Terri Brisbin (16 page)

“Windmere, I wish to speak to you, and it will not wait any longer,” she said, striding toward him. “We need to clear the air between us and I want an explana
tion from you.” She reached his side. “And I will not be put off again about this matter.”

“Miranda,” he said, obviously surprised by her appearance there and her manner. She followed his glance to the chair that faced away from the door, and realized he’d been speaking to someone.

“Your Grace,” the woman said as she rose and curtsied.

“Mrs. Gresham, I did not know you were here.” She nodded at the woman from the village at Windmere Park. “When did you arrive?” Adrian guided her to a seat as she tried to recover from being insufferably rude.

“Your Grace, I can wait outside if you must speak,” Mrs. Gresham offered.

“No, Mrs. Gresham. It is I who will come back when you have finished your business with His Grace. I apologize for the intrusion, Windmere.”

Before she could leave, Adrian shook his head. Meeting her gaze, he walked over to the other chair and sat down. “Actually, this might be for the best.”

Now that the moment was at hand, she found that she was the one having difficulty breathing. Her stomach twisted and her head throbbed as she waited for him to speak the truth to her.

“Miranda, I have been seeking Mrs. Gresham’s counsel and care for some months now. You know that she has been providing various preparations to help with my breathing problems and the attacks I am prone to.” He paused and waited for her to give some sign of understanding.

“I know that, Windmere. Since that terrible attack you suffered at your club—”

“No, Miranda. I consulted with her at Windmere Park back in the spring.”

Back in the spring? All paths led back to that time in the spring. She nodded, but said nothing, waiting for more information.

“I went there, to Windmere Park, after meeting with the physicians whom I have been seeing here in the city. Drs. Wilkins, Penworthy and Lloyd are among the best for various respiratory ailments, and I have been seeing one or all of them for some time—years, actually.”

She clenched her hands together, struggling against the urge to scream out any number of questions and hurry him along in his explanation. He must have seen it, for he leaned forward, took her hands in his and entwined their fingers. Though such open affection in front of a visitor was unheard of, he knelt down in front of her and looked at her directly. The bile rose in her stomach. This was not good news. This felt very, very terrible.

“Miranda, the doctors agreed on one thing—my condition has worsened so much that they expect I will not live another year.”

The words crashed around her and she fought against their force and power. It could not be true. He was young. He was healthy. He could not die.

“This is not possible, Adrian. I cannot believe it.”

“I did not wish to, either, but as my symptoms worsened, I could not ignore the truth any longer.”

She looked at their entwined hands and shook her head. “There must be a mistake. Many people suffer with the same condition you have and they do not die from it.” Miranda looked at the older woman, who had such healing abilities. “Mrs. Gresham, please tell His Grace that he is mistaken about this.”

Part of her knew it was futile. But another part wanted to deny that this could happen. Memories of the last several months flashed through Miranda’s mind, scenes of Adrian and his illness. The medication cabinet in his room. The teas and tonics and concoctions that he drank several times each day. The small closet that had been converted for his use when inhaling the fumes of various types of burning leaves. The echoing sounds of his coughing—in the night, in the day.

“What can I tell you, ma’am? I think you know it is true. Asthma worsens with age, but the damage caused by attacks speeds up the condition, as well.”

“Adrian…”

Miranda could feel the tears in her eyes and in her throat, and she blinked against them. She had plenty of time to cry. Right now they need to come up with a way to fight this. She would not lose him now that they had found so much together.

Now that she loved him.

She took in a breath and blew it out, trying not to shake with the upset. Clearing her thoughts, she looked at him and saw his concern for her in his gaze. All this time, he’d been facing death alone.

“I will not let you die, Adrian. Not now.” She hesitated to admit to loving him. With all of this facing him, he did not need that additional burden.

“Miranda, I do not think we have much of a choice over the matter.”

“The Almighty cannot be planning to take you from me so soon. I cannot believe He would be so small-minded as to do such a thing.” Adrian laughed at that comment, but she meant it seriously. “Mrs. Gresham, there must be something we can do to improve his condition and lessen the chances of him…dying. We will do whatever is necessary, will we not, Adrian?”

“Parker said you could be my biggest help in this and I did not listen.” He kissed her hands and then her mouth.

“Lord Parker knows?” It explained much now.

“He has been the best friend, Miranda. Please do not be angry with him over this.”

Adrian needed as much support as possible as they searched for ways to thwart this disease, so she certainly did not begrudge him a friend in his time of need.

