He conveniently forgot that without Caroline, he would have long since been shackled to Miss Huntsley. Yet honor prevented him from seeking solace elsewhere. How it would end he could not tell, nor would he allow himself to consider the future. Enduring the present was agony enough.
Alicia sent another plea for help, begging his assistance to straighten Darnley’s tangled affairs and reminding him of her undying love. After a lengthy battle with his conscience, he again refused, suggesting that she seek advice from Darnley’s solicitor or man of business and reminding her that the new Lord Darnley was now responsible for the estate. He congratulated himself on avoiding a
tête-à-tête
and basked for most of a day over his achievement. But by nightfall he was again miserable. Alicia haunted his dreams, nightmares actually, in which she, Darnley, and Caroline writhed in confused chaos.
Only those restless nights controlled his simmering rage. He rarely awoke before noon, unaware that Caroline rode most mornings with Wroxleigh. Even Cramer refrained from passing along that information. It would have shattered what was left of his temper.
Alicia’s third missive presented an unsolvable dilemma. She again requested his presence, this time on the pretext of offering Darnley’s horses for sale. Would Thomas appraise their value? He could have his choice from the stables. She would accept any offer he cared to make.
He vacillated for a full day. Prudence demanded that she send them all to Tattersall’s. Yet he could certainly buy directly from Alicia for less than he would have to pay elsewhere, while paying her more than she would receive after Tattersall’s deducted its fees from the selling price. And Darnley was Graylock’s cousin. What were his stables like?
Could Thomas meet her in the relatively intimate environment of the mews without disgracing himself? It had been nearly a week since he had last set eyes on her, and desire was growing with each passing hour. Knowing she was so near made it worse. Finally, he succumbed to temptation and sent off a note agreeing to present himself that afternoon for the purpose of inspecting her horses.
Please let the stable be full of grooms.
Steeling himself, he knocked on her door, having walked the scant two blocks to her home on Davies Street. Shocked when she answered in person, he successfully held his composure.
Dressed in a thin silk dress of pale blue, she turned exquisite violet-blue eyes to his, her expression communicating better than words how lost and frightened she was in this time of crisis. One hand slid up his chest in mute appeal and she pressed herself close.
“I am so glad you will help me, my love,” she murmured. “I need you so badly.” Her other hand pushed the door closed before reaching up to caress his cheek.
But Thomas had not spent the day preparing for this encounter for nothing. “No, Alicia,” he groaned, self-control firmly in charge. He gently removed her hands and set her firmly away. Tears trembled in her eyes. She lowered her hands to her sides, sliding them provocatively downward, cupping her breasts and molding her hips. His body responded instantly, but he ignored it, drawing a ragged breath to steady his pulse.
“We have had this discussion before, Lady Darnley,” he declared firmly, pleased that no tremor marred his businesslike voice. He could not blame her for her lapse. She labored under considerable stress. Was it any wonder she would turn to the man she loved for comfort? “I will not dishonor you by placing you in so compromising a position. Nor will I dishonor myself by ignoring my own marriage vows. Please detail a footman to show me the mews so that I can look at those horses you wish to sell.”
Anger swept her face, clearly visible for several seconds before she recovered her mask of lost vulnerability.
Thomas spent an hour examining horses. None met his current needs. Besides, the associations would play havoc with his mind whenever he saw them. Not trusting either his own control or Alicia’s, he dashed off a note declining to make any purchases and recommending that she dispose of them through Tattersall’s. He sent it with her footman and turned his steps to White’s.
Poor Alicia. So confused. And so unaware of propriety’s demands. Except for her forced marriage, she had rarely met defeat. It was to be expected that she was a bit spoiled. Someone of her talents and beauty could hardly help it. But it did make his own lot harder. He must be the conscience for both of them. If only he had not won her heart. Controlling himself would be easier if he did not have to consider her love.
* * * *
Caroline recovered quickly from her bout of tears. She must not let her feelings show in public. Nor could she consider the future until her emotions were better controlled. Besides, Drew was due to take her driving.
