That Kind of Woman (35 page)

He buried his face in her fragrant hair, then tilted her chin and looked into the deep brown depths of her eyes. “Oh, yes, Miranda, far too short and far too precious. And you will sleep in my bed, but as my wife. You’ll be the Countess of Danford once again.” He turned his head toward the sleeping girl. “Do you hear that, Emma? I’m giving you a new mother. But we cannot marry until you can come to the wedding, so enough of this malingering.” He squeezed his eyes tight against the tears that burned them.

Miranda’s arms tightened around him. They would be
married
. Emma would be her stepdaughter, and when she had her coming out, Miranda could hold her head high, even among the gossips. They could say whatever they wished, but no one would dare to bar an earl’s wife from the festivities of her stepdaughter’s Season.

Her heart caught for a moment. She had so long since given up hope that she hardly dared to entertain it now, but—

Oh, God,
children
. She and Andrew could have children! It wouldn’t make a whit of difference in how she felt about Emma, of course, but oh, a baby of her very own! Two babies…or three…or…

Emma would be all right. She just had to be. It would be the cruelest trick fate had ever dealt Miranda to spoil all of this by taking Emma away.

Then again, there was one other person who might have that power.

“What about Lettie?” Miranda asked.

“Let me take care of that.”

She pulled away and studied the purple shadows under his eyes. “First, you need to take care of yourself. You need sleep.”

Andrew shrugged. “I’ve been sleeping in the chair over there.” He nodded to the low-backed chair set against the wall near the bed.

“You’ve been catching bits and pieces of cat naps,” Miranda scolded. “You said it yourself, the signs are good. Go to your room, to your actual bed, and lie down. I’ll stay with Emma, and I promise to fetch you if she so much as sighs in her sleep.”

He started to protest, but he had to admit he felt like he was going to fall over in a faint as dead as Emma’s if he didn’t get some real sleep. For the first time since the accident, he smiled. “Will you order me about when we are wed?”

Miranda smiled back. “Of course, especially when it comes to your health. Emma needs you to be strong and rested.”

“You really believe she’s going to come through this?”

“Yes, I do.”

She sounded so certain, and the expression on her face was so stubborn, that he was finally able to believe it himself. Henry and Lettie had been so bleak, in part because he, himself, had insisted they all be “realistic.” He was sick and tired of realistic. He wanted wildly, impractically optimistic.

He cupped Miranda’s cheek in his palm and ran his thumb over her soft bottom lip. She was real, and sweet, and
his
. Anything seemed possible now. “Do not hesitate to wake me, no matter how small a change…”

“Naturally.”

Reluctantly, he left Emma and Miranda alone.

Miranda watched him go, then turned back to Emma and sank onto the bed next to her. She ran the back of her hand softly over Emma’s cheek. “All right, you little imp,” she chided gently, her voice barely a whisper, “this time you have gone entirely too far. We are utterly at your mercy. The entire house is revolving around your every breath; Henry will not touch a drop of liquor, and apparently your father and I are to be married. Oh, Emma, please, please, wake up.”

And suddenly, she was looking straight into a pair of bleary, disoriented blue eyes.

Before she could say anything, she heard Lettie gasp behind her, followed by Henry’s exuberant victory cry. “She’s awake!”

Seconds later, Andrew was back in the room and they were all clustered around Emma’s bed. The girl frowned, and her confused gaze wandered back and forth over all their faces. “Wuh?” she croaked.

“Don’t try to talk, yet,” Andrew instructed her.

“You’ve had a nasty bump,” Lettie explained.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” Henry blurted.

“Uh!” Emma squinted with the effort, and her face was flushed.

“Hush, now,” Miranda murmured. “Lettie is right. You’ve had a nasty bump. There will be time to talk later.”

Emma looked back at her father, and their eyes locked.

“You’re going to be all right, darling. I believe that, and Randa believes it, and you must believe it, too.”

Emma’s face relaxed. She closed her mouth and swallowed, then shut her eyes again, but one hand slipped across the covers to clasp her father’s. With the other hand, she reached out to Miranda, who took it and gave her a reassuring squeeze. The two adults reached across the bed to close the triangle.