“I am glad he has been there for you, Adrian.” She realized that they were not alone and that she’d been calling him by his Christian name. “Forgive me, Windmere.”

“I am certain that you have much to discuss, so I will take my leave of you,” Mrs. Gresham said. “Your Grace, I will be in the kitchen. If you can send your man to me there, I will show him these new medicaments.”

“Very good, Mrs. Gresham. I thank you again for traveling so far at my request,” Adrian replied.

Mrs. Gresham left, and once they were alone, Adrian pulled Miranda into his arms and kissed her. He was still before her, kneeling, when he turned them and she ended up sitting across his lap on the floor. She did not want to let go of him yet, so she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest.

“We have much to talk about, but I would rather not do it here,” he murmured.

“The servants will be discreet, Adrian. Do you not trust them?”

“I would keep this among as few people as possible. The servants are well aware of my illness, but I do not wish them to know the rest. Word of the duke’s impending death would have many consequences, and I would rather control it as long as I am able.”

Consequences she had not even considered yet, the news being so fresh that it did not seem real to her. So many questions formed in her mind and she wanted answers to all of them.

“Where should we go then?” she asked. Shifting on his lap, she tried to regain her feet, without success. He held her waist and lifted her until she could stand.

“A walk in the park would be just the thing.”

Adrian rang for Sherman who called for their carriage. As they drove through the paths around the Serpentine Pool in Hyde Park, he explained the intricacies of his affliction and the treatments he’d endured to
lessen the symptoms and to stave off the apparently inevitable outcome. It was a long time before her tears calmed and Miranda found herself grateful for Adrian’s attempt to spare her from the embarrassment of being witnessed in this highly emotional state.

T
he next month reminded Miranda of a sketch she’d seen once of the famous Seven Hills of Rome. It was a small drawing, with the hills out of proper perspective so they appeared much closer together than they should have. Being in a coach, going at a full gallop up and down those hills, would describe her life once Adrian had delivered the news to her.

So many things became clear to her as she considered the information. He admitted to being influenced by the doctors’ prognosis into adjusting his life, and part of that had been seeing her in a different light. He was candid about his desire for an heir, one that he might not ever know, but who could continue his work. He confessed that his impending death was the catalyst that had changed their relationship.

He would not discuss many of the issues regarding the ducal estates, but she gathered he had a number of
reasons for not wanting his distant cousin to inherit. Uncomfortable with such details, he assured her that, in the event of his death without an heir, all was in order.

The subject of an heir was not openly discussed after that, but now she understood the facts that compelled him to seek medical advice about her delay in conceiving. And though she knew that most all of his reasons for wanting a child centered on the needs of his family and his titles, hers was now based on a simple one—she wanted something of him in the event, the very small chance, that the physicians were correct about his condition.

A son with his smile. And with his eyes, the color of which changed with his mood or the weather, sometimes appearing a pale brown with hints of green, at other times a striking gold with flashes of brown. She decided she would like to have a son who looked back at her with those eyes.

Even though the attacks of coughing came more often and sometimes were terrifying, Miranda and Adrian loved. Well, she whispered words of love to him in her mind as he made her scream with pleasure, but she did not say them aloud. Adrian was attentive and supportive of her when desperation overcame her and she could not hold it in. Some nights they simply held each other and talked until morning. Other nights, and sometimes even in the light of day, he was relentless in his attentions to her.

After the initial shock, and although she was tempted to withdraw to the house and keep to themselves, they
tried to put up a normal facade of appearances and attendances. Miranda continued to act as chaperon for Miss Stevenson, and the dowager’s goddaughter even accompanied them on a short trip to Bath so that Adrian could take the waters there. And although Sophie asked searching questions and constantly looked at her with a worried expression, Miranda honored Adrian’s request not to share the dreadfulness of the situation.

Juliet’s Romeo followed not long after their departure from London, and the foursome actually enjoyed the sights and pleasures that the city of Bath had to offer. It being the low season, there were no crowds to fight to enjoy tea in the Pump Room or a picnic luncheon on the park in front of the Royal Crescent.

When Adrian’s breathing became markedly improved during a foray to Bristol, Miranda agreed that the seashore would be ideal for an extended visit. They returned to London to make arrangements for finishing the summer in Brighton. Although she dreaded facing the influx of the ton there due to the Regent’s frequent presence, Miranda would do anything if it meant a chance for Adrian’s improvement.

