Miranda noticed the skilled needlework on the arm covers and matching scarf over the back of the armchair in the library. The furnishings didn’t appear as severe as she recalled. The absence of a constable helped.
The air in the room alerted her to the fact of it being a masculine domain. She didn’t think Chalgrove smoked, but the hint of tobacco lingered and mixed with the bold scents of a man’s daily life within walls.
Then her view locked on Chalgrove.
‘I wanted to let you know the constable has informed me that the culprit’s camp has been located.’ He spoke ever so properly. Ever so formally.
Miranda could feel the sensation of claws coming closer, taking her world from her.
Chalgrove poured them both a glass of wine. Their fingers touched when she took the glass.
She saw the wavering of the liquid, took a sip and quickly sat the glass on the table.
This time, Chalgrove shut the door with a click and, as the sound reached her ears, she swayed towards him.
The window light softened the room, but Chalgrove’s presence added a blast of life she’d never felt before.
He moved close and she raised her face, and his kiss caught her lips. ‘I’ve missed you. Our making love. I can’t stop remembering it.’
‘But you mustn’t think about it,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t.’
She faced Chalgrove and put her hands behind her back, stilling them. ‘We must forget. Everything.’
His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t comment on the movement. ‘I could tell myself that all day and it wouldn’t change.’
‘It’s the only way I can continue.’
His eyes tightened. He walked to the window, and then returned to stand in front of her.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Then you need to know that after the old woman’s camp was found, she slipped away. The constable continued after her and found word of a group who’ve been staying not too far away. The woman has to rest one place or the other. We’ll keep giving them surprise visits until we find her.’
‘But...’ she swallowed ‘...I don’t want to see her hanged or in the madhouse. Can she not be left free?’
Chalgrove frowned at the request.
Miranda turned her face from his, hiding the anguish plunging into her. ‘You know how horrible things could be for her.’
‘She should be punished. Abducting you. Her granddaughter. Taken by ruffians. Thrown into a room with an unknown man. We cannot let this happen to another woman. Miranda, you’re a child in the ways of the world. So much worse could have happened.’
‘But it didn’t.’
‘It’s not over yet. As things stand, she should be in Newgate by sunset tomorrow.’
‘She’ll have no hope if that happens,’ Miranda remembered the sticks twined together with a little scrap of cloth tied at the top for a head—the pretend doll her grandmother had given her. The only thing she had with her when she was left at the road besides a length of fabric for her to sit on. Later, her mother had given her other toys, but Miranda had always cherished the recollection of those twigs bound together.
‘Miranda.’ He moved to the desk, his expression hidden from her. ‘For me, the question is not what will happen to her, but what will happen to you? Never seeing you again is a strong punishment for me and I hate the prospect of living the rest of my days without you.’
The back of his head tilted as he raised his chin upwards. Then he moved quickly, as if pulled by an invisible heartstring.
His hand snugged around her waist. His face burrowed into her neck. ‘Your ear is cold, but your neck—warm. Delicious.’
‘Chalgrove.’ Miranda pushed him back, but even as his chest and legs increased their space away from her, his lips stayed nestled.
Miranda could not bear to see the desire in his eyes. She shut her own. ‘Chalgrove—your mother has a wife chosen for you. And I am another Susanna, except with an attachment to two children instead of a husband.’
She wanted him to understand. She could not desert the children. She could not give them the uncertainty she’d felt each morning when she woke and wondered when her new mother would give her away and where she would find herself.
‘If Mr Trevor asks me to wed, I will accept.’
‘And if I were to ask you?’
She believed she’d misheard, until she saw his eyes. Her voice left her at first, but she forced speech from her lungs.
‘You must never ask me such a thing. The children. I have promised myself to remain with them.’ The words were true and they were crueller than any lie she’d ever heard. She could almost see them slicing into the air between them and creating an invisible, unrepairable chasm.
He stepped away. Light changed behind his eyes, darkening. ‘I understand.’
Moving slightly away from her, he agreed again, with the same tightness of his lips that would have appeared had he spoken an oath. ‘I understand.’
‘I’m leaving soon to go with your mother to meet the woman she has chosen for you. Please don’t find needless flaws in her.’
He did not move. ‘If we were having a duel, Miranda, that would have counted as a disabling blow.’
Nothing showed in his face when he turned away. He left the room and the walls seemed to close in on her from all sides—he’d delivered the fatal blow in the duel. The fatal blow to her heart.
She collapsed in a chair. She tried to summon the two faces of the children to her mind, but all she could see was the look on Chalgrove’s face and the bleakness inside her.
She put her clasped hands to her forehead, trying to block out the flurry of emotions she experienced.
