Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5) (23 page)

Having Kit touch her in public was a new experience, one she wasn’t sure how to interpret. In any other man she might think it a sign of great affection, a glimpse into the heart of a man in love. With Kit, a man who loved another, it just confused her even more.

“Lord Louth,” Kit murmured with just the slightest touch of reserve.

“Good to see you and Miranda again and clearly enjoying the season’s entertainments once more,” Martin said. “Lady Huntley is beside herself with glee at her triumph of having you both attend and look so content together.”

Kit brought Miranda’s hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly, an altogether possessive gesture that added to Miranda’s surprise. “Yes, it’s good to have her back where she belongs.”

“Good, good. I am delighted you feel that way.” Martin beamed. “Now, on another matter. I was thinking about your suggestion to take an interest in my cousin Whitney by inviting her to dinner. Were you serious about it? In the hours since I’ve seen you both, I’ve come to feel that forcing her out to converse with others might be in her best interest. Would you be amenable to helping me introduce her to suitable gentlemen? I cannot do it myself because of our pact, you see.”

“You want to trick her.” Miranda scowled. “That is a despicable deception, Martin.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded, looking only a little shamefaced. “But the alternative is giving in to her request to travel abroad. I cannot let her go alone, not in these uncertain times. While I enjoy and encourage her art, I’m not keen to follow her around the world so she may paint new vistas. Perhaps if she were to find a man with an interest in art too, they could travel together and I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

Kit’s brow creased in thought and then his expression hardened. “Why would you not like to leave London? You are not married and nothing holds you here.”

Martin’s face darkened. His jaw clenched tightly. Miranda knew that look well, though she’d rarely seen him lose his temper. Martin did not like to be told what to do either. He straightened his spine and glared. “Unlike
some
who married purely for money, my estates are not so well funded that I can leave them unattended for months at a time while I prowl the countryside chasing a bride who didn’t want to return.”

Miranda winced to have her name brought up.

“You should keep your nose out of our marriage and get your own,” Kit said in a tone that warned he was spoiling for a fight.

Seeing an argument brewing, Miranda stepped between them before either man could say another word that might damage their friendship. Enough had already happened to dim the respect between the two men. She wouldn’t provoke more. “I can see your heart is in the right place, Martin. You want Whitney to be happy. If we were to host a dinner, we would surely invite your cousin to join us. If she were to meet a gentleman of similar tastes and possessed of a kind heart too, we would of course encourage the match. But only if it is in her best interest. You know my views on unequal marriages. They only make each party miserable.”

Kit’s fingers curled over her shoulders, holding her still. As they pressed deeper, she squirmed at little. Her own experiences with marriage and making rash decisions had cost her so much more than just peace of mind.

She turned her face to Taverham’s and caught his gaze. “You’re in danger of hurting me.”

He jerked his hands back, his face flushing with hot color. “My apologies.”

“Of course Martin wishes to care for his estates and live his own life. Everyone wants that to some degree. He cannot do either if he’s compelled to travel away from England.” She assessed her husband, noting he looked suitably abashed now. “I’ve not met Martin’s cousin, but you have. What do you think of Whitney chances on the marriage mart?”

He took a moment to collect himself, and Miranda was pleased when he seemed to consider her question with the proper attention it deserved. “We had an enjoyably long talk about life in Town. She is intelligent, more than passably pretty, though a trifle blunt.” Kit glanced at Martin sternly. “I do think she is lonely though. I got the distinct impression her chaperone ignores her and sleeps far too much. You should not neglect her.”

Martin’s mouth twisted, but then he laughed outright. “I’m getting that impression myself. Well, I suppose I shall slip away from the party early and see if Whitney longs for companionship as badly as you claim. Good night, my lord. Oh, and Lady Taverham, one last thing.”

Martin leaned close to her ear and whispered, “As I suspected. Your husband is actually a jealous man. Be careful of goading him beyond reason when you speak with other men. Pleasant dreams, my dear.”

He sauntered away, blending into the crowd easily despite his height.

Miranda watched him go and then glanced up into Kit’s face. “He’s a grown man and is doing his best in regards to Whitney. How could you speak to your friend like that?”

“Is he my friend, Miranda, or yours?” Taverham’s gaze bored into her. “I cannot help but wonder if I have been misled about the two of you when I see how you smile so warmly at him.”

“Less misled than I was,” she muttered angrily. She couldn’t believe Kit was jealous of Martin. The idea that Martin desired her was too ridiculous to ever contemplate.

She turned away as a sudden light sweat broke out over her skin. The evening was too warm. Her nerves poised on a fine edge of worry and fear for Christopher, and anxiety she had to hide from the man plaguing her with his attentions and groundless suspicions crept back again. She needed to rest alone. Martin had never been more than a friend. All he’d ever been was a shoulder to cry on, and that had never been very often. She would do everything she could to help him see Whitney settled, but truly only if such a situation was in the girl’s best interest.

When Miranda presented Kit with their son and Martin delivered the written confirmations he held, her husband would regret his doubts about Lord Louth’s interest in her.

Kit grabbed for her arm before she’d gone too far, jerking her back to his side. “Where are you going?”

“To get some air.” She fluttered her fan before her face desperately as her temperature soared beyond normal bounds. She could feel her face turning red. “I think a door is somewhere to the right.”

Kit’s brow creased in alarm as he stared into her hot face. The next moment, he curled his arm around her back gently to guide her through the crush of people. “I forget you are not used to crowds.”

