Regency Steele
Chapter 7: Saturday

The cool air left by the dying fire woke Laura sometime in the dark of morning.  Oh, her backside was warm enough.  Remington had sealed his body to hers and draped a possessive arm around her waist.  She supposed she would have to get used to it.  Given their long association, she suspected her days of sleeping alone had come to an end.

With quiet grace, she sat up in the nest of blankets they’d made, shivering a little as she left the warmth, to add wood to the fireplace.  She stirred up the coals and set a piece of kindling aflame.  The dry wood caught, growing in light and heat until she basked in both.  Satisfied with the fire, she settled down into the blankets.  Remington adjusted, placing his hand on her belly this time.  She glanced over, but his eyes were still closed.

She frowned at the two rings on her left hand.  Remington had plucked the emerald ring from one finger and moved it to the other.  Periodically, he showed off his street skills by nipping jewelry off her person or slipping things out of her purse.  She was faster at detecting the loss, but she hadn’t caught him yet.

She wondered what exactly he meant to convey to her.  Marriage hadn’t ever been something they’d discussed—neither in theory nor as it pertained to their relationship.  Although, as she thought about it, he’d been fascinated by the idea of children more than once and had a deep respect for Donald and Frances.  

Still, in spite of the silliness of the week and Daniel’s antics, she and Remington had crossed a Rubicon of their own—and not the one in the bedroom.  Instead of brushing off the anger with a wink and a smile, this time they’d had honest resolution.  They had been inching ever closer to that sort of communication in the past year.  They’d even—

“Laura?”  Remington’s sleepy voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Turn off your pretty brain.  It’s not time to get up.”

She wiggled over until she faced him.  “How did you know I was awake?”

“I know what you sound like when you’re asleep.”

“Oh, really?”  She slid a leg across his hip and inched yet closer.  “How do I sound when I’m aroused?”  She added a layer of sultriness to her voice.

“About like that.”

“Gonna do something about it?”

“Perhaps I can be persuaded.”

“I didn’t think you needed persuasion in this matter.”

“Probably not.  Merely an invitation will do.”

“Consider yourself invited.”

“That I can do.”

The warmth of the fire had nothing on the heat they generated between them.  And this time, there was no hesitation when Remington took Laura over the edge.

*****

A last quick interlude in the morning led to the pair of them trying to wedge themselves into the microscopic shower stall.  But in spite of three bumped elbows and a critical miss, they managed to wash under the hot spray.

Dressing in period costume for what Laura dearly hoped was the last time was far more fun with Remington playing her maid.  She certainly liked being his valet, especially when she discovered he went commando under the breeches.

“Why didn’t I know this?” she demanded.

“Because you didn’t need any more ammunition, my lovely Laura.”  He removed her hands from the leather and kissed her.  “There’s a bit of room in the front but not much that wouldn’t be noticed by all the other guests.

“Seems like the fabric would cause its own sort of amusement.”

“There is that,” he admitted as he finished tucking in his shirt tails.

The carriage arrived promptly at ten.  Breakfast was in full swing when they arrived in the dining room.  To cheers and wry jests, they took their seats.  Mildred had joined them as Lord Brighton’s personal guest.  Anthony sat at the far end and flirted with Lady Tate while Daniel took the opposite side. 

Laura didn’t like the way he looked.  The pallor she’d noted two days ago hadn’t left his face; she hoped it was the result of too much indulgence last night and not a symptom of his current state.  But she knew it wasn’t likely.

After breakfast, the guests began departing the manor.  By noon, only Daniel, Mildred, Remington and she remained.  Laura asked Mildred to walk with her in the gardens, hopefully giving Daniel and Remington a little time together.  At this point, she didn’t really expect Daniel to be honest with his son, but she wanted to him to have every opportunity before it was too late.

She had a hand on the door when she heard Remington’s angry voice coming from above.  Exchanging a worried look with Mildred, they both turned to quietly climb the stairs and listen outside Daniel’s room.

“I can’t sign this, Daniel.”

“It seems to me this would solve all your problems.”

“For how long?  I can’t con Laura into marriage.  It would destroy everything.”

“Why not?  She’s been using you to make her look good all these years.  Seems like a small price for her to pay.  It’s only for a couple of years at the most.”

“It’s not like that.  I … care for her.  A great deal.”

“Do you love her?”

Remington gave a bitter laugh.  “What does our kind know about love?  But I know bloody well she’s not using me.”  The conviction in his voice heartened her even as she hurt over his own self-doubt.

“Then whatever are you two waiting for?”