Remaining with the children was the right thing to do. The only thing. Best for everyone. She was a part of the household and her whole life was within those walls. Her whole life. Except the man she loved.
Miss Antonia Redding entered the room on the arm of her aunt, gently guiding the woman to a throne of a chair near the Duchess and Miranda after introductions were made. The walls of the room boasted an abundance of art—all of terriers. Even one small rug had a canine influence.
‘So nice of you to call.’ The aunt moved to the chair slowly, studying where she placed each foot. ‘And I’m doubly pleased for you meet our Antonia.’
Miranda took stock of the girl. Ringlets. Fair. If the miss ever ventured out doors, she kept her parasol, gloves and bonnet in place. No rays of sun had touched the girl’s skin.
‘Do you play pianoforte, sing or sew?’ The Duchess’s eyebrows fluttered in innocence and her words clicked out with no subtlety about them.
‘A bit.’ Antonia met the mother-general’s stare effortlessly.
‘Our Antonia did the portrait of my dear Ambrose,’ her aunt inserted, waving to the watercolour on the wall. A terrier, eyes almost glistening with joy, pranced in the portrait.
‘Very accomplished.’ A hint of awe sounded in the Duchess’s voice.
The aunt continued. ‘Her parents were indulgent and terribly over-demanding of her. Did not take into consideration her delicate sensibilities. Sent for a music teacher for her when the child was too small to know what she was doing.’ She spoke to her niece. ‘What was the name of the family he was related to?’
‘Bach.’ Antonia practically shrugged the word away.
‘Excellent tutor. He claimed Antonia learned more in a fortnight than most students learn in a year.’
‘Aunt, please, let us talk about something more interesting. I would love to learn more about your guests.’
Miranda sat, listening as the ladies discussed Antonia’s near perfection. The light laughter of the others touched her ears as she realised they were laughing about poor Antonia’s flaw. Unfortunately, she wrote letters to her aunt with such a small hand her aunt had to have someone else read them aloud. Of course, her aunt claimed, ‘Antonia does not want to waste paper.’
Miranda could imagine Antonia on Chalgrove’s arm. This woman would be the perfect match to stand at his side.
Miranda couldn’t think of a woman standing near Chalgrove without feeling a choking sensation.
The evening continued with mutual admiration flowing around the room, and practically drowning Miranda in the happiness that jabbed her from all sides.
Finally, the Duchess stood to leave.
When the carriage door shut behind them, the Duchess clasped Miranda’s arm with both hands. ‘The search is over.’ The Duchess’s words rushed from her mouth. ‘What do you think?’
‘She’s lovely. Perfect.’ It hurt to speak and the smile she gave ached even more.
Antonia was as close to perfection as a woman could be. She would make a suitable companion to Chalgrove. The woman was too good for a king.
‘Very perfect,’ the Duchess said, musing. ‘Even I was not that suited to be a duchess.’
‘You are an example she would do well to emulate,’ Miranda said.
The Duchess put a finger alongside her cheek. ‘Dear Antonia. She is exactly, exactly, exactly exact and would be a fine daughter-in-law. To be fair, it is almost as if she were raised to be a duchess and needs no example at all.’
The carriage rumbled along, the only sound Miranda heard until just before it stopped at the town house.
‘It’s settled, then,’ the Duchess said. ‘I will drop some hints to my son. The kind that he can’t ignore. I’ll tell him that he should consider courting and marrying Antonia. They’ll make a lovely couple and have many accomplished children.’ Her voice lilted, then dropped. ‘My job is done.’
Miranda’s body jolted as the carriage came to a complete stop. The driver opened the door, but the Duchess didn’t rise. She studied Miranda. ‘I need a new project and I think it will be you.’ The Duchess touched Miranda’s arm.
Miranda shook her head several times before she spoke. ‘That is indeed gracious of you. But there’s no need. I can’t leave the children. I must be their governess.’
The Duchess touched the side of the coach as if to rise, but instead of standing, she calculated Miranda. ‘He is unwed? Their father?’
‘Yes.’
The Duchess gathered her skirts to exit. ‘For now. I must be invited to meet those lovely children. I’m sure no one would mind if a duchess takes notice of two youngsters.’
Miranda took in a deep breath.
The older woman said. ‘I must let the world know how heroically you saved a duke.’
‘I did no such thing.’
Her Grace put a finger to her lips and made a shushing motion before making a light fist at her chin. ‘My son will never publicly contradict me and you shouldn’t either, Miranda. Only two people were there... You. My son.’
Miranda didn’t speak.
