The Wagered Wife (18 page)

“T-Trevor?”

“S-shh.” He recaptured her lips, and she welcomed his exploration. Finally she pushed back from him. She felt his hands still locked behind her waist.

“Trevor, stop. We need to talk.”

“I rather liked this other means of communication.”

“Do be serious.” She smiled in spite of herself.

“All right. We shall talk.” He tied the horses to a nearby bush and pulled her down to sit very close to him on a grassy slope of the hill. “So? Talk,” he commanded gently.

“I . . . I . . . hardly know where to begin. I feel so . . . so out of control.”

“Good. I like you out of control.” He slipped his arm around her and kissed her again.

She responded—out of control for a moment—then abruptly pulled away. “No. Stop. You know very well I can neither think nor talk while you are kissing me!”

He chuckled and relaxed his hold on her, but she was pleased he did not break the contact.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I—you seem to have taken such a turnabout.”

He sat silent for moment, looking out over the green valley at their feet. “I know it must seem that way. But in truth, it probably started when I left for the Peninsula.”

“Wh-when you left?”

He turned to face her and took her hand, lacing his fingers loosely with hers. “I do not want to sound as though I am making excuses to justify my behavior, but I was so young when we married.”

“We both were.”

“Yes, but I was immature and irresponsible as well.” He closed his eyes. “I made so many mistakes in pursuit of a good time.”

“All young men sow wild oats, do they not?”

“Perhaps. But few with such disastrous results. That race and the wager with your uncle were beyond the pale. Look what happened. Terrence and Jason dead, the lives of others ruined—yours, mine—perhaps Melanie's, too.”

“Altered, yes, but not necessarily ‘ruined.' Melanie is very happy with Andrew.”

“Still—”

“And another thing,” she went on, “did it never occur to you that Terrence and Jason shared your youthful recklessness? Melanie tells me the three of you were inseparable—and a pretty rackety lot, at that.”

He smiled faintly in apparent reminiscence. “That we were.”

Her clasp of his hand tightened. “That race and the wager that prompted it were mistakes. But Terrence and Jason could have refused to participate, could they not?”

“Ye-es,” he admitted.

“There seems to have been plenty of blame to be
shared
in that accident.”

“Perhaps. . . . Perhaps. But you cannot explain away my subsequent behavior.”

“Probably not. But I think I have a better understanding of it now than I once did.”

“How can you be so generous when I ruined our lives so?”

“Altered. Changed. Not necessarily ruined,” she repeated.

Both were silent. Caitlyn noticed the sounds of buzzing insects and twittering birds around them. So. Trevor felt his life was ruined.

Finally he spoke. “I learned a great deal in the Peninsula. One has a great deal of time to think on long, boring marches between battles.”

“And . . . ?” It was her turn to prompt.

“I came home thinking to free us both from an untenable situation.”

She drew in a sharp breath and felt herself go very still. He still wanted to be rid of her! Well, she had expected this, had she not?

“That was, of course, before I knew about Ashley,” he continued. “That is simply not an option for us now—if, indeed, it ever was.”

“What are you saying, Trevor?”

“I am trying to say I want us to make this work—together.”

“Make
what
work?”

“Well . . . Atherton—though you seem to have done quite well without me so far.” He sounded rueful. “And . . . and the—our—marriage.”

“The marriage.” Her voice sounded dull to her own ears.

“Our marriage—and our family.” He squeezed her hand, and his gaze held hers. “Others have succeeded with less reason to go on than we have. At least we seem able to tolerate each other.”

“Tolerate. I see.” She turned away to look across the valley, willing the tears she felt not to fall. Well, what had she expected? She had known from the moment Aunt Sylvia announced this “grand match” that any dream of love and real friendship in marriage was just that—a dream. She knew that. So why had she allowed the dream to resurface in these last weeks? Why did she feel so cheated in settling for lust and tolerance as substitutes? She glanced at Trevor, and quickly away on discovering his gaze still fixed on her.

“Caitlyn?” He gently pulled her head around. He had removed his riding gloves, and his bare fingers on her cheek sent a tingly feeling coursing through her. “Can we do this?”

“Do what?” she asked dully, her mind sunk in despair.