But evidence of distress could not be completely banished. Drew took one look at her face and turned his phaeton toward the quieter confines of Green Park. He also signaled his tiger to leave as soon as they were out of sight of the house.
His flirtatious banter continued until they were quite alone, then he set himself to discover what disturbed his favorite cousin.
“You look under the weather today. Are you sleeping all right?”
“As well as can be expected,” she responded obliquely.
“Ah,” he replied suggestively, then continued with exaggerated mourning, “Mannering is one lucky fellow. I think I’m more than half in love with you myself.”
“Fustian,” she snorted, responding as usual to his teasing. “You confuse friendship with love. If you didn’t waste all your time pursuing new conquests, you might find someone who could be both a friend and a lover.”
“Like you and Mannering?” But he halted abruptly at the pain that flashed across her face. Though his bantering words were those he used to great effect with other women, an element of seriousness underlay the claim. He cared deeply for Caroline. And he now knew what before he had only suspected. She was very unhappy. Nor was there more than one possible cause.
“Is he still making an ass of himself over Lady Darnley?” he asked quietly, pressing her hand in silent commiseration.
She could no longer maintain the pretense. But Drew would never hurt her by using her confidences to fuel further rumors. Her face crumpled and she nodded. Tears threatened again to spill over.
“Oh, my dear cousin, I am so sorry.” Drew snubbed the ribbons and pulled her head against his shoulder. “Cry it out, Caro. You need to.” He continued to cradle her until her weeping stopped, ever alert for any sign of observers, silently cursing a man who could overlook a jewel like Caroline in favor of a scheming slut.
“I’m sorry, Drew,” she apologized sheepishly when she finally pulled herself away. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined your coat.” Accepting his silently proffered handkerchief, she blew her nose.
“Glad to help. You love him, don’t you?”
“I fear so,” she admitted. “And I really did not need that particular complication just now.”
“Do you want me to seduce the lady and show her up for what she is? You must know her reputation by now.”
“I’m well aware of her reputation, thank you, but it would do no good. Thomas is obstinately blind when it comes to Lady Darnley. And he would never forgive me for interfering. No, Drew, all I can do is trust that sooner or later he will admit the truth. Then he might possibly stop blaming me for standing between him and marriage to his heart’s desire.”
“What a bloody fool!” he exploded. “Pardon my language.”
“No need. I have often thought the same. But obsession is a form of madness, falling outside all bounds of sense or reason. There is nothing to be done.”
Drew flicked his horses into motion while she straightened her hair. Nothing could improve her eyes, which were red and swollen. She could only pray that they met no one she knew.
Fortunately the daily promenade was at its height in Hyde Park, and she was able to slip into the house without encountering anyone but the footman at the front door. Sam would say nothing. Summoning Dawson, she set about the daunting task of hiding all traces of agitation and preparing for an evening of fun and frivolity at the Staffords’ ball.
Governessing looked better and better.
Chapter 14
Life continued, despite Thomas’s turmoil and Caroline’s despair. The hardest part, she found, was pretending in public that all was well between them. It gave her a better understanding of what he faced each day, and she tried to make the charade easier for him. Aware of the importance he placed on public opinion, she worked to maintain the fiction that they were a loving couple. But at the same time, she had to hide her true feelings from Thomas. This was one situation in which honesty was the worst policy.
His disdain was obvious, from his stilted conversation and cold, clipped voice to the way he recoiled from any physical contact. Nor was she any happier. His touch affected her like no other, but the resulting shivers knifed her heart rather than stoking her passions. How long could this continue? She did not know. At some point they must air their feelings. Neither of them could stand the strain much longer.
She was descending the stairs for breakfast one morning, intent on appearing relaxed and content, when it happened. Two footmen carried a settee along the corridor. It was a heavy piece, and both strained with the effort. Suddenly, one of them fell, grunting in pain and surprise. His end landed on the top step, throwing the other off balance so that he lost his grip. The settee hurtled downward, bouncing from step to step, with Caroline squarely in its path.