“We’re going to get a happily-ever-after, aren’t we?” Henry said softly.

“I hope so,” Lettie replied.

*

Emma’s room was dark when Andrew woke up. Maybe it was just the new sense of faith growing inside of him, but something about the sleeping girl next to him felt more natural than it had in many, many days. He carefully pulled away from where he had fallen asleep next to her and lifted himself from the mattress, thrilled at the thought that he might actually wake her up if he went too quickly.

He slipped out into the hall and tapped on Miranda’s door. No answer. He opened it to find both the sitting room and bedchamber empty. A lamp burned in the sitting room, and a glance at the clock on the mantle showed he hadn’t slept nearly as long as he’d thought, but he felt fully rested. On the way back to Emma’s room, he caught the attention of one of the upstairs maids and sent her to fetch Miranda. He wanted her to watch over Emma. Henry would be glad to, he was sure, but he preferred having Miranda there. As for Lettie, they needed to talk.

Andrew stood in the dark room, waiting and listening to the soft sound of Emma’s breathing. He smelled Miranda before he sensed her in any other way. There was the subtle scent of roses, then the whisper of her skirt. He turned and perused her in the soft light spilling through the door. There was something solid and strong in her slender frame, and he reached for her, needing that strength.

When his lips touched hers, the kiss was devoid of lust. He brushed her mouth lightly, pouring into her all the tender reverence he felt for her. Then, he pulled away. “I swear to you here and now, no one will dare treat you ill in my presence. No one will risk my wrath by saying any of the nasty things your mother has endured…”

“It doesn’t matter, Andrew. My father is a duke and people dare, but I will not care, not as long as I have you.”

“Your father is a duke, but I am a soldier.” He smiled, amazed that he could, given the memory that flitted through his head. “There is one man out there who might dare to stand up to me, but he would never malign you.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. The point is you will be the Countess of Danford, and by all that is holy, you
will
be treated with the respect you deserve.”

She kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

He returned the kiss, softly, on the mouth. “And I you. There is one more thing I need to do. Can you watch over Emma while I talk to Lettie?”

“Of course.” Miranda sighed. “Good luck.”

“Lettie will come around,” he promised, then left.

Andrew found Lettie in the drawing room with Henry, but the moment he looked at Henry and nodded toward the door, the younger man made his excuses and beat a hasty retreat.

Lettie looked up at him and smoothed her skirt. “Do you suppose it was Miranda that brought her out of it?”

“It may have helped,” he replied, sitting next to her on the couch. “Obviously she was meant to come out of it sooner or later.”

“Well, I think Miranda had something to do with it.”

“It might have been later without her,” he agreed.

“I
am
very fond of her, Andrew,” Lettie said, though her voice was somewhat defensive.

“I know.”

“You’re going to marry her, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Lettie looked away and frowned thoughtfully. “I never objected to Miranda herself. I just can’t help but wonder if it is truly what’s best, though.”

“You didn’t want George to marry her.”

“No, I didn’t. That was unfair of me. Oh, it surprises you that I would say that?” she asked when his brows shot up. “I can admit when I’m wrong. She has more breeding than a number of pure bluebloods I know. It is understandable that you should love her.”

“I’m glad you understand. Then we have your blessing?”

With a sigh, Lettie said, “Doesn’t it bother you in the least? She was your brother’s wife. Do you really believe that you can”—she looked away delicately—”be a husband to her and not be tormented by the fact that George knew her first?”

Andrew squared his shoulders. “George did not know her first. I did.”

Lettie’s head jerked up sharply. “But you had never met her until the wedding.”

“That’s true.”

“Oh, you see, Andrew? This is unhealthy. She was his wife for a year and a half, well before he took sick, and you were gone the whole time. Now you’ve convinced yourself—”

“She was never his wife. Not really. It is no delusion. I took her virginity shortly after you and Henry left for London this past Season.”

“Of all the…”

“Their marriage was never consummated. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Lettie rose. “This is an impossible conversation. It’s impossible and indelicate—”

“And about to become even more so. Miranda is going to have her marriage to George annulled.”