“Make the marriage work.” He looked at her oddly, not seeming to understand her reaction.

She felt herself blushing. “You . . . mean totally?”

“If you are asking me if I want you in my bed—yes. I do. I want that very much.”

Searching his eyes, she perceived a certain vulnerability and raw yearning.

“Do you not want more children?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

He hugged her more closely and bent his head to kiss her again. But this time, she thought, it was different.

The hope was gone.

Trevor sensed a subtle, subdued change in her, but as he deepened the kiss, her response awakened and she returned his ardor in kind. He leaned back, drawing her with him. He planted little kisses on her eyelids, her jawline, the tender spots just below her ears, and on her neck as far as the neckline of her riding habit allowed. He ran his hand down her shoulder and over her body and felt her tremble at his touch.

“Caitlyn?”

“Yes, Trevor. Yes.”

 

 

Trevor stifled an inward groan at seeing Melanie and Andrew in the stableyard as he and Caitlyn returned. He had not anticipated such an abrupt end to his private time with his wife.

“You two were certainly off early this morning,” Melanie said. “Do you always keep such hours, Caitlyn?”

“Usually.”

Trevor reached to help Caitlyn dismount and let his hands settle on her waist slightly longer than necessary. Her back to Melanie, she looked at Trevor with a secret, teasing delight. Disconcerted, Trevor looked at his sister to see her in a near paroxysm of silent giggles, and Andrew wore a broad grin.

“Thank you, Trevor,” Caitlyn said. “I enjoyed the ride.”

As she turned to go to the house, he saw it. Caitlyn's soft gray riding habit was covered with grass stains in the back from her shoulders to her thighs. He felt the color flooding his face as Melanie and Andrew caught his eye. Melanie gave him a wink and a smile.

During the next few days, Caitlyn came to realize—if she ever doubted it—that there were few secrets in a large household such as hers. Both family members and servants seemed to know and to approve of the change in the relationship between Atherton's master and mistress.

Caitlyn found that she, too, definitely approved the change. The mature Trevor was proving to be a considerate, caring lover—solicitous of her desires, taking care to ensure that she derive genuine pleasure from their encounters. Despite his affinity for “this other means of communication,” Trevor readily discussed and shared ideas about every aspect of running the huge enterprise that was Atherton.

Nor had he rushed in to usurp her authority. In fact, he frequently deferred to her. Where another man might have barged in to assert himself as the chief decision-maker, Trevor had not done so. Caitlyn smiled at remembering the surprised looks on certain male faces when Trevor responded to a question or concern with “You must consult Mrs. Jeffries on that” or “I shall ask my wife.”

She appreciated the fact that he took time to acquaint himself thoroughly on a matter before asserting his own ideas or opinions. His approach not only commanded approval from male servants, tradesmen, and tenant farmers, it also elicited growing respect from his wife.

It was not a marriage made in heaven. They were developing a partnership based on mutual respect and shared goals. That was a good deal more than many women had from the institution of marriage. She was, in truth, inordinately lucky.

So why did she feel this vague dissatisfaction?

Preparations for the house party went ahead at a furious pace. While Harrison, Bowles, and Ratcliff—along with several other prospective guests—lived near enough to ride or drive in for all activities, a number of guests would be staying over. Rooms had to be prepared for them and accommodations provided for their servants. Aunt Gertrude supervised much of this activity, but Caitlyn found herself dealing with a multitude of details.

In the midst of it all, an accident in the stables unnerved her. Tom, one of the grooms, was injured when he was crushed between a big roan and the side of a stall.

“I don't know what spooked him,” the wiry little man said through painful breaths as soon as Caitlyn had rushed to his side. “He ain't never got out o' hand before.”

“Ssh. Never mind right now,” she soothed. “We must get the doctor for you.”

Trevor arrived then and was quickly apprised of the situation. He organized two other stable hands to take Tom to his quarters and await the doctor's arrival; then he questioned others.

“Wasn't anybody in here but Tom an' me an' that new feller, Mason,” the youthful Jack told him.

“And where were you? Could you see what happened?”

“No, sir. I was clear down t' other end. But Mason, he was in the stall next to where Tom and Sun's Fire was.” Jack gestured to Mason, who stood in the background.

