Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5) (22 page)

Kit stared at his wife, noticing the rapidity of her breathing, a sign her nerves were beset by emotion. Her warm thanks was a soft murmur, possibly for Louth’s ears alone. Kit glanced down at his hands as disappointment filled him. Her connection to Louth was a strong one and unabated by her return to be his wife. Miranda could not love him even a little when she clearly cared for Lord Louth so much more.

But he would not be driven away from Miranda in his own house. She was his wife, and he’d never given up hope of her return despite the many years apart. If that return came with a price, they’d both bear it. She could have Louth when she’d given Kit a son. Until then, Kit wouldn’t allow them to be alone one single moment.

Miranda spoke first to Louth. “I understand your cousin is with you in Town this year. I’m sorry not to have paid her a visit yet.”

“Think nothing of it. She will understand you have other more important obligations than calling on her.” Louth’s lips twisted into a grimace. “She’s driving her companion to distraction actually. I hired the woman to escort her about town, thinking Whitney would attend balls and such. All she does is walk in the park and visit the art gallery each week. I should have hired a companion with a creative flair so they’d have more to talk about.”

Kit didn’t like the way Miranda’s gaze softened on Louth. He sat forward in an attempt to draw Louth’s attention from Miranda. “Does your cousin not wish to be married?”

“Ah, you’ve forgotten the old gossip.” Louth winced, appearing uncomfortable in the extreme. “Whitney was disappointed in love during her first season, cruelly played and embarrassed when the fellow married someone with better connections, her best friend actually. It broke her heart. Her mother made the situation worse by speaking of it repeatedly until her death. Whitney hasn’t had much time for gentlemen since. She claims there’s not one worth the trouble of keeping.”

Kit frowned, not remembering the specifics of the incident mentioned, only the fact that it had occurred. As far as Kit could recall, Whitney’s connections and dowry should have been sufficient for most men who were not weighed down by debts. His eyes flew to Miranda’s. He’d thought he’d been lucky in finding Miranda, a woman he’d desired from the moment they’d met.

Miranda nodded. “’Tis difficult to forget such a disappointment. A woman’s heart, her belief in her desirability, is often the thing she values most, and when abandoned, recovery of her confidence can take time.”

Louth eased back and crossed one leg over his thigh. “That is what I suspected. She’s vowed never to marry and we have a pact of sorts.”

Had Louth made a similar agreement with Miranda? “What sort of pact?”

“I’m not to ever suggest she needs to marry and she’ll do the same for me.”

Kit rubbed his hand over his thigh. “It’s high time you did.”

Louth grimaced. “Now you sound like Miranda.”

Kit glanced at his wife in surprise. “
You
recommended marriage?”

Her eyes were fixed to the leg that he’d rubbed, and she jerked her feet from the footstool and smoothed her skirts over her knees as if discomposed. “Most find it agreeable enough. Some even marry many times over.”

Kit held her gaze, aware of a rising of her color. Her eyes slipped from his to scrutinize his chest. When he rubbed his leg again, she followed the movement as if mesmerized. Kit struggled to hide his satisfaction. Miranda was aware of him, his body particularly, even from across the room. “Once is enough,” he said softly.

Miranda blushed a deep shade of pink as she looked away to Louth. “I quite agree.”

She did not, Kit was pleased to see, give Louth the same level of inspection as he’d just enjoyed when he moved in his chair. Her glances were quite cursory in Kit’s opinion, and he sat back at ease, delighted with this revelation.

Louth glanced between them, his lips curving in amusement as if he suspected there was more going on than said. In fact, he looked ready to laugh. “I should take my leave,” he said quickly. “I merely wanted to pay my respects and ask if you were attending the Huntley soiree tonight or not.”

“We are,” Miranda told him quickly. “We’ll look forward to seeing you there.”

Louth smiled. “I’d like that. I’d attempt to claim a dance, but I’m sure your husband has already claimed them all.”

Kit hadn’t thought once of dancing and felt a momentary pang of embarrassment when she spoke of not being in the mood to dance. He’d not thought to ask but would gladly convince her to glide across the ballroom floor with him alone. He’d give anything to hold her close in his arms while they danced for the first time. It had to be a waltz or nothing.

When she made to stand, Louth gestured for her to stay where she was. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

Kit followed Louth into the hall as he took his leave, his heart a little lighter. Miranda had used the term
we
to describe them, not once but twice. It was a small victory admittedly, but just the same he felt better about his marriage than he had in years.

“Is Miss Crewe coming to the ball tonight too?”

Louth shook his head. “Cannot convince her. Even had new gowns ordered in secret from her modiste and that didn’t even tempt her to venture forth. I suppose she’s afraid of being hurt again.”

“That’s a shame. I think many gentlemen would find her an interesting conversationalist. When things are settled here, I’ll ask Miranda to consider a dinner and we can invite you both to join us along with a few eligible men.”

“Only if you don’t mind your friends being shocked when she points out their foibles in a clear, loud voice that carries to every corner of the room.” Louth set his hat on his head. “Whitney does not suffer fools.”

“You sound very fond of her. Maybe you should marry her yourself. It’s not unheard of for cousins to marry.”

Louth spluttered and coughed. “Are you mad? I have less in common with Whitney than I do with your wife, and that, for your information, isn’t much at all.”

“What’s left to have in common with her?”

“The ability to keep our opinions to ourselves even when we know the other is making a mistake.” Louth nodded and strolled out without explaining further what those mistakes might have been.

Kit remained in the hall, thinking over what Louth had hinted at. As far as he could sense, his wife and Lord Louth were not lovers. By his own admission, Louth had claimed little in common with Miranda. That assertion comforted him.

