The Fairy Tale Bride Read online

CHAPTER FOUR

  Miranda held her breath. She dared not move lest the straw rustle or drop down through the loose floorboards.

  Simon said curtly, "The child was lost and came here to escape the rain. I was unseated from my horse and did the same. There is no source for gossip here."

  Miranda marveled at his sangfroid. If she did not know that he had someone hidden in the loft, she would never have believed it. His entire bearing, even to inflection, spoke of aristocratic contempt. Not even Grimthorpe could guess that this man – but a mere hour ago – had held her in his arms, kissed her, nearly made love to her. She scarcely believed it herself.

  Grimthorpe laughed sharply. "You? Unseated? I should have liked to see the Duke of Kerstone unhorsed. Perhaps this has not been a tedious waste of time after all. This will be a worthy story to tell –"

  "Shame on you!" The outburst came from Betsy's mother, who now stood, clutching her daughter in her arms, her eyes burning with fury. Her words were practically incoherent as she forced them from her tear-choked throat. "Taking advantage. First of me, now of him."

  Grimthorpe gaped at her, as if he'd been suddenly addressed by a wayward carp. And then his thin lips thinned even further. "How dare you speak to me like that. I've a good mind to see that you are prosecuted for horse theft."

  Miranda felt a shiver of fear as her eyes darted back to the mother and child, clinging together protectively.

  Betsy's mother was evidently beyond any such fear.

  Her chin was held high and her finger wagged as she spoke with intensity. "It's you who should be hanged. My Bets told me you said there was a crown in the crossroads." Miranda had all she could do not to gasp. Grimthorpe had been the man who visited Betsy's mother?

  At the murmur of the crowd, Grimthorpe stepped back. "My good woman, I assure you the child is mistaken."

  The woman hugged her daughter tighter. "Of course. You're a gentleman." She sobbed softly. "I should never have let you in my door. I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you. You are nothing but a pig."

  "You ... " Grimthorpe's face reddened. Miranda feared for Betsy's mother as she saw he was angered so beyond words that he stepped toward the woman with his arm raised.

  Somehow, Simon inserted himself deftly between them and stood there, blocking any further threat. Miranda was not even sure how he had moved; he was simply there, between one blink and the next.

  Grimthorpe stopped as if held in a grip of steel. He threw Simon one furious glance, and then turned his attention to the woman who had dared to criticize her betters. "I paid you good money for your services, woman. I merely wanted the brat out of the way for a time. You should have taught her the way home. Children are known to wander."

  Especially when promised a gold coin, Miranda added silently, her dismay at the sight of Grimthorpe rapidly growing into panic. The man seemed to be intent on shaking Simon's secrets out of him, no matter what kind of fool he made of himself.

  With a whimper of rage, the woman tore at a small leather bag around her neck. Coins clinked in her hand for a moment before they littered the packed dirt at Grimthorpe's feet. "Keep your coins, then. I'll have nothing more to do with you."

  Grimthorpe bent with self-conscious grace to sweep the coins into his hand. "I'll consider this repayment for the use of Atlas."

  His smiled burned fury into Miranda when he said, as if amused, "After all, your brat led me into the scandal of the century — the upright Duke of Kerstone prefers little girls."

  Simon's fury was apparent to all in the room, judging by the way everyone seemed to shrink from him, including the fool Grimthorpe, who had baited him. "You go too far. These people were distraught about a lost child. They have found her and do not need your insinuating lies."

  The troublemaker's smile flashed as Simon scowled.

  His silvery tone reminded Miranda of the time when a younger Giles Grimthorpe had chided her for being missish. "You should thank me, Kerstone. Once the mothers know of your predilection, they might stop throwing their daughters at your head." He laughed. "Even Camberley will think twice about allying his daughter with you, dukedom or no."

  Miranda's breath caught in her throat. Had Simon been planning a marriage with Celine Camberley? She did not want to believe it, even though she knew that she herself did not want to marry any man — not even Simon. To kiss him further perhaps, to feel his hands on her bare arms as she had this evening, those things she wanted. But they only came with marriage — and marriage was too high a price to pay for the dizzying taste and feel of the Duke of Kerstone.

  Betsy's grandfather had had enough. His spare form straightened and he said softly, "Come, daughter. We must get the child home." He put an arm around the woman's shaking shoulders and cupped Betsy's chin in his hand to give her a reassuring smile. The child did not seem to notice the sad cast to her grandfather's expression, for she beamed at him with all the brightness she had shown earlier in the evening.

  Miranda vowed to herself to stop in and make certain that Betsy and her mother were not harmed by this night's events. Perhaps some of the fruits of Anderlin's gardens would be welcome to mother, daughter, and grandfather.

  A moment more and she would be free, she hoped. And then Betsy said, "I want to say good-bye to your wife, Your Grace."