The Fairy Tale Bride (24 page)

She caught Hero's worried gaze and realized
that some of her turmoil must be showing in her expression. No one
else seemed to have noticed, though; they were all distracted by
each other, the excitement of being in a new and different
environment, and the thought of more clothes than they had ever had
in their lives.

She smiled at her sister, and Hero smiled
back, partially reassured, although Miranda knew she would be on
the receiving end of Hero's questions as soon as they had some
privacy. Thank goodness for her sister's discretion, she reflected
with relief a few moments later when Simon entered the breakfast
room.

"Good morning." His voice was calm and
carrying, the voice of an officer, striving to gain the attention
of his men. The chatter quieted at once, and a soft round of
greetings met him as he helped himself to smoked salmon and
buttered bread and sat down beside Miranda.

He seemed in a better mood this morning, but
who knew when his mood might change for the worse? Worrying about
him made her feel as if she were sitting on pins and needles. It
was fortunate that there was no one else but Hero who might notice
and question her distress. The dowager and her guest had
breakfasted earlier and left for a ride about the estates.

Though she forced herself to smile at him as
if nothing was amiss, she was not certain that her performance was
flawless.

Before normal conversation could resume,
Arthur entered the room. He stopped a moment upon the doorsill.
There was a shocked expression on his face as he took in the very
female, very youthful nature of the other occupants. He had been
away until very late yesterday, in pursuit of an old book he had
heard of in a neighboring town. Miranda could not help smiling at
his expression.

"May I introduce you to my wife's sisters,
Arthur?"

Simon's voice held a hint of amusement.
Miranda glanced at him obliquely, not wanting to catch his eye.
There was no smile on his face, he seemed utterly earnest in his
introductions.

As he took in the names of the five new
faces, Arthur was his usual shy yet charming self. "How very
fortunate I am to be in the company of six such lovely ladies," he
stammered, and then recovered. He smiled at Simon, as if making
contact with the one person in the room he understood. "I had no
idea how very lively a room could be made by so much feminine
company."

Simon's brow rose. "Indeed. We must remedy
that part of your education with a trip to London in the Season,
then." His eyes roamed the room, lighting upon the twins, who were
arguing over a pitcher of cream, and Kate, who had risen from her
seat once more and was twirling about, in an ungraceful attempt at
the waltz.

Juliet had brightened when Arthur had entered
the room, and she tried to engage him in a flirtation. Arthur,
however, as quickly as his plate was full, began a discussion with
Hero about Plato and the works of the classical writers. Juliet
pouted for a moment and then began to practice her charms on
Simon.

He was patient, but with a smile at Miranda,
he reached out to grasp her hand. "How is it to have your family
back?"

"Wonderful." Turning from the spark of
admiration that was in his eyes again, unable to bear the pain of
hoping that her seduction might be a success, Miranda looked at
both her sisters. They had grown up in the few months she had been
away from them. Or had the separation only allowed her to see how
very nearly grown they were?

Hero had a sparkle in her eye as she talked
about long-dead authors with Arthur. The two seemed almost
oblivious to the noisy chaos that had resumed around them.

The sound of a cream pitcher striking a water
glass resounded clearly through the noisy room. Looking at the
twins and Kate, Miranda realized the breakfast room was not the
appropriate place for them. They, at least, had not grown out of
childhood while she was not looking.

She turned to Simon, interrupting Juliet's
flirtation. "I'm sorry for the disorder. I had not realized how
great a disruption they would cause." She smiled. "It never seemed
so obvious at home."

"You had a nursery set up at home," Simon
observed dryly, but she did not sense that he was unduly upset.

Arthur and Hero looked up from their
conversation and laughed together. Arthur teased, "Well it is only
a matter of time, Simon. Soon the nursery will be open again."

Simon's hand tensed on hers, then withdrew.
But if she did not know how the subject distressed him, she would
not have guessed when he laughed along with Arthur. "Perhaps we
might as well put it to good use now? I see what you mean."