Thinking of her waiting, he returned to Miranda quickly. She reclined casually into her chair, lids closed over her remarkable eyes. Her face in repose brought a smile to his lips. She was exactly as he remembered. Breathtaking, even at rest. Kit yearned for her presence in his arms with a powerful ache. Perhaps this was what love felt like. A driving need to stay connected to Miranda had always been part of their relationship.

“Miranda,” he whispered as he drew close and sat on the edge of the chaise.

“Hmm,” she mumbled, the sound at once irritated and amused.

“Could I convince you you’d be more comfortable if you were to come over here with me and lie down?”

Her eyes fluttered open, head rolling slowly in his direction. He smiled at her drowsy expression. At least Louth’s visit hadn’t excited her passions.

“Is there enough room for me?”

“I’ll make room.” He scooted further into the corner.

Miranda placed her hands on the arms of her chair and anticipation filled him that he might just claim the intimate afternoon he’d hoped for. He patted the empty space beside him. After a long moment, Miranda crossed the room and settled on her side, her face pillowed on his outstretched arm, her back resting against his chest.

Kit drew her to him, arm curled over her hip so she’d not worry about falling off the chaise. As Miranda sighed deeply and burrowed closer against him, he promised himself he’d take care of her.

They might not be in love, but touching like this clearly didn’t disagree with her present mood. Kit pressed a kiss to the top of her head, loving the feel of her soft hair brushing against his lips. “We’ll stay like this for the next unwanted visitor. What do you think?”

Miranda’s grumbling answer made him chuckle. No more interruptions. The next person to visit when not wanted would have Kit’s shoe thrown at them. Miranda cuddled closer, fingers of one hand touching the arm she used as a pillow. Then, because he really didn’t want to spoil the moment by further talk, he closed his own eyes and let sleep claim him too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

In the years of her self-imposed exile, Miranda had not missed the false affection so blatantly bestowed on her by the people she met at social events. She was sure none but a few kind souls present at the Huntley soiree had worried over her absence or were truly happy to see her returned to take up her role as Taverham’s wife. Public sympathy was clearly with Lady Brighthurst, and their disappointment that Kit was still a married man seemed acute.

None of it mattered.

Miranda leaned close to Martin so he would hear her words over the din. “I believe we will be in London as long as the Carringtons remain in Town.”

“That gives us a week at most.” Martin frowned. “I spoke to Carrington yesterday and he mentioned the date for their return had been set.”

Miranda bit her lip. “Perhaps I can encourage them to remain longer. I simply must get away from Taverham soon.”

“You could try, but I’ve a suspicion he’s not going to make it easy. I had no chance to tell you when I called earlier today, but I spoke discreetly to Viscount Wade about your situation and the difficulties we might face in tracking a missing person.”

Miranda gasped. “I’ve heard of him. Doesn’t he usually investigate murders?”

Martin nodded. “Sometimes, but he also has skills in finding people who don’t necessarily want to be found. Wade has offered to take your case for a reasonable fee without knowing the exact particulars yet. You can be assured of his utmost discretion. He’s an old hand at keeping his enquiries out of the scandal rags.” Martin procured her a glass of punch from a passing waiter. “I feel confident he will be of great help. He did ask if the one we sought might know anyone in London. I didn’t believe that to be the case.”

Relief filled Miranda. She’d been so worried all day because she hadn’t made any progress toward finding her son, but at least Martin had found an exceptionally good investigator. “I kept him away from anyone of note so he could move freely, posing as Mr. Fenning’s pupil.”

“That will make locating him harder.” Martin sighed. “How is your heart?”

“I’m fine now, Martin, truly better.”

“You were not fine when I called on you today.” He studied her face. “I assumed you would be out and about, scouring London for the boy, but when I saw you earlier I can understand why you were not. Have you sent for a physician?”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t believe I’m so bad as that. Returning has been a little more complicated than I’d anticipated, but I’m doing my best to rest whenever I can. I haven’t told Kit yet about my heart, but if he will not give me a minute’s peace, I will have to.” She smiled sadly. “Taverham insists on following me about and has barely left my side for even one hour today.”

“He’s attentive?”

“Yes.” Miranda sighed. “Much as he was before our marriage.”

“He’s smitten.”

“He’s a man. Being one, you must know what he wants from me most of all.”

 
“Anyone can see the pull between you is stronger than ever.” Martin chuckled softly. “Your husband is scowling again.”

“He’s always scowling. Likely he has no other face.”

Martin stifled a laugh. “Now, now. You’re just peevish because Lady Brighthurst is here and staring at him so often.”

“Of course I am. What woman wants to see her husband’s dearest love batting her eyelashes at him at every opportunity?” She shivered. “I keep telling myself not to care, but my stomach is turned by every obvious display.”

“Miranda,” Martin began as he inched closer. “Have you by chance noticed where Taverham’s attention has been all night?”

She shrugged, avoiding looking across the room to catch him and his lover together. She could not take much more before sickening. “I hardly care.”

“He’s watching you, and only you, my lady. I’ve seen such a look on each one of my friends faces right before a marriage was announced. No one else can keep Taverham’s attention long enough to hold a conversation with him. Daventry made a jest about his distraction earlier too and almost had his head taken off, saying something about not needing a week. He’s watching me too by the way, but it’s not a friendly look I’m receiving. Quite the opposite. He asked me what our connection really is earlier today. I would have to say he’s worried.”

“What worries can he possibly have?”

“Perhaps worried is an incorrect term. I have an idea what he’s about, but let’s see what he has to say for himself.” Martin grinned. “He’s coming this way now.”

Miranda jerked her head up in time to see Kit stop before them. He and Martin shook hands in a somewhat abrupt manner. When Martin stepped back, Miranda saw from the corner of her eye that he was flexing his fingers as if Taverham’s grip had hurt him. Kit’s arm curled around her back, drawing her close to his side.