Terri Brisbin (9 page)

With a nod, Parker seemed to accept this news. Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned again. “So what are your plans for the duchess? Where will you look for a house for her?”

“I thought over near the edge of Mayfair. A few properties have become available there. None so large that it would be unmanageable for her.”

“I do not think the duchess will want to live there, Windmere. It is too much in the city. I think she’d prefer something out in the country. Near Allendale, perhaps?”

“I think I would know better than you what my wife would like, Parker. You overstep yourself in this.”

“Did you pick out the house for Caro alone?”

Adrian grunted at the question. Parker knew that Caro had accompanied him to look at several places before choosing one. But that was his mistress. Personal involvement was part and parcel of the relationship. Miranda was his wife…

It did not make sense when thought of in that manner.

Instead of acquiescing now that he’d made his point, as any gentleman would, Parker challenged him again. “What is her favorite color?”

Adrian could not answer. He did not know.

“How old was she when she learned to fish?”

He shrugged. He did not know.

“What is the thing she did here in London that she says was the most fun she ever had?”

Damn him! How had Parker learned these things?

“Talk to her, Adrian.”

“It was talking that got me into trouble with her,” he grumbled.

That was not precisely how it had happened.

He’d been so overwhelmed by her knowledge of Caro that he’d acted in anger. He was not ready then to reveal the truth to her, so he’d struck out with his words. Then, realizing that he must be the one to make the first step, he nodded. “I will.”

Parker rapped hard on the roof of the carriage. “To Warfield Place!” he called out loudly to the driver and groomsmen.

The carriage rounded a corner and headed in a different direction now. In a few minutes, Adrian would be
home and he would begin his campaign to get to know his wife in order to set up a new life for her.

He climbed out when the groom opened the door, and stepped down onto the walk. “Take Lord Parker wherever he wants to go.”

“Aye, Your Grace.” The groom nodded as he closed the door.

“My thanks, Parker, for your insight into this,” Adrian said as his friend looked out the window at him.

Adrian had turned to go in when Parker called out to him. “Red. Four. Skating during the Frost Fair.”

The carriage rolled off and Adrian reached the door as he realized what Parker had meant.

Miranda’s favorite color was red.

She’d learned to fish when she was four years of age.

Skating at the Frost Fair a few years before had been the most fun she’d had in London.

It was a start. For the first time since he’d learned of his fate, Adrian felt as though he had a purpose to fill these next months. First, of course, was to try to beget an heir, which would certainly make things inordinately better for everyone involved. The second was to make arrangements and get Miranda’s new life set up in time.

He found himself in front of the duchess’s doorway before he even knew where he was heading. Indisposed, she’d said at the ball. He thought not.

M
iranda turned over and shoved her pillow aside. The night was dragging on and she despaired of ever having a restful sleep again. Every time she allowed herself to fall asleep, she would see him or hear him or, even worse, she would feel his hands on her in her dreams. Finally, she decided that a glass of brandy might help settle her nerves.

Pushing back the covers, she reached for the dressing gown and slipped it on. About to slide her feet into the slippers next to the bed, she changed her mind and pushed them aside. Rather than ring for brandy, Miranda chose to go to the duke’s study where he kept his best stock. Maybe the walk would help her relax, as well. She could always pick out another book to read while she was near the library. Reaching the door, she opened it quietly and stepped into the corridor.

Adrian stood a few feet away, staring at her. She could think of nothing to say, so she looked at him.

“I hope I did not disturb you? I did not think I made any noise, but I must have if I awakened you.”

“I was not asleep, Windmere.” What should she do now? Back away into her room and close the door in his face? Stay and chat? She shook her head at that choice.

“Where are you going, then? Have you need of anything? Should I call someone to assist you?”

He seemed nervous, stringing question after question without giving her an opportunity to answer any of them. He was still dressed in his formal clothes from the ball this evening, but his hair was tousled as though he’d been out in the wind. His eyes glittered in the light of the candles in the sconce on the wall beside her door.

“I was going down to get a glass of brandy.” She stopped herself from inviting him along, for she was not certain she really wanted him there.

“Really? I would love a brandy. May I join you? Or would you like to join me in my chambers for it?” He held his arm out to her and she had to accept. Then he shook his head and stepped away. “I suspect that I am the last person you would like to share a brandy with, Miranda, and I quite understand your hesitation.” He stepped back and bowed to her. “If there is nothing else that you need, I will leave you.”

He was like a storm again. She could see he was thinking of other things as he spoke, as though there were several things he wanted to say at once. She reached out and touched his sleeve. Maybe they both needed a drink?

“I would be pleased if you would join me for a brandy, Windmere.” The words came out before she’d made up her mind to speak.

