The Lady Gambles (18 page)

‘I would like to attend the funeral.’

The tension in Dominic’s shoulders increased. ‘I am not sure that is a good idea—’

‘It was not a request, Dominic,’ Caro insisted. ‘Have you—have you seen much of death?’ she asked before he could voice any more objections.

‘More than I care to remember,’ he admitted harshly.

Caro breathed a sigh. ‘My own mother died when I was but ten years old, and she was not at home with
us when it happened.’ She gave a pained frown as she remembered the circumstances under which her mother had died. ‘My father died only a few months ago, but he had been ill for some time, and in truth, it was more of a happy release for him than a shock to…to his family.’

Dominic was aware that the pieces that made up Caro’s life were given rarely and sparingly, but she had said enough just now for him to know it was no more a father that she hid from than a husband.

He could not resist looking up at her and teasing her a little. ‘I believe you told Drew that it was a maiden aunt who had died a few months ago, and in doing so left you homeless as well as penniless.’

Two bright wings of colour now brightened Caro’s cheeks. ‘I did say that, yes.’

‘And…?’

She gave an irritated little snort. ‘What difference does it make whether it was a father or a maiden aunt?’

‘None at all—except maybe to that father or aunt.’ Dominic placed a slow and lingering kiss upon the side of her breast in apology for his teasing of what they both knew to be a complete fabrication of her previous life. But he felt too relaxed, too satiated, to seriously question it at this moment. That relaxed contentment rendered him ill prepared for Caro’s next question…

‘Obviously you are the Earl, so your own father is no longer with us, but what of the rest of your family? Your mother, for instance?’

All relaxation fled, all contentment, as Dominic sat up sharply. ‘Also dead. They both died when I was but twelve years old.’

Caro gasped. ‘Both your parents?’

‘Yes.’

‘Together?’

‘No. Caro—’

‘Please do not go, Dominic!’ She reached out to grasp his arm as he would have stood up, her gaze pleading as he paused to look down at her. ‘If you do not wish to talk of your parents, then we will not do so,’ she promised huskily.

Dominic concentrated on how her loosened curls looked, all spread out on the pillow behind her. Her eyes were a beautiful, luminous sea-green, her lips slightly swollen from the kisses they had shared. Her cheeks were flushed, as was the delicate skin of her breasts, the tips all pouting and rosy from his attentions. His expression softened as he slowly exhaled his tension away before once again lowering his head to rest against one of those kiss-reddened breasts, his hand moving to lightly cup its twin. ‘There is nothing more to say about my parents other than that they are both dead.’

‘But your mother, at least, must have been quite young when she died?’

Dominic sighed. ‘She was but two and thirty at the time of the accident. My father was eight and thirty when he chose to follow her only days later.’

Caro stilled, her heart pounding loudly beneath Dominic’s head. ‘He
chose
to follow her?’

Dominic had learnt early on in their acquaintance not to underestimate Caro’s intelligence, and with this question she once again proved he had been wise not to do so. ‘Yes.’

Caro’s throat moved convulsively as she swallowed
before speaking. ‘Can you possibly mean that he took his own life?’

Dominic made no attempt to halt his movements a second time, instead sitting up and moving away from her. Caro was sensible enough—or too stunned still—not to try to stop him, either by word or deed. He shrugged. ‘He loved my mother very much and obviously saw no reason to continue living without her.’

‘But he had a young son to care for!’

‘Obviously he did not feel I was reason enough to continue living.’ Dominic stood up and began pulling on the pantaloons he had discarded so eagerly only minutes ago.

Caro reached down and pulled the bedsheet up to her chin as she watched him with huge, disbelieving eyes. ‘My own father loved my mother very much, too, and was devastated when she died. But even so, I do not think he ever contemplated the idea of taking his own life; he accepted that he had other responsibilities—’

Dominic’s scathing snort cut off her halting words. ‘Obviously your father was made of sterner stuff than my own.’

‘I do not believe it was a question of that—’

‘And I believe we have talked of this quite long enough for one evening!’ His eyes glittered a pale and dangerous silver.

Caro lowered her gaze. ‘It is just that I do not understand how any man, no matter how devastated he is by loss, could deliberately take his own life at the cost of leaving his twelve-year-old son alone in the world.’

‘I have
told
you why!’ Dominic paused to glare across at her once he had pulled on the tattered rem
nants of his shirt. ‘He loved my mother so much he had no desire to live without her.’

