Page 14 of Secrets of the Heart

Michael greeted the other two women warmly, congratulating Miranda on her upcoming “happy event.” Rachel noticed, with a pang of hurt, that her husband’s manner toward his in-laws was easier and warmer than toward his wife.

“I am so glad you could come,” Miranda said, smiling. “We were quite sorry that you had not driven down with Rachel.”

“Had I known that highwaymen were going to be popping in on Lady Westhampton’s carriage, I would have done so,” Michael replied. “I decided that if things like that were going to happen, I had best escort Rachel the rest of the way to London.”

“Good idea,” Dev agreed. “I had been thinking that I ought to do that myself.”

“Don’t be silly,” Rachel told her brother. “I am sure that nothing else will happen.” She turned toward Michael. “I am afraid that you have put yourself out for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” Michael answered politely. “I will have the pleasure of your company on the ride to London.”

It was the sort of courteous, meaningless thing men said to women they did not know well, Rachel thought. Not that it mattered, of course. Her life was quite pleasant; it was only the sight of Miranda and Jessica with their husbands that made her a little dissatisfied with her own marriage. Many women would be grateful to have a husband such as she did, who placed so few demands on her, yet was unfailingly thoughtful and polite.

“Who was the man, Michael?” Miranda asked in her blunt American way. “Did you indeed know him?”

Michael grinned at her. “Do you honestly think that I am the sort of chap to be friends with a highwayman? No, I am afraid he sounds like some kind of lunatic, frankly. The only thing I can think is that it was part of some bizarre jest—that one of my friends hired this man to play a joke on me, and then, when I was not in the carriage, he didn’t know what to do except go ahead and relate the tale they had made up to Rachel.”

“An odd sort of jest,” Jessica offered.

“Yes, well, some of the men with whom I correspond are rather eccentric. Dr. Waller, for instance…”

“The scientist?” Rachel’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes, I realize that he is a veritable genius, but he has been known to have a distinctly odd sense of humor.”

“I should say so,” Dev grumbled, “if his idea of a joke is to go about frightening ladies.”

Michael had not looked at Rachel as he spoke, and she had the sudden, intense suspicion that he was lying. She would have liked to press him on the matter, but she could scarcely accuse her husband of lying in front of her family.

“I wrote him immediately, of course, to enquire,” Michael went on, turning toward Rachel. “But in case it was not he or a mistake of some sort, I thought it wisest to accompany you to London.”

It occurred to Rachel that her suspicion of a moment before was ridiculous. Of course Michael had not known that man; he did not socialize with thieves and highwaymen. It was absurd to think so, even for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said. “It will make the ride much more enjoyable.”

She realized as she said it that her statement was true. On the drive to Darkwater from Westhampton, she had found herself missing Michael’s company. In fact, now that she thought of it, she had felt sad to leave him. He had a quiet, subtle wit and a calm manner that made any situation more agreeable. Intelligent and well-educated, he could talk on almost any subject, and he was too courteous to let his boredom with one’s conversation show. It would be nice, she thought, if he would even stay with her in London for a while.

To her surprise, she heard Jessica echo her thoughts. “Perhaps you might stay in London for the Season.”

Rachel glanced at Jessica, then back at Michael. She found his gaze upon her before he turned toward Jessica. “Tempting as the thought is, I am afraid that I must go back to Westhampton. It is the busiest time on the estate, as well. I have a number of experiments going concerning the farms.”

Rachel knew that Michael’s estate manager was privy to all of Michael’s plans and it would cause little problem if he happened to stay away at least part of the spring and summer. The reason he would not stay the Season was because he preferred to be alone on his estate. He had lived with her the first year of their marriage—for appearance’ sake, she presumed—then after that he had retired to Westhampton, visiting her in London only rarely. He had told her that it would be “easier.” Easier, she supposed, for him not to be reminded of her treachery each day by the mere fact of seeing her. Easier not to have to keep up the pretense of civility towards her. It surprised her sometimes that the thought still had the power to hurt her.

Miranda tugged at the bellpull. “I shall tell the servants to make up your roo—” She stopped abruptly, frowning. “I’m sorry. Your customary bedchamber is one of the ones that we are currently renovating….”

Since Miranda and Dev had married, they had been restoring Darkwater piece by piece, beginning with the most desperate areas—the roofs and chimneys and worm-eaten wooden banisters and railings. The more cosmetic changes of painting and papering walls, replacing drapes and threadbare rugs, had followed as soon as the structures of the rooms were made sound. As a result, there had not been a time in the past seven months when there was not hammering or sawing or painting going on in some room or other. Miranda had put on a push to be finished with the family area of sleeping and sitting rooms before the arrival of her baby, knowing full well the value of peace reigning where the baby was, while the noisy construction was relegated to the other wings of the house.

As a result, all the guest rooms besides the ones currently occupied by Rachel and the duke and duchess were unusable, including the one in which Michael usually stayed when he happened to visit Darkwater.

Miranda cast an anxious look first toward Rachel, then back to Michael. She was aware, as they all were, that Rachel and Michael did not have the same sort of warm, intimate marriage that she and Devin did—or Jessica and Richard had, for that matter. Rachel had told her long ago that hers was not a love match, that she and Lord Westhampton “lived apart.” She also knew that when Michael and Rachel both stayed here, Michael slept in a separate room. However, that was a fairly common arrangement among the aristocracy, and it did not necessarily signify that the couple were not intimate.

Typically, if rooms were short, one would expect to put a husband and wife in a room together. But Rachel’s was not a typical marriage. Though they had not, of course, ever actually discussed the matter, Miranda suspected that Rachel and Michael had never actually shared a bed. It made for an awkward situation, and it would be embarassing to even discuss the matter. To make some special arrangement for Michael would highlight the oddity of their marriage, which Michael and Rachel tried to keep normal in appearance. Yet it would create an uncomfortable situation for the couple if she simply stuck him in Rachel’s room.

For a long moment, silence hung in the air, then Michael said easily, “Well, of course I would not trouble you for the luxury of a separate chamber in such a situation. Just tell the footman to put my bags in Rachel’s room.”

“Of course.”

“You would no doubt like to wash up after your journey,” Rachel said quickly, hating the red tint that she knew had washed up her neck into her face. “I will take you up to our room.”