A Rose at Midnight

by Jacqueline Navin

  There was a long pause before he answered. “No matter. I have other pieces from my mother’s collection stored in banks here in the city. I’ll have someone fetch them and you can make another choice.”

  “Oh, no,” she rushed, feeling much too guilty to allow him to give her any more of his family heirlooms. “The dress is enough without any jewels.”

  “Nonsense. Every woman at the opera will be strung up with as much glitter as a chandelier. You must have something worthy of your station. You aren’t poor any longer, Caroline. You are a countess. You must act like one.”

  Did she imagine the reproof, or had he simply uttered some ill-chosen words? Magnus wasn’t usually insensitive unless he meant to be, but there was no reason for him to be angry at her. Not that she was aware of, anyway.

  “I shall endeavor to do you credit.” She stepped away from him and pulled herself upright, showing him she was a little stung.

  “Good,” was all he said. He turned on his heel and headed back out the door. “I’ll be up to dress after dinner, which I’ll take in the library. I’ll have yours sent up. Make certain you rest sufficiently.” He didn’t wait for her response before disappearing around the corner.

  Caroline stared after him for a moment, puzzled. Then she shrugged. Something must have happened today to make him cross. She wouldn’t let it spoil her day, for she was looking forward to this evening far too much. Whatever it was that was bothering Magnus, it had nothing to do with her.

  The queue of carriages in front of the Royal Opera House moved slowly and the black landau made excruciating progress. Caroline leaned back in her seat, letting out a long, exasperated breath. “Is it always this crowded? We shall miss the beginning if we do not hurry.” Like a jackin-the-box, she sprang forward and craned her neck.

  Under any other circumstances, Magnus would find her childlike excitement enchanting. He still couldn’t help feeling a touch of admiration. Caroline looked magnificent. Her gown was an unusual blue with a plain, daring neckline that left much of her high, full breasts exposed. The skirt was caught up in the back in an elaborate array of blue and lavender ribbons, creating a cascade of horizontal folds. across the front. She looked like a queen, creating a delicious contrast with her unsophisticated behavior.

  The charm of his wife was wearing on him, making him more irritable. The uncertainty throbbed in his brain as he fingered the necklace in his pocket.

  She sat back again. Glancing over at him, she was sobered by his reserve. “Magnus, what is the matter? You’ve been troubled today.”

  “Nothing.”

  Her eyes widened. “You aren’t feeling ill?”

  “No,” he answered curtly. Devil take her, she looked so very convincing. As if she did care. Probably worried she would miss the gala night, a chance to show off that dress, he thought sourly.

  He had arranged to have the other jewelry fetched to Eddington House, and now cold fire surrounded Caroline’s neck and wrists and flashed at her ears. A full set of diamonds and sapphires with a huge pendant that hung almost to her breasts. His fingers held the memory of touching the ice-cold stone as it lay against her warm flesh. The contrast had sent a jolt up his arm.

  He shifted in his seat, watching her every move. She craned her neck out the window. “Oh, this is going to take forever.”

  “Shall I tell Donald to simply pull over and we shall walk?” he asked drolly.

  “That wouldn’t be quite proper, would it?” She giggled, oblivious to the subtly patronizing tone in his voice.

  Eventually, they arrived at the door. Magnus alighted and handed Caroline down, aware of the pleasure he had anticipated in this moment when London Society got their first glimpse of his wife. Now, he could barely summon a smile for the people who clamored to greet him and steal a closer look.

  She was perfect, as he knew she would be. Pleasant but not gushy, dignified yet demure, she struck just the right chord to leave them gaping as they moved to take their seats in the premier box.

  Sitting at attention, as if it were some military exercise, Caroline was entranced by the drama on stage. A dangerous temptation flirted with his anger as he watched her, a searing ripple of pain which he promptly squelched. At intermission, he excused himself, going down to the lobby alone.