‘The constable told me that you were on your way to see an ill person. At some point, you realised some culprits had abducted the Duke to hold him for ransom, but he escaped and you managed to... Managed to get that respectable farmer to return you both to London.’ The Duchess secured Miranda’s arm. ‘Your reputation is secured and enhanced, and what devoted mother would not want to reward such an act of kindness?’
‘But there is no need.’
‘You are right, of course. And with you wed to Mr Trevor, you will never have to worry about anyone becoming those children’s stepmother...but you. I will see that it is accomplished. Think ahead. You’ll be the perfect bride for him.’
Chalgrove knew the old woman was in his grasp. He stared across his study at the constable’s face.
‘I can’t let you be harmin’ her. I mean, if you do, nothing will come of it. But just the same, I can’t let you.’ Wiggins sat in Chalgrove’s study, ensconced in a chair, fingers clasped at his belly. ‘Takes a special kind of man to do the dirty work.’
Chalgrove’s eyes raked Wiggins. If someone would have yelled fire, Wiggins would have not raised a brow and his reaction would have been with the same rapidity he would have given to pulling a book from the shelf.
‘Got the Runners, if we need them,’ the constable continued. ‘An old woman’s harder to apprehend than street vermin. Not my favourite thing—an old woman. They swear worse ’n anything.’
‘Do you know where she is?’ Chalgrove asked Wiggins. Chalgrove twisted his fingers on the stem of the brandy glass, rotating it back and forth.
‘I can have her caught if you give me a nod of your head.’ The constable raised his chin, lowered his eyelids and stared at Chalgrove. ‘We got her where we want her. All you have to say is the word and she’ll be tossed into gaol.’
‘I want to talk with her. To find out why she did as she did. And more.’
‘Best let me handle that. Easier for you if you don’t see how questions get asked.’
‘No.’ He stood. ‘I want to be the one to talk with her. The woman had me ambushed.’ And she’d pinched him. ‘I have no wish to harm her.’ He stopped, sitting the glass upside down on the tray. ‘I don’t. Her crime was heinous, but...’ He wanted the old woman punished for Miranda’s sake, but he couldn’t, because it would hurt Miranda most.
‘You can’t get tender-hearted.’ The constable watched Chalgrove’s face. ‘If we let her go, she could do the same to someone else and, next time, they might not be so lucky. I might find them later with their skull caved in by a spade. It’s not my concern about your abduction, because you’re safe and sound. The noose will protect other gents and ladies.’ He sat back in his chair, slouching, his fingers interlaced. ‘Just the way of it. You can’t break an egg without losing a baby chick, but I like my eggs.’
‘That doesn’t make sense.’
‘Gotta hang ’em to kill ’em and make the world a better place.’
‘Criminals run the streets.’
‘’Cept those with rope cravats. They never commit another crime.’
‘This old woman, if I think she’ll harm anyone else, I’ll tell you,’ Chalgrove said.
‘You’ve not the mind to judge. Takes a professional. Course if she does harm someone else, then she’d hang as she should have, I suppose. It’s not like the line to the gallows is getting any shorter. Last hanging, people started leaving early. After a dozen or so—kind of tiresome.’
‘I’ve never seen one.’
‘You should.’ He crossed his ankles. ‘You really ought to attend a hanging—of course, the show’s really in the people watching. I mean...’ he raised his brows ‘...some of them takes a mite too much enjoyment out of it to be normal.’ He shut his eyes and sighed. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to get a good hangman, too. Sad state this world’s comin’ to.’
Chalgrove imagined the bystanders jeering at the old crone. On the other hand, he could imagine her being transported and somehow swindling the other criminals out of whatever they might have.
‘I wish to talk with her.’ Chalgrove said forcefully. ‘Today.’
‘Suit yourself.’ The man shuffled to his feet, rubbing his fingertips in a massage under his hat. ‘I have nothing better to do.’ He gave Chalgrove a wink. ‘She’s got to hang for her own good. Best thing for her.’
Chalgrove called for a vehicle, grabbed the hat at hand and they left to get into the carriage.
The town coach rolled along the cobbled streets, veering right or left to avoid pedestrians and carriages, but suffering through the cracks in the street.
‘You don’t have a wife, do you?’ the constable asked, giving a cross-wise glower at Chalgrove.
‘No.’
‘I do. Married me a widow woman. Said she poisoned her husband. Well, I said, he must’a been a bad ’un. No, she said, I just didn’t like the yellow hat he wore that day.’ He crossed his arms and shut his eyes. ‘’Course it wasn’t nothing like yours, I’m sure.’
‘I had it on when I was kidnapped. I want to make sure the old woman sees it.’
The man moved his shoulders about as if trying to get comfortable. He didn’t even open his eyes. ‘With respect, Your Lordship, I am surprised you were taken with that on.’
‘Thank you for informing me.’