The Emerald Swan (46 page)

“My love, can you forgive me?” Gareth took Miranda’s hands in a grip so tight she could feel the bones crunching. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to trust me again? I have been such a fool.”

“I love you,” Miranda said simply. “I have always loved you.”

Chip gibbered and swung from the bed canopy.

“Aye, and I have loved you since the first moment I met you. I just didn’t know it.” Gareth stroked her face,
tracing the line of her jaw, running a thumb over her eyelids, over the soft pliancy of her lips. “Will you be my wife, madam?”

“I must bring Robbie,” Miranda said. “I can’t leave Robbie behind. There’s so much we can do for him. Boots are just the beginning.”

“If you wish, we will provide habitation and employment for all your family.” Gareth’s fingers unlaced her bodice, his hands reaching inside to cup her breasts, run the pads of his thumbs over the nipples, feeling them rise hard and small to his caress.

“No, I don’t think they’d wish that,” Miranda said earnestly. “They’re independent. They wouldn’t take charity.”

“No, of course they wouldn’t.” His mouth closed over hers, as he drew her down to the bed. One day he’d get this right. “But
will
you be my wife?”

Miranda moved beneath him, loosening the bunched-up folds of her gown as his hands slid over her thighs, searching for her. “Are you certain you don’t still want me to marry Henry of France, milord?”

Gareth didn’t reply but his hand moved over her, his fingers opening, nipping at the tight little bud of pleasure. Miranda murmured, her hips lifting as the joy began to bloom deep in her core. And then, just as the flower was about to burst open in glory, he took away his hand.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Gareth.”

He smiled and brought his mouth to hers. “Try not to ask silly questions, firefly.”

She laughed softly and the last shards of pain and unhappiness drifted from her in the soft glow of renewal.

Chip took up his usual place on the rail at the foot
of the bed and tucked his head under his arm, whispering to himself as the soft sounds of a deep and affirming pleasure filled the chamber.

Miles entered the taproom and his eye fell immediately on Maude. She appeared to be keeping company with a ragged youth at the bar counter, but her own attire was so disheveled that she seemed perfectly suited to her companion. Her hand was circling a pewter tankard with all the familiarity of one who’d begun drinking what it contained with her wet nurse’s milk.

Gareth’s message, received some hours after the earl had left the Harcourt mansion, had been brief and uninformative. Lord Dufort was to repair to the Red Cockerel in Folkestone and await developments. This, Miles conceded, was an interesting development.

“Maude?”

“Oh, Lord Dufort. Lord Harcourt said you would be arriving soon.” Maude smiled merrily. “May I introduce Luke, he’s a friend of Miranda’s. Would you care for some mead? Or perhaps ale? We seem to be running out of coin, but I expect you have some.”

“Ale,” Miles said, gesturing to the potboy. He nodded to Luke and took the stool beside Maude. “I daresay I can settle your account.” He looked around. “But isn’t your guardian here to do so?”

“Yes, but he’s abovestairs with Miranda.”

“Ah,” Miles said, taking up his tankard. “Ah,” he said again.

“I believe they’re to be wed,” Maude informed him, signaling to the potboy for a refill.

“Ah,” Lord Dufort repeated. “Precisely.”

Maude smiled. “Are you not surprised, sir?”

“Not precisely,” Miles said, taking up his tankard. “But I’d give my immortal soul to know how he’s going to explain to the world the sudden appearance of your double.”

“My twin,” Maude said.

Miles looked at her sharply. Then he let out his breath with a little popping sound. “Ah,” he said. “Precisely.”

Epilogue

“Y
OU KNOW WHAT
you have to do?”

“Brazen it out,” Miranda said.

“Lie,” Maude said.

Gareth accepted the sisters’ responses with a wry smile. “Words to that effect,” he agreed.

“But will it work?” Imogen demanded from the doorway, plying her fan with vigor.

“If it’s brazened out, as Miranda said, I don’t see how it can fail to work, madam.” Her husband bobbed up from behind her. “Let me look at you, my dears.” He came into the chamber and Gareth stepped aside, giving way to the expert.