The compassion in her eyes as she looked up at him was almost his undoing. As it was, the painful memories this conversation evoked felt like a heavy weight bearing down upon him. ‘I am sure my father felt justified in his actions, Caro,’ he said.

Caro looked stubborn. ‘I do not believe there can be any justification for leaving a twelve-year-old boy alone and without either of his parents.’

Dominic’s dark brows lifted, his expression hard and uncompromising; eyes a steely grey, cheekbones as sharp as blades beneath the tautness of his skin, that vicious scar livid from eyes to jaw, and his mouth a thin line. ‘Not even if you hold that twelve-year-old boy—your own son—responsible for the death of the woman you loved?’

Caro gave a shocked gasp, all the colour draining from her cheeks as she stared up at Dominic with those huge sea-green eyes.

D
ominic knew that the look of horrified disbelief on Caro’s face was perfectly justified; no doubt that was exactly the emotion she was feeling, at even the suggestion that a twelve-year-old boy could be responsible for killing his own mother. Let alone that it might actually be the truth…

Not that Dominic had caused his mother’s coach to leave the road and plunge into the river. Nor had he wedged the door of that carriage shut so that it was impossible for her to escape when the carriage began to sink and the water to flood inside it. And neither had he physically held his mother’s head beneath the water until she’d drowned.

No, he had not personally done any of those things. Nevertheless, he knew he was as much to blame for his mother’s death as if he had done every one of them.

Caro shook her head. ‘It is utterly ridiculous to even suggest you might have done such a thing.’

‘Is it?’

‘Utterly,’ she spoke with conviction.

‘You do not believe me capable of killing someone?’ He eyed her tauntingly.

‘Of course you have killed in the heat of battle,’ she said. ‘It is the way of things. But I do not believe you capable of harming any woman, let alone killing your own mother.’

‘Come now, Caro, I am sure you must know me well enough by now to realise that I am capable of all manner of things. Seducing, not once, but twice, the young woman I have taken into my care is only one of them.’ He looked disgusted with himself.

‘I was as instrumental as you in both those seductions.’ Caro’s cheeks warmed with guilty colour as she quickly stood and collected her wrap, securing the belt of that robe around her waist. ‘I also believe you are only saying these things about your mother in order to shock me.’

His mouth twisted. ‘Am I succeeding?’

‘I am more disappointed that you feel you have to say things that cannot possibly be true—’

‘Oh, but they are true,’ he cut in, his voice silkily soft, eyes narrowed to challenging slits as she looked across at him. ‘I, and I alone, am responsible for the death of my mother.’

Once again Caro could see the ruthlessness in Dominic’s expression; yes, she had no doubt that if he deemed it necessary for someone to die, then he would be cold and decisive, even savage, in the execution of that death. But the underlying edge of gentleness, of love, she had heard in his voice as he spoke of his mother told her that he could not have had a hand in her death. Besides
which, what would a twelve-year-old boy know of killing anyone?

‘Tell me how she died, Dominic,’ she urged.

‘What difference does the manner of her death make?’

‘It makes all the difference in the world,’ Caro said crossly. ‘Why did you tell me these things if you did not wish me to question you?’ Although she might take a guess on it having something to do with him thinking that he deserved to have people—women, most especially—feeling no affection for him.

But also an indication, perhaps, that he might also fear that she was falling in love with him? Caro winced inside. That he was determined to foil any such softness of emotion, if it existed, was humiliating. Worse than humiliating, if he’d guessed her feelings correctly.

In contrast, Dominic was a difficult man to read. That was deliberate, she felt sure. On the surface he was an arrogant, hard and uncompromising man, who outwardly scorned all the softer emotions. Yet, at the same time, he’d shown a deep concern over the attack on his friend, Lord Thorne. And instead of being furious earlier at the loss of his gambling club, as many gentlemen might have been, Dominic had instead only revealed a deep sorrow and anger at the death of poor Ben.

And Dominic’s concern for Caro’s own safety and welfare was just as undeniable, even though he took great pains to claim he had been forced into saving her from her own reckless behaviour!

He might give himself all sorts of reasons for his behaviour, but Caro had seen the man beneath and
would have no part of it. ‘I will know the truth, Dominic, if you please!’

He arched mocking brows. ‘And will you then reveal to me the truth about yourself?’

Caro was in a quandary. No doubt he considered such an exchange of information fair. And it probably was. Except she could not confide her own situation to him, especially now when, having thought long and hard earlier this evening, Caro had decided that, guardian or not, she must return to Shoreley Hall as soon after Ben’s funeral as possible.