“All Laura has ever needed is time.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’d thought … I know a girl, Clarissa—she’s the hiring kind—and might be willing to go through a quick marriage and divorce.  Laura wouldn’t have to know.  I’d be able to give her all the time she needs.”

In utter disbelief, Laura fired a dark look at Mildred, then slapped open the door.  “Now that is the most monumentally stupid idea I’ve ever heard from you.”

Remington closed his eyes in dismay.  “It’s a bit complicated.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning and work your way up to the altar?” she spat out.

He sighed.  “That consulting contract you arranged with Vigilance Insurance?

“What about it?

“It didn’t sit too well with our old friend, Norman Keyes.  It seems he took offense at having to report to me on important cases.”

“I don’t hear any wedding bells yet.”  Laura knew she was being snotty—but really?  Clarissa?  A hooker?  Was that the best solution he had?

“Being a petulant prig, he informed immigration that I was in the country illegally.  Look.  I know you were only trying to help when you gave me that passport in the name of Remington Steele, Laura—”

She narrowed her eyes.  His stab was a direct retaliation for her earlier cheap shot.  “Wait a minute.  Are you implying that somehow this is all my fault?”

“Don’t punish yourself, Laura,” he quipped, in a lame attempt at a joke.  “I bear you no grudge.”

Not amused, she exploded.  “You were stranded in London!  A man without a country!  That passport got you back into the United States, you lousy ingrate!”

“Laura—Laura, it’s very sweet of you to apologize, but there’s no need.  The important thing is that I need to get back to Los Angeles and make all the arrangements.”

She closed her eyes in utter fury.

“Laura, please,” he pleaded.  “You don’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.  If I’m not married to an American citizen by six o’clock Friday evening, I’m going to be thrown out of the country.”

“So you’re going to waltz down the aisle with the Happy Hooker?”

“Laura, please, this is no time to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous; I’m angry.  Can’t you tell the difference?”

“Why are you angry?  I’m the one who’s being deported.”

Reigning in her temper, she said firmly, “For some cock-eyed reason, I expected less of you.”

She had him cold, and he asked in confusion, “Less? Less, less, less what?”

“Less trickery, less deceit, less of everything that makes me doubt your feelings for me.” 

The panic on his face almost made her laugh—except that the situation didn’t warrant it under any circumstances.  “Laura, look; how could I have asked you to be part of a ploy?  A scam?  An arrangement?”

“So you’re shopping around?” she retorted.

He threw up his hands and stalked across the room.  “All right.  Stupid idea.  Once I’m settled somewhere, will you visit me occasionally?  With these excursion fares, you can travel practically anywhere in the world for around ninety-nine dollars.”

When he lapsed into silence, Laura put her hands on her hips.  “That’s it?  You’re just giving up?”  She spun around to Daniel.  “You’re the Duke of Deception.  Think of something!”

“I did.  Harry took exception to it.”  He held out an embellished sheet of paper.

“What’s that?”

“Your marriage certificate.” 

Taking it, she glanced down at the paper she only vaguely remembered signing in the chaos last night.  She gave him a wry smile; with all the pandemonium of the week, maybe it would make a nice memento one day.  Glancing down at the bottom, she saw her own signature and that of Daniel Chalmers and Harold Lindermann as witnesses.  The groom’s line remained conspicuously blank

She frowned.  “Why did you sign this as a witness?  What is going on?”

Daniel answered, tapping the top of the certificate.  “Because this is a legal document, my dear Laura.”

Now she focused on the title at the top of the page.  Marriage License—State of Nevada.  She stared at him.  “How—  This can’t be legal.  There are laws.”

“Yes, Laura,” he patiently explained.  “I lifted both of your driver’s licenses and paid a happy couple to pose as you two to get the marriage license in Reno.  We’re in Nevada, so blood tests and waiting periods aren’t required.  The minister last night was quite real, and the wedding and vows you said were equally genuine.  There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“You signed the marriage certificate.  Harry only pretended to sign it.  And unless I can get his signature on the damned thing, the whole marriage will be invalidated.”

“Were you in on this?”  She turned on Remington.

But Daniel stopped her from going any further.  “Harry didn’t figure it out until last night.  You signed first, remember?”

“Is this true?” she demanded.  Remington nodded as he jammed his hands into his pockets.  Laura could see the smoldering fury in his eyes.  As angry as she was at the deception, she checked herself when she realized his anger was fully directed at Daniel. “Is that what you were arguing about?” she asked in wonder.

