Page 13 of Secrets of the Heart

Michael grimaced. He broke the seal, unfolded the letter and began to read Rachel’s familiar hand. A moment later an oath burst from him, then he sat back down in his seat and read through the note again. “Bloody hell!”

Garson had remained in the room, ostensibly laying out Michael’s clothes for the day, but in reality waiting, Michael knew, to find out why Lady Westhampton had sent a letter winging swiftly back to the house she had just left. He paused now beside Michael’s chair. When Michael said nothing, he prompted, “Everything is all right, I trust, with her ladyship?”

Michael tapped an irritated tattoo on the arm of his chair. “No,” he snapped. “Everything is most definitely not all right.” He paused, then added, “Pack my bags, Garson. We will be joining Lady Westhampton at Darkwater.”

5

Rachel glanced across the sitting room to where Jessica stood looking down at the bit of knitting in Miranda’s hands. Jessica pressed her lips together, then pursed them.

Miranda looked up at her and sighed. “Oh, go ahead and laugh. I know it looks absurd.”

“No, it—” Jessica glanced at Miranda, and a laugh escaped her lips. “Actually, you’re right. It does look absurd. Whatever did you do?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Miranda confessed, chuckling, too. “Obviously my education was sadly neglected. I cannot do any of these things that you and Rachel do so easily.”

“Ah, but I cannot shoot a gun,” Rachel pointed out with a smile at her sister-in-law.

Miranda, the daughter of an American who had grown wealthy in the fur trade, had been raised in a manner almost inconceivable to Rachel. She had accompanied her father on fur-buying trips to the wilds, where she had met Indians and trappers, and learned not only how to shoot but also how to use a knife to advantage. As her father’s business had grown, she had moved naturally into it, keeping track of his accounts and investing his money in real estate in the raw, burgeoning city of New York, so that his fortune—and her own—doubled and even tripled. Although Rachel had quickly come to love her sister-in-law dearly—not the least because she had brought Dev back from the edge of ruining his life—there were times when Miranda’s bustling energy left her feeling rather breathless and inadequate.

“That’s true,” Miranda agreed, but added, “However, that is hardly a useful skill when one is trying to prepare for the arrival of a baby. Right now, a blanket would be more practical.” She looked over a trifle wistfully at the soft pale-yellow blanket that lay on Jessica’s chair. “How did you learn to knit so well?”

“Actually, my father’s batman taught me,” Jessica, the daughter of a soldier, replied with a small laugh. “He was quite good at darning, mending, and knitting socks. “But fine sewing was not his forte. That is why, while I will knit you oodles of little caps and booties and blankets, you will have to depend on Rachel for the christening gown and the fine embroidery.”

Rachel smiled at the other two women. “And I will be delighted to do it. I have been stitching away, Miranda, ever since you told me about your good news.”

It was odd, she thought, that only a year ago, she had not even met these two women, yet now she counted them among her best friends.

Miranda smiled, and Rachel was a little surprised to hear Miranda echoing her own thoughts. “Who would have thought that when I married Devin I would also acquire such wonderful friends?” She went on thoughtfully. “You know, I never really had many friends—certainly not ones I can confide in as I can the two of you.”

Rachel was not surprised. She suspected that most women Miranda’s age would have found her rather too intimidating to make friends with. It was easy to see why Miranda and Jessica had become fast friends in just a few days; they had similarly strong personalities and an open, even blunt, manner. She was rather less certain why either one of them had been drawn to her. She did not have their strength; neither of them would have made the mistakes she had made.

She returned to the sewing in her lap, a long christening robe for Miranda’s future child. It was made of elegant white satin, put together with careful dainty stitches. She had finished sewing the plainer underdress and the robe, and now she was adding the rows and rows of delicate white Belgian lace that would decorate the hem and sleeves and edge the yoke of the elegant robe. Inside the yoke she planned to embroider flowers in white thread, giving it a subtly rich look. The finishing touch would be matching satin booties and a cap, both also edged in lace and tied with the same narrow satin ribbons as the front of the robe.

Rachel had been working on the outfit this winter at Westhampton, as well as some other everyday gowns and cotton receiving blankets for the baby’s layette. Miranda had told Rachel of her lack of expertise at sewing, and Rachel had been happy to apply her skills to the task.

Rachel carefully stitched along the pinned lace, then removed the pins. Jessica, coming over to her side, gazed down at the gown.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “You do such lovely work.”

“Thank you.” Rachel smiled, smoothing out the line of lace. She was aware of a small ache of loss in the area of her heart. It happened now and then as she worked on the baby things—the stab of knowledge that she had never had a child for whom to make such things and probably never would. It was part of the price she paid—the worst part, she supposed—for having behaved so foolishly before her wedding.

But she was practiced enough at dealing with it that her smile did not waver as she thanked Jessica for her compliment, and she looked composed as she began to ply her needle again.

Then the sound of men’s voices in the house broke the quiet of the room, and all three women looked up expectantly.

“They’re back!” Jessica said happily. Devin and Richard had gone out riding that afternoon, and the house had seemed rather empty without them.

“Good. I was afraid that I was going to have to tell Cook to delay supper,” Miranda said, but the glow that lit up her face belied the asperity of her tone.

Dev was the first to enter the room, his handsome face wreathed in smiles. “Guess whom we happened upon as we were riding home!”

Immediately on his heels followed Richard and another man, tall and blond.

“Michael!” Rachel jumped to her feet, a grin breaking across her face. Her heart was suddenly pounding, and she felt almost giddy. She took a step forward, then stopped, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I found I grew quite bored after you left,” Michael said lightly, coming forward to take Rachel’s hand and raise it formally to his lips. “Westhampton is far too quiet without the sound of Gabriela’s laughter.”

“Well, you will have more than enough noise here, with Gabriela and Veronica together,” Jessica told him with a laugh.