Once back at Shoreley Hall she would assume the mantle of Lady Caroline Copeland. That being so, there was absolutely no reason for him to know anything further concerning Caro Morton, a woman who did not exist out of the small circle of acquaintances she had made in London.

She drew in a deep breath. ‘I must refuse.’

Dominic’s lip curled. ‘Then it would seem we are at an impasse.’

‘The two situations are completely different,’ Caro snapped her impatience with his stubbornness. ‘I have not just laid claim to killing someone!’

‘How do I know that you did not see off this “maiden aunt” or your father before making your escape to London?’ Dominic eyed her mockingly.

Because there was no maiden aunt, and of course Caro had not been involved in her father’s death! But the second part of his statement, concerning her having made her escape to London, was too close to the truth for comfort…

‘I believe you are merely trying to fudge the issue by making ridiculous accusations,’ she said.

‘You may think what you please,’ Dominic retorted. ‘As far as the subject of my mother, and the manner of her death, is concerned, I have no wish to discuss the matter further. With you or anyone else.’ The finality in his tone did not allow for further argument. ‘I believe I will wish you goodnight now, Caro.’ He gave her a brief bow before striding across the room, pausing briefly when he reached the door. ‘If you wish it, I will have some supper brought up to you.’

‘That will not be necessary, thank you.’ Caro felt even less like eating now than she had earlier. Ben was still dead, and contemplating food after the intimacies she and Dominic had just shared was impossible. Also, his refusal to further discuss his mother’s death had left Caro with more questions than answers, especially as she now feared she might indeed have fallen in love with him!

Dominic’s face darkened in fury when he returned to Brockle House late the following morning, accompanied by Drew, and was informed by a concerned Denby that Mrs Morton and Mr Brown were taking tea together in the Gold Salon.

The fact that Nicholas Brown had come here at all was disquieting. That Caro had chosen to receive him, knowing all that she did about the other man, was more disturbing still in view of what Dominic knew to be her often reckless and impulsive nature!

‘Damn it, Denby.’ He glared at the man who had once been his batman in the army but was now, for the
sake of expediency, posing as his butler. ‘What is the good of my installing you here to protect Caro when you then let the biggest threat to her calmly walk through the front door?’

The other man gave a pained frown. ‘Mrs Morton had been for a walk in the park across the way—she was accompanied by my wife,’ he added quickly as Dominic looked set for another explosion. ‘It was apparently as she was returning to the house that she saw Mr Brown stepping down from his coach and stopped to engage him in conversation.’

Which sounded exactly the sort of thing Caro would do, Dominic realised frustratedly. He also realised that Brown must have had the two of them followed yesterday to know to find Caro at Brockle House at all. ‘That still does not explain why you allowed the man to accompany her into the house?’

‘I tried to prevent it from happening—’

‘Obviously you did not try hard enough!’

‘My wife is in the Gold Salon with them, my lord.’

‘I am relieved to see that you have not completely lost your senses!’ Dominic barked.

‘We are wasting time here, my lord.’ Drew put a steadying hand upon Dominic’s arm. ‘Brown can be a wily cur at the best of times, and I really don’t think we should leave Caro to deal with him alone any longer. She is also likely to say more than she ought to him.’

‘Caro has no more sense than a—’

‘She is merely idealistically young,’ the older man interrupted diplomatically.

‘Nothing a sound beating would not cure!’ Dominic assured the other man grimly as he strode across
the entrance hall to thrust open the door to the Gold Salon, taking in at a glance the determined expression on Caro’s face as she sat on the sofa looking up at a relaxed and nonchalant Nicholas Brown as he stood beside the unlit fireplace.

‘I apologise for you having to receive our guest alone, Caro.’

She gave a self-conscious start at the icy coldness of Dominic’s tone, one glance at the fury so clearly evident upon his face enough to show her how displeased he was at having returned to Brockle House to find that, despite all his warnings, she had chosen to invite Nicholas Brown inside when he’d had the audacity to arrive outside in his carriage some minutes earlier.

Dominic was no doubt perfectly aware that her sole purpose for inviting the other man to join her for tea, knowing him to be responsible for both Ben’s death and the attack upon Lord Thorne, was to confront him with his perfidy! Something she had been just about to do when Dominic had arrived accompanied by Drew Butler.