“Very well, then. Shall we go down to the study or my chambers?” he asked, nodding in each direction.

“The study would be my choice,” she answered. “That was my original destination.”

Now she placed her hand in his and walked by his side down the stairs. Although several servants approached to inquire if they needed assistance, Adrian waved them off. They entered the study and he lit several candles around the room. Miranda took a seat in one of the high-backed chairs and covered her legs with her dressing gown.

He went to the cabinet, opened it with his key and took out the decanter of brandy he kept there. As she watched, he took snifters down from the shelf next to the cabinet and filled them with the aromatic liquor. Without replacing the bottle, he brought one of the glasses to her and then sat in the chair behind the desk.

A few minutes passed as each sipped their brandy in the quiet of the night. Although she had nothing to speak of with him, she could feel that he was building to some type of conversation. Soon, he rose and looked out the window.

“I would speak quite candidly to you, Miranda, if you would allow it.” His voice was soft and his words a request, not a command.

“Of course, Windmere.” She sipped again, trying to fortify herself for whatever was coming her way.

“Your words to me about Caro…Mrs. Robinson…surprised me. I had never planned to insult you about what had happened between us that day and the night before. Indeed, I was quite overwhelmed by it.”

Miranda felt heat creep up into her face and she rubbed at her cheeks. Whether it was caused by the brandy or his words, she knew not. She was only thankful that the light in the study was somewhat dim.

“You asked me if the change in my relationship with…her was the cause for h-how we….” He tripped over his words and then drank deeply from his glass, refilling it before he tried again.

He seemed to be having some difficulty coming up with words appropriate for a discussion between a man and his wife, and, as she knew, this was not really a topic they should be discussing.

“I just wanted you to know that what happened between us was not me seeking to satisfy my baser needs on you. I cannot explain the how or why of my trip to Windmere Park, but I found that your presence was an enticing distraction from my purpose there. And you seemed to show up when I least wanted or expected you.”

“So, you did not want me there?”

“No, I did not. I said so to you when you asked about coming with me. But once you arrived, I found that I liked having you there. I saw you in ways I had not before and, well, the change was an arousing one.”

Arousing? Even the very word conjured feelings within her. She shook her head. “You are confusing me,
Windmere. There seems to be something missing from your explanation.”

He drank again before speaking. There was a long pause as though he could not figure out what to say, then he dragged another chair closer to hers, and sat in it. Fearing what she would hear, she took a mouthful of the brandy and let it slide down her throat and warm her stomach.

“Miranda, about three weeks ago I received some disturbing news. As a result of that news, I needed to handle certain business arrangements in a timely manner, and so I went off to Windmere Park to meet with my steward and my solicitor.” He stopped and looked at her, gazing intently into her eyes.

“You told me not to accompany you. Were you planning on bringing Mrs. Robinson there?”

Did a man take his mistress to his ducal seat? Was that inappropriate or indecent? The dowager had not discussed that situation in the past and had issued no pronouncements on how the practice would be handled. However, Miranda suspected she knew the woman’s opinion of such a scandalous event. And she knew the dowager’s opinion of her even asking Windmere the question.

’Twas simply not done.

“I sent Mrs. Robinson my regards and ended our involvement before I left London.” Which confirmed Sophie’s note.

“I see,” Miranda murmured, not sure that she did, but wanting to say something at his extraordinary revela
tion. She could not remember such a candid conversation with her husband ever. And there was a part of her, the one she tried to push down, that was quite pleased with the news of the end of the long-term affair between her husband and that woman. “And may I ask what this disturbing news was?”

“Let me just say that it has been handled and is not your concern.”

“None of this is my concern, is it, Windmere? I should be ignorant of your business dealings, your personal relationships, all of it. So why do you speak of it now?” So bothered by all he had shared and yet hadn’t, she walked to the cabinet and refilled her own glass. “I thought our life had fallen back into its regular pattern since we returned from the Park. Why bother speaking to me about any of this?” She drank down the contents of her glass and poured more.

“I think that you sensed something was different and that you reacted to those changes. Whatever the alteration was between us, I believe it caused me to take certain liberties with you that I would not otherwise have taken.”

“Are you apologizing again?” Miranda walked over to him and shook her head. “Have we been separate for so long that you do not remember our time together, Adrian? Certainly, your approach during that night and morning was more ardent than your usual habit, but is that what you are apologizing for?”

“Miranda, a lady, a duchess, should not be exposed to that type of behavior.”

She could feel the scream trying to get out from deep inside her. It was filled with anger and terrible words, and she knew she could not let it free. Her misbehaviors had been pointed out to her and she knew he was not offering her a different way of things between them. He was apologizing for making it different those two times.