“Bloody hell, Laura, I’m not about to go behind your back and marry you without your knowledge.  I might be stupid, but I’m not a buggering idiot.”

“It would have solved everything for you,” she said softly.

He looked away, holding his hands up in defeat—unable to answer.

Daniel did it for him.  “He didn’t sign it because he loves you, Laura.”

She glanced between the two men—seeing the truth on Remington’s face and the absolute confidence in Daniel’s.  “Why, Daniel?  Why this elaborate charade?”

“I want what is best for my boy, Laura.  In this case, turns out it’s you.”

“But don’t you think this sort of thing is best left up to the two of us?  We were making progress.”

“Laura, Harry doesn’t know how to be in a relationship.  He hasn’t seen anyone stay in love for more than a few months at a time.  I didn’t want to take the chance that he would walk away from something he couldn’t recognize.  Or that you might give up on him.”

“Remington is doing just fine, Daniel.  I don’t want to change him.  He’s exactly what I need in a partner.”

“But what about a lover, Laura?  Hmm?”

“That’s between the two of us, don’t you think?”

“If I left it up to the two of you, it would be another four years before you managed to make it to the bedroom.”

Laura leaned in until she was nose to nose with the older man.  “Then you are too late, Daniel.  We managed that part all by ourselves.  And yes, Remington is exactly whom I want in a lover.  You want to know a real secret?  Remington isn’t the one who has been holding us back.  I am.  I love him so damned much it would tear me apart if he ever left.”  Remington shot a surprised look at her, but she ignored it and continued to rant at Daniel.  “I’ve known this since the day we met—yet Remington has given me the time and space to come to terms with that.”

She backed up a step.  “This wasn’t your call to make, Daniel.  It was ours.”

The silence that descended over the room lay like a heavy blanket.  Daniel coughed once to clear his throat.  “I beg your forgiveness.  I only did what I thought was best.  I’ll leave you two alone to determine your course of action.”

Laura ignored him, keeping her place in the doorway.  Focusing on Remington, she asked, “Then what was the business with the rings?” 

He swept his eyes over their audience, but she didn’t care who heard his answer. 

“I’d hoped you would wear the emerald ring--either as an engagement ring or as a gift.  Perhaps we could get used to the idea of working together and being a couple.  As I told Daniel, I only want to give you time.  We’ve been doing well enough lately.”

Laura slapped the marriage certificate against Remington’s chest.  “Then sign it so we’ll have all the time we need.”

While Daniel and Mildred chased down Mr. Lindermann to make certain the marriage certificate was filed by the minister, Laura leaned her forehead against the bubbled windowpane.  Her initial instinct was to flee home and file for an annulment.  But was that really what she wanted? 

They had solved their immediate problem anyway.  “I can’t wait to tell Keyes we’re married,” she said lightly.

“He’ll certainly have his knickers in a twist.”  Remington’s reply was almost automatic.  When Laura saw his face, she recognized the blank expression as the one he wore whenever he was the most upset.

And in realizing how well she did know him, she had her answer. 

“I don’t know how to be married,” she said in chagrin. 

His eyes shifted to meet hers.

“Donald and Frances are the only example I have.  I love them, but I don’t think I’ll make a good housewife,” she admitted.  “Maybe not even a good mother.  I’m difficult, probably a nightmare to actually live with, can’t cook worth a damn, and I work all the time because I like it.”  She began pacing in the small room.  “I only make my bed on the weekends or when I know I’m having company.  I balance my checkbook twice a month.  I sleep on the left side of the bed, wake up to rock music and sing while I’m in the shower.  I talk to my mother twice a week and usually hang up in a bad mood because she thinks I’m shriveling up like an old maid.  Frances and I go to lunch once a month to catch up.  I try to go to all of my nieces’ and nephew’s school events, but if I make one each a year, I’m doing well.  I—”

Remington caught her around the waist.  “It’s all right, Laura.  I won’t hold you to this.”  His features were contorted, as if he were in great pain.

“No.”  She tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling.  “That’s not what … I want.”

He stilled.  “What do you want?”

“I want you to know me and still want to be with me.”

Dumbfounded, his lips moved hungrily across hers as his hands clutched her head.  “I know all this, Laura.  I know every bloody thing about you.  I can live with all of it.  I want to live with all of it.”

Hesitantly, he added, “I can’t sleep cold or eat bad food.  I pay my bills whenever Mildred reminds me and hands me the checkbook.  She balances my bank account and makes me put some of it in savings.  I keep a spare passport and cash in an envelope taped to the underside of my bathroom drawer.  I won’t go to bed without taking a shower.  Occasionally, I have friends who pop up needing a bit of money, and I give it to them.  I’ll stand anyone a good meal.  I hate the holidays unless I’m spending them with you because I don’t know what to do on those days.  I do like your family; charming your mother is one of my hobbies.”

