Lady of Pleasure (5 page)

“Tell that to the man I owe,” he muttered.

Her eyes widened. “Have you spoken to my brother about this?”

He shook his head. “God, no. He was the one who told me not to invest.”

She caught his arm. “Go to my father. He likes you. He will help you.”

He stared. “I’m not about to beg your father for money.”

“Pride has no place in this conversation. You are like family to us and he has the financial means to right this. Go to him. He is in his study.”

He threw back his head. “I’m not about to— I don’t want you to worry. That isn’t why I told you. I will manage. I always do.”

“Manage?” she echoed. “Ten thousand pounds isn’t exactly a shilling, Caldwell.”
He leveled his head but wouldn’t look at her.

She swallowed. She shouldn’t have said that. “That was vulgar of me. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t apologize. I was irresponsible and deserve to hang for it.”

“No. You don’t. You didn’t take it all to a card table. You invested it as any gentleman does. How could you have predicted a fire?”

His gaze veered to hers. “I couldn’t.”

“Exactly. It isn’t your fault. At least breathe knowing that.”

He said nothing.

Trying to offer him a measure of comfort, Caroline grabbed hold of him and hugged his warmth as tightly against herself as she could. The scent of soap and freshly starched linen overtook her breath. She sagged against him, digging her hands into his clothes. She had never dared to embrace him before, but something told her he needed it.

He stiffened against her before slowly wrapping his muscled arms around her. He pressed her against his muscled frame, a breath escaping him.

She nestled her cheek against his embroidered waistcoat and achingly wished he could love her in the way she loved him. “Know that I will always love you. No matter how much or how little you have. No matter how hard you fall. I will be here for you. Always.”

Another breath escaped him. He tightened his hold.

It was as if he needed to hear those words.

She tightened her own hold on his large frame.

“Write to me during your stay in Bath,” he whispered.

“I will write every week,” she whispered back.

“We should practice your French more. Write a few conversational sentences in every letter, and I will respond with any corrections. Now don’t worry about me. I have survived crazier situations than this.” He smoothed a hand down her braid. “Enjoy your time in Bath.” Prying himself out of her arms, he hesitated and intently met her gaze. He lingered, searching her face.

She swallowed, sensing he wanted to say something. “What? What is it?”

His shaven jaw tightened. “You aren’t really a child anymore, are you?”
Her breath caught and she almost burst. It was like hearing him say ‘I love you.’ She searched his face. “No. I am not.”

He averted his gaze and edged back. “I have to go. I have a few letters to write.” Swinging away, he shoved both hands into his coat pockets. Glancing back at her one last time, he disappeared out into the corridor.

That was when she knew something between them had changed.

And she couldn’t tell if it was for the better or worse.

She fingered the cool surface of the coin he had given her. A coin he had once boasted he would never part with at any price. It was now her duty to ensure its legacy, even in the face of Caldwell’s ruin. A shaky breath escaped her as she pressed a loving kiss to it, wishing it were his lips.

Booted footsteps from behind made her turn toward the doorway.

Her father, the Earl of Hawksford, widened his gruff stance, his aged features and stark white hair reminding her of the long, wild life he had lived. His green eyes grudgingly observed her as if he knew everything that had been said.

She awkwardly lowered the coin from her lips. “Were you listening?”

He stared her down. “He had no right discussing his personal affairs with you.”

She glared. “Coming from a man who discusses
everything
with me, including what nude portraits he plans on importing from Italy, I find that laughable.”

His lips pressed into a hard line.

Realizing she was being a bit harsh, she sighed. “He needed someone to talk to.”

“He could have talked to your brother.”

“You know how Alex is. He doesn’t take anything seriously.” She panicked. “Papa, you have to help him.”

He strode toward her. “And what makes you think I have ten thousand pounds to toss at a man who was thick-witted enough to invest
everything
into the breeding of racehorses?”

“Things were going well for him, which is why he invested what he did. It wasn’t his fault, nor was he reckless. The stable he rented had caught fire and killed every last horse. Can’t you—”

“No. It’s a ridiculous sum of money. He would never be able to pay it back.”

She kept her voice steady. “Mama informed me last month of my financial worth.”

He paused. “And how does that play into this conversation?”

“I am asking to borrow ten thousand pounds against my inheritance to assist him.”

He lowered his chin. “I’m not dead yet.”

“Papa, please. You know full well that isn’t what I meant.” She placed both hands together and shook them, ensuring the coin in her hand didn’t fall. “This is me begging for him in a way I have never begged before. He means everything to me.” She pleadingly held his gaze. “He is the only friend Alex has ever had. The only friend I have ever had. You know how the aristocracy is. They treat us with disdain because of Mama’s
lineage
and only ever judge us. But Caldwell never judged us. Not once. We need him just as much as he needs us. You and his father were once friends, were you not? Does that mean nothing? Knowing the man looks down upon his son from the heavens and sees this?”

The old earl muttered something. Scrubbing his thick, white hair with a hand, he eventually supplied, “If you knew Caldwell’s father the way I did, you would damn well know Jacob isn’t looking down on us. He is looking straight up at us. From hell.” He glanced down at the floor. “Sorry, Jacob.” He sighed. “Everything I own is heavily invested. I could give him six thousand, at most, but not much more. It would be enough to bide him time to pay off the remaining sum and ensure he doesn’t end up in prison. I can also speak to whichever gentlemen he owes.”