“Oh, what a stir you will cause,” Miles declared, rubbing his hands with glee as he walked around the sisters. “It was a brilliant conception to dress you so alike and yet so different.”

The idea had been his, but his delight was so unaffected that no one could accuse him of self-congratulation.

“Cor, you don’t ’alf look like a princess, M’randa,” Robbie observed in awe from the window seat where he was perched with Chip. A very different Robbie: a rounder, shinier, merrier Robbie altogether. “Can I come wi’ you?”

“No, you have to stay and look after Chip,” Miranda said. “But I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

Robbie appeared satisfied with this and returned
his attention to the dish of raisins he was sharing with Chip.

“Let us take a look at ourselves, Maude.” Miranda reached for her twin’s hand and stepped up to the mirror. The two stood side by side examining their wavery reflections. Despite the imperfections of the reflection, the effect was stunning. The gowns were of identical design, but Miranda’s was of emerald green velvet stitched with gold thread and encrusted with diamonds, while Maude wore turquoise velvet, silver thread, and sapphires. The neckline of the gowns plunged to the bosom, and rose behind the head in a small jeweled ruff. The only other significant difference lay in their hair. Each wore her hair loose, bound with a fillet, silver in Maude’s case, gold in Miranda’s. No attempt had been made to hide Miranda’s short, glowing bob that curved behind her ears and clung to her neck. Maude’s rippling auburn-tinted locks curled on her shoulders.

“They won’t suspect,” Miranda stated. Then she turned to Gareth, her eyes filled with doubt. “Are you sure they won’t, milord?”

“Why should they?” he said, smiling. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “The missing d’Albard twin has been miraculously restored to her birthright.”

“But if they do suspect,” she persisted. “If the queen should … or Henry should … then you’ll be ruined.”

“And as I’ve already told you more times than I can count, love, it wouldn’t matter.”

Imogen mewed softly, but no words emerged from her tightly compressed lips.

“We should go,” Miles said. “The barge awaits and Henry will be impatient.”

“Aye, I daresay he’s pacing the halls of Greenwich
already,” Gareth agreed with a chuckle. “Come, my wards, let us enter the lion’s den.”

Maude cast Miranda a look that was both nervous and excited before they left the bedchamber. Miranda squeezed her hand.

Chip chittered from Robbie’s lap as they went out, then before the boy could react, he leaped onto the sill and dropped through the window.

“Oh, Chip! Come back!” Robbie leaned out after him but the monkey was already clambering down the ivy and merely raised a scrawny arm in farewell. Robbie, who knew his limitations where Chip was concerned, withdrew his head and began to contemplate what new delights he could explore in this palace. The kitchen was as good a place as any to start, and had proved fruitful already. The cook and one of the housekeepers had taken a fancy to him and they were baking apple tarts this afternoon …

“Don’t forget that you’re not supposed to know the duke is really Henry,” Imogen murmured in a harsh, urgent whisper as they stepped into the barge.

Maude and Miranda merely exchanged a look and Imogen said no more. Something had happened to change the Lady Imogen during the sisters’ absence. No one said anything about it and the earl had dismissed all Miranda’s tentative probing in such fashion that she’d lost interest in the exercise.

As the barge pulled into midstream, a small creature in a red jacket sprang from the bank to land amidships with a gleeful cry. “Oh, Chip!” Miranda exclaimed. “You’re not supposed to come. I told you to stay with
Robbie … no, don’t jump on me, you’ll make me all dirty!”

Chip ignored this and wrapped his arms around her neck, disarranging her ruff. His bright eyes darted around the circle of faces, looking for possible objections to his presence. Gareth sighed and held up a hand to silence Imogen’s embryonic protests.

“He’ll have to stay on the barge at Greenwich, Miranda. Can you convince him of that?”

