Dangerous Secrets (81 page)

‶
Oh.″ Miranda smiled,
intrigued.
‶
I
have never met an American. Send him in, then.″

The man who followed Dome into the parlor
stopped short at the sight of Miranda. He was tall and had a full head of gray
hair. His manner of dress could only be called rustic and appeared to have
suffered from a great deal of travel and little care. She supposed that
Americans did not have valets.

His face called some recognition from deep
within her, but she could not place it. Certainly, she had never met an
American before today. The sight of his lined and sun-chapped skin seemed
romantic to her. Americans were little more than ruffians and barbarians, but
that had its own charm.

He stared in disbelief at her for a long moment
until she became uncomfortably aware of the danger of ruffians and barbarians,
despite the romance of their hard lives.
‶
How may I help you, sir?″

His voice. was rough and his accent
uncultivated when he grated out,
‶
There must be some mistake. I
want the Duchess of Kerstone.″

Feeling like a schoolgirl caught in her
mother′s finery, Miranda protested with absurd formality.
‶
I
am Miranda Watterly, the Duchess of Kerstone.″

He paled. For a moment she thought the big
American barbarian would collapse to her carpet in a dead faint.

She hastened to add,
‶
I am married to the
present duke, Simon Watterly. Perhaps you were expecting his mother, the
dowager duchess?″

His mouth twitched slightly as he regained his
color.
‶
Dowager?
What an extraordinary thought. Don′t expect it appeals to her.″

That comment alone convinced Miranda that he
was indeed an acquaintance of the dowager.
‶
Would you like me to let her
know you are here?″

‶
Please.″ He stood there,
saying no more, a slight frown etching the lines deeper into his face.

She had to wonder if his extraordinary lack of
certainty could be attributed to his being American, or was from some great
emotion.
‶
And
your name, Mr. — ?″

‶
Watson.″ He hesitated.
‶
She
might not remember me. Tell her that I have come to apologize for an injury I
did her in her youth.″

Hesitating a bit more, he added,
‶
Perhaps
I should give her a note, or she might refuse to see me.″

Considering the injury had been done in her
youth, and the lines on the American′s face were deep, Miranda nodded.
‶
That
might be wise.″ She wondered if he had been a handsome young man, before
time and trials had etched his face older than his years. Would the dowager
even recognize him?

She settled the American in the parlor, rang
for tea, and stepped into the hallway to dispatch a servant to carry Mr.
Watson′s note to the dowager, who was taking her daily walk in the
garden.

She hoped seeing the two together would explain
the man′s hesitation. An American. How had the dowager met him? Before
she could spin a romantic tale for them, however, Simon touched her shoulder.

‶
A carriage is
approaching.″ He was smiling at her, and his hand dropped to linger at
her waist.

For a moment she was startled at his intimate
gesture and then the import of his words hit her. Her sisters! All thoughts of
the dowager and her American were pushed away. Her sisters were here. At last
she would see Valentine and know if he had truly given up on Emily.

As they watched the carriage approach up the
drive, Miranda′s eyes sparkled up at Simon like fine sherry. Thinking of
how small and forced her smiles had been of late, he realized just what he had
wrought with his impatient need to possess her. He wanted desperately to lift
her up and bury his face in her neck, where the scent of her was strong and sweet,
and apologize for his unmeant cruelty.

Chapter 16

He had not considered how full her life had
been with family — or how empty of friends his home was. Katherine was somewhat
of a confidante, but she was a servant. And he could not understand how Miranda
tolerated his mother, never mind enjoyed her company.

Having her sisters underfoot would be a relief
to both of them. She would have them to keep her distracted from concentrating
on his false illness, and he would have more than enough chaperones.

‶
Miranda! Your house is even
nicer than Anderlin. I want to live here.″ Kate burst from the carriage
before it had even rolled to a complete stop. He could not help his own smile
as he hurried to catch the irrepressible elf in mid-flight and hand her to her
happy sister.

‶
Kate! You could have injured
yourself.″ Miranda stood by the carriage, Kate clasped against her side
to prevent her from darting into the path of the team as it came to a halt with
a jingle of harnesses. The coachman opened the door formally for the remainder
of her sisters to dismount more sedately, and Simon went to offer his hand.