  He needed to breathe. He felt like running. No, he felt like digging, hauling, lifting, throwing. Christ, he needed a drink. Like a panther, he moved through the press of aristocracy, making his way to the bar.

  Had he been less preoccupied, he would have noticed the angular man lounging against a nearby column.

  “Rutherford, I thought you were dead.”

  The voice was immediately familiar. Magnus didn’t need to look up to see who it was. “Not yet.”

  “What a shame. I can hardly wait to celebrate.”

  Magnus turned and faced the man. Frederick Cannon was an arrogant, ignorant rotter who was a cheat at cards and a sore loser to boot. Magnus had stripped him of an elegant schooner several years back in a poker game at one of the less reputable clubs. That night, Magnus had also ended up with the sweet little piece of skirt Cannon had been eyeing. Ever since, Cannon made no secret of his hatred, setting up a one-way rivalry. Magnus marveled that he kept at it, for he only seemed to get himself in deeper. After several challenges to reclaim his ship, Cannon had given up trying to attack Magnus at the card table. But he never passed up a chance to do so away from one.

  “Well, you can invite half of London, and have a merry old time. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little while longer, unless you’d like to do something to hurry me along to my greater reward?”

  Cannon glared. He was all sharp edges, jutting cheekbones, bony shoulders, pointed nose. “Oh, I’d like to all right. But justice, for once, is on my side. I can wait.”

  “Well, that is a relief,” Magnus drawled. He purposely sounded bored. “I want to find out what happens in the second act.”

  He left his enemy behind, taking his drink out the arched doors and onto the street. It was a cold night. The dampness had returned. He downed the whiskey and wiped his mouth absently on his sleeve.

  The cold wasn’t helping. The whiskey wasn’t helping. The distance from Caroline wasn’t helping.

  Blast. Intermission was nearly over. He went back inside and climbed the red-carpeted stairs back up to the box.

  When he drew back the curtain to enter, there was a strange man sitting in his seat.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caroline was startled, her gaze lifting up to meet blazing green fire. William stood immediately. Caroline did, too, though it annoyed her to find herself acting as if she had gotten caught doing something wrong.

  “Magnus, I ran into an old friend. May I present to you Lord William Linny.”

  William bowed. “Your lordship.”

  Magnus made no move of acknowledgment. “How did you ‘run into an old friend’ here in our box? There is very little room for collision.”

  “I am certain the countess meant it figuratively, your lordship. Actually, I knew Caroline—I mean, the countess. Your wife.” William began to squirm. “I knew her a few years ago, and could not help myself from coming to pay my respects when I spotted her. It is such an unexpected surprise to see her again.”

  Magnus had that predatory look she hadn’t seen in a long time. Caroline was as tense as a mouse with a cat in the room. No, it was William who was the mouse, and she the observer, knowing the great danger that lurked just beyond the poor prey’s awareness. “I knew William from my two seasons before Father died,” she explained.

  If she had any hope Magnus would behave himself, it was dashed with his next words. “He wasn’t one of the young fools who asked you to marry him, was he?”

  Caroline went weak with shock. Reaching behind her, she felt for her chair and sat down.

  “Well,” Magnus demanded, turning to William, “were you?”

  “A-actually, y-yes, I did have the honor of requesting Car—, the
countess’s hand in marriage.” Sweet, brave William.

  “Hardly an honor if she turned you down.” Magnus took his seat, leaving Linny standing by the door. “Did you ever find someone to marry?”

  Linny blinked rapidly several times, but he was too well-bred to show any other reaction to Magnus’ outrageousness. “No, your lordship.” Turning crisply to Caroline, he said, “Countess, it was delightful to see you again. I hope I have the honor again soon.”

  Caroline forced a smile, thinking, Not likely. You will run like demons are at your heels when you see me.

  “Thank you, William. Give my regards to your mother.”

  “I will. Good evening, Countess. Your lordship.”

  Magnus grunted, not even turning around.

