Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5) (27 page)

Miranda slipped from the bed still in her nightgown and joined Simon, her hands closing over the boy’s shoulders tenderly. She grinned at him, brushed her fingers across his forehead to move his hair aside from his eyes. “I take it you two are already well acquainted.”

Simon glanced up at her. “We met last year after Great-grandfather Birkenstock died. He said very nice things about him and has always been kind to me.”

Miranda curled her arm about the boy and whispered in his ear. “Everyone is kind to you.”

The child smiled so delightedly that Kit found it painful to look upon. “You had a son.”

She nodded, her expression open and the happiest he’d seen since their wedding breakfast ten years ago. “I had your heir, as you predicted I would. Now you have everything you ever wanted from me. I hope you can learn to love him as I do.”

Kit shook his head again to clear the fog from his mind. He must be dreaming. He must have misheard her and there was another explanation. He couldn’t be the boy’s father, or Miranda a mother. She would have told him long before this. He would have known they had a child. She should never have kept such a secret from him.

Simon turned to look up at her, jiggling in place as excitement gripped him. “Father was riding Ares again in Hyde Park. Have you seen him? He’s smashing.”

Miranda kissed the top of Simon’s head and chuckled. “No, but I’ve heard he spent a pretty penny to purchase him last year, so he must be a worthy mount.”

Her eyes met Kit’s briefly and a flicker of puzzlement appeared.

Kit shook his head and she sighed.

Simon turned back to Kit, his expression excited. “A groom at the Duke of Staines’s stables tried to teach me to ride a bit when we’ve been in the country at his home, but I’m not very good yet. When I’m grown a bit more may I ride Ares? Will you teach me to be as graceful on horseback as you? Father? I say. Are you all right?”

Kit staggered back several paces, bumping heavily into a chair and sinking into it. He stayed exactly where he was and watched in shock as the scene before him unfolded. The pair continued to chatter as if fatherhood wasn’t supposed to surprise him. Well, he was
very
surprised. If he had a son, he would have taught him to ride his horse long before this. They would have spent hours in the saddle together riding over Twilit Hill, the estate the boy would inherit, and would never have been an afterthought left to a servant to teach.

As he listened to Miranda and Simon make plans to spend the day together, the roaring sound grew louder again.

Miranda had lied to him. Why would she have kept the news of their son a secret? There was no reason except to cause him pain. She knew he’d hoped for an heir. They had talked about his need for a son on the eve of their marriage, well before her disappearance and several times since her return too. They had discussed plans for their children’s education and upbringing. He’d always planned ahead. Yet he’d never expected this.

The boy was his heir if they spoke truthfully. He’d had a son for ten years. Or had he?

He narrowed his gaze on Miranda as she laughed softly. She had not told him of the child for a reason. It was clear that she was fond of the child. Too fond. No Marchioness of Taverham had ever displayed such affection for their offspring. Kit’s own mother had never embraced him as Miranda was now doing with Simon.

She did love him. The boy had her heart.

But that did not make Kit a father.

He narrowed his gaze on Simon, looking for proof of parentage. The boy didn’t look much like either of them in his opinion. Sandy-brown hair, unremarkable, pale green eyes hidden behind hair grown too long. Intelligent, but that did not mean much. He could be anyone’s child.

Miranda smiled and his blood ran cold. She must be enjoying her joke at his expense. She intended to foist another man’s child on him to steal the Taverham estates for herself and the offspring of one of her many lovers, just to hurt him.

He shot to his feet, straightened his waistcoat, and smoothed his hair before he addressed the pair. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need to speak to my solicitor.”

Simon froze, facing him quickly. “Why, Father?”

“Do not speak to me, boy.”

Simon flinched, drawing close to Miranda for comfort. As before, her arms curled about his chest protectively as she sought to comfort him in the face of Kit’s anger. The glance she speared him with was filled with disappointment. “You must do what you think is right for you, of course, husband, but you are making a mistake.”

The knife in his chest turned. Husband? Father? He’d been neither. He’d never had a fair chance. If he’d truly had a child, there was nothing he would not do to make them feel wanted, valued. He’d vowed never to ignore his children the way his parents had done to him.

He strode from the room, past servants who gawked at the scene they’d just witnessed, past his mother on the stairs, who demanded an explanation for the ruckus he couldn’t speak of, and crashed headlong into Viscount Carrington and his weeping children in the entrance hall. When asked about Simon, he could only gesture to the staircase behind him. He was too furious for words.

He’d been made a fool.

He locked himself inside his study, drew out pen and paper, and drafted an urgent letter to his solicitor explaining everything he knew about Miranda. There was no choice now but to suffer the embarrassment of divorce. A very public and messy divorce that would reveal his wife’s infidelity, and his.

When he was done, he sat back in his chair and discovered his face was wet with the first tears he’d cried in his adult life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

He didn’t believe
. Miranda swallowed back the unexpectedly painful hurt and hugged Christopher against her one more time. “Are you hungry, darling?”

“No. Why does Father need a solicitor?”

To annul their marriage most likely. Or at least attempt to. When Lord Louth came with her letters, and Kit’s guardians confirmed the contents as legitimate testimony on Friday, he’d be hard-pressed to win that particular battle. The cost to his reputation would be too high.

“Never mind about that for now,” she told her son, wishing not to worry him. She held Christopher at arm’s length and drank in the wonder of seeing him again. “Let me have a proper look at you. I think you’ve grown at least three inches in height since we were together last, and that hair has to go or I’ll forever be pushing it back from your face. Anyone would think you’ve been utterly abandoned if we leave it that way.”

A throat cleared behind her. A feminine sound. Old and impatient too.

Miranda turned slowly and curtsied to Kit’s mother.

Christopher bowed. “A pleasure to see you again, Grandmother.”