In truth, Caro knew a certain relief in the timely arrival of the two men. Every attempt on her part to challenge the villain with his terrible deeds had been smoothly and charmingly foiled by him as he had kept up a stream of polite gossip and inanities from the moment they had entered the Gold Salon. Caro had even begun to doubt both her own and Dominic’s conviction that Brown was responsible for anything more than having the misfortune to have gained a bad reputation!

‘To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Brown?’ Dominic obviously felt no such doubts as he
kept the icy coldness of his gaze firmly fixed upon the older man.

Brown raised dark and mocking brows. ‘I merely called to pay my respects to Mrs Morton.’

‘Indeed?’ Dominic’s teeth showed in a predatory smile.

‘I understand she was present when the fire occurred yesterday afternoon?’ Brown said smoothly.

Dominic’s jaw clenched. ‘What of it?’

‘I, of course, wished to assure myself of her good health.’ Brown’s smile was lazily confident. ‘Women are such fragile creatures, are they not?’

It was impossible for Dominic to miss the underlying threat in that single remark. For him not to feel an icy chill in his veins at the thought of this man harming one golden hair upon Caro’s head. His mouth thinned. ‘Which is why men were, presumably, put on the earth to protect them.’ Two could engage in this particular game of veiled threats. And when that game now so obviously involved Caro it was one that Dominic had every intention of winning.

As was to be expected, Caro was unable to stop herself from commenting on Dominic’s remark. ‘I am sure I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, Dominic.’

‘All evidence to the contrary, my dear,’ he said grimly.

Her cheeks flushed prettily. ‘You—’

‘I, too, am pleased to see that you are quite recovered from yesterday’s ordeal, Mrs Morton,’ Drew cut in tactfully.

Caro gave him a grateful smile. ‘And I you.’

‘Oh, I believe you will find that it’s going to take
more than a fire to be rid of me,’ he said, at the same time shooting a telling glance in Brown’s direction.

‘My compliments on your lucky escape, Drew,’ the other man taunted.

‘Would that Ben had been so lucky,’ Drew said pointedly.

Hard brown eyes glittered with satisfaction. ‘Such a waste of a young life…’

‘A needless waste,’ Drew agreed harshly.

‘It would appear that you have had a busy morning, Brown?’ Dominic felt it was time to intercede, before Drew’s anger became such that he spoke or acted incautiously and this situation deteriorated whilst Caro was still present. Dominic and Drew had talked of this earlier and had agreed it must not be allowed to happen; if she were not present now, the conversation would no doubt have ceased being polite long ago!

Even the thought of Caro being anywhere near when that veneer of politeness was stripped from this situation, to reveal the ugly truth they all knew lurked beneath, was enough to send a cold rivulet of fear down Dominic’s spine; he had no doubt, for all Brown looked so elegant in his perfectly tailored clothes, that the other man had a knife, or possibly even a small pistol, concealed somewhere about his person. Just as Dominic also believed that Caro would be Brown’s target if this situation were to explode into violence now…

‘Indeed?’ Brown drawled.

Dominic nodded. ‘I am informed by Ben’s sister, Mrs Grey, that you have assisted her by financing tomorrow’s funeral arrangements.’

He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘It seemed the least I could do in the circumstances.’

‘And what
circumstances
might they be?’ Dominic asked.

Nicholas Brown met his gaze unblinkingly. ‘Ben was my employee, and as such was loyal to me, for far longer than he was to you.’

It was tantamount to a declaration that it had been this change of loyalty on Ben’s part—and no doubt on Drew’s, too—which had ultimately brought about the young man’s demise. That Brown would have been more than happy if both Drew and Ben had perished in yesterday’s fire, as retribution for the fact that they had chosen to continue being employed by the new owner of Nick’s rather than leave.

Just as Brown’s visit to Caro was yet another veiled threat? That the villain had so clearly shown that he was fully aware of exactly where Caro resided now was, to Dominic’s way of thinking, tangible evidence of that threat…

‘I believe it is time you took your leave, Brown.’ Dominic had had quite enough of even attempting to be polite to this man. ‘Caro is looking a little pale. No doubt she is in need of rest following the events of yesterday and all this talk of death and funerals today.’ He rang the bell for Denby.

Caro knew she might look less than perfect, but she had not, as yet, had the opportunity to say all that she wished to say to Mr Nicholas Brown! Added to which, she had been rendered almost speechless by the politeness—at least on the surface—of the conversation between the three men. Why did Dominic or Drew not
just confront the man? Tell him of their suspicions and demand an explanation? It was what she had intended doing until she had found herself rendered tongue-tied by the man’s smooth charm!