“What?”

“I am going to marry her, Lettie, and I am not going to look over my shoulder all the way to the altar for you trying to stop me.”

“There’s no need for that,” Lettie said. “I was wrong about Miranda; perhaps I am wrong about this. Maybe you will be able to make it all work out. Although I am worried about all you’re telling me now. Have you ever thought she might have lied to you?”

“There was physical evidence, Lettie,”

Lettie snorted. “More than one woman has simulated that evidence.”

“I wasn’t a callow bridegroom with his first virgin. I know the difference.”

“But it makes no sense.”

“Sit down, Lettie.”

“What?”

“Sit.”

It was an order, not a suggestion. Lettie sat.

“There is something I need to tell you. I need to tell you because, as I said, I don’t want there to be any question about my marriage to Miranda, but also because…because I need to accept it myself. Really accept it.”

Lettie’s head wagged back and forth slowly in confusion. “Accept what?”

“George never made Miranda his wife because he loved another.”

“Another? Out here, in the country?”

“Right here, at Danford.”

“A-a maid? Who? We must dismiss her at once!”

“A guest. A frequent guest. Someone he had known since childhood.”

“A—?” She blinked and then went pale. “Oh, no…no…”

“Reginald Toller.”

Lettie’s face flushed a deep red. “Miranda told you that? She’s lying.”

“No, Lettie, it’s the truth. Reggie admitted it.”

She pressed her knuckles to her lips. “Oh, dear God. Thank the Lord your father is dead and never had to know of this. It’s too … too horrible. Right here, in our home! Reginald Toller must be made to pay for this! And to think, I liked him once!”

“We are never telling a soul, other than whomever must be told in order to obtain the annulment.”

“Oh, dear! Of course. Of course, you are absolutely right. No one must ever know. The scandal! No! We won’t even bother with the annulment. Marry Miranda. I swear to you that I will never raise a hand against it. Oh, poor Miranda! When did she discover it?”

“She knew very shortly after the wedding.”

“That cannot be! Why, the Christmas after the wedding Reggie was living right here. The things they must have been doing, right under our roof. She didn’t know then, I assure you. They were friends, Miranda and Reggie. Oh, the betrayal! Poor girl!”

“She knew.”

“But…”

“She knew. Divorce was out of the question, annulment almost as bad, given her background.”

“But she would never have allowed him to
live
here if she had known.”

“I told you all of that in order to marry Miranda. This I need to say for myself—for myself and my brother. Miranda loved George the way that I loved him, like a brother. He was good to her; he was good to everyone, you know that as well as I. George was my brother, and I cherish everything he ever did for me—the hunting and fishing trips, the worry when I was away at war. He was good and kind and decent, and he was in love with Reginald Toller. And do you know something? If he loved Reggie half as much as I love Miranda, if Reggie made him anywhere near as happy as she makes me, then so be it. As far as I’m concerned, his memory remains entirely unblemished.”

“Dear God in heaven,” Lettie whispered.

“If you meant what you said, and you won’t stand in the way, then I see no need for Miranda to seek the annulment.”

Her face buried in her hands, Lettie murmured, “Do as you will.”

“I’m sorry, Lettie.”

She lifted her head, and her eyes were pleading. “Don’t tell Henry.”

Andrew nodded. “He is your son. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether he need ever know.” He turned to leave, but Lettie’s voice stopped him.

“I do not think I will ever understand. I’m not sure I can even forgive, as you seem to have, but I feel terrible for what a member of our family did to Miranda. If there is some way we can make it up to her, I do believe that that young woman deserves a bit of happiness in her life. I really do wish you both well, Andrew. And yes, you have my blessing.”

Miranda twirled in front of Emma, who sat on Miranda’s bed, propped up by pillows.

“R-red, Randa! Sc-scan…dal…lous!”

Emma still struggled to speak, and when she did, it was slow, as she had to work to get her tongue to obey her brain. But when the words finally came, they were always unquestionably Emma’s. The doctor had assured them that her mind was intact, and they would simply have to be patient while she continued to recuperate.