“Mason?” Trevor questioned.

“I didn't see nothin',” Mason said. “Heard the commotion, an' when I come around, Tom was already down.”

Jimmy and Clarence stepped out of the stall in which Tom had been working.

“Anything?” Caitlyn asked.

“Not really. He's still skittish, though. Seems to have some tenderness on his left hind quarter,” Clarence answered.

“Perhaps he was stung by a bee,” Caitlyn suggested. This seemed a reasonable theory to the rest, who nodded or murmured their agreement.

Living quarters for several stable hands were located above the stables along with the office. Reluctant to invade their strictly masculine domain, Caitlyn waited in the office while Trevor accompanied the doctor to examine the injured Tom.

“How is he?” she asked the moment they returned.

The doctor responded, “He has some broken ribs. I've wrapped him tightly to hold them in place. He's in a good deal of pain. I assume you have laudanum on hand?”

Caitlyn nodded.

“He probably won't be able to work as usual for two or three weeks.”

“Oh, no-o-o.” Caitlyn heard herself in a near wail as the consequences of this information hit her.

“Caitlyn?” Trevor's voice held surprise at what he must have seen as her insensitivity. “We surely have enough hands to take over Tom's duties as he recuperates.”

“Of course we do.” She felt embarrassed at the way the doctor and Trevor were regarding her. “You misunderstand. You see, Tom is our best harness man.”

“So?”

“He was to show the grays at Newmarket.”

“That does pose a problem. But we shall work it out. Come.” He motioned to her and the doctor. Saying he had another patient to see to, the doctor refused their offer of refreshment.

Caitlyn was lost in thought as she and Trevor made their way to the house. Once there, she immediately dispatched a servant with the painkiller and a tray of food for the injured Tom.

Later that day, the first of their guests began to arrive and her life assumed a whirlwind atmosphere.

Taking on the role of host at even such a modest gathering was a vastly new experience for Trevor. He found he quite enjoyed it. He was even able to greet Latham and Graham as resident guests with true equanimity. Theo, of course, he welcomed enthusiastically, and he looked forward to enjoying the company of Moore and Jenkins as well.

The highlights of the party—which would last for a fortnight and more—were to be a ball and, two days later, the horse show at Newmarket. To fill out the rest of the time, Caitlyn had planned a busy schedule, but one that allowed guests to participate or not at their own paces. Outdoor activities included riding, fishing, and lawn bowling. Some of the more intrepid of the men joined Trevor for his morning swims. Guests were encouraged to enjoy the gardens at their leisure. Evening found them playing cards or charades or listening to music as provided by one or the other of the ladies in the group.

Everything had gone smoothly, Trevor thought, until the ball. He knew Caitlyn had gone riding or driving with Latham and Graham on occasion, but always properly accompanied. At an
alfresco
picnic, she had spent an inordinate length of time in deep conversation with Ratcliff, but the discussion had occurred, after all, out there in front of the whole company. And, he recalled with an enormous degree of male smugness, it was his own bed she readily shared every night.

The ball—ostensibly to introduce Melanie and Andrew—was a rather large affair. Local guests swelled the attendees to well over a hundred people. Prior to the ball, there was a dinner party to which many of the “horse set” had been invited. In the drawing room, after the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies, much of the talk was in anticipation of the Newmarket show.

Trevor stood at the side of the room talking with Theo. He observed Bowles and Harrison approach Caitlyn as she stood speaking with their wives.

“I say, Mrs. Jeffries,” Harrison boomed, thus capturing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. “I just heard your driver for the team race was injured.”

“Yes, he was,” she said, but did not elaborate.

“How unfortunate.” Harrison's tone held a distinctly false note of sympathy, Trevor thought. “I expect this means you will decline to participate, then.”

“Not at all.” Caitlyn's voice was casual. Too casual. Trevor waited. In the flurry of activity in the last few days, he and Caitlyn had not discussed the horse show, though he was aware that everyone at Atherton was looking forward to the meet as a means of displaying the best that Jeffries Farms had to offer.

“Oh, you have found a new driver, have you?” Bowles asked. “On such short notice?”

