“Love isn’t logical.”
“No, it isn’t,” Edward said soberly. “I love you, Caroline. I never knew what love was until the night in your garden when you said we were done. It’s come late for me, but not too late for us, I hope.”
With three little words, Edward discovered that kidnapping, jewels, and logic were completely superfluous to winning back his wife. Christies always told the truth, and if he said he loved her, it must be so. Inconvenient, impossible, but true. She melted into his arms and wept on his shoulder. His coat was ruined already. He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket.
Caroline blew her nose in a most unromantic fashion. “You love me?”
“I’ve just said so, haven’t I? What do you think all this has been about?”
“Take me home, Edward. To Christie Park.”
“Tomorrow, at first light. Tonight you’ll rest right here.” He cupped her upturned face and kissed her. “Do you suppose Serena has a mirror on her ceiling too?”
“We cannot make love in Serena’s bed!” Caroline said, horrified.
“Christie House it is then. Putney!”
The butler materialized as though he’d been standing inches away from the door. “Yes, my lord.”
“Thank you for assisting my wife earlier. I am deeply indebted to you.”
“I was only doing my job, my lord.”
Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of bank notes. Putney looked as if he might swoon, but managed to accept them with alacrity.
“There is the matter of a vase, Edward,” Caroline said contritely.
“Have Miss Serena send me a bill. I will take it out of your allowance, Caro. Your pin money will dwindle down to nothing if you do not rein in your temper.”
Caroline lowered her eyes. “Yes, Edward.”
“Do not think for a minute you are fooling me with this submissive act.”
Caroline chewed a lip. “No, Edward.”
Edward threw up his hands. “It is definitely time to remove you from Jane Street. You’ve gone mad, or I have.”
Putney cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’ve gone mad together, my lord. May I send for your carriage?”
“I’ve a poor old horse tied up out there. If you can have somebody see him home to Christie House, I’d be obliged. My wife and I will walk home. If you’re up to it, Caro.”
“Yes, Edward.”
He waited until they were on the sidewalk, then swept her up in his arms.
She yipped like a startled Pekingese. “Edward! What are you doing?”
“Carrying you home, my love.”
“Put me down at once! You can’t carry me through the streets of Mayfair in broad daylight! People will talk! And I’m too heavy!”
Edward kissed her forehead. “You are not,” he lied. “And let them talk. I want the world to know that Baron Christie has found his baroness and will never, ever let her go again.”
Caroline relaxed in his arms. “Yes, Edward.”
Caroline’s acquiescence was bound to be short-lived, but he had a pretty good idea what to do with it for the next few hours. All he had to do was not drop her on her beautiful white arse. He thought, on the whole, he was absolutely up to the tasks ahead.
Chapter 24
And they lived happily ever after.
E
dward picked up the grubby letter from the tray, broke its seal and uttered an oath.
Caroline knew the rules. No talking at the breakfast table. She spread more marmalade on her toast, focusing on the pattern of the silver spoon. It was quite lovely, with tiny lilies of the valley entwined with some indefinable flower. She returned it to the jam pot and took a bite.
Edward looked as though he were choking on his own toast, which lay untouched on the plate before him. She wouldn’t ask about the contents of the letter. It was enough just to sit with him in Edward’s—
their
—lovely breakfast room at Christie Park. The room hadn’t needed much in the way of redecoration, just some drapes, plants, and new pictures on the wall, so it was the first one she’d tackled. She’d be poring over wallpaper and fabric patterns for the rest of the house later with her sister-in-law Beth and was itching to get started. She took a large swallow of tea.
“Hell and damnation!”
Still, Caroline said nothing. The rules really were not so onerous. Edward was most particular about his morning routine, although he’d altered it recently to spend it—and the previous night—in her bed.
Their
bed. One of
her
rules. He still kept his old bedroom, of course, but seemed to wander into it only to keep Cameron busy.
Perhaps the letter was about the children. Alice was upstairs terrorizing her new governess, but the boys could have achieved most anything to set their father off. They were very busy sowing their wild oats at Cambridge. Entire fields were sprouting up, even if it was October. Caroline waited.
Beth didn’t have her scruples. “Good Lord, Edward, what is it? Caro and I are dying of curiosity.”
Edward looked up, straight into Caroline’s eyes. “This is from Andrew Rossiter.”
Caroline felt the pleasant air suck out of the room.
“He writes to tell me that he is
dead
, and wishes me to facilitate the transfer of his bank funds so I can purchase him a house on some Scottish island. Oh, and I’m to hire him an Italian-speaking governess.”
“Andrew is d-dead?”
“Not in the strictest sense. It seems he got into a spot of trouble and needs to go underground. But for all intents and purposes, the man we knew as Andrew Rossiter has gone on to his reward, wherever that might be.”
Caroline felt momentary relief. A tiny part of her heart would always belong to Andrew, but Edward had staked a larger, truer claim. “But why is he writing to
you
?”
“Because he saved your life.”
“He did not! You did! Actually,” Caroline said, reflecting, “I saved it myself.”
“Well, he’s taking credit and wants a favor in return. Apparently his other acquaintances are unreliable.”
“You are certainly reliable,” Beth said stoutly. “Christies always are.”
“Yes, well, this is one task I’m going to parcel out to my man of business. I can’t go traipsing about Scotland. I’m on my honeymoon, and will be for the foreseeable future.” He gave Caroline a quick grin and put the letter in his pocket.
“I wonder what happened.” Caroline peeked up through the tangle of her dark lashes, but Edward was already reading the newspaper.