Their weeks in Brighton, filled with bathing in the ocean and walking on the promenade and on the beach, came to an end too soon for her tastes. She knew that Adrian had many responsibilities as the Duke of Windmere, but she dreaded returning to the city. Finally, when July turned into August and the end of the Season was in sight, they were back in residence.

Knowing that the autumn would be upon them soon and that the doctors’ prognosis was vague, she felt tension growing within her. Her sleep was troubled by nightmares, her appetite was off and she seemed less and less able to keep her emotions at bay. After weeks of being strong for him, Miranda could feel her control over her feelings slipping away. But if she seemed a bit sensitive or different, she told herself, the nervous tension of her life was certainly the reason.

“Your behavior is becoming obvious, Windmere.” Parker took a drink of port and sat down next to him.

Adrian and Miranda had been back in town for two weeks and he had lost no time in attempting to find her next husband. After discussing some issues of a personal nature with Mrs. Gresham outside his wife’s presence or knowledge, he’d changed his course of therapy, medications and tonics. Although the new regimen might prove to have other benefits, it was not as effective in preventing the attacks as the previous one. Time was running out for him, for them, and he took the risks he needed to succeed.

“Whatever do you mean, Parker? Are they discussing the changes in my health?”

“No, damn you. They are asking if you are offering places in your wife’s bed as well as at her table and in her theater box.”

“Give me the names of those who have uttered such insults!”

“And what will you do? Have a morning appointment with each of them? To what avail?”

“Why are you so angry over this?”

“Because it is the wrong thing to do. I understand the need to see to things like the house and the income, but finding her a husband? Adrian, this will bring her reputation into question and may undermine everything you are trying to do.”

He thought on Will’s words. For months now, he’d felt much as a fox in a hunt did. He could hear the approaching hounds barking, even feel their bite as they nipped at his ankles, while he tried to make preparations for what would come. After years of gathering the power of his position and titles into his hands, this had happened and sent him spinning. Here he had no control, no power, and nothing—not his wealth or his estates or his businesses—could provide him a way to buy out of it.

“Perhaps I have gone a bit far,” he admitted softly. “I worry so about the duchess’s life after this.”

“Adrian, you have friends. The duchess has friends. They will not abandon her, especially not after…well, you know.”

“I would hope not,” he replied.

“Besides, who knows what fate has in store for you? I am still planning to have you stand for me at my wedding.”

“From your mouth to the Almighty’s ears. May he listen to you, since he is not busy listening to me.”

Adrian’s chest tightened and a few coughs bubbled up. The club’s drawing room grew silent, with many of
the occupants watching him out of the corner of their eye. When the spell passed and he breathed again, everyone turned back to their own concerns.

“The coughing seems on the increase again. Are Mrs. Gresham’s tonics no longer effective?”

“We are trying something different.”

“And have you seen the doctors again? Have they any suggestions?”

“I have not seen them in months. Mrs. Gresham’s advice has been more sound.”

“Until now,” Parker added.

“Until now,” he confirmed. Of course, he knew it was not the woman’s fault. Most likely the changes he had dictated to her recommendations were the reason for his recent decline, and they were his choice for the time being.

“I must meet my father at Tatt’s in a bit,” Parker said, finishing his port. “Are you going to give up on this foolhardy venture?”

Adrian nodded. “I think so. You make much sense with your words.”

He had not thought about the possible ramifications to Miranda’s reputation if this was seen as something dishonorable. He had planned to be discreet, both in searching for possible candidates and in making an offer, but the pressure on him had forced his hand somewhat in the timing of it.

“The house is done?”

“Nearly,” he replied.

After much searching, Adrian had located a newer neighborhood on the outskirts of London that was drawing the type of people whom Miranda might be comfortable living around. It was far enough from the frenzy and close enough to the countryside she seemed to favor.

“A few more weeks and it will be ready. Then, at least, she will have a choice when the matter comes to a conclusion.”

“Then will you sit back and enjoy the time you have?” Parker stood and shook his hand. “I still believe it is not over yet.”

Adrian watched his friend walk away, then turn back.

“I almost forgot to tell you. Caro is home from her trip abroad and wants a few minutes of your time. Some news to share, she said.”

“Caro? I have not spoken to her since…”

“Right. She said to tell you she’ll be at the fireworks at Vauxhall tomorrow evening, if it is convenient.”

They had not spoken since he’d broken off with her the night after he’d found out the news about his health. He’d heard she’d left on an extended trip, probably using the money he’d given her as a parting gift. What ever could she want to speak to him about?

