“I am well aware of that, Your Grace.”
“You are too strong-willed to make a suitable duchess. My son should have a young, adoring, biddable girl for his consort. The type of girl who won’t question and challenge him at every turn. Or make too many unnecessary demands. He needs a wife who will gladly provide him with an heir and a spare and not ask for too much in return.”
Miranda smiled at the dowager duchess. “Are you seeking a suitable bride for Daniel or a biddable daughter-in-law for yourself? Because His Grace prefers ladies who do challenge him.”
“I have a duty to see that my son marries and sires the next Duke of Sussex,” the duchess replied. “And while my son thinks he prefers women who challenge him, he would soon discover that having such a wife means having a wife who would delight in telling him what to do and managing his life for him.”
“A job that’s been reserved exclusively for you, Your Grace.”
The dowager duchess inhaled sharply and sputtered, “How dare you?”
“I dare because I love your son. But unlike you, I believe that your son deserves far better than the sort of beautiful but useless wife you would provide for him.” She returned the dowager duchess’s stare, refusing to back down from it. “You think choosing a young, biddable bride for him will keep him close to you, but the truth is that you will drive him further away. Your son is well aware of his duty to his name. He won’t shirk it. He loves you, Your Grace, and wishes to please you, but he despises your machinations. He is a man born to a lofty title who recognizes his responsibility and his duty to the people who depend upon him for their livelihoods. He believes in making the world a better place for them, and he deserves the sort of wife who will stand at his side and help him shoulder his responsibilities and accomplish his goals, not one who would unwittingly add to his burdens every day. You chose wisely, Your Grace, when you attempted to match him with Alyssa Carrollton, but …”
“I thought so too,” Her Grace admitted, “but he thought otherwise. Since Alyssa, I’ve done my best to choose a different sort of girl, but he shows no interest at all in pursuing them.”
Miranda smiled at the duchess’s confusion. “Then perhaps, ma’am, your purpose would best be served if you would allow your son to do his own choosing.”
The duchess met Miranda’s gaze, and for once they were in accord. “If only he would.”
Miranda saw the sheen of tears in the older woman’s eyes and knew that despite everything, the duchess loved her son. And that gave them a common bond. “He will, Your Grace,” Miranda assured her gently. “But he must be allowed to do so in his own good time.”
The dowager Duchess of Sussex nodded as she turned to go. “You understand that this changes nothing between us, Miranda.”
Miranda exhaled. “I understand, Your Grace.”
The dowager duchess glanced back over her shoulder. “You also understand that I am not at all pleased at the prospect of becoming a grandmother at my age. I’m much too young.”
“Your Grace …” Miranda began, staring down at the toes of her slippers.
“Unless, of course, my grandchild is born into a legal union. And is female.”
Miranda looked up and met the duchess’s gaze.
“Boys grow up to break their mothers’ hearts.”
* * *
At Albany, the Earl of Barclay walked, fully clothed, into the guest room where Daniel had spent the night and found his cousin moving stiffly, and struggling to shave. He hung a fresh shirt and neck cloth on a wooden valet stand, then took the razor from Daniel’s hand and finished shaving him. “Colin sent word that we should join him for breakfast at home, and Griff and his father will meet us and Alex at White’s later in the morning.”
Daniel rinsed the soap from his face, then reached for a towel. “Thanks.”
“You’d do the same for me,” Jonathan shrugged. He studied the strips of cloth binding Daniel’s ribs, testing the tightness of them before adding, “Now, let’s have a look at what’s under that bandage on your side.”
Daniel would have protested, but Jonathan had already untied the cloth holding the padding over it. “Nice color.”
Daniel looked down at the large green, yellow, and dark purplish bruise surrounding his wound. “The bruise or the wound?”
“The stitches,” Jonathan chuckled. “Your injury is literally black and blue.”
“Miranda used silk,” Daniel defended, “because according to Griff’s wife, it’s the best thread for sewing up flesh.”