“Better that you are not aware of the particulars.” He put a finger on his place in the article and gave her a stern look over his spectacles. “There seems to be some danger involved. As far as you know, your old friend is still in Italy. If you hear of the accident, you will be as shocked as anyone.”
“What accident?”
“That’s enough, Caro. Let me finish my breakfast.”
Silence resumed, broken only by the sound of cutlery and the delicate mastications of two Christies-born and one Christie-by-marriage.
If she wanted to, Caroline was sure she could get the whole story out of Edward in bed. But she’d have to get him back into it first.
She rose from the table unsteadily. “I-I’m not feeling quite the thing. I need to go upstairs.”
And suddenly it was true. She felt light-headed. Her stomach roiled with bits of bread and egg and tea. How dreadful it would be if she lost her breakfast in the breakfast room. Caroline was sure no Christies were ever so imprudent to be sick in the potted palm.
Edward turned a page. “It won’t work, Caro. You’ll not worm anything more out of me.”
“Edward!” said Beth. “Look at her! She’s green!”
“I am?” Suddenly she
felt
green. The color of boiled cabbage or one of those nasty garden slugs. The pattern on the new curtains undulated like a stormy sea. Edward caught her before she fell.
“Beth, send someone for Dr. Wyatt!”
Caroline closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning. How ironic to finally be where she wanted to be—in Edward’s arms—and she was too sick to enjoy it. She felt like she was dying. Life was completely unfair.
Edward carried her upstairs as if she didn’t weigh a thing, when she knew her portly Parkerness was in full force. Ever since Edward had come back into her life, more than her love had grown. Her new clothes did not fit. She’d have to cut back on the marmalade, which seemed an easy goal, as she never planned to eat anything ever again.
Edward hovered solicitously, unlacing her, providing her with a cool cloth and a basin, which to her shame, she used twice.
“I am disgusting.”
“Nonsense. You are ill. The doctor is on his way. Hush now.”
He closed the curtains against the morning light and sat like a sentinel in the dim room.
“I love you,” Caroline croaked. “If I die, I want you to marry again. A proper girl next time.”
“You’ve ruined me for proper, Caro. And you’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.”
The doctor arrived and nearly departed just as quickly when Edward would not leave Caroline’s side. After a resentful, blustery lecture, he examined Caro and stepped back.
“I can’t believe I was forced to leave my breakfast table. This is hardly an emergency.”
“Is it merely indigestion?” Caroline asked. There had been two slabs of rare roast beef on her plate last night, as well as Yorkshire pudding and nearly half a bowl of trifle at midnight. Edward had shared, but if she were honest, she ate most of it.
“You are increasing, Lady Christie. Congratulations, Lord Christie. I’d say your nursery will have a new arrival sometime late winter. February or March, I should think. I’ll come back next week and you can pepper me with those questions you’re longing to ask, but right now I’m going back home to my bacon and ale.”
Caroline waited to speak until Dr. Wyatt left, mostly because her ears were ringing. She was not entirely sure of what she’d heard. The distractions of the past few months were enough to throw anyone off. In truth, when she gave any thought lately to her lack of courses, she thought she’d simply dried up.
“A baby? How can that be?”
Edward looked down at her, his face a study in love. “The usual way, Caro.”
“But—but I’m barren.”
He kissed her fingertips. “It seems not.”
“I’m old.”
“I’m older.” And judging by his smug expression, proud he was still extremely capable in the bedchamber. The baby was proof of that.
“But you won’t have to grow fat and bear it!” Caroline said, a bit cross. She would be as big as a house when it was done, doomed to wearing the new drapes. Or maybe a tent. No wonder she’d gotten so stout, but at least until today she had not felt a moment of sickness.
Edward frowned. “I would do it for you if I could. Aren’t you happy about this, Caro?”
“Happy? I’m terrified. And so excited I’d jump about if I weren’t sure I’d vomit again. A baby!
Our
baby. What if I’m a horrible mother?” she blurted.
“Impossible.”
“But this baby will be a Christie. I don’t know how to raise a Christie.”
“You’ve made some headway with Allie.”
“I have, haven’t I?”
A series of thuds overhead belied the point, but the new parents resolutely ignored them.
Edward chuckled. “You were my mistress when we created this child, Caro. Perhaps we were too proper before.”
“You can’t tell her about our past! It’s too shocking.”
“Oh, I think
he
can handle knowing his father was a randy devil in thrall to the most beautiful redheaded witch in the kingdom. I hope he finds a redheaded witch of his own when he’s old enough to appreciate her. With your warm heart, you’ll make sure of that, Caro. He can’t go wrong with you for a mother.”
“
She
can’t go wrong with you for a father. I hope she’ll inherit your temper and not mine. We’ll have to pad the nursery walls.” Caroline sat up. Too quickly. The room tilted sideways. “Oh!”
“What is it?”
“Bother, I’m dizzy again. But get Beth to bring up the wallpaper and paint sample books. We can plan the nursery! A soft yellow I think, just in case it is a boy. He wouldn’t like pink at all.”
“I shouldn’t think so. No Christie boy will ever be fond of pink. Except, of course, where it counts.” His hand slipped under the covers.
Caroline felt the blush flutter to her toes. “Edward!”
“Pink. So sweet. Delicious. I’m much like Dr. Wyatt. I’m still hungry.”
“But—”
“Not a word at breakfast, Caroline. You promised.”
Caroline tried, but inevitably a few sounds squeaked out. Edward did not seem to mind at all.