She lifted her quizzing glass to her eye and looked her grandson over with a sniff, leaning heavily on a walking stick. “You are mistaken, young man. I would never have a grandson who thundered about the town house as you just did. Why, you’re positively wild. I will not stand for it happening again.”

“I was in a hurry, and Addison was in my way. I will apologize to him of course when Mother gives me leave to go.” Christopher bravely took a pace forward and smiled at the dowager. “You’ll get used to my ways eventually. I’m really quite charming, or so Cousin Agatha claims.”

“Charming, and possessed of a slick tongue of the kind my son employs on occasion when he wants his way with a minimum of fuss.” The dowager put her quizzing glass away. “The pleasure is all mine. Welcome home at last, Christopher Reed.”

Miranda rocked back on her heels in shock. “You knew.”

Kit’s mother glanced at her, annoyance twisting her expression. “Do not mistake my knowing as approval of your selfishness.” She glanced over Christopher again, her eyes narrowing. “I learned you’d delivered a child, a healthy boy, quite by accident. Luckily the midwife who attended you had a weak, grasping character and could be persuaded to confess her part in the deception. But she did not know who fathered him, so I said nothing of it to my son.”

Her sharp appraisal reminded Miranda that someone had tried to hurt her son. She pushed Christopher behind her. “I won’t allow you to hurt him.”

The dowager’s gaze darted between Miranda and Christopher. She leaned forward. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have waited an eternity for my son’s child to arrive. Whyever would I hurt him?”

Miranda licked her lips. It was true that she and the dowager had never warmed to each other, but did that make the woman a danger to Christopher? She didn’t know but intended to find out. She watched the old woman’s face closely as she began to speak. “Someone certainly tried to hurt him. Someone that knew about Christopher and had his tutor’s home set alight while my son was still inside it. He is lucky to be alive.”

The dowager shut her eyes briefly, her fingers shifting restlessly on the handle of her cane. “I would not hurt him. I swear I would not. If I’d known where he was, I would have abducted him instead and ensured the succession was out of danger. The boy belongs here, with his father.”

Despite the threat of abduction in the dowager’s words, Miranda was inclined to believe she spoke truthfully. A little of her tension eased and she loosened her grip on Christopher. She glanced down at him quickly.

He nodded. “She wasn’t the lady who came that day.”

Miranda stared into his eyes. “Did you see who it was, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” He glanced at the dowager. “Grandmother never rides and the pale lady sat a horse very well. I would know her anywhere.”

Miranda pulled Christopher hard against her. She kissed the top of his head repeatedly and rocked him to and fro. “She won’t ever come close to you again. I swear it on my life.”

“I know.” He smiled and Miranda ruffled his hair. Christopher was safe now. She’d die before she’d allow him placed in danger again.

The dowager cleared her throat again. “Now I see this impudent fellow in the right setting, at your side, I understand a little of why he wasn’t with you on your return. Your cousin’s orphaned ward indeed. I thought my son had more honor than this.”

She moved to sit in a chair, an unexpected groan passing her lips as she did so.

Christopher rushed to her side. “Is your leg paining you today, Grandmother?”

“Never you mind my leg or trying to charm me. I suggest you follow your father’s footsteps and prevent that letter from being sent to his solicitor as that might cast aspersions on your inheritance claim. He’ll never listen to me about acting rashly. He didn’t listen to my warnings when he married your mother either, and this misunderstanding is as much his fault as hers. Use your charm on him and the butler to delay the letter.”

Christopher hurried to Miranda and kissed her cheek. “I know where they will be.”

Miranda held out her hands, frightened momentarily to have Christopher out of her sight again so soon. “Are you sure you want to face your father alone?”

He nodded but bit his lip. “Can Landry come with me?”

Miranda nodded swiftly. “Keep him with you at all times. I trust
him
.”

“Get the letter first, boy,” the dowager interrupted. “Addison still listens to me. Have him deliver the letter into my hands rather than yours if he protests giving it up.”

“Yes, Grandmother.” Christopher strode out, spoke to Landry briefly at the door, and then disappeared from her sight with her servant trailing after him. Miranda ached to follow.

The dowager met her gaze. “We knew little more beyond the midwife’s confirmation of his existence.”

Miranda frowned. “We? You and Kit questioned the midwife? I thought he seemed so surprised, but I never could read his intentions properly.”

“I imagine my son is rather shocked.” The dowager frowned. “Emily and I acquired the information together, and we didn’t tell him. She has been looking into your disappearance discreetly for many years as a way to give my son the peace he needed to set your marriage aside.”

“Then it was Lady Brighthurst who found Christopher.” Miranda clenched her teeth. Anger bubbled up inside her so strongly she couldn’t breathe. Had the woman tried to erase Christopher from existence so Kit, once he’d given in and had Miranda declared dead, would be free to marry her without any further obstacles? “She found my boy two years ago and never told you.”

Miranda glanced across the room at her mother-in-law and saw only confusion in her old eyes. “She would have told me,” the woman whispered softly in a shocked voice. “She knew how badly I wanted a grandson. If not for you and the money, Kit would have married her long ago. She’s the daughter I always wanted.”

“So he kept her as a mistress instead. That must have been quite the insult.” Miranda shook her head. “No wonder she tried to kill my son. We have always been in her way.”

The dowager’s spine stiffened. “My son is an honorable man. He does not keep a mistress and certainly he would never dishonor our Emily with such a vulgar suggestion. Their love is pure.”

“Please don’t insult my intelligence. I saw them together on my wedding day. They were intimately involved then, and still are.” Miranda paced the room. She had to keep Christopher and Emily apart. But how could she do that when Kit would never believe her? She faced the dowager. “Would you prefer Emily as Kit’s wife even if she had tried to rob your grandson of his life?”