“Alyssa would know.” Jonathan acknowledged the Duchess of Avon’s talent for healing.
“Blue and pink were the only colors from which she had to choose.”
“Blue suits you much better than pink,” Jonathan teased, tracing the outline of the wound with his finger, checking for signs of infection or fever. “I’m impressed,” he said. “Miranda has a talent for needlework.”
Daniel reached for the borrowed shirt while Jonathan rewrapped the wound and secured it. Holding it up, he eyed it skeptically. “One of yours or one of Lord Dunbridge’s?”
Jonathan watched Daniel’s attempt to slip it on and lent assistance. “As if Dunbridge would wear a shirt as conservative as that one. Of course it’s one of mine.” He smiled at Daniel. “But you might take note of the fact that beggars shouldn’t be choosers, Your Grace.”
“So I’ve heard.” He was thoughtful for a moment, recalling a similar conversation a few days ago. Don’t they make silk thread in black? he had asked. I’m sure they do, Your Grace, Miranda had snapped, but beggars cannot be choosers. “But as it happens, I was exercising a bit of caution,” he teased. “Think what might happen if Dunbridge or one of his contemporaries were to recognize his shirt …” He grinned at Jonathan. “I might be accused of having participated in the theft of them. The scandal would be enormous. And I’ve my reputation to consider.”
“There is someone else’s reputation you might want to consider as well.” Jonathan held out the newspaper.
Daniel took it and saw that it was folded to the “Ton Tidbits” column. He quickly scanned the article, then sat down hard on a chair. “Damnation! Miranda.” Daniel glanced over at Jonathan. “Damage?”
Jonathan knew what his cousin was asking. “I wish I could say I’d snagged one of the first papers off the press. But by now,” he glanced at the clock, “everyone who reads the Chronicle will have seen it.” He met Daniel’s gaze. “You should go to her.”
“I will,” Daniel promised. I will. He frowned. Those two words sounded eerily familiar. As if he had spoken them to someone else quite recently. “How much time do I have before the meeting with Colin?” He hastily fashioned his neckcloth into a neat four-in-hand and slipped his arms into his coat as Jonathan acted as his valet and held it open for him.
“Not enough,” Jonathan admitted. “But Colin will understand if you’re a few minutes late.”
“Go to his house,” Daniel instructed. “And tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can, then collect Alex and go on to the club. I’ll follow with Colin.”
“All right,” Jonathan agreed. “Should I tell them anything? Or should I wait for you?”
“Wait for me,” Daniel instructed, leaning over to reach for the boots Jonathan had loaned him and groaning as the empty pewter flask dug into a tender spot on his ribs. “It will be better if I disclose my theory when we’re all present.” He put his hand into his pocket to retrieve it and discovered a folded sheet of vellum and what felt like a chess piece. He pulled them out along with the flask. Laying the pewter flask and the chess piece aside, Daniel unfolded the vellum and recognized it immediately.
It was a special license to marry, complete with names and signatures. His name and his scrawled signature. Miranda’s name and her signature. As well as the names of and signatures of Bishop Manwaring, Lady Manwaring, and Curate Linley. He stared at it, stunned, yet strangely relieved and satisfied, as the memories of their hasty wedding in the carriage came
flooding back.
Daniel picked up the bishop and held it in his hand. He knew what it meant. He had used it to checkmate her king in their final game of chess, right before he’d shoved the board out of the way, toppled the pieces, and kissed her as if his life depended on it. Kissed her as if he would never let her go.
The bishop was her way of telling him that she’d made the last move.
I love you, Daniel.
The words popped into his mind.
She had offered him her heart with those four words, and he, fool that he was, had pretended not to notice. But she had known they were legally wed and she hadn’t said a word or shed a tear when she’d watched him walk away.
Apparently, Miranda loved him enough to let him go.
“I didn’t believe her.” He shook his head. “She told me the truth and I didn’t believe her.”
“Who? What?” Jonathan asked.