The Huntley’s terrace was deserted when they stepped outside, and the cool night brought relief and blessed silence she appreciated. Miranda’s ears buzzed for a short time and she sat herself down on the stone bench set close to a wall. Although a lady should not slouch, Miranda leaned against the wall so she could relax even more. Discreetly, she pressed her fingertips through the gap in her glove and tested her pulse. The wild, erratic beating proved her fears correct. She had reached her limits. Too much excitement and she would fall into a swoon. Miranda would prefer not to do that where her husband could watch her collapse.

“What were you talking to Lord Louth about?”

“He told me Viscount Carrington will certainly leave London next week. I should like to go see Agatha soon.”

“Hmm, I’ll come with you, or perhaps we could invite them to visit us instead. Luncheon?”

Miranda glanced up and saw that Kit didn’t look particularly happy at the prospect of spending time with the Carringtons. She couldn’t fathom why unless he’d developed a dislike for her cousin or for the company of children. Agatha was a sweetheart. “Are you not fond of children anymore?”

“On the contrary. I quite enjoy Carrington’s brood. But for now I think they should come to us. It seems best all round to remain in one place. Together, that is.”

He shuffled his feet, betraying to her that he wasn’t being entirely truthful with that excuse. Was Martin correct about Kit being jealous, or was it just his usual possessiveness rearing its ugly head? “I do not expect your constant companionship, Kit. I am more than capable of paying calls on my own.”

“I know,” Kit grudgingly agreed. “But I’d rather be with you than not.”

Miranda closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow. She hadn’t foreseen Kit wanting to be with her every moment like this. How would she find Christopher with him in the way? She had to convince him she wouldn’t run away. “I’ve no plans to leave London for the time being,” she murmured softly.

He exhaled loudly. “I’m glad to hear that. Then we stay in Town as long as you wish and visit the Carringtons as often as you like. I would truly like to come with you if I may.”

Something Louth mentioned tweaked her curiosity about Taverham’s country estate, Twilit. “Do you not have your own affairs to attend to at home?”

“The estate runs itself now. In your absence I have hired the right people and they know what must be done.”

“That must give you an enjoyable amount of free time to partake in your own pleasures.”

He sat next to her, close enough that she could feel his warmth along her left side. “I
have
traveled quite a bit these past years, and it is nice not to need to anymore.”

Miranda opened her eyes but kept her gaze focused on the view ahead rather than study her husband’s face. “Oh, you must have been amply entertained these past years. I imagine a peer could spend an entire year simply traveling from one house party, soiree, country dance, to London and back again without having a spare hour to be bored.”

She knew he’d not lived a reclusive life. The papers had been full of his deeds for the past decade. Enough of them to make it clear he’d not lacked for female companionship.

“My life hasn’t been one round of parties after another, Miranda, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I traveled to look for you.”

She didn’t want to believe him, but it was hard to miss that his voice rang with sincerity. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat before speaking. “Where did you suspect you’d find me?”

“Everywhere I went.” He caught her hand in his and toyed with the seam of her glove at her wrist. He pulled her hand onto his thigh and held it tightly.

Miranda’s pulse leapt and she wished he’d simply leave her to recover her equilibrium in peace. She tugged her fingers back and folded her hands together in her lap. “Where did you think to find me two years ago? In the summer?”

He frowned. “Two years ago? Wales. I hadn’t traveled there yet and spent a month or more visiting. Where were you then?”

“Staying with a friend in the south by the sea.” Kit hadn’t stood a chance of stumbling over her. “Before that, I spent most of my years in the north counties. You were chasing shadows.”

“That is what I’ve concluded these past weeks.” He teased the outer edge of her thigh with the tips of his fingers. “The hope that you lived was to die the night you returned to me. But you knew that too, didn’t you?”

Miranda shrugged. “You should know by now that there is nothing the Marquess of Taverham can do that is not spread about England.”

He glanced around them. “So if we made love here in this garden…”

Miranda faced her husband. Surely he wouldn’t want such a scandalous activity written about. “The whole of London would be suitably titillated with the news as they had their morning chocolate.”

Kit drew closer. “That’s a shame. I’ve always wanted to make love to you by moonlight.”

At that moment, the moon burst from behind a cloud, illuminating them both where they sat. Kit smiled silkily. He leaned close and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. His tongue darted out once, slicking her lower lip so she gasped. He drew back, still smiling wickedly. His fingers slid over her jaw and he cupped her cheek. The next moment, his customary frown returned. “You are distressed by the excitement of the ball far more than I realized. Your skin is so warm.”

“That is my only purpose in remaining out here.” Miranda fluttered her fan to cool her face.

He grunted. “We shall have to try for more than a kiss another night then.”

Miranda closed her eyes again, certain Taverham would keep his head now and behave. “Do not be so certain you will have your wicked ways with me elsewhere or in more favorable circumstances.”

“No?” He chuckled. “I’ll have to do my best to convince you to at least try being scandalous just once with me. You might enjoy it. When you’ve rested enough, we’ll go back inside. There are some acquaintances I would appreciate your speaking to before we return home. People who doubted you even existed. I’d love to make them eat their words, but I’ll settle for greeting them coldly instead.”

Miranda glanced sideways at her husband. “They whispered that you murdered me.”

For an answer, Kit smirked and shook his finger at her. “Just a little death now and then. Well, almost every night we’ve been together. Enough to make you sob and shake as I make love to you in our bed and elsewhere. I promise never to be any more danger to you than that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kit kept a close watch on Miranda as the evening progressed, looking for a sign of increasing warmth toward him but uncertain if he was only seeing what he wanted to see. He was encouraged by their conversation on the terrace more than he dared believe. Opening up to Miranda might set himself up for disappointment, but at least she would hear from his own lips that he didn’t live the charmed life she’d suspected on the profits of their marriage. There was something more between them. He’d never teased a woman, hung on her every response, the way he did with Miranda.