Glimmer of Hope (12 page)

“I didn’t leave you,” he repeated, though he knew perfectly well she couldn’t hear him in her sleep. “I didn’t leave, and
I
didn’t stay away.”

Tension gripped him tighter and tighter. He couldn’t make sense of what had happened between them. The pain she’d put him through had long ago been replaced by frustration and anger.

They’d only just found the smallest thread of connection again. It was too fragile, too new for discussing. He knew himself well enough to realize he’d snap at her or throw accusations at her if the topic came up between them. And yet they couldn’t go on as they were.

He tucked her hand back under the blanket and kissed her gently on the cheek. Somehow, at some point, he’d find the courage to ask at least one of the questions weighing on his mind. He was determined to, for nothing would ever be resolved between them if he didn’t.

For the second time in
two weeks, Miranda woke in her bed without the slightest idea how she’d come to be there. The last thing she remembered was talking with Carter on the settee in his bedchamber. Looking back, Miranda could hardly believe she’d gone there, but his reassurances had assuaged so much of her anxiety that she couldn’t regret what had been a rather impulsive decision.

At some point during the night, she must have returned to her own rooms. More likely than not, she’d fallen asleep and he’d brought her back. She had been so overwhelmingly tired the past few weeks. Carter hadn’t mentioned her weariness or her pallor. Miranda preferred it that way—hoped, in fact, he hadn’t noticed, though she couldn’t imagine how he couldn’t. She wanted to believe that when he looked at her, he saw the vibrant woman he’d married and not the wraith she knew she had become.

As usual, she was the first person down for breakfast that morning—the others would not arrive until well after she’d broken her fast and begun preparations for the day. Before the house party had descended upon Clifton Manor, Miranda had slept as late as her body required. But the Dowager Lady Devereaux had quickly insisted that such laxity would be a disastrous indulgence for any hostess. So Miranda rose with the dawn and began overseeing the day’s events long before she felt ready to.

Miranda seldom had an appetite for breakfast, owing to the fact that her morning meal was inevitably followed by a less-than-heartening interview with her mother-in-law. That morning’s list of complaints of the evening before was longer than usual, no doubt because Miranda had been its planner. Only Carter’s praise of the night before kept the dowager’s evaluation from being completely mortifying.

By the time Miranda reached the morning room, it was hardly morning any longer. Thankfully, the rest of the party was either still engaged in breakfast or out riding, as the morning was unusually mild. Miranda allowed herself a sigh of relief as she crossed to the high windows overlooking the grounds of Clifton Manor and the not-too-distant sea.

“Was she particularly unpleasant this morning?”

“Perhaps a little,” Miranda answered, turning back to face her grandfather. He sat in a high-backed chair near the fireplace, a book open in his hand. Miranda hadn’t seen him there when she’d first entered.

“I cannot for the life of me understand why you continue to endure her presumptuous lectures, Miranda.”

Miranda recognized the bubbling resentment in his tone. He did not like the dowager. He never had.

“She is trying to be helpful.” Though Miranda had begun to doubt that. Few of the dowager’s remarks could be even remotely construed as constructive suggestions.

“She is trying to humiliate you,” Grandfather countered. “This is her way of maintaining control despite the precedence you must naturally be given in this situation.”

“I do not believe she sees it that way.” Miranda crossed to sit in a chair near her grandfather.

“That she is humiliating you?”

“That I should be given precedence.”

“That much I could have told you before she ever arrived at Clifton Manor,” Grandfather retorted. “She has felt that way since the moment she met you.”

“That is not fair.” Miranda attempted to stand up for her mother-in-law. She was, after all, Carter’s mother.

“It is entirely truthful,” Grandfather insisted. “She never approved of Carter’s selecting you as his wife. Neither did her husband. She made every attempt at civility, but her true feelings were not difficult to decipher. They still are not.”

“She has not been unkind.” Miranda knew she wasn’t very convincing.

“She has been everything
but
kind. She belittles you in company. Lectures you in private. She changes menus and entertainments on a whim and then places blame for the resulting chaos on your shoulders.”