Parker went off and Adrian sat for a while considering all the reasons that his former mistress could want to see him. Did she seek to return to his protection? What news could she bear him?

Well, tomorrow was not so far away, and he had no
plans, since Miranda was scheduled to spend the evening at Lady Allendale’s, with Miss Stevenson in tow. He’d not asked, but he knew the time and place to meet Caro. Their usual arrangements—ten in the evening, next to the statue of Aphrodite.

“I cannot believe I let you convince me to do this!” Miranda said, laughing at Sophie as they walked along a path at Vauxhall Gardens. Thirsty after laughing and applauding the last fireworks show planned for the Season, they were on their way now to enjoy some ices at one of the pavilions.

“Sometimes, things done on the fly can be the most fun,” Sophie replied. “Besides, with my husband here, we are more than adequately chaperoned for the protection of Miss Stevenson’s reputation.”

Juliet’s bright eyes and smile told of her excitement at being included in such plans. The young woman, whose appearance and mannerisms were flawlessly polite, turned her head this way and that taking in all the sights. The perfect English beauty, with her ice blue eyes and pale blond hair, never made any misstep as Miranda had in those first days and weeks in society. Even now, Miranda could hear the rebuke that the dowager would offer for such behavior.

The dowager made her disapproval of such a place quite clear, and so Miss Stevenson’s mother never dared let the girl go. Miranda had attended once or twice with Adrian and saw nothing harmful, if one stayed in the
public areas and did not pursue the darkened corners and alcoves scattered along the paths.

When Sophie suggested it, Miranda could see that the young woman simply wanted a chance to find what drew so much attention from the ton. They all agreed that the presence and escort of Lord and Lady Allendale, as well as the Duchess of Windmere, would squelch any gossip.

The night was pleasantly cool, and they walked along, enjoying the sights and the music. Lord Allendale escorted them to a table and ordered refreshments.

Miranda was just settling in her seat when she glanced up and saw a familiar figure. Adrian was here! She would have missed him if she’d turned a moment later.

She watched as he walked around the pavilion where they were seated and headed off. He must have called for her at the Allendales’ and been told they were here. Miranda stood and excused herself to gain his attention.

He was faster than her, and then she saw him step off the path near one of the larger statues of the various Greek gods and goddesses. She’d almost reached the same clearing when his voice rang out.

“Caro!”

Her husband’s former mistress smiled and walked up to him. He opened his arms and took her into his embrace. They looked at each other and then he kissed her. On the mouth.

“Come, let’s walk somewhere more private.”

With that, she watched in horrified silence as Adrian
walked off with that woman. Judging from the warm welcome and the kiss and embrace, they were still on good terms.

Very good terms.

Miranda stood alone, staring off along the darkened path where they had gone, unable to think about the scene she had witnessed. A sound behind her alerted her to someone else’s presence. She turned and found Lord Allendale there. From the expression on his face, he, too, had seen the tête-à-tête.

“Sophie was worried that you were going alone. She asked me to follow you, to escort you.”

All Miranda could do was nod and accept his arm. Stunned, she walked at his side until they reached Sophie and Miss Stevenson. It took her friend less than a minute to realize something was wrong. When pressed, Miranda could think of nothing to say.

“I fear that Her Grace stumbled on the path and may have twisted her ankle,” Lord Allendale announced to his wife. “I suggest that we make our way back to the carriage and take her home.”

Sophie murmured all the correct phrases, but did not believe a word of her husband’s explanation, Miranda knew. She allowed it to continue because there was no choice. Meanwhile Miranda clung to Lord Allendale’s arm for support, not having to pretend, for now that the shock had hit her, she discovered her legs were not holding her up well enough on their own.

Her husband was meeting with his former mistress.

What reason could there be for it, save one? Were they rekindling their involvement? Why now? The thoughts churned in her mind, and each time, all she could see was that kiss and that embrace.

The Allendale coach rolled across the Thames into Mayfair, taking her back to her house.

Her husband, she knew, would not be waiting up for her.

“Caro!” he said, as she approached. He felt genuine affection when he saw her, for they had been both good friends and lovers. Opening his arms, he embraced her and kissed her in welcome. “Come, let’s walk somewhere more private than here.”

He took her by the hand and led her down the path to a secluded bench. Once they were seated, she leaned over and kissed him again. He accepted it, but whatever passion had been between them was gone now. Loving Miranda as he did made it impossible to feel the same toward another woman, especially one in his past.