“I’ll try,” she said a shade doubtfully, disentangling Chip’s arms from her neck. She held him up away from her and he put his head on one side, such a picture of supplication that she burst out laughing, quite unable to scold him. Chip grinned in response and jumped down. Solemnly, he went around the group, holding out his hand to be shaken. But he didn’t attempt to approach Imogen, who had retreated to the rail with an air of resigned disgust.

Henry of Navarre was not waiting in the halls of Greenwich but anxiously pacing the quayside at the palace water steps. He had been staying as a guest of the queen since his betrothed’s illness had coincided with his host’s absence on urgent family business. Now he eagerly awaited the Lady Maude, newly restored to health and once again able to take her place at court.

And he’d been told to expect a surprise.

When the two young women stepped from the barge flying the Harcourt standard, Henry stared, dumbstruck for the first time in a very eventful life. Which one of them was his? Then he saw the serpent bracelet on the wrist of the girl in turquoise. His eyes flew to the earl of Harcourt, who smiled, took Maude by the hand, and drew her forward.

“You see that the Lady Maude is fully restored to
health, sir …oh, and pray allow me to present the reason for my absence—Maude’s twin sister, the Lady Miranda d’Albard.”

Miranda curtsied with a demure smile and Henry, still stupefied, bowed over her hand.

“You must be quite astonished, my lord duke,” Imogen declared, her voice strong, her smile confident. “As are we all. My brother discovered that Elena’s other daughter has been living in a convent since that dreadful night when nuns found her, a poor abandoned babe and—”

“Indeed, Duke, it is an amazing story,” Gareth interrupted smoothly before Imogen could become enmired in detail. “I had news of Miranda’s whereabouts some weeks ago, but since I wasn’t sure how I would find her, it seemed best to investigate the situation before making the details public.”

“Indeed,” Henry said, still quite unable to grasp the reality of this glowing pair of young women who had the identical gleam of mischief in their identical blue eyes. “Her Majesty is unaware of this … this surprise?”

“For the moment,” Gareth said with something approaching a grin. “If you will escort Maude, Duke, I shall escort her sister. The queen is expecting us.”

Maude slipped her hand into Henry’s arm and smiled up at him, her long lashes fluttering. “I have missed you, my lord,” she murmured.

“Not near as much as I have missed you,
ma chère,”
Henry responded, his eyes sparkling with pleasure at her admission. “You’re quite recovered?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, sir,” Maude said blithely. “I’ve never felt better in my life.”

“Curiously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking better,” Henry observed, with a slight frown. “You seem
to have caught the sun … across the bridge of your nose … here.” He lightly brushed the feature in question. “I do believe you have a dusting of freckles there. Now, how did you acquire those on a sickbed?”

“I sat in the window, my lord,” Maude replied demurely. “I found the sun good for my spirits. I trust you don’t find the freckles distasteful?”

“No … no … not in the least,” he said hastily. “Quite delightful … just a little surprising,” he added in an undertone.

Maude smiled.

The party continued up the tiled pathway to the sweep of lawn in front of the palace. The scene was now familiar to Miranda and held none of the terrors of her first appearance at court, but on this occasion there were other worries. Henry appeared to have accepted the earl’s “surprise” but how would others react? The answer came swiftly.

The Rossiter brothers were the first to see them. Brian was rendered mute, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes on stalks, darting between the two identical visions. Kip’s smile was that of a man who has been proved right. He bowed over Miranda’s hand and cast a quick complicit glance at Gareth, who merely returned it with a bland smile of his own.

“Her Majesty will receive the earl of Harcourt.”

Gareth nodded to the chamberlain. “My wards …” He offered an arm to each. Henry relinquished Maude with clear reluctance, and his eyes continued to follow them with frowning speculation.

They progressed through the series of antechambers to the queen’s privy chamber, apparently oblivious of the stares and whispers that accompanied them. But Gareth was aware of the sisters’ tension because he was
so aware of his own. This was the acid test. If the queen accepted the story then no one would ever question it. And for all his protestations, it
did
matter to him. His ambition was as powerful and driving as ever. It had simply taken on another dimension. Miranda.