  In the wake of William’s departure, Caroline was seething. Before she could utter a coherent sound, Magnus turned to her. “So, is he the one you will take up with after I’m gone?”

  She had nearly worked herself to full temper, but that comment set her back. “What?”

  “I’m not going to be around very much longer. Is he waiting for you, is that why he is still unmarried?”

  “What refuse is this?” she whispered as the lights were doused in preparation for the second act. “William is a lovely man. I declined his troth because I did not love him.”

  “Hah!” Magnus thundered. Several heads turned to look for the source of the rude sound. “You did not love me, yet you did not decline my troth. Poor William has the disadvantage of health. He should know it is widowhood you are after.”

  “What has possessed you tonight?” she flung in a repressed whisper, too aware how easy it was to draw stares. The music had started, thank goodness, and the curtain was going up.

  He didn’t answer her. She let the matter drop, but the evening was ruined for her. The lovely music which had carried her into another realm only a little while before sounded hollow, annoying in its distraction. She wanted to be home. She wanted to know what had Magnus so upset.

  That the rude, arrogant man she had first met could grow into a gentle lover was not hard to imagine. She had witnessed it and believed it. That he could regress back, she had never anticipated.

  During the next intermission, he took her for refreshment. Barely polite, he introduced her to everyone he met, but it was hardly the enthusiastic presentation she had dreamt of.

  A fellow named Garding seemed to surprise Magnus. He introduced her to him, and Caroline took an instant dislike to him. Perhaps it was the way his eyes slid up and down her body. Perhaps it was when he said, “I had to see who caught the great Earl of Rutherford. Whew! Magnus, she is something.” Even Magnus scowled and took Caroline by the elbow and steered her back to their seats.

  She refused to speak to him. But when she got him home, she would have plenty to say.

  On their way out, Garding came up to Magnus once again. “Care to change your mind and join me at White’s, old man?”

  Magnus flickered a glance at Caroline. “Maybe I will at that. Let me see my wife home. I’ll catch up with you there.”

  When they were in the landau, Caroline said, “If you think to avoid explaining what that was all about tonight, you are wrong. I want to know what you thought you were doing.”

  “I thought I was taking you to the opera. What did you think I was doing?”

  “Don’t be such a sarcastic cad. You know very well what I am talking about. You were outlandishly rude to William, you practically ignored me—”

  “Please cease your complaints,” he snapped, the detached amusement gone in an instant. “I purchase you dresses and festoon you with jewels and take you out in public so everyone can ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over you, and still you aren’t happy.”

  “You were rude and uncivilized, and you humiliated me tonight.” In the confines of the carriage, Caroline could not get the distance from him she craved. Instead, she crossed her arms over her breasts and stared out the window. She could feel Magnus’ eyes burning into her.

  “Do pardon me, countess. I forgot how you were used to so much better.”

  He was out for blood tonight. She glared at him, her chin tilted up in defiance against the stinging hurt he was so effectively doling out. “I have more breeding than you displayed tonight. I was poor, Magnus, but I was no mannerless urchin.”

  “But you are not poor any longer, are you?” he said savagely, his face jutting closer. Caroline could see, even in the darkness of the carriage, his eyes were fierce and a dull pulse throbbed at his temple. She shrank back as he spit out the words. “Thanks to me you have jewelry dripping about your person. You have gowns to show off your gorgeous breasts and that willowy slimness you wear with ease. Fine clothes, everything the best. So if you have to put up with my less than satisfactory company, then you shall simply have to bear it. If it depresses you, you have only to think on the fact that I can not hang on forever. It should cheer you.”

  Silence. Caroline whispered, “What has happened to you? Magnus, please tell me. I know something is wrong.”

  “Something wrong? Why yes, there is a great deal wrong. Why don’t you tell me, Caroline?”

  “How would I know why you are acting this way? I’m begging you to tell me what it is!”

  He snorted and turned away. “Never mind.”

  The carriage pulled up to Eddington House. Magnus brought Caroline only as far as the front door. “Gregory will see you in. I am going to White’s.”