A breath escaped her. She hurried toward her father and flung herself into his arms. “Thank you.” She clung to him, her limbs trembling at the realization that Caldwell was going to be all right. “I don’t understand why he has such burdening debts. He is a titled gentleman. He—”

“A title doesn’t pay bills, Caroline. In fact, a title disillusions a man into thinking he has more than he does. And Caldwell has never had much to begin with. His father had become irresponsible to the bone after Caldwell’s mother died and had left a staggering pile of debts. Aside from his uncle, everyone in that boy’s family is ruined. And Caldwell is constantly paying their bills. His generosity is killing him.”

Anguish overwhelmed her. Caldwell never spoke of his past. Even when she had tried to get him to speak of it. And now she knew why. He was ashamed of it. “Talk to him, Papa. Tell him to take better care of himself. He will listen to you. I know he will.”

“I will speak to him.” He smoothed her hair against her head. “You love him, don’t you?”

She nodded against him. “Yes. In the way that you love Mama. Passionately. Ardently. I can barely breathe.”

His hand stilled against her head. “I have been meaning to speak to you. In the way we always do when something needs to be explained.”

She pulled away and glanced up at him. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “No.” He hesitated. “What I’m about to tell you, I don’t want you sharing with your sisters. This is something only you and your brother are old enough to understand.”

Oh, no. It was one of
those
talks. “I won’t say anything to them.”

He sighed. “I wanted you to know that I plan on moving into our cottage in Surrey.”

Her breath hitched. “What? Why?”

“Your mother asked me to move out for a few months.”

She stared. “What do you mean? She can’t— You and she are married.”

“I violated an agreement she and I made. As such, I have to honor that. It will only be a few months.”

She squinted. “An agreement? I don’t understand. What sort of agreement?”

“That neither of us would hurt our family or anyone else during the pursuit of our passions.”

Startled, she edged away. “Passions? As in…?”

“Yes. As in.” He cleared his throat. “I uh…I involved myself with a young woman who—” Emotion stripped his face. “I met her a few months ago when I had gone out riding and it…it got out of hand. I was irresponsible. She…” His voice cracked and tears streaked his eyes. “She died last week right along with the babe she was carrying. The doctors couldn’t stop the bleeding when she miscarried.”

Her eyes widened. A part of her soul cleaved into half and shattered on the floor at her own feet. She always thought her father’s curt honesty and the discussions they openly shared, in which he never shielded her from anything, were a blessing that allowed her to understand the real world and life. But that blessing had just turned into a curse.

Tears overwhelmed her as they streamed down her face. “How could you destroy a woman like that? And what of Mama? Your wife of thirty years? Dearest God, how could you—”

“Caroline.” He blinked rapidly but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Your mother and I were never monogamous. Neither she nor I were capable of it. Which is why we promised never to hurt anyone during the pursuit of our passions. Hence why your mother is upset and wishes me to move out for a few months. I have to give her time to sort this out.”

She staggered. It was as if he were admitting that she or her sisters or even her brother were not his. Oh God. She felt as if she was about to retch. “I’m staying in Bath with Grandpapa from here on out. Because I’m not coming home to this. I’m not.”

His aged features crumbled. “You shouldn’t stay in Bath. Your sisters will need you. You know how they depend on you and look up to you.”

“Are they my half sisters?” she choked out. “And is Alex my half brother? Do you even know?”

“Cease. We didn’t engage others until we were done having children.” He reached out. “Now come here. I need to know you aren’t angry with me and that you will visit me at the cottage out in Surrey. Say you will. It will only be a few months.”

A sob escaped her as she dodged his hand. “What will happen once society knows of this? What will become of us?”

His hand dropped. “No one will know. I paid her family well and moved them outside of London. They are well cared for.” He lowered his voice. “As for my leaving to the cottage, everyone, including the servants, will be led to believe my health is failing, after which I will recover. So you needn’t worry. Because we are still a family and will always be. We will simply go about this differently for the next few months. You and your sisters can visit me out in Surrey whenever you want.”

She couldn’t see past her tears anymore. She had always thought her parents were
outré
in society’s eyes because of their grand passion for each other, and their outlandish approach to everything in life. It had always made it easier to swallow society’s disdain knowing her parents loved each other, but now? They didn’t even have that.

A sob escaped her.

She darted out of the room, the corridors blurring as she ran down them. Finding her only haven in the house, she threw open the doors to the library. It was achingly obvious her parents were outcasts, not because of her mother’s lineage or their grand passion for each other and life, but because of their grand passion for
others
.

Grabbing
Persuasion
from the shelf, she tucked herself against the ladder where she and Caldwell had first met and, with trembling hands, set Caldwell’s sovereign against the first open page and started to reread the book, trying desperately to remind herself that real love and real passion could never be corrupted by anyone or anything. Love was not meant to be shared with the world. It was a secret romantic language between two willing hearts and two willing souls that only needed each other to survive. And one day, she would know of such a love with Caldwell. One day. After all, who else in London would accept her and her family for what it was? No one but Caldwell. And for that, she knew she had to love him in a way no one had ever loved him before.

Almost three years later

The opening of the Season

April 4, 1830 – 2:20 A.M.

St. James’s Square

Ronan Henry Dearborn, the fourth Marquess of Caldwell, shut the entrance door behind him and leaned against it, savoring the blessed silence of his house after countless hours of clattering wheels on uneven roads.

He paused, noting all the candles in the wall sconces were still lit. Pushing away from the door, he puffed out almost every candle, save one. His uncle had promised to keep household expenses to a minimum, but Ronan knew all too well that the man was like a rabbit in a vegetable field. Never to be entirely trusted.