The Secret Love of a Gentleman (5 page)

He was the grandson of an earl and a duke, but not within the line of inheritance for either, and his father’s estate was small, too small for his father to require assistance. Rob could paint with moderate skill, sing with pleasing countenance, ride as well as any man, and shoot well, but he could not join a regiment, he was still an heir. He was good at many things, but a master of nothing, so numerous occupations were beyond his reach, while his step-brother had set a bar above him that was so high it could never be achieved.

But he still had his plan that would, he hoped, give him the sense of pride in himself that he craved, some separation from reliance on his family and bring benefit to thousands.

He longed for a position in government. That was his great plan—to carve out his place in the political world and create a niche for himself.

Yet to be elected he needed money for a campaign, and he did not wish to involve his father, or John, or anyone else in his family because they would simply offer him one of their pocket seats, which they owned through bribery. The whole idea of that rankled. It would feel immoral, and then again Rob would have achieved nothing on his own. There would be no pride in it. If he were to respect himself, when he spoke out for the poor, he could not do it when everything that had got him to that point had come from the wealthy.

He’d rather give the money he received from John to the poor and bypass himself, if that was the way he had to earn a place in parliament.
Perhaps I am a philanthropist.
But he hadn’t a clue where to begin without using John’s money. The only detail in the conception of his plan to date was that he did not wish it to become John-shaped.

This summer, therefore, was his time to think things through and develop his method to win himself a place in the governance of the country which had been earned and not inherited.

“Robbie.” His mother touched his elbow.

His thoughts had been a mile away.

Looking at her, he smiled. He’d driven her over here to see Mary. His father was with John, looking over John’s estates.

“We ought to go, and leave Mary to settle Iris and George down for a nap.”

He agreed. He kissed his sister’s cheek, before bending to kiss his niece’s forehead as his finger brushed over the wispy hair on her soft head.

He would stay here. With Mary and Drew, where he did not feel such a lesser mortal, or so lacking in achievements and ability.

Drew slapped Rob on the shoulder. “We shall see you tomorrow, and we shall have a merry time over the summer.”

~

Caro looked out of the open French door at those gathered on the terrace and the lawn beyond it. It had been over three years since she’d first visited the Duke of Pembroke’s. She had felt then as she felt now, overwhelmed, afraid, and yet angry. Nervous sensations tingled across her skin, as her heart raced.

There were dozens of people here, adults and children, all laughing, smiling and talking.

Drew was among them playing cricket as Mary sat on a blanket beneath a canopy watching him, with Iris in her arms.

Many of the women held young children.

Caro was the only parasite—unmarried and childless, sucking the blood from this family, hiding among them, dependent and clinging to her brother. She hated her reliance on Drew, it pressed into her side, a steel-hard pain. Sometimes she felt as though Albert’s hands were still about her neck, cutting off her breath and that she had not taken a breath since she’d left him three years before.

Yet this family accepted her, all of them. She could not blame her misery on them. They were simply a constant reminder of what she had failed to possess, she had not succeeded in winning the love of her husband, or to bear his child. Guilt, shame and longing hung about her and whispered in her ears as constant companions.

Caro sipped from the glass of lemonade she held. If the family had gathered at Drew’s house she would have retired to her rooms and found a book or embroidery to absorb her thoughts. But today she had been foolish enough to agree to travel with them. Yet Mary had asked specifically and refusing would have seemed too rude.

“Throw!” The Duke of Pembroke yelled from his position behind the wicket, holding up his open hands. The ball was thrown to him and his uncle was caught out.

Some of the women and children cheered and others booed, depending on who their allegiance lay with.

The Duke slapped his uncle’s shoulder and his uncle laughed.

The Pembrokes were a happy, harmonious clan, and Drew was now one of them. He’d thrown the ball to John.

The crack of hard leather hitting willow echoed across the open space above the sound of conversation. Mary’s brother Robbie held the bat and ran.

He was to stay at Drew’s for the summer.

Caro watched him run from one wicket to the other. He was tall but lithe. He touched the bat to the ground, then ran back.