  Before she could stop herself, she reached out for him, pulling at his arm. She had an irrational fear of his leaving her. “Please come inside with me, and let’s talk about what’s bothering you. If I’ve done something to offend you, I want to know. Let me make it up to you.”

  He gave her a long, slow look. It was filled with sadness. However, all he said before he turned to go was, “You do that well, Caroline. One would even think you meant it.”

  Magnus languished on a brocade-covered sofa, one arm flung across the back, the other holding a snifter of brandy. His cronies were especially loud tonight, a raucous welcome for him after his long absence.

  He looked at them, each one in turn. Garding was acting like the lord mayor, taking credit for Magnus’ presence. Clarely and Hedgemont were their jolly selves, slapping each other on the back as if in congratulations on some stupendous achievement.

  Magnus took a mouthful of mellow liquid and swished it around in his mouth.

  “Come on, old man, let’s see if you’ve forgotten how to play cards,” one of them called.

  “Anxious to lose some money, are you?” Magnus answered.

  A round of laughs rang out. The other patrons glanced over, some of them recognizing the Earl of Rutherford. Magnus saw Frederick Cannon watching him with narrowed eyes. Raising his glass, he got no response. Just the glare.

  He sat down at the table and called for the cards to be dealt and a fresh brandy.

  “So Rutherford,” Clarely said. “How do you find the state of marriage?”

  “Blissful.” Everyone laughed at his flat tone.

  “You should see her,” Garding said with a meaningful look to the others.

  “Say, I am glad to see you’re done with that wretched fever.” Hedgemont grinned. “It’s good to have the gang back intact.”

  “Oh, I am not recovered at all.” Magnus looked at his cards, arranging them neatly in his hand. “And it was no fever. I am dying, it seems.”

  Silence and gaping mouths faced him when he raised his eyes from the pair of queens he held. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction. He didn’t know where the contempt for these men came from, but he felt it now, welling up and taking over. Each and every one of them were idiots. How he had borne them for so long, he couldn’t imagine.

  “Ante up,” Magnus said cheerfully, placing two tokens on the green velour table.

  “Dash it all, Rutherford, you can’t be serious!”

  “Quite. Are all of you out already?”

  Someone cleared his thro
at and threw in a pair of tokens The others slowly recovered and the play resumed.

  The gay humor dissolved, which Magnus liked. After all, he was hardly in a celebratory mood. His complete satisfaction was disrupted by how many times his thought turned to Caroline. Each remembrance brought a fresh bol of pain.

  Did she think she would deceive him forever?

  She didn’t need to, not forever. Just long enough to bury him.

  What she hadn’t bargained for was who he was. One would think his reputation would be enough. He was beast, a barbarian, a heartless ravager of both business an society’s morals, a rake for whom nothing was sacred o off-limits. He had debauched righteous women, cuckolde good men, stripped the mighty of their fortunes and neve creased his cravat in any of it. He was, after all, the in famous Earl of Rutherford.

  Good God, even he had forgotten it for a while. Wh he was. What he was.

  It was time he remembered. And time she learned.

  Caroline had no idea who Constance Whittingdon was or why she was here. When Gregory had announced ther was a visitor waiting in the yellow parlor, Caroline wishe she had the nerve not to receive her. However, it was no possible to do so without offending the woman. Withou knowing who she was, Caroline could hardly snub her o of turn.

  She had risen and dressed that morning with the know edge that Magnus had not returned home last night. Her anger had kept her awake until the wee hours, but even the righteous strength of it could not overcome fatigue, an effect of her condition. Thus, she was tired and completely out of sorts this morning, hardly in the mood to entertain a stranger.

  Entering the parlor, she was surprised to see Constance Whittingdon was a beautiful, and young, woman. Dark brown hair was piled attractively on her head and she wore an expensive green silk that was molded to her voluptuous form.

  “Hello. I am Caroline Eddington.”