Laura put a finger to his lips.  “I know all that.”

“I’ll do the cooking,” he promised.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” she replied.

“Well now, that’s a better start than I’d expected.”  He hugged her to him.

She kissed him lightly on the lips.  “Stay here.  I’ll go find Daniel so you two can make up.”

“Laura—”

“We have time.  Daniel doesn’t,” she said enigmatically.

*****

Remington watched her go.  Her cryptic parting comment left him uneasy.  Moments later, Daniel walked into the room, carrying two snifters.  He gave one to Remington.  “I should apologize for the game; I do think it’s so much in my blood that I rarely know how to play it straight anymore.”  The younger man nodded as he watched Daniel go to the window and sip.  “There’s another game.  A dry and droll one which doesn’t concern Laura or Lord Brighton.”  He let out a sardonic laugh.  “Do you remember when we first met?  You were all of what, fourteen?  You tried to pick my pocket.”

Remington raised an eyebrow.  “I did pick your pocket.”

Daniel laughed for real this time.  “I saw right then you had a rare talent.  A bit unrefined, perhaps, but a talent nonetheless.”

“Well, you certainly polished it,” Remington admitted.  Memories of those long-ago days surfaced.

Nodding, Daniel turned back to the window, and for the first time, Remington saw his mentor struggle to speak.  “In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never told you about the most exquisite lady to ever grace my life.  What she saw in me, I’ll never know.  Unfortunately, I was too young to seize what might so easily have been mine.”

Not sure what to make of Daniel’s odd mood—the man had never been one to reminisce about anything other than an excellent con—Remington stayed quiet, listening.

“Instead, I tried to pull off the most wildly ambitious caper—and went to prison instead.”  Daniel finally turned to look him in the eye.  “While I was incarcerated, I learned she was with child.  My child.  She died giving birth.”  He set his glass on the table and walked toward Remington.  “The baby was put up for adoption.  By the time I was released, I had no idea where he was.  I wandered around for several years—aimlessly, really.  Then one day, I suddenly realized I desperately wanted to find my son.”

His voice carefully neutral, Remington asked, “And, uh, did you find him?”

“Eventually.”  Daniel slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a very familiar gold watch.  “Do you remember when you told the Earl you suspected that your real father had stolen this watch?”  Daniel waited a beat.  “You were right, Harry.”

Remington laughed nervously as he took the watch; he didn’t want to hear this.  “Come on, Daniel.  What are you playing at?”

Daniel lifted his chin.  “I’m afraid you can stop looking for your father.”

Fury flashed.  “Why didn’t you tell me this twenty years ago?

“I wanted to.  Believe me.  A hundred times over.  But by the time I found you, you’d built up so much hatred against your father that ... I thought it best to be your mentor instead.”

Clenching his jaw, Remington asked, “And why now?”

Stark pain flashed across Daniel’s face.  “Let’s just say it’s time.”

The youthful rage he’d once known all too well spiked.  Too angry to comprehend Daniel’s meaning, Remington spat out, “Oh, time?  Oh, time, is it?  Really?  Time?  After twenty years, you suddenly decide it’s time?  Who in the bloody hell do you think you are to come waltzing in here and say to me after twenty years, ‘Here, my boy, here I am.  I am your father.  I have lived an aimless life.  Here’s the watch.’  You selfish—”  He tried to calm himself but failed.  “For twenty years, I’ve tried to imagine who you are, where you were, what you did.  Were you alive, were you breathing?  And all that time, you were standing there in the flesh and blood, right beside me.  My God!

“Here.”  He pitched the watch.  Daniel didn’t flinch as it hit him in the chest and fell to the floor.  “You take your watch.  I don’t want your watch.”  He stalked out of the room, doing his best to tune out the tinkling sounds of an all-too-familiar Irish ditty.

*****

Remington stalked past Mildred in the hallway.  She chased after him, catching up with him in the gardens.

“Boss, boss, wait a minute.”  She slowed and caught a glimpse of his face.  “Boss, you okay?”

He nodded.  “Hm.  Couldn’t be better.  I’ve just had a birthday.”

“Come again?”

“My father breezed into my life.”

“Your father?”

“Gave me a sad story and gold watch.”

“Who?”

“I liked the gold watch better, actually.”