The topic resonated with discomfort for her.
Nurseries, babies, making love. She could barely look into his
eyes. She hoped he could not read her mind. As quickly as she
thought of setting up a nursery, the need for a governess fixed one
problem that Miranda had not known how to deal with — the fact that
Katherine was not an adequate lady's maid. She would, however, make
an excellent governess. "Shall I set the nursery up here? For my
sisters?"

"An excellent idea," he concurred, just as
Kate's glass of milk spilled onto the damask tablecloth. The
servants leaped to clean the mess, but not one touched Kate when
she began to wail.

Juliet scolded, "Kate, you clumsy thing, if
you had been sitting still like a true lady, that would not have
happened."

Miranda sighed and rose, feeling the familiar
status of oldest sister falling back onto her shoulders. It was a
sweet pleasure. She took Kate into her arms and lifted her up. The
child was getting too big for such comforts, but Miranda needed the
feel of her sister in her arms.

She glanced at Simon, but could not make
herself smile. She would have to make up the nursery, look at the
toys, at the cradle waiting for a baby that would never come. The
thought made her want to cry, so she gave the command to see to the
freshening of the nursery to Dome, ignoring his disapproval as she
sailed out of the breakfast room.

"Miranda." Simon's voice halted her in the
doorway. She turned reluctantly to look at him. "Shall we hire a
governess?"

She smiled, and answered as coolly as
possible with Kate a squirming weight in her arms. "Katherine will
make a better governess than a lady's maid. Unless you object?" She
raised a brow, daring him.

"As you wish." He added, one hand on the
honey pot and an odd expression that made Miranda suspect the pot
was sticky under his fingers, "There is no reason, is there, why
Betsy might not join your sisters?"

"None that I know of." She tried to remain
impassive, but she could not help a tiny smile. His mother was
right, he was excellent at running things. "I'm opening the nursery
for my sisters. But if Katherine acts as their governess, it would
work very well if Betsy remains there, with them."

"Perhaps then we might begin to have decent
coddled eggs again," he said, turning to his morning papers.

Embarrassment shook her that he knew of the
problems in the kitchen. After all, it was not as if Betsy had been
a bad child. Simply a bit impulsive around the biscuits. Why had
the servants seen fit to tell Simon their problems?

Running the house should be her worry, not
his. One less burden. And she had failed in her duty yet again. Not
wanting Simon to think that Betsy alone was responsible for the
trouble, she said, "Cook threatened to quit yesterday. I don't know
why the woman doesn't like children, but I certainly don't want
Betsy around her any longer."

He looked up from his papers, then glanced
back at his plate of inedible eggs. "No, we certainly don't want
Betsy anywhere near the kitchens. Perhaps we might prevail upon the
modiste to provide her with a dress or two, to convince her to stay
in the nursery."

She wanted to strangle him — or kiss him
insensible. How could he be so concerned about others and so
unconcerned about his own illness?

Belatedly, she realized just what Katherine's
new position entailed — and curtailed. With her attention on four
young ladies, the healer would have little time for brewing teas,
or searching through her dusty notes for remedies for whatever ills
Simon might possess. Had Simon foreseen that when he agreed to her
solution?

Inexorably, the house party moved closer, as
the dowager took every opportunity to remind her. "Will you have a
carved swan or a goose?"

"For what?" Miranda was puzzled. The food had
been selected and preparations begun already.

"Ice sculptures, of course."

"Whichever you feel works best." She gave a
standard answer to almost all these questions that the dowager put
to her. She could not take interest in the upcoming weekend; the
thought of it filled her with dread.

"I do wish you would take more interest, my
dear."

The dowager's irritation showed and Miranda
felt contrite.

"I cannot help but dread this event, as you
well know. But even if I did not, I would be content to allow you
to make all the decisions. Simon himself told me how skilled you
are at such things."

"Did he?" The unexpected compliment from her
son seemed to quiet her objections to Miranda's disinterest. For a
moment. And then she sighed and reached out to pull a cobweb from
the shoulder of Miranda's dress. "I suppose you did not forget to
have a suitable gown made in which you might dance?"