The courtyard itself seemed electrified by the
presence of the girls. Even the coachman, a thin-faced, normally somber man,
was smiling broadly, albeit a little dazedly. He was not used to the constant
high pitched chatter of excited young persons of the female persuasion. Simon
found himself overwhelmed with tales of the trip and the inns and food where
they had stopped.

He watched Miranda, choked with emotion at her
sisters tumbling from the carriage in bright flounces of skirts and even
brighter smiles. She could not speak. He suspected she was close to breaking
down into outright sobs. Her hands on Kate were tight, as if she might never
let her go — until the little girl broke away to feed a carrot from her pocket
to the lead horse.

Simon allowed his arm to encircle his
wife′s waist as she, with tears in her eyes, embraced Hero. He saw
similar tears in her sister′s eyes and realized how much he had missed by
never knowing his own brother.

The sisters hugged each other tightly.
Miranda′s voice was husky as she said,
‶
It is so good to see you
looking well.″

‶
And you, as well.″ Hero
smiled through her tears, blinking away the moisture until her gaze was focused
on her sister.
‶
I
have missed you. How do you fare as Duchess of Kerstone?″

The question was pointed and Simon hurried to
answer, fearing that Miranda would be too honest.
‶
Your sister is the
most gracious duchess we have ever known. I, for one, cannot think there is one
more qualified for the position. And I would not change one thing about our
last few weeks.″

Miranda, on the verge of speaking, looked up at
him in surprise. Her lips were turned up in a teasing smile as she asked,
‶
Not
one thing?″ But her eyes were serious.

Fortunately, at that moment Juliet bubbled up
to her.
‶
Oh,
Miranda, the duke′s coach is just the thing. We traveled in the lap of
luxury. You would not believe how comfortable the ride was, compared to our old
carriage that Father should have had re-sprung years ago.″

She looked up at Simon with a flirtatious flip
of her lashes that made him want to shout with laughter. But then, her eyes
widened as she realized what she had said and the color left her face,
‶
I
did not mean ... ″

Miranda smiled.
‶
Of course you didn′t,
Juliet. No doubt, if Papa and Mama had survived their carriage accident, Papa
would have seen to the carriage. But that is neither here nor there. Are you
well? How do things fare at Anderlin?″ She looked toward the abandoned
carriage with a little frown line on her brow.

‶
Anderlin does well, as do we
all.″ Hero smiled with a hint of pride and confidence. Simon was
gratified to see it. He had not hurt the family by taking Miranda away, at
least.

Noticing her sister′s contemplation of
the carriage, Juliet′s hazel eyes sparkled as she added,
‶
And
Valentine sends his regrets that he was unable to accompany us, but his
business ventures are doing so well that he must go into London first.″

‶
Oh. I′m glad to hear
he′s doing so well.″ Miranda could not hide her disappointment,
though. Simon knew how much she had looked forward to seeing her brother again.

He pressed his palm firmly against the small of
her back in sympathy, and she glanced at him, clearly aware for the first time
that he was not behaving with his normal reticence. He addressed her sisters.
‶
Your
sister and I have a surprise for you. And your brother will be astonished when
he arrives — he won′t recognize any of you.″

Miranda smiled. With visible effort, she put
aside her worries and addressed her sisters.
‶
Yes, indeed. Are you ready to
be poked, prodded, and pinned until you are veritable fashion plates?″
Halfway through her speech, he heard the excitement and pleasure return to her
voice.

There was a cheerful chorus of assent. She
turned to him with a worried frown,
‶
They do add a bit of
liveliness, don′t they? If you think the uproar will be too much for
you—″

For the hundredth time, Simon damned his
‵
illness′.
‶
Not
at all. The look on your face is worth every bit of inconsequential chatter and
feminine foible. Perhaps they might even chase my mother away.″ He
realized then, that his mother had not shown herself to greet the guests.
‶
Where
is she? Waiting to greet everyone formally like the dowager dragon she
is?″

Miranda flashed him a guilty-innocent smile
that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
‶
I think she has an
unexpected guest of her own.″

‶
A guest?″

‶
An American.″

That was interesting — and called for further
investigation, without Miranda′s involvement.
‶
Well, I′m
glad she′s not here to put a chill on all this warm chatter.″

‶
Perhaps it would be better for
you if she did, though. I could not bear the thought of you becoming ill
because—″

He bent to kiss her, once, quickly, just as
they all began to ascend the stairs.
‶
Don′t worry about me.
I′ll enjoy being a brother for the first time.″ A little flicker of
hope kindled in her startled eyes. And then Kate pulled on her arm, demanding
to be shown her room.

