Unraveled (Turner #3)(72)
“What the devil are you talking about?” he finally asked. “Nothing’s wrong with Ash. He was the picture of health, last I saw him.”
Mark let out a deep breath. He let go of Smite, but only long enough to punch his shoulder. “What were you thinking, scaring me like that? You never come here. Why else would you come, except to bear—oh.”
His gaze shifted behind Smite, landing on Robbie, who had climbed out of the hired phaeton.
“Oh,” he repeated, more stupidly this time. “I’d best get Jessica.”
Smite reached out and grabbed Mark’s cuff. “Wait.”
Miranda followed Robbie out of the conveyance. She adjusted the dark brown fabric of her traveling gown, and then glanced at Mark.
“You’ll never understand this,” Smite said his voice low, pitched for Mark’s ears only. “And you’ll never see the two of us together again. I want to introduce you.”
Mark gave Smite a long, measuring look, and then walked forward to greet his guests.
“Robbie Barnstable,” Smite said. “This is Sir Mark Turner.”
Robbie looked up at Mark. “He didn’t say you were a sir.”
“Just call me Mark. I was knighted a handful of years past. I keep hoping everyone will forget it, but alas.”
Smite drew a deep breath. “And Miss Miranda Darling. This is my brother. Mark, this is…” He paused, not knowing how to go forward. He didn’t think Mark would be shocked if he introduced her as his mistress. Still…
Mark solved the dilemma of his introduction by taking Miranda’s hand and shaking it. “I’m delighted to meet you,” he said.
“Miranda has been caring for Robbie,” Smite said. “But he’ll need somewhere safe to stay temporarily. I thought of you.”
“Welcome,” Mark said simply, and that was that. He glanced at Smite. “Are you coming in? Jessica will be furious if I let you run off without saying a word to her.” He glanced around. “But it’s a fine day. We could stay outside.”
It wasn’t. It was gray and cloudy. “It looks about to drizzle,” Smite said. “I won’t perish if I enter. Besides, I would hate to interfere with your marital tranquility. We can come in for a short space of time.”
“Ha!” Mark said. “She’d be angry at you, not me, for dashing off. First order of business.” Mark took Robbie by the arm. “I’ll take you upstairs and introduce you to my wife. Lady Turner is a lovely woman, and she’ll get the servants started on obtaining you a bath.”
“A bath?” Robbie said scornfully. “I just fell in the Floating Harbour yesterday. I don’t need a bath.”
Mark wrinkled his nose. “Ah, so that smell is algae.” He turned to go in the house.
“I’ll—I’ll just stay out here, then,” Miranda said.
Mark swiveled back and took Miranda’s arm. “No,” he said cheerfully. “You’ll come inside. Jessica would have my head if I left Smite’s…” He paused and glanced at Smite—just long enough for Smite to know that he’d heard every word that he hadn’t said. “Smite’s friend outside. Come, now, Smite. Did you not prepare her for anything?”
Smite shook his head and watched his brother bend his blond head close to Miranda’s fire-orange hair. He whispered something; she laughed in response.
In the end, it was Smite who held back, watching from a distance as his brother introduced Jessica to Miranda. It was Smite who concentrated on his breathing. He’d wanted Mark to know Miranda, if only for a few seconds. Mark knew everything important to him, even if he never spoke of it. But this house…it overwhelmed him. He focused on the window to the yard outside, ignoring the cellar that lurked beneath.
The two women exchanged greetings and then took Robbie upstairs, leaving Mark and Smite alone. The smile slowly slid off Mark’s face, and he turned to his brother. “Come,” Mark said. “Let’s go for a walk in the back garden before you cast up your accounts in the house.”
Chapter Eighteen
MIRANDA WATCHED ROBBIE DISAPPEAR behind a door, half-dragged by an upstairs maid.
“There,” Lady Turner said beside her, brushing her hands. “The servants will see to his bath.” She sighed. “I have to admit, I have always hoped that Smite would fall in love, but you are not what I expected.”
Miranda choked. “Pardon?”
“I’ve never been certain he would marry. He’s rather odd,” Lady Turner was saying. “Once you get past his frightening exterior, he’s actually quite kind. But I suspect you know that.”
“He feeds stray cats in Bristol,” Miranda heard herself offering.
“Of course he does.” Lady Turner pinched her lips together. “He’s very sweet, no matter how he tries to hide it. He never doubted me—not once—and I daresay my past is more checkered than yours.” She looked down and drew in a deep breath. “They’ve managed to obscure the matter quite a bit, but I was a courtesan for years before I met Sir Mark. The Turners are something out of the ordinary. All of them. It has taken me some time to grow accustomed to the fact that I am not the oddest one in the room when they’re around. You’ll begin to understand, eventually.”