"Of course not." Miranda had endured half a
day of fitting, pinning, and poking, much to her sisters'
amusement. "My gown is quite suitable." She remembered the warm
flare of interest in Simon's eyes as he kept her amused during the
tedious fitting. "Even Simon approved." Not enough to come to her
bed, unfortunately.

"Well enough, then." The dowager seemed
satisfied by that confirmation of Miranda's wardrobe. "And what
jewels will you wear with your new gown?"

Miranda's heart sank. 'Jewels?" She had
nothing at all.

"Yes. I know that you were a young girl for
your first Season, and that your parents were not wealthy. But that
should not matter to the Duchess of Kerstone. Have you asked Simon
about the Watterly jewels? There must be something suitable there."
The dowager's hand had strayed to her neck, her fingers played with
the plain locket that hung there.

"I do not know. I had not thought ... "
Miranda remembered her mother's beautiful swan necklace, the one
she would have pawned if that wretched beast of a thief hadn't
stolen it from her, along with the candlesticks. That necklace
would have been perfect for her new gown, which was a beautiful
scarlet hue. But it was forever lost. She hoped whoever had bought
it appreciated the fine workmanship as much as her mother had.

The dowager nodded briskly. "Well, then, see
to asking Simon about it. We cannot have you starting rumors that
the Watterlys are not well-set. Not with five girls to bring out in
the next ten years."

A light masculine harrumph of laughter made
both women look toward the doorway. The American stood there,
smiling. "Five girls to bring out? I pity the duke."

"He needs no pity, Mr. Watson. He is an
excellent duke." The dowager seemed unnecessarily sharp to
Miranda's ears.

Mr. Watson merely nodded. "Don't mean
anything bad by my words. Indeed, I envy him his family." His gaze
swept over the papers on the dowager's writing desk and flickered
to her face briefly. "I'm sorry to have bothered you ladies. I
thought I'd find a little company for my walk."

Miranda smiled to herself. The man was
obviously enamored of the dowager, although Simon's mother seemed
completely unaware of his feelings. She grasped the excuse to leave
the dowager's company with alacrity. "Indeed, we were just
finishing for the day, Mr. Watson."

With a nod to the stiff-backed dowager, she
added, "I shall ask Simon about the jewels immediately." Not, of
course, that she cared about jewels or ice sculptures. She simply
wanted to see her husband.

She headed toward Simon's study with a
legitimate reason to interrupt him, finally, and visions of ice
sculptures soon became replaced by notions of seduction.

Without so much as a knock, Miranda burst in
on him in his study, startling him so that he would have made a
blot if he had not quickly lifted the pen from the paper. He looked
up at her. "Yes? Is something amiss?"

"No." She stood indecisively in the doorway
for a moment. He was puzzled by the hesitation in her manner, given
her brusque entry.

"Have your sisters broken a Meissen vase?
Driven Cook from the kitchen? Chosen inappropriate gowns?" He could
not imagine what matter might have brought her here. Especially
since she had no cup of medicinal tea or bowl of noxious soup in
her hands.

She came in quietly, closing the door. "Your
mother reminded me that I should consult you about a piece of
jewelry to wear with my new gown." Her apprehension was all too
visible to him. She would not look him full in the face, but
glanced from the fire to him to the settee perched under the
window.

He steepled his hands in front of him.
Jewels.

"What kind of piece did you have in mind?"
And why are you so apprehensive? But that question remained
unvoiced. He did not want her to retreat before he had the answer
to that particular question.

She seemed to have difficulty pulling her
gaze from the settee to meet his. Her cheeks flushed from something
other than her simple answer. "Something plain would do. Pearls,
perhaps." He was intensely curious to know what she was thinking,
but he was too wise to ask.

"Pearls are for young unmarried girls." He
dismissed her request. It would be a pleasure to find the necklace
that would enhance her beauty. "I have in mind something more
elaborate. I will get the family jewels from the safe and allow you
to choose whatever piece strikes your fancy." And even more of a
pleasure, for him, to fasten it around her neck and feel her skin
beneath his fingers. Perhaps he would allow himself to kiss her
nape.