Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5) (17 page)

Martin threw an annoyed glance in her direction. “Much like his father.”

Miranda shifted, thinking of her husband’s determined nature of late. “So it seems. Despite keeping them apart, you suggest temperament is the result of parentage rather than upbringing.”

Fenning nodded. “Maybe you shouldn’t have told him he was bound to be a marquess one day. He’s unlike any child I’ve ever tutored before. Bright, resourceful. Willing to work hard to achieve his goals. He’s got an air of command about him, no matter where he is. I’ve had time to think about it, and it is my belief he didn’t take his decision to leave me lightly. He was always cautious around strangers, even more so after the fire. We were in London a month, had covered many sites and neighborhoods before he vanished.”

If that were true, what on earth had Christopher been thinking? He knew Miranda expected him to be with his tutor and not to attempt to return to his father until absolutely necessary and she was with him to prove who he was. The fact that Kit remained unaware of their child’s existence so far hinted Christopher had not made his way to his father’s house and was now lost somewhere in London. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Martin turned from Fenning and patted her shoulder. “Let us hope the traits he inherited from his father have kept him safe,” he added grimly.

Fenning leaned forward suddenly. “My lady, I promise you I did search for him. For six months if I wasn’t working, I prowled the district where he left me, in search of some sign he lived. I even enquired at your grandfather’s abode, circumspectly of course, and had no success there.”

The weight on Miranda’s chest grew heavier.

The secrecy she had covered her son’s existence with was a double-edged sword. Few in her current life knew of her son’s existence. Martin had not even seen Christopher since he was a babe in arms. She didn’t have the faintest idea where he would have gone if he had in fact chosen to do so of his own free will.

Martin eased her up from the chair and placed his arm around her back to support her first steps. “Remaining here will gain us nothing more. I am certain Mr. Fenning has told us all he can by the sound of it. He can make his way to Holly Park tomorrow by the stage if he’d prefer. I must get you back to where you belong now.”

“And where do I belong without my son?”

Desolate, Miranda allowed Martin to place her, unresisting, into the carriage and order the driver to take them away, back toward Mivart’s Hotel and the cold comfort of her memories and the few things she’d tucked away in her traveling trunks. That was all she’d had of Christopher for the past two years. It wasn’t enough.

She needed his laugher in her ears and his smiles to light her days.

Once the carriage began to move, the tears began to fall and she couldn’t hold them back. Her son was lost to her. Martin passed her a large handkerchief, then caught up her hand and squeezed it tightly. “You belong with your husband. It’s time to go home.”

“I cannot go without Christopher at my side.”

Martin chafed her hand. “Today’s the first time since your return that you’ve said the boy’s name.”

“Christopher is never far from my thoughts. Saying his name causes me great pain. I miss him dreadfully.” She brushed tears from her eyes and fought for breath to speak. “I don’t think I can forgive myself if he’s lost forever. Who do you think came to Fenning’s door two years ago? Who could want to harm Christopher?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Taverham found him.”

Miranda shook her head immediately. “No. I’m sure he has no idea about Christopher. He wouldn’t want me to come home so badly if he thought he had an heir. He wouldn’t need me at all then.”

Despite the impropriety, Martin put his arm around her and she sobbed even harder. He rocked her gently until she pulled herself together and set herself away from him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right. Do you not think that taking your place as Lady Taverham in society might bring the boy to you? It seems clear to Fenning that Christopher left of his own accord.”

Miranda had told Christopher time and again that she would not return to the Taverham estates without him. Now she might have no choice because she couldn’t think of another option at this moment. Christopher was bright. If he read of her return in the newssheets, surely he would try to reach her if he could. “There is hope in what you suggest. I’ll pack tonight.” She shook her head. “Taverham must remain in the dark though about why I’ve returned to live under his roof.”

“Are you sure that is wise? He is better placed to search for him.”

Miranda dabbed at her eyes. “He will never believe Christopher is his if I just say he exists.”

Martin patted his pocket. “I do have these letters as proof too. He’d be a fool to dismiss the claims of his own former guardians when they were the ones who watched over you from the day after you married.”

Miranda bit her lip. The Earls of Applebee, Sorenson, and Watts were the most devious and slippery lords she’d ever been acquainted with. Alternatively kind and ruthless, the trio of crusty bachelors had at first grudgingly conspired with her to help her temporarily escape her marriage and her hurt. By sheltering her in their own homes, places her husband would never wish to visit, they had taken on the role of doting uncles since her own father cared nothing for her distress. But when it became obvious some months later that she carried Taverham’s child, a fact they’d never doubted, they had embraced the roles as substitute family completely. When she’d gone into labor, they had even remained to witness the event despite protests that it wasn’t proper. “Have you seen them?”

“From time to time.” Martin grimaced. “They don’t have the child in their care, I’m sure of that. They would have said something about him to me if they did, brought the boy back to you since you were finally on the mend, or to Taverham himself. They’re meddlers, not monsters.”

Kit would not be pleased his guardians had kept her location and Christopher’s existence a secret all these years either.

She shook her head restlessly. “The letters are meaningless without Christopher standing right there in front of Taverham to speak up and claim his place. But where has he gone? I’ve no doubt Applebee, Sorenson, and Watts would swear it to the king himself that the boy was Taverham’s son and heir, but that means nothing without Christopher. I cannot tell him until our son is found. It’s too risky.”

Martin stretched out his legs. “You play a dangerous game. I don’t think Taverham will forgive you the deception easily.”