“For crying out loud, who are we talking about?”

“Daniel.”

“Daniel—”  Her eyes widened.  “Daniel Chalmers?  Are you sure?”

“Mildred, of course I’m sure.  Why are we having this stupid conversation?  Why don’t you just go back and finish packing your things, okay?”

“Why aren’t you jumping for joy and passing out cigars?” she asked.  “I mean, this is great news, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, it’s great,” he mumbled.  “It’s really great news, indeed.”  He turned as if to walk in the garden.  “I mean—a little late—but it’s great news.”  He bit his lip.

Mildred watched him.  He didn’t like the way she seemed to see right through him.  “You’re right,” she said at last.  “He deserted you.  He walked out.  He left you high and dry when you needed him the most.  He’s probably got some stupid story about why he did it.  But he did it, and that’s what counts.”

Her words cut into him.  He knew exactly what she was doing, but was helpless to stop her—and perhaps he didn’t want her to stop.

“So he came back.  So what?  Uh-uh.  No, it’s too late, I say.  You’ve gone this long without a father—hell, you can go the rest of your life without needing him.  The little bum, who does he think he is wanting his son back after all these years?  Oh no.  Make him pay, kiddo—make him pay.  He deserves it.”

He backed away, walking into the garden, when Mildred took grabbed his arm to stop him.  “Oh, boss, boss, wait a minute.”  He stopped.  She gave him a knowing look.  “Is this the way you want it to go down?”

She waited for him to reply.  When he didn’t, she wandered off to the other side of the garden, giving him time to think.

*****

Laura was cooing to Sunrise, saying her good-byes, when Mildred found her in the stable.  “Miss Holt?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Mrs. Steele now.  Or maybe it’s Mrs. Holt-Steele.  Who knows?”  She turned and caught Mildred’s distress.  “What’s the matter?”

“Did you know Daniel is Mr. Steele’s father?” Mildred demanded.

“Since Wednesday.”  A small hope rose in her.  “Does Mr. Steele know?”

“Yeah, they had words.  The boss is pretty upset.”

Laura gave Sunrise one last caress and made haste to the manor house.

*****

Remington heard Daniel coughing long and hard as he stood outside his father’s door.  He realized that he’d been hearing that cough for over a year now and hadn’t dreamed Daniel might be ill.  He stepped into the doorway, almost lost his courage and turned to leave, then steeled himself and walked into the room with a smile.

“I remember the first time you bought that suit.”  At the sound of his voice, Daniel turned around with relief clear on his face.  “You used it to con that poor salesman into flying you all around the States, gratis.”

Daniel played along.  “Ah, but it was my faithful servant who reassured the hapless fellow that I was thinking of purchasing the plane.”

“The fuel costs alone must have been astronomical,” Remington commented drolly.

“What about the time we parted that loathsome limey—”  He snapped his fingers.

“Hoskins,” Remington supplied.

“Hoskins,  from his ill-gotten gains.”

“Not only that, but we proved he was a murderer to boot.”

“By my untimely death, if memory serves me.”  Daniel grinned.

Remington took a pair of steps, closing the distance between them.  “Do you remember the time you posed as a colonel in the Royal Hussars?  Do you remember that one?”

“What about the time that you passed yourself off as the heir to a duke’s fortune?”

“Or you as an ambassador?”

“Or you as a prince?”

“Or you—oh, never mind.  There are too many.  Too many.”

“Oh, Harry,” Daniel sighed happily.  He opened his arms and Remington stepped into his hug.  Things were right between them again.  “Oh, dear, dear me.  We’ve really shared some good times, haven’t we?”

“The best.”

“I’ve always thought of you as the father I never really had.”

Daniel suddenly dropped his smile but said, “Well, I believe this calls for a toast.”

Remington turned, grateful to have something to do.  “Where’s the wet stuff?”  He spied it on a dresser.  As he picked up the bottle, he asked, “Uh, now that the cat’s out of the bag—perhaps there is something you can finally tell me.”  He laughed lightly as he poured.  “Lord knows Laura’s been bothering me enough about it all these years.  What I’d like to know is—”  He picked up the drinks and carried them over to where Daniel had sat in one of the upholstered chairs.  “What is my real name?”  He held out a glass.

When his father didn’t answer, Remington’s smile fell.  “Daniel?”  He took in the slackened jaw, the limp limbs and the chest that no longer rose and fell.  Numbly, he sat on the bed, still holding both glasses.

Later, he couldn’t have said when or how she managed it.  He only knew that, somehow, Laura was there.

Chapter 8: Fallout