He smiled. Her sisters were here and things
were just a little bit more like they had been before he had come into her life
with his proposal and turned it upside down. He hoped he could relax and enjoy
her, now, in company. Once she had her sisters settled — which would likely
take all day.

The one sour note in his perfect married life —
besides the fact that he couldn′t touch his wife — was his mother. He
wondered if he could convince her to leave? It was worth a try. Especially now
that she had brought a
‵
guest′ into his home.

He headed toward the gardens. He had no doubt
that his mother′s guest was a man. It infuriated him that she would bring
her amoral ways to poison his home. He would not stand for it — especially now
that he was the protector of innocent young women. He would not allow her
corrupting influence to affect Miranda or her sisters.

He saw her then, among her lilacs. There was
indeed a man beside her. A man with white hair. Unusual. He wondered, briefly,
if the man was his father, and then shrugged his shoulders as he headed toward
them. He doubted even his mother knew who his father truly was. Why else would
she refuse to tell him, to give him the one thing he wanted from her?

They stopped talking when they saw him. For a
moment he had the absurd impression that his mother was crying, but when he was
close enough to see, her eyes were dry and her expression was, as usual,
serene.

‶
Good day, Mother. Your garden
looks lovely.″ He glanced curiously at the man beside her. Tall,
craggy-faced, not her usual style in lovers. He would have expected young,
leonine, a spoiled sneer, and a need for ready cash.

‶
Thank you, Simon. Has
Miranda′s family arrived?″

He nodded, still staring at the gentleman who,
as yet, had not been introduced.

With a glance at the dowager, apparently
confirming that she had no intention of introducing him, the man startled Simon
by sticking his hand out and beginning,
‶
I′m —″

She interrupted, even as she raised her hand to
pull on his outstretched arm.
‶
We don′t shake hands here, Mr. Watson.″
Her eyes bored into the American′s and he slowly, reluctantly, relaxed
his arm to his side.

With a sigh, she smiled at him.
‶
I′m
so sorry. I neglected to introduce you to my son. Simon is now the duke. Simon,
this is Mr. Watson. He is from America.″

‶
I had not realized you knew any
Americans, Mother.″

‶
I am not a snob. The colonies
won their independence before I was born. I thought it quite romantic when I
learned of it.″ She drew her mouth down, with a glance at the stranger.
‶
As
I said, I was just a child.″

‶
Your mother and I knew each
other years ago, Your Grace.″

Simon was startled at the correct use of his
title. Most Americans of his acquaintance called him my lord, sir, or — with
belligerence — Mr. Watterly.

To taunt his mother he asked,
‶
How
many years ago, Mr. Watson?″ He did not believe she had ever let this
crude American touch her, so there was no question of his being the lover who
fathered her bastard — no matter how young or how full of romantic idealism she
had been. His mother had high standards when it came to the blood of her lovers;
no stableboys, tradesmen, or Americans for her.

As if he understood the insulting nature of
Simon′s question, Mr. Watson said dryly,
‶
I would say it was a lifetime
ago, your Grace. But how can I when your mother is still as young and beautiful
as the last time I saw her?″

Simon felt a jolt of recognition as he watched
the stranger. The man was infatuated with his mother. Still. After a lifetime
apart. His stomach churned as he discarded all his former impressions. One
glance at his mother′s stricken face confirmed his fears. This man could
be his father, after all.

Pasting a polite smile onto his face, he said
exactly the opposite of what he had intended to say.
‶
I do hope you will
stay with us for a few days. I look forward to getting to know you better, Mr.
Watson.″

His mother′s face was white when he
turned and walked away.

‶
May I really have two riding
habits, Miranda?″ Kate asked as she squirmed restlessly at the table.