their predicament.
‶
The child needs to go home. She is tired.″

As if set in motion by his words, the villagers
quickly nodded respectfully to Simon and filed out of the cottage. Grimthorpe
did not.

The cottage was eerily silent with just the
three them. Poking idly at the basket of food, at the blankets, Grimthorpe
suddenly bent over and plucked up Miranda′s boots.
‶
Care
to tell me whose feet these boots might grace?″

Simon said nothing, his jaw tensed with anger.
For a moment he considered simply confessing all — he was going to marry her,
after all — though his preference was to tear Grimthorpe′s head from his
shoulders.

Miranda lay frozen in the loft, realizing that
she could be discovered at any moment. The thought of the consequences of
discovery for her did not distress her as much as she knew they should — it was
Simon whose reputation she feared tarnishing.

‶
Well, since they′re
certainly not yours, and there is no one about ...″ Grimthorpe pointedly
stared at the loft. With a triumphant glance at Simon′s booted feet, he
tucked Miranda′s boots under his arm.
‶
I expect these were left by
some previous occupant?″

Simon shrugged in response to the other
man′s inquiring glance, and reached out for the boots.

Grimthorpe smiled, bringing them more tightly
into his grasp.
‶
Never
mind, old man. I found them. I shall make it my business to return them
forthwith as soon as I locate the owner.″

Before Simon could react, Grimthorpe was gone.
Even though he left without checking the loft, even though the sound of
Atlas′s hooves was clear as he rode away, Miranda hesitated to move.

Simon said, with — unbelievably — the faintest
of laughter,
‶
Come
down Miss Fenster. He is gone with your boots, I′m afraid. I suppose this
might well teach me not to dare Fate.″ He sighed.
‶
Oddly enough, I am
pleased you will be my Duchess.″ As she scrambled down from the loft,
ready to protest, she thought that he added, faintly,
‶
for as long as I
live.″ Miranda was too disturbed by the beginning of his sentence to
worry about the oddity of the latter half.

***

Walking home barefoot — with one turned ankle –
took quite a while. Dawn had been well broken before she arrived at Anderlin,
soaked to the skin and furious with the sanctimonious Duke of Kerstone. At
least she had retained her dignity by refusing to allow him to sweep her up
into his arms again. She wished she could have persuaded him that she required
no escort on her walk. Instead, she satisfied herself by refusing to speak to
him.

At the edge of the wood, she stopped and made
her position clear one final time.
‶
I must insist you accept that I
will not be your wife.″ She looked up into his rain-slick face and said
quietly,
‶
I
am honored that you think my reputation worth the protection of your name, but
I assure you that I am no Rapunzel trapped in a tower of shame, in need of
rescue.″

‶
You do not understand these
matters, Miss Fenster.″ He moved as if toward Anderlin, and Miranda let
out a cry of sheer panic that stopped him. Impatiently, he explained,
‶
I
must discuss this with your brother.″

‶
My brother? The very man whose
elopement you prevented just two days ago? Do you think he will greet you with
open arms when you tell him you have spent the night with his sister?″
She tried to put scorn and disbelief in her voice, but truthfully, she did not
know if Valentine would even acknowledge the duke′s words — perhaps not
even the duke himself.

Her brother, the last time she′d seen
him, had been dead of heart, dead of soul, and beyond communicating even rage
or heartbreak.

‶
You are so certain your brother
is honorable, yet you doubt that he would do the right thing if he were to know
the circumstances of our evening together?″ He reached out and brought her
to him, surrounding her with his unyielding arms.

‶
Do you love me, then?″
She barely dared believe she had uttered the world, but she could not breathe
in the space between the question and his answer.

He appeared as startled as she, and then
pressed his lips together as he shook his head.

‶
Do you trust me enough to let
me see what you have in that leather pouch?″ Again, she knew she dared
much. He did not love her, though. Could he trust her?

‶
Don′t be foolish,″
he said brusquely.
‶
It is business, not meant for a woman′s
eyes.″ And then, to her surprise, he whispered,
‶
We will suit,
Miranda. I am sure of it. Marry me.″

She bristled.
‶
What does that mean? Suit? Do
you think to order me to do what you wish me to do? Think what you wish me to
think? Share nothing of yourself with me?″

He smiled and nuzzled her ear briefly, then
pulled away to look into her eyes.
‶
Think of it, Miss Fenster –
wed, we could do as we please without cost to your reputation.″

She searched his gaze as her pulse beat in her
temples. Marriage … no. The price was too high.
‶
The thought is tempting,″
she answered him honestly. If only she knew she could be a duchess he might
trust, he might one day come to love. But that was unlikely. Her talents lay in
creating mayhem out of order rather than the reverse.

His arms tightened around her.

She pushed at his chest.
‶
I′m
sorry. I know I would regret it within the year.″

His arms dropped away, leaving her exposed to
the cold dawn. His entire expression shuttered closed, as did his eyes.
‶
Within
six months is more accurate, I fear.″ He gave a small harsh laugh.
‶
You
are right. If we can avoid this, it would be best for both of us.″