She screamed.
Grabbing the rail with both hands, she flung herself atop it. And just in time. The settee bounded past, bruising her thigh before crashing to the floor below.
Footsteps pounded as servants raced to the scene.
Caroline shakily regained her feet and turned her eyes from the wreckage below to the crowd above. The footmen wore identical expressions of horror, which immediately changed to relief when they saw that she was unharmed. Thomas also stood rooted at the top of the stairs, but his face bore a different expression. Horror was there, but mixed with – disappointment?
Convulsed in shudders, she sank to the steps and dropped her head into her hands. Surely it was an accident. Thomas derived too much pride from his honor. He would never consider jostling a footman into dropping that heavy settee to sweep an unwanted wife to her doom. Would he?
Would he?
She thrust the suspicion away, but it continued to lurk. Without the warning provided by the footman’s groan, she would now be sprawled on the floor below. How convenient if she simply disappeared from his life. Alicia was no longer tied to Darnley.
No!
She forced her mind away from an accusation, convinced that Lady Darnley would never consider marriage to an untitled younger son. Especially one who lacked a fortune. Such a match would force her to discard her own title, would negate the only possible reason for her first marriage.
But did Thomas know that?
He had misjudged her from the beginning and showed no sign of revising his impressions.
He reached her side.
“Are you all right?” he asked stiffly, offering a hand to help her to her feet.
She cringed from his touch, ostentatiously inspecting her dress for damage. A tear in the hem was all that was visible, though her thigh throbbed painfully.
“I believe so,” she responded shakily, then grabbed the railing to pull herself up, again ignoring his proffered hand. Touching him would shatter her precarious control. What would she do? Cling to him in tears? Hurl accusations at his face? Neither was desirable. Turning abruptly away, she forced her feet back to her room.
Thomas watched her go, confusion raging. His emotions had undergone so many convolutions in so little time he could not decide what he felt. He had been just behind the footmen when one of them caught a toe on the edge of the runner and fell. But he was not close enough to catch the fellow. Horror paralyzed him as the settee hurtled downward, followed swiftly by relief that she was safe, then by the unworthy thought that if she had died, he would be free to go to Alicia. That engendered anger at himself which immediately became fury at the footman for unwonted clumsiness.
But the worst of it was meeting Caroline’s eyes a moment later. Clearly she suspected him of initiating the accident. The realization hurt. And he was aghast that he could ever wish injury on another. The momentary thought of freedom had filled him with joy.
How had they come to this pass? What had he done to deserve this coil? He had married her without love, to be sure, but he had tried to treat her with respect.
Respect? mocked his conscience. Betrayal. Unjust condemnation as you vented your frustrations on her. Revulsion and neglect.
He shook away the voice, but could not ignore the message. One by one he examined his actions over recent months. His conduct was appalling.
He sank to the step Caroline had just vacated, burying his head in his hands.
He had spent four months angry at his wife. Why? Because she was not Alicia. The one thing over which she had no control. Was he to blame her for fifty years because she was not Alicia? Of course, there were other things. Her interference in Crawley’s operation, her independence, her nauseating competence.
But further thought surprised him. Her efforts with Crawley no longer bothered him. Somehow he had come to accept and even applaud the work she had started. Her willingness to step into whatever role needed filling provided insurance whenever he was absent from the estate. And never had she tried to usurp his own position, insist on her own views, argue against his decisions, or interfere when he was present.
Nor was her independence something he could honestly condemn. True, a man liked to feel protective of his women, but Caroline never made him feel less than a man. And until today she had never refused his assistance. Some of her independence had been forced by his own actions. He cringed over the memories. He had fled Crawley with no thought to the estate problems he left behind, then stayed away longer than necessary. He had callously tossed her into the
ton
without so much as an introduction. A clinging, helpless chit would have broken under the strain and embarrassed him and his family. Instead, she was a credit to both.