“I see,” she admitted. “So if those times were the aberrations, then you wish to return to our normal schedule?”

“The priority of this marriage remains producing an heir, Miranda, as it always has been.”

The words, although she’d been raised and groomed to understand and accept them, stung her. Even though she knew the real purpose of noble marriages was about dynastic succession. Nodding, she swallowed half the brandy in her glass in one mouthful.

“It is as much for your protection as the family and ducal future. I know that sounds harsh, but it is true.” He stopped then and drank as though he’d said too much.

Her protection? What did that mean? Her head began swimming from too much brandy in too little time, and she could not focus her thoughts. Rubbing her eyes, she shook her head.

“It is my fault, Windmere. I am not the appropriate wife for a man of your status. I know that. I have known it for some time. You see, for all your mother’s strictures and rules and demands for appropriate behavior, she saw it at once, but it was too late to change it. And, of course, my failure to produce the necessary heir efficiently does nothing to raise my esteem in her eyes.”

“Miranda? I think you’ve had too much brandy….” He tried to take the glass from her, but she moved her hand so he could not. Then she drank the rest down.

“If you are being so candid and speaking of such personal things, I can only offer you the same honesty.” She brushed her hair back from her face and leaned closer. “Then we must never speak of it again, for such things should never be shared between husband and wife,” she said, placing her finger over his lips. “Wait,” she said, stumbling over to the decanter, pouring another serving in her glass and turning back to him. “I do not find it as easy as you to be so blunt….”

Miranda knew she was getting drunk, but she simply could not stop herself. It was probably because she was overtired and had had little to eat that day. It was probably also due to the warm, fuzzy feeling it gave her as she tried to face the harsh truth between her husband and herself.

“Miranda! Here now, let me take that.” Adrian was suddenly at her side, reaching again for her glass. “I think you’ve had quite enough.” How had he moved that quickly? She blinked and the snifter was gone from her grasp and he was back in his seat.

She walked to her chair and tried to sit in it, but it kept moving. Finally, Adrian took pity on her and pulled her down to it. Well, it was time to be honest with him. Of course, this would not bother him as the information about his mistress had bothered her. He might even be pleased about most of it, for surely it would give him
what he wanted most—a decorous wife, who behaved appropriately and at the same time did her best to secure an heir to his dukedom.

“Adrian, I can put up with all of this, most of this, most all of this,” she said, waving her hand to make her point. She tried to say the words in her head, but they would not come out the way she wanted.

“I am willing to be your less-than-acceptable wife, one of lower birth who you got stuck with by marrying before you knew about your title.” His face turned white but she continued. “I am willing to live in this marriage with nothing more from you than your polite regard and the living you provide to me.” She paused, because now he was standing in front of her and she needed to crane her neck to see him. “I am even willing to let go of my dreams of having a husband who loves me and wants me, as my father did my mother.”

She stood up now and pressed her finger into his chest. “But I will not lie in my bed while you…you try to secure your heir, and think of my duty, as your mother says I should. I will not lie beneath you and pretend that I am happy. I will not lie still like the cold fish your mother is and act as though I do not want more.”

Oh, sweet Jesus! Had she really just said that to him? She clapped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late. Miranda leaned back to see the expression in his eyes, but fell back against the chair instead with her dressing gown tangling around her legs. He wrapped his hands around her arms and pulled her to her feet.

“What do you mean, Miranda? You do not mind the liberties I took? You would welcome them?”

She held her hands tightly over her mouth. She could not admit to more embarrassing truths. She could not….

He lifted her chin and she thought she saw mirth glittering in his hazel-colored eyes. How could a woman not enjoy being naked with a man like this? How could all the wonderful feelings that he could cause with his mouth and his hands and his…body not be something to anticipate? How could she ever lie unmoving again in his embrace as he filled her and made her scream?

Without stopping to wonder if she should or not, Miranda reached up and slid her fingers through his hair, smoothing it into the style he usually wore. Its silky texture tickled her fingers and she wondered what it would feel like on her skin. Pulling his head down, she kissed him, tasting the brandy on his tongue and letting him taste her. Lucky for her, he still held on to her because now, when she opened her eyes, the room spun around. Out of breath, she nodded to him in answer to the question that still circled inside her brain.

“I would welcome them, Adrian. I would.”

He kissed her this time and she grabbed the lapels of his evening coat to keep her balance. Well, at least she tried to. Her head seemed to move in one direction, her eyes could not focus, her legs began to tremble and her stomach to spin. Leaning back from Adrian, she shook her head.

“But this is not a good time.”

Before she could warn him away, it happened. The Duchess of Windmere cast up her accounts, on the duke, proving that too much of even a very good brandy was not a good thing.