Miranda felt her spirits drop at the reminder of the past two weeks. The Dowager Lady Devereaux
had
been difficult.

“I could excuse all of that, my girl, if I thought you were equal to it.”

“Equal—?”

“I do not mean as a hostess,” he quickly corrected. “I believe you to be excellent in that respect. I meant if I thought you could endure the burden being placed on you.”

Miranda looked away. She knew what was coming, and she’d tried so diligently to put it from her mind the past few days.

“I see the impact this visit is having on you, Miranda.” Grandfather leaned forward in his chair to take her hand between his. “You are obviously not sleeping as you should. I do not believe you have had a single afternoon’s nap since that woman arrived. The tension and anxiety I see in your face and in your eyes tells me a great deal of the strain you are carrying with you. If you fall ill, Miranda, the results could be devastating, and you know it.”

“It isn’t so bad as all that.” She attempted to dismiss his worries, though everything he’d said was true.

“I have not seen you take any lily-of-the-valley tea recently. Has she disallowed that as well?”

Miranda didn’t answer. Of course the dowager had put a stop to
that
. As a proper English hostess, she ought to be seen drinking proper English tea.

“And hawthorn berries? You are supposed to have them in one form or another several times during the day. Have you been?” Grandfather quite obviously didn’t expect an answer. “You had been doing so much better, Miranda. Now that woman descends on us and everything is undone!”

“She will not be here long, Grandfather.”

“The servants won’t bring you your tea or berries?” His mouth assumed a grim look of disapproval.

“I believe they fear for their positions,” Miranda admitted. “If she complains to Carter, they could very well be dismissed.”

“Then I shall have a talk with that husband of yours.” Grandfather began pulling himself out of his chair.

“No!” Miranda immediately objected. “You promised not to interfere.”

“Miranda.” Grandfather gave her one of his more pointed looks as he lowered himself back into his chair. “He obviously does not understand the extent of the situation. He needs to understand.”

“Please.” Miranda moved from her chair to kneel in front of him. “Please let things be. Carter doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand, and . . . and I would rather he didn’t. He has only just begun looking at me without the resentment that was there at first. There is even tenderness there. I couldn’t bear it if he began looking at me with pity.”

He’d been pleasant lately, smiling and gentle. She wanted to have those memories to wrap around herself in the days and months ahead. And she wanted them untarnished.

“Tell me honestly, Miranda, with no whitewashing.” Grandfather’s gaze held hers. “How are you?”

She couldn’t lie to him, not when he sounded so worried. “I am growing short of breath a little easier than I ought, and I am frustratingly short on energy.”

“Have you had dizzy spells?” he pressed. “Episodes of lightheadedness?”

“No.” She was grateful for that and could see by his look of relief that he was thankful as well. “And while I haven’t had an enormous appetite of late, I truly suspect that has more to do with nerves over this house party than anything else.”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

“When was the last time we were truly certain about anything regarding my health?” Miranda laid her hand on his arm, letting her love for the sweet man show in her eyes. “Will you worry less if I promise to tell you if things take a decided turn for the worse?”

“I would much rather you not wait
that
long.”

Miranda nodded.

“Will you have your nap this afternoon?” he asked.

“I will try.”

He didn’t look satisfied, but it was all she could offer him. Miranda gave him the best smile she could conjure. “I am charged today with producing a centerpiece for the table tonight, one less countrified. So I had best go raid the conservatory while I can.”

Grandfather’s return smile was halfhearted. He patted her cheek and let her go.

Miranda walked from the room with a heavy heart. She knew the demands of the house party were taking a toll on her, but she regretted far more the impact Grandfather’s worry was having on him. He was not a young man, and he had done so much for her in the past three years. How she wished she had not been such a source of worry to him in his old age.

Not five steps out of the morning room, Miranda came face-to-face with Carter, a boyish grin on his face, his bright green eyes sparkling with excitement. Miranda enjoyed seeing him look that way, so much the way she remembered him.

“Where are you off to, Miranda?” He took her hand without hesitation.

“The conservatory,” she answered, watching him in near awe. “Your mother wishes for a new centerpiece for tonight’s meal.”

