Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5) (15 page)

He dipped his head to the side and his lips caressed the sensitive skin of her throat. The tender kiss forced a gasp from her lips. Kit had always kissed her in the strangest places and made her senses fly high from the experience. Once he’d spent half an hour kissing her elbow and claimed the act and watching Miranda attempt to squirm away on the bed had excited him unbearably.

Miranda allowed her hand to slide from his shoulder to his waist. The muscles beneath her fingers flexed as he rubbed against her body. Kit could always make her enjoy every touch and sensation. He’d clearly not forgotten how to excite her best.

Miranda arched her back as he lightly nipped at her throat. She groaned helplessly and slid her hand beneath his coat, pressing his body closer to hers. Burning warmth scorched her fingers and her skin everywhere they touched.

Kit shifted, his hand wriggling between them urgently. Warmth and his firm touch cupped over her quim.

“That’s not a kiss,” she gasped.

His chuckle against the damp skin of her neck gave her gooseflesh all over. “It could be. Eventually.”

He wriggled lower. His breath skimmed her collarbone, continuing the shivers that assailed her. His lips followed, and then he attempted to slip her gown lower, though he was thwarted by the modest design. He pressed a hard kiss to the apple of her shoulder through the material.

Miranda struggled not to feel desire, but with her husband worshiping her body so tenderly it was easy to forget he’d betrayed her. Desire was one thing she’d never doubted he felt for her, but an unequal marriage to him would only cause her pain.

Knowing she had to end this unexpected reminder of their past, Miranda shoved hard against him.

He released her but hovered over her. His expression when their eyes met was stubborn. “I will make you want to be my wife again.”

Miranda scurried out from beneath him, slid farther along the chaise so they didn’t touch any longer. Kit’s chest heaved and the look he sent her brought out new panic. Would he allow her to end it or force his husbandly rights on her?

She hadn’t meant things to go so far, but she definitely didn’t want to be yet another conquest in his life. Miranda shot up from the chaise and backed some distance away from him. “Good evening.”

“No, Miranda, it certainly is not looking to be very good at all. You’ve become a tease.” He drew in a deep breath, then made himself comfortable on the chaise, lounging on one side as he smirked at her. Her eyes slid to his groin helplessly. The fabric of his trousers strained at the seams because he was so aroused. He chuckled softly. “Just so we are clear about what happened, I didn’t force myself on you. I waited for you to come to me, and I’m certain now it will happen again.”

Miranda gaped at him. He was right. He had goaded her to take control of the situation and in doing so retained control himself. She spun for the door, slapped her hand over her own key, and stormed from his room. Beast. Bastard.

“Sweet dreams, Miranda,” he called.

She’d prove to him how weak he was too. She just needed time and Christopher’s presence to bring him to his knees.

“They will be.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kit rolled onto his side and stared at the door of the hotel bedchamber, which he was currently occupying alone. After a restless night, he’d woken early with a feeling of loss so intense he couldn’t breathe. He’d been dreaming of Miranda, her teasing smile as they’d made love had filled his heart with unmistakable warmth, but then she’d been ripped away. Though he’d looked for her in the dream, he’d found no trace, much as he had ten years ago when he’d searched in vain in every ditch and pond on his estate. The similarities between the dream and reality were blurred after last night’s promising encounter.

The one thing he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that he needed to see Miranda. Immediately.

He stumbled from the bed, threw on what clothing he could find, and eased his door open, little caring what he looked like should anyone see him. At this hour, the hotel guests should still be sleeping anyway. Luckily for them, the hallway was deserted and they would be spared his less-than-decent appearance.

He crossed the hall and pressed his ear to the wood of Miranda’s door.

Not a sound could be heard within. He tested the handle and found the door locked still. She was likely sleeping, unlike him. Perhaps Miranda was not plagued by any doubts stemming from her desertion and return and the possibilities running through his mind after last night’s wild kisses. He wished he could make her see that their marriage didn’t have to be an endless battle. Before she’d disappeared, he’d been content. Optimistic.

As he turned away, he heard the faint scrape of a window rattling. He smiled. Miranda was awake but ignoring him. He tapped lightly on the door, eager to see her even if she only scowled and tried to pretend she didn’t know every inch of his body intimately. He would not let her do that forever. A woman of her passionate nature couldn’t deny her impulses, but he would do as Hallam suggested and properly woo his own wife and let any intimacies happen as they may. Surely it would not be that hard to make her remember what might have been had she stayed with him.

When she did not immediately open the door or even tell him to go away, he tried again, knocking a little louder this time to claim her attention. Still nothing. Could she not see that gossip of any public disputes would follow them for years? It was bad enough to have abandoned him years ago, but to come back and then snub him still would only make things worse for the family reputation. Would he have to wake the whole hotel to have her open the bloody door to him again?

He glanced along the corridor as a maid hurried down the hall in his direction, bucket and cloth in her hands to begin cleaning. At her hip hung a set of keys, jingling softly with each step as she moved toward him. Luck was with him at last.

He pointed to the door. “Open this.”

“Oh no, sir, I may not. It’s against the hotel’s rules. Mr. Mivart would surely end my employment for entering a guest room without invitation.”

Damn rules. “This is important. I heard a noise, a cry for help perhaps, and fear the lady has fallen and hurt herself.”

The maid’s eyes widened and she rushed to find the right key. As soon as the girl turned the lock, Kit was inside Miranda’s room, wildly triumphant.

Yet Miranda was not in her bed, beneath it, or hidden behind the dressing screen. She’d gone. Again.

He glanced around and inspected the chamber more carefully. Her bed had been slept in, her nightgown lay neatly across her pillow. He picked up the matronly garment and crushed it in his fist. Her remaining clothing resided in much the same place as yesterday, trunks and hatboxes stacked in the corner. But the lady had vanished.