Discomfort rippled through her nerves.

“Papa! Uncle Bobbie!”

Caro’s gaze turned to Drew’s son. He’d escaped the women and was running on his little legs to join the game.

Before he’d run more than a dozen steps, Mary’s father caught him up and tossed the child, squealing, into the air.

Drew’s children were the only part of Caro’s life that brought her happiness. She spent hours with her nephew and niece.

Applause echoed over the lawn as Robbie ran his fourth length and beat the ball back to the wicket. He turned and braced himself to hit again, his dark-brown hair falling forward over his brow.

He was different from most of the Pembrokes, and from most of Mary’s family. He looked like his father, not his mother. He did not have the Pembrokes’ dark hair or their pale-blue eyes.

Drew had told her Robbie had seen her leave the house yesterday. Drew had said she’d made Robbie concerned about staying. Then Drew had waited as if he hoped she would say she did not mind Robbie coming.

She had not answered. She did not wish to discuss her silent madness with her brother. Guilt and shame had eaten away at her in the last three years and she was not a whole woman; she could not simply snuff out her feelings like the flame of a candle. She did not understand it herself, so how could she discuss it anyway. He’d encouraged her to speak with doctors in the early years, and yet the only one she had told had offered her laudanum to calm her nerves—nothing else.

She did not wish to feel ill as well as mad.

Perhaps Drew ought to have her admitted to an asylum and be done with it. She felt as though she was trapped within a prison anyway—a glass gaol of her own making.

A raucous cheer rang across the lawn outside as Robbie’s wicket was smashed by the bowling technique of one of his cousins. Once the cheering was over the men began to walk back up the hill towards the house.

Her heartbeat pounded violently in her chest.

Drew spotted her. Of course, he knew where to look. He knew she would not be outside among Mary’s family. He lifted his hand, peeling away from the others, who walked towards the women.

Her brother was a man to match the Pembrokes, he was tall, athletic and handsome; brown-haired and hazel-eyed. He’d carried his own insecurity before he’d married Mary, but not now. Mary and her family had healed him—made him a complete man. He was at peace with himself, confident and in love with Mary. He deserved more than to have a sister who clung like a shackle about his neck.

“Caro!” he called as he drew nearer. “Come and sit with Mary and me!”

“I am happy here!” she called back.

“Are you?” he responded with a smile. “You need not exclude yourself, though! Come!” He held out his hand as he walked closer.

Unfortunately, he was also stubborn.

Her lips trembled when she tried to smile.

Then he was there, taking her hand, whether she willed it or not. He pulled her outside. “Kate will take it as an insult if you do not join us.”

“She will not. The Duchess will not notice.” Yet Caro gave in to his urging rather than cause a scene.

His hold on her hand was loose as he pulled her on.

The only people she felt comfortable touching her were Drew and the children… and yet she craved touch. She felt starved of it at times. It was another anomaly of her madness.

He flashed a smile across his shoulder. “She notices. They all do. But admittedly no one thinks ill of you, and yet you still hide.”

She said nothing to that.

The family groups were gathered about the refreshment tables. Some of the children ran between people’s legs, playing a game of chase, until one of the Duke’s uncles called a stop to the game. “Enough, children, you shall knock one of us over!” Caro flinched at the tone of his voice. It rattled through her nerves.

“Come on.” Drew’s hold tightened on her hand as he felt her hesitation.

Caro focused on Mary, her heart racing with the pace of a galloping horse. Her panic was irrational, there was no threat and yet every one of her senses tingled with a need to run. Fear hemmed her in and tightened in a heavy grip about her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Flashes of memory stirred, images sparking through her thoughts like flashes of lightning—there and then not.

“Look what I found,” Drew said to Mary.

Caro fought the growing pain in her chest when Drew let go of her hand and tried not to gasp for breath as her heart pounded out a wild rhythm.

Mary smiled and patted a vacant space beside her on the blanket.

Caro sat down.

“Caro was in the house. I thought I’d bring her out here so that she could converse with you at least.”