“What was wrong with the old one?” His thumb traced a circle on the back of her hand. How she loved the feel of it.

“She thought the table required something more sophisticated.” Miranda could not look away from his face. Seeing him so animated and happy took her back three years in an instant.

“Well, as master of the house, I declare last night’s table decoration quite satisfactory,” he announced to the empty corridor as though he were issuing a royal decree. “Which, I believe, leaves you free, my lady, to join me on a little excursion.”

“Excursion?” Miranda couldn’t help her curiosity.

“A secret, Miranda.” He flashed her a mischievous grin. “One I have planned just for the two of us.”

“Really?” She couldn’t fight down a tingle of excitement. He had planned something specifically to share with her? What could it be? What had brought on the sudden playfulness, the sudden desire to spend time with the wife he’d quite easily dismissed all those years ago?

Carter nodded mysteriously. “Will you come with me?”

Miranda nodded back before she could stop herself then froze when Carter kissed her forehead.

“Wonderful,” he whispered then pulled her excitedly by the hand down the corridor.

Carter’s valet and Hannah met them at the front steps, obviously anticipating their arrival. In a trice, Carter and Miranda were bundled for a walk in the chilly winter air, she once again wearing one of his greatcoats.

“I have discovered you lack a coat warm enough for this weather, Miranda,” Carter said. “We will have to remedy that.”

He pulled her arm through his and escorted her out the front door and down the front steps, walking along the path Miranda always took when visiting the home farm. Either that was their destination, or they were going for a walk.

They were not too far past the house when Carter spoke. “Have you recovered from your dinner last night?”

“Recovered?”

“You seemed a little overset last I saw you,” he said.

Miranda felt the color rush to her cheeks. “I am sorry, Carter. I should not have come into your bedchamber last night. I—”

He stopped her with a small laugh and the tips of his fingers on her lips. He smiled as he removed them. “I was not complaining,” he said emphatically. “Our conversation last night has been, I believe, the highlight of this house party for me so far.”

“Do you mean that?” It was ever so important that he did!

“We used to talk like that all the time.” Carter cupped her jaw, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “I have missed that, Miranda.”

“So have I,” she whispered in reply.

“And until I came here, I had forgotten how much I once enjoyed walking with you.” Carter’s eyes studied her face, moving from her hair to her eyes to her lips.

“Is that what we’re doing, Carter?” Her voice sounded a tad breathless even to her own ears. “Walking?”

“Hmm?” Carter smoothed the hair above Miranda’s ear with his hand as he sighed, probably unaware he’d even responded.

“Your excursion?” Miranda closed her eyes as he traced the ribbon of her bonnet along the length of her jaw with his finger.

She felt him snap back to reality. “Oh, lud, Miranda! My excursion!” He pulled her along by her hand once more. Miranda opened her eyes as they began to move. “We have to hurry.”

“Hurry?” she asked, one hand clasped atop her bonnet to hold it on as the wind picked up.

“Timing is crucial, my dear.” He looked back at her with that playful twinkle in his eyes, and Miranda felt her heart melt at the sight.

Once, it had been like this always; kindness, consideration, gentleness. Carter could be the most thoughtful gentleman when he chose to be. He’d simply chosen it less often toward the end of their time together. She could have endured that if he hadn’t pushed her away, if he hadn’t seen her as an impediment, an embarrassment.

“Is our timing so crucial that we can’t slow down a bit?” Miranda asked. The unaccustomed exertion was robbing her lungs of air. She’d be coughing in a moment if they didn’t slow their pace.

“Forgive me for that,” Carter said. “I suppose I’m a bit anxious.”

“Is this a good sort of anxious?” Miranda asked. “Or of the bad variety?”

“Good.”

Sooner than Miranda would have imagined, they were at the front gate of the home farm. She stood a moment while Carter greeted Mr. Milton. Her heart still pounded a little from the period of unaccustomed speed during their walk. She took deep breaths to quiet the racing in her chest. As soon as they were inside, she fully intended to ask Mrs. Milton if she could sit and rest for a moment.