He frowned, puzzled by how she’d managed to depart the hotel without him hearing her door open and close. Then he remembered the window rattle and groaned. When he inspected it, he discovered the window unlatched and a set of rickety stairs crisscrossing the rear of the building, guaranteeing her a discreet escape route. No wonder she’d chosen a room unfit for a woman of her station.

He cursed and thrust his head out the window, studying the filthy lane below. Just then, a black carriage turned out of the lane and merged with the traffic on the nearest cross street.

“Damn that woman to hell and back.” He spun about and met the maid’s horrified gaze.

“Did she fall? Oh. Oh dear. Mr. Mivart always hates to lose a guest on those stairs. But the lady specifically asked for this room, even though it isn’t the best Mivart’s has to offer. She was ever so nice to me. A real lady. Let me dress her hair too and never worried how long I took.”

Kit pinched the bridge of his nose as the girl waxed lyrical about how kind and gracious his wife had been during her short stay. She’d thoroughly won the girl over and had used her time to get to know the hotel. No wonder Miranda had smiled at the idea of seeing him this morning. She hadn’t planned to be here and wanted him to look a fool. “What’s your name, girl?”

“April, sir. On account I was born in December.” She blushed. “Madame said she wished she’d thought of that.”

Kit shook his head at the logic of the lower classes. He would not allow Miranda to name their child in such a way when they finally had one. He studied the girl. Clean, but talkative. Miranda clearly didn’t travel with staff but for the one fellow who was likely with her now. This girl was all he had to work with for the moment. “Do you like working for Mivart’s?”

“Yes, sir.” She looked at the door quickly. “Mr. Mivart’s a fair employer to everyone.”

Kit heard her words but didn’t believe her for one moment. She was saying what was expected to a guest of the hotel. She had a harried look about her even through it was so early in the day. Surely meeting the needs of one would be better than working for many. “How would you like a new position?”

She drew back, staring at him as if he had three heads. “I’m not like that.”

He laughed and gestured to the room. “My wife is in need of a personal maid, and since the two of you are already acquainted I see no need to look any further afield.”

“Me, work for her?” The girl clutched her hand to her chest. “Me mum isn’t going to believe I could be so lucky. She’ll think I made it up.”

“Not once you’ve been paid. In advance.” He dug a coin from his pocket and held it out, pleased when she snatched it up quickly. At least the girl was enthusiastic. “Well, there is much to do first. I want my wife’s possessions packed back into her trunks and ready to be transported within the hour.”

“Where is she going?”

Determination filled him. “Home. My valet will give you the particulars when he and several footmen come to the door to collect everything.”

April peered at him. “You’re not a regular husband are you?”

“What do you mean by regular?”

The maid looked him over critically. “You’ve potloads of money and servants to order about. Most of our guests don’t have houses in London so they have to stay here instead. Are you really Mrs. Reed’s husband or trying to trick me? I won’t stand no monkey business. I’m a good girl.”

Kit shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, almost ripping it out. “She never even bothered to use her bloody title once, did she?”

The maid backed away as his voice rose and he worked to keep his temper in check.

“My wife, Miranda Reed, is the until-now-absent Marchioness of Taverham. I am the marquess. What money we have is our business. Now, do you want the position or not?”

April’s head nodded urgently. “I do.”

“Then pack her things and your own, say farewell to Mr. Mivart, and be prepared to devote all your energy to making my wife happy. At least one of us must have a chance to do so.” He muttered the last one bitterly, then spun on his heel and marched for the door. If Miranda had no love for the title her dowry had bought her, then why the devil had she married him in the first place? Had he been blind to her motives? Had she only married him out of some sort of rebellion with the intent of making him look a fool?

In the hall he encountered his valet, returned from Twilit House with a new shirt, waistcoat, jacket, and other things splayed over his arm for him to wear today. “Change of plans. We’re going home. Pack everything and introduce yourself to my wife’s new maid, April. I didn’t catch her last name, but she’s in there. She’ll be returning with you, and after working here will likely need guidance on how the house runs in the beginning.”

The valet’s eyes widened but he wisely held his tongue, which was a good thing because Kit was in no mood to explain himself further. He found the proprietor, settled his debt and his wife’s, and extracted a promise from Mr. Mivart not to rent Miranda another room no matter how much she pestered him. He also advised the man to find a new maid, and quit Mivart’s in a mood so foul he hoped not to meet with anyone he knew.

So much for getting a chance to know his wife again and putting her needs first. If she’d stand still he’d have a chance, but the moment he turned his back she flittered away. Perhaps a divorce, as everyone suggested, was the only way he’d be happy.

He shook aside the idea as the carriage stopped before his home. Divorce was unthinkable. He and Miranda simply needed time to figure things out.

He took the stairs two at a time and found his mother still abed but awake and reading the daily scandal sheet. “Mother.”

Her eyes narrowed and then her gaze flickered to the empty air at his side. “Still no luck?”

“None.”

His mother shrugged and turned the page. “As I expected.”

Kit glared. She could at least try to be sympathetic, but concern had never been his mother’s way. “Miranda will be home today.”

Her brow rose as she glanced at him around the paper’s edge. “Will there need to be an abduction to go along with that claim?”

“Of a sort. Her possessions will be here shortly.”

“Ah.” His mother’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Now that is what you should have done from the start. Give her no choice but to come to heel.”

Kit bristled. He’d never much cared for the way his mother spoke of Miranda when they were alone. He’d hoped this time she might mind her tongue, but clearly she wasn’t above flaying his wife for her abandonment. “Miranda will return soon, and I would like your promise to make her feel welcome.”