Caro’s gaze fell to Iris—her niece was asleep in Mary’s arms. Instantly the panic eased, replaced by love and longing.

“Would you like to take her,” Mary offered.

Mary was a few years younger than Drew, but she was so good for him, and good to Caro.

“Thank you.” When Caro took Iris from Mary, the child stirred, her little hands opening as her eyes did.

Drew’s fingers brushed his daughter’s cheek. Iris looked up at her papa.

“Poppet,” he whispered.

Iris gurgled in recognition.

“Aun’ie Ca’o!” George barrelled into her side, tumbling onto the blanket with a roll. She clasped one arm about George while the other held Iris, and the world was at peace again.

“I hit a ball with Uncle Bobbie.” George announced.

“I held the bat with him.” The words came from above them.

Mary looked upward. Caro did not. Robbie’s voice grated on her nerves.

“I hit it far,” George declared slipping from beneath Caro’s arm to hug his mother instead.

“Clever boy,” Mary praised her son. “Perhaps Uncle Robbie will teach you how to hold the bat yourself in the summer.”

“And I missed this marvellous feat,” Drew said. “You will have to do it again after luncheon so I may see you.”

Robbie stepped closer.

Tremors ran across Caro’s skin and unravelled into her veins. She wished Robbie to move away.

He dropped down to sit on the end of the blanket, near Mary’s feet.

Panic claimed Caro in full force, her chest becoming so tight she could not pull the air into her lungs.

The baby made an impatient sound in Caro’s arms.

“Sorry, she’s fractious, she is hungry, I ought to take her in and feed her.” Mary gave her son another squeeze, then let him go and stood up. “Come along, little one.” She reached down so Caro could pass Iris back.

Robbie’s gaze rested on Caro as she held Iris up.

When Mary walked away, Drew sat down beside Caro and leant back on his hands, stretching out his legs. “You know your mother is taking your absconding personally,” he spoke to Robbie.

Caro’s limbs filled up with the weight of lead and she adjusted her sitting position, bending up her knees within the skirt of her dress and hugging them, as George crawled towards Robbie.

Robbie laughed and his hand ruffled George’s hair. “She is not ready for me to leave the nest. She thinks we are all growing up too fast.”

“I suppose that is my fault, for snatching Mary from it.”

“She does not hold that against you. You have given her more grandchildren in return. It is an exchange. I am just a loss.”

“Shall I tell her to stop henpecking and let you fledge?”

Drew was joking. He was close to Mary’s and Robbie’s parents. They were his parents too—because theirs had never fulfilled that role.

“Papa spoke to her. He supports me. He knows I cannot live on his estate, there is nothing for me to do there.”

When Caro had first come to the Duke’s home Robbie had been eighteen. He’d smiled and laughed frequently, but as a man he seemed more serious than the others. Most of his cousins had no interest in the children, his peers within the family always kept to their own group, but Robbie never stood with them. Yet his younger brother, Harry, did. Drew at his age had been wild, playing with danger, fighting everyone and everything.

“Of course you cannot, if you wish, sow a few wild oats?” Drew added.

“Not my style,” Robbie answered.

Drew’s face split into a broad smile, “So your brother told me.”

“Harry?”

“Harry…” They laughed again. Caro did not know the joke.

“Well, you may tell Harry to mind his own business, not mine,” Rob said, with a smile.

“But younger brothers are born to be a thorn in the side. Mary and I are working on one for George solely for that purpose”

“I have never been a thorn in John’s. He’d win whatever argument I started with a simple glance.”

“True, your older brother does have a way of making a man feel as small as a mouse. I ignore it.”

“I do not risk it. I never give him cause to deploy that look on me.”

Another laugh was shared between them as George scrambled back across the blanket to Drew, then began using his father as a climbing frame. He clambered up Drew’s back and then tumbled over Drew’s shoulder. George’s legs flew out towards Robbie.

Robbie reached to catch him and slow his fall.

Caro instinctively leant back.

Robbie and Drew looked at her, but Robbie did not move back, instead he shifted forward on to his knees, leaned over and tickled George’s tummy, making him giggle.