“We had a second driver all along,” Caitlyn paused and glanced at Trevor, then back to Harrison and Bowles. Trevor felt a premonition slither through him. “I shall drive the team myself.”

Stunned silence greeted this announcement Trevor felt as though he had turned to stone. Good God! What was she thinking of? Handling the reins of a spirited team under ordinary driving conditions was difficult for a man—and this little slip of a woman proposed taking on such a task—in the heat of a race, yet? Impossible. Not if her husband had any say in it—not while he still drew breath!

“I beg your pardon!” Harrison sounded blustery.

“
Un
heard of,” Bowles said.

“Surely you do not doubt my horsemanship?” Caitlyn's tone was silky.

“Mrs. Jeffries.” Harrison apparently intended this as a fatherly reprimand. “I have the greatest respect for your ability. For a woman, you do exceedingly well.”

“For a woman?”

Trevor wondered why the others did not seem to notice the steel in her voice. “Excuse me,” Trevor said to Theo and moved to stand next to his wife.

Harrison continued, oblivious. “Females simply do not race teams. Good heavens, woman, they are rarely even capable as ordinary riders.”

“Mrs. Jeffries is a
very
capable rider.” Ratcliff joined the group as though he were leaping to Caitlyn's defense.

“That, however, does not make her a capable
driver
.” Bowles sounded testy.

“Have you seen me drive a team?” Caitlyn's tone was very reasonable.

“Well, no, but—”

Harrison interrupted. “I am not racing my team against a woman.”

“Nor am I,” Bowles concurred.

“May I ask why?” Caitlyn asked in that same reasonable tone.

“My dear lady.” Harrison was definitely condescending now. “It would not show to our advantage to win out over a woman.”

“Assuming you would, indeed, win,” she responded.

“The alternative would be
most
unlikely, my dear.” Harrison shrugged. “In any event, it is a moot question. I seriously doubt that any of the gentlemen showing their stock at Newmarket will agree to race against a woman.”

Trevor moved closer to Caitlyn and gripped her elbow. His voice was hard. “Well, then, Harrison, you will have to settle for being bested by one of Atherton's second-rate drivers.”

“And who would that be?”

“Me.”

“You? Everyone knows you have not driven competitively in years.”

“True. It is, however, a skill that one does not forget once it is mastered.” He grinned at Caitlyn and was warmed by her blush and the appreciative twinkle in her eyes.

“Well, in that case . . .” Harrison grumbled.

“Shall we adjourn to the ballroom, my friends?” Caitlyn's voice was bright, but Trevor sensed the undertone of tension.

 

 

The ball itself proceeded without incident, for which Caitlyn was grateful. Trevor led his sister out for the first dance, and Andrew partnered Caitlyn. Soon other couples joined them. As hostess, Caitlyn had not expected to have such a good time, but she danced every dance and enjoyed the laughter and repartee with her various partners.

She thought she might have shocked any high sticklers present by dancing three times with her own husband. Although she had come to expect the intense awareness she felt when he was near, that reaction had not lessened with their increased intimacy.

She dutifully danced with her male houseguests, including Latham and Graham. Bertie had made his annoyance quite clear when Caitlyn refused a second dance with him in favor of a third with Trevor. Graham had been kindness itself since his arrival. Tall, dignified, and with an air of bearing great problems, Graham had reformist interests that paralleled her own. She simply appreciated his friendship.

As she did Sir Willard Ratcliff's. After dancing with Ratcliff, she stood on the sidelines with him, sipping a glass of lemonade.

“You were wise to let Trevor take over as driver, you know,” Willard observed.

“
Let
him? You may have noticed that I had little say in the matter.”

“Still, it was a good idea. Harrison does carry some weight in certain circles, as you well know. He could have made things very difficult.”

“And he cannot do so now?” she asked with disbelief.

“Let me just say he is less likely to now. Besides, it truly is better for Trevor to do the driving.”

“Oh? You think he is that much more skilled at handling the reins than I?”

“Well, he
is
stronger, and that is important. But it is also quite beside the point.”

“And the point is . . . ?”

“Just this. I assume you mean to show your team to best advantage.”

“Of course.”

“How much attention do you think the animals would get when the spectators faced the unusual phenomenon of a
woman
as the driver?”