“Miranda,” Daniel answered, extending the sheet of vellum and showing it to Jonathan. “My wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.”
—William Shakespeare, 1564–1616
“I’ve come to see Miranda,” Daniel announced unceremoniously as Crawford, the St. Germaine’s butler, showed him into the Blue Salon where Miranda’s mother, Lady Frederick St. Germaine, was waiting.
“I’m afraid she isn’t here, Your Grace.” Lady St. Germaine curtseyed.
Daniel raised an eyebrow at that. It was still early and he’d gone to the house on Curzon Street before he’d called upon Upper Brook Street. The Curzon Street house was locked and deserted.
“You just missed her,” Lady St. Germaine was saying. “Miranda left shortly after your mother departed.”
Her statement caught Daniel off guard. “My mother came here?”
Lady St. Germaine snorted. “We were, unfortunately, graced with the dowager duchess’s presence while we were taking breakfast. She was none too happy to be here. And we were less than pleased at having our breakfast interrupted in order to open our doors to her.” She looked up at Daniel. “Whatever did you do to put her into such a fine fettle?”
“I think you know what I did, ma’am.” Daniel blushed. “Or rather, what we—Miranda and I—did.”
“My daughter didn’t volunteer details,” Lady St. Germaine told him. “All I know of the matter is what I read in this morning’s paper.”
“Then I’ve some explaining to do.” He smiled at his mother-in-law. “And I’ll be happy to do just that as soon as Miranda joins us.”
“Would that she could, Your Grace,” Miranda’s mother murmured, “but as I said before, Miranda is not here.”
“Have you any idea where I might find her?”
“She mentioned something several days ago about staying with friends in the country.”
“I see,” Daniel nodded. “And these friends must be very good friends to leave town in the midst of the season with a woman whose good name has been besmirched by a scandal sheet this very morning.”
“As the besmircher of her good name, I’m sure Your Grace knows more about that than I.”
He laughed. “I now know from whom my wife gets her sharp tongue.”
“And I now know from whom Your Grace has obtained his exquisite manners …” Her words drifted off and the marchioness looked up at Daniel. “Did you say wife?”
“I did.” He tugged his signet ring off his finger and pressed it into Lady St. Germaine’s hand, carefully closing her fist around it. “Please give this to my wife when you see her, and remind her that it is hers for safekeeping until I can do better. Ask her to be ready to join me when I call for her later this afternoon so that we might conclude our business at St. Michael’s and discuss our future.”
“I would be most happy to, Your Grace.” Lady St. Germaine smiled broadly.
“Daniel,” he corrected, leaning down to whisper close to her ear. “What sort of ring do you think Miranda would like?” he asked conspiratorially. “Diamonds? Emeralds? Sapphires? Rubies?”
“An old one,” Lady St. Germaine told him, recalling that the betrothal ring of the Duchesses of Sussex was a large, beautifully set square-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds dating back to the time of Charles II. The dowager duchess had never worn it. She’d preferred a large diamond surrounded by dozens of smaller diamonds, but she’d delighted in showing the emerald off and in owning it.
“What a coincidence!” Daniel laughed once again. “For I happen to be in possession of a large quantity of old family jewelry I think she’ll love.”
“The dowager duchess isn’t going to like parting with her jewelry,” Lady St. Germaine warned.
“My mother understands duty and tradition. And the dowager Duchesses of Sussex know that relinquishing the Sussex family jewels is part of their duty. It’s traditionally done upon the announcement of the impending marriage of the sitting duke or his heir, but since Miranda and I wed without announcing it, my mother will relinquish the jewelry as soon as I inform her of my nuptials.”
“Learning you’ve married my daughter should send her into raptures,” Lady St. Germaine remarked dryly.
Daniel cracked a smile. “It should,” he said. “She’s been trying to marry me off for the past three years.” He looked at his new mother-in-law. “Besides, she’ll retain her title as dowager duchess and keep all of her considerable fortune in personal jewelry.”
“That’s small consolation for the fortune she’ll be losing.”