“The only thing that has ever mattered is Christopher’s happiness.” She shrugged. “What happens between myself and Taverham matters little.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Silence could be a comfort or pain. Today’s silence proved to be the latter. It was almost eight o’clock and Miranda had still not returned to Twilit House to even berate him for the theft of her few possessions. He poured another whiskey and swallowed it in one gulp. In truth, Kit was beyond disappointed. As the hours progressed, his hope was fading and he’d begun to worry for her well-being once more.

Despite their unresolved separation, he couldn’t seem to stop feeling concern for her. She had not returned to the hotel at midday. She had not even returned by the fashionable hour. No one had laid eyes on her since the night before when they’d left the dining room and gone to his hotel bedchamber.
He
was the last person to see Miranda before she’d fled from him and desire.

He glanced outside at the darkened skyline and fretted over where she was now, and more importantly who’d collected her from the lane behind the hotel that morning.

“Better you give up than look any more the fool,” Lord Acton advised as he joined Kit at the sideboard and poured himself a refill. “Looks like the lady has vanished again.”

Acton sounded so sure she wouldn’t come back, as he had been all along through the empty years of Kit’s marriage. Kit continued to stubbornly cling to hope. But could he do that for the rest of his life?

“She will come.” She had to. He had all her clothes. Everything she owned. A surprisingly small amount for a marchioness. When his mother traveled, a second carriage had always been required just to transport her clothing. “Supper is not late until nine o’clock.”

“As you say,” Lord Acton said, a look of irritation passing over his face as he glanced about the room, his gaze settling on the ticking clock. “I suppose we must put our lives on hold until her arrival then, as we have done these last dozen years. Care to play cards while we wait?”

“It was only ten. Ten years, ten months, and a handful of days.” Kit knew the number by heart, and even understanding that their estrangement had halted, he was still so anxious he could barely keep still. He wouldn’t rest again until Miranda was here, beneath his roof, sleeping in one of his beds, preferably his own, though he would not force that issue. Perhaps he’d have to go so far as to fetch her from Mivart’s himself. Was she sitting there stubbornly on the front steps as staff tried to shoo her away?

He shook his head to clear that image away. Surely Miranda couldn’t be that mulish, but he had to acknowledge that her mind was very much a mystery to him. “I think not. You’ll only line your pockets with the spoils of my distraction.”

Acton smiled and looked over at his sister. “There was that bonus for me.”

Emily, ever the peacemaker, glared at her brother in disapproval even while she wrung her hands. “Everett, behave yourself. Can you not see Kit is beside himself for his wife’s disobedience? This will be all settled tonight and then we need not think of it again.”

Acton patted her hand. “Let us hope you are right, but can you not imagine a better distraction than watching Taverham lose so completely to me?”

She shot him a warning look. “Bend your mind to swindling funds from some other source; pick someone you dislike rather than a friend. Perhaps Kit would be kind enough to show us the book he offered to explain more of the other day. I find Italy fascinating and cannot wait to travel.”

Kit groaned. “Forgive me. Showing you the book entirely slipped my mind. You are both so keen to travel, but I am afraid our plans for next year must be put off. I’ll get it at once.”

Acton groaned loudly and shook his head.

Emily shot to her feet, eyes wide. “We’re not going now because of
her
?”

“How can I?”

Emily’s face fell and Kit winced. She of all of them had been most looking forward to their adventure, a delayed grand tour for Kit, but Acton and Emily’s first opportunity to leave England’s shores too. She moved toward him, her face switching from desolation to acceptance quickly. “I’d be happy to accompany you to the library. Will you join us Everett?”

Her brother smiled and arched a brow. “No, I’ll stay here and wait for Kit’s mother so I can tell her the latest development. I trust you two not to misbehave while you’re alone.”

Kit laughed. “No danger of that.”

He waited for Emily to gather up her shawl and precede him from the room. Once in the hall, she wrapped her arm through his and sighed. “The trip would have been just the thing for us. You’ve been very upset of late.”

“Forgive me. Miranda’s return has me at sixes and sevens.” He patted her hand. “We’ll muddle through.”

Once inside the private library, she lifted her face to his. “I apologize for Acton. He is terrible at waiting around on most days, and you know he finds your lack of action concerning your wife unfathomable.”

“Don’t I know it? He’s no patience for waiting for anything, least of all my wife.” Kit chuckled. “I hate even attending the races with him. Barely possible to gather one’s winnings before he’s off to look over the next pretty filly, but it is entirely different when one waits for one’s wife.”

“My brother’s eye does rove quite a bit.” She smiled shyly. “I cannot understand what keeps her from you. If you were my husband, I’d never let you go.”

Kit sighed wearily and released Emily’s arm. “I thought she’d be here long before this. I did take all her clothes and possessions from the hotel.”

“And what did you discover among her belongings?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. A maid packed and unpacked for her. I’ve no idea what Miranda owns beyond the few gowns I saw her wear these past days or what she purchased yesterday.”

“Whyever not?” Her shawl slipped from one shoulder as she shrugged, revealing a low-cut gown that showed a great deal more of her cleavage than she likely intended. “Are you not in the least bit curious about her life? You said she lives very spartanly. A man in your position would be undoubtedly curious about what items of importance travel with her. Any letters she kept could tell you a great deal about her character.”

She smiled shyly and rested against a tabletop, her manner changing to provocative in the blink of an eye. Kit moved away from Emily, disturbed at how uncomfortable he felt in her presence suddenly. They had been alone many times in his life and never once had he been tempted by his widowed friend and neighbor. She couldn’t know what she’d unwittingly done.

And yet she smiled even more widely at his discomfort, and the suspicion that Emily had moved in a deliberate manner to tempt him alarmed him and caused him considerable pain. Was his mother right that Emily had expected he would pursue her once he was free? Was society gossip that they were involved based on Emily’s secret hope for more between them?