“But she’ll have the daughter-in-law she’s always wanted.” He leaned over unexpectedly and kissed Miranda’s mother on the cheek, before turning to exit the Blue Salon. “And I’ll have the wife I love. Trust me,” he said. “Everything will turn out fine.”
* * *
Miranda stood at her bedroom window and watched him leave. It broke her heart, but she loved Daniel enough to let him go. She had known for years that he didn’t want to be married, and she had no right to hold him to his vows.
Especially when she knew he didn’t remember making them.
“That is the last time I lie to your husband for you, Miranda,” her mother said from the open doorway.
“What?” Miranda turned to look at her mother.
“I said that if you wish to hide from your husband, you will have to find some other way to put him off your trail,” Lady St. Germaine repeated. “I won’t be used in this way again.”
“My hus—” Miranda sputtered. “Mother, he’s not—”
“Yes, he is,” Lady St. Germaine contradicted.
“How did you find out?”
“I got it from the horse’s mouth. Daniel told me.” Her mother pinned her with a glance. “Sorry I missed the wedding. I would have been there had I been invited. Of course, I’m only your mother and your only living relative.”
Miranda shook her head. “How could he tell you about it? He didn’t remember it.”
“He does now.” Lady St. Germaine walked over to the window, took hold of her daughter’s hand, and pressed the Duke of Sussex’s signet ring into it. “He asked me to give you this for safekeeping until he can do better.”
Miranda opened her fist and stared at the ring, then closed her fingers around it and pressed it to her heart. “He remembered.”
“He did indeed,” Lady St. Germaine confirmed. “He also asked that you be ready when he arrives to pick you up later this afternoon in order that you may conclude your business at St. Michael’s.”
Miranda exhaled the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Concluding business at St. Michael’s could only mean that he intended to record the marriage. “What should I do?” Miranda turned to her mother.
Lady St. Germaine’s heart skipped a beat. Miranda hadn’t asked her advice in years. Not since she’d inherited her father’s title. “I suggest you bathe and put on your prettiest dress so you’ll be ready when he arrives …” She glanced at her daughter. “Unless you wish to continue avoiding him
and pretending your marriage never happened.”
Miranda shook her head. “No, of course not.”
“The green merino day dress Madam Racine made for you is nice,” Lady St. Germaine murmured. “If I were you, I’d wear that.”
* * *
“Thank God you’re all right.” Colin greeted Daniel an hour or so later than scheduled, as his butler, Britton, showed him into the study at Number Twenty-seven Park Lane. “It’s good to see you, Daniel. We were beginning to get concerned.”
“I apologize,” Daniel told him, surrendering his hat and gloves to the butler. “For the delay.”
“Not to worry,” Colin said. “Barclay explained that you were running behind schedule this morning, so Gilly and I took advantage of it and lingered over breakfast.”
Daniel looked around for Colin’s wife, Gillian, and for his cousin.
“Gillian’s in the room next door working on the cipher codes. Barclay stayed for a cup of coffee, then left for the club,” Colin said. “We thought it best we continue with our normal routine.”
“I suggested meeting with you at your home because I needed you and Lady Grantham to confirm separate discoveries I’ve made and suspicions I’ve had. Beginning with my mission to France.”
Colin ran his fingers through his hair and frowned, “What sort of trouble did you have in the Channel?”
“An English frigate and the coast watch at Calais,” Daniel explained. “We were caught between the two when they started firing at each other.”
Colin was silent a moment longer. “An English frigate engaged the coast watch at Calais?” He’d been making smuggling runs to and from Calais for nearly three years, and he’d never known any British ship to fire upon the French coast watch for any reason. It didn’t make sense. An English frigate patrolling the English side of the Channel couldn’t hit moving targets on the French coast. “The foot coast watch? Are you sure they weren’t shooting at you?”
“Positive,” Daniel replied. “The coast watch fired at us and one or two of the balls hit the boat, but the frigate never saw us.”