Just One Touch

by Debra Mullins

  “I’m not frightened of you.” She leaned in and kissed his lips, then smiled. “I’m frightened of me. Good night, Rogan.”

  “Good night, love,” he replied, wondering as he watched her leave the room how much cold water might be found in the kitchen at this late hour.

  Chapter 16

  Caroline clicked her tongue at Melody and urged her to a trot with a tug of the lead rope. The gray picked up her pace, trotting smoothly in a circle around the paddock.

  Dressed in her oldest riding habit, Caroline surveyed the mare’s progress with satisfaction. She had worked with Melody each day, gaining the horse’s trust after her abuse. Taking Rogan’s advice, she had retrained her from the beginning, going back to rudimentary exercises. The horse had quickly progressed, and Caroline had had a chance to evaluate how well trained the animal was. She was a fine mare who had fallen victim to abusive owners. She doubted Peterson had been the first.

  As with Caroline, the physical wounds had healed, but the emotional ones still festered.

  But she appeared to be making progress on the emotional front. She clicked her tongue again, sending Melody into a swift canter. Her encounter with Rogan last night had been a revelation. The terror that had once gripped her seemed a mere shadow, easily pushed aside. Rogan had shown her that sharing their bodies could be beautiful and moving, not necessarily scary and humiliating. Her father was right: she had thought she knew what sex was all about, but it turned out she didn’t know anything at all.

  She was rather glad Rogan had gone to attend to some business today; looking into his eyes after what they’d done together gave her a tendency to blush. Yet at the same time, she felt beautiful and female and found herself daydreaming at odd moments about the kisses they’d shared.

  Footsteps crunched on the dirt surrounding the paddock. With a sigh of annoyance, Caroline turned, saying, “You gentlemen know not to approach me when I’m working with Melody.”

  But it wasn’t Grafton or Tallow standing outside the fence.

  “Randall, what are you doing here?” She called out a command to halt Melody’s canter and reeled in both horse and rope as she hurried to the fence. She searched Randall’s expression for any hint of dire news. “Heavens, is it Papa?”

  “Dear girl.” Randall cast a disbelieving eye over her shabby attire. “Can your husband not spare a bit of coin to dress his wife properly?”

  She pulled up short. “Bother my wardrobe! Is Papa all right?”

  Randall’s brows came together. “I assume so. I haven’t seen him today.”

  “So he’s all right then.” She let out the breath she’d been holding. “When I saw you here, I thought—”

  “Oh, dear girl!” Randall shook his head and gave her a pitying smile. “You thought I had come with bad tidings.”

  “I did.” She managed an answering smile. “I’m glad I am mistaken.”

  “Still, this isn’t exactly a social call. I haven’t come to talk about your father, Caroline. I’ve come to talk about your husband. About your marriage.” He gave her a sad, solemn look. “And the news may yet be dire indeed.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Perhaps we should go inside.” Althorpe glanced from Caroline to the gray and back. “And I would recommend tea at such a time.”

  “I’ll see to it. Just let me put up Melody.” She called softly to the horse, soothed her nervousness with caresses. “Randall, Melody is afraid of men, so please back away from the gate.”

  With raised eyebrows, Randall did as she asked. She led Melody into the stables and tended to her most basic needs, then hurried back outside. Randall waited where she’d left him, his arms crossed, his expression impatient.

  “Come inside,” she said. “I’ll ready the tea tray.”

  She settled Randall in the parlor, then went into the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea. Mrs. Cox, the cook who came three days a week, had made a batch of lemon biscuits, and she took some of those as well when she brought the tray back to the parlor.

  “Ah, biscuits,” Althorpe said, helping himself to two and setting them aside. “Shall I pour?”

  “If you would,” she replied, afraid her trembling hands would cause her to drop the pot.

  Her cousin poured tea the way he did everything else: with a refined elegance that gave him a bit of a haughty air. She had never really felt comfortable around Randall, and sitting alone with him in the parlor, waiting for him to impart what might be bad news, was not helping matters.

  Finally they each had a cup of tea and some biscuits.

  “Caroline,” Randall said. “I hope you will take what I am about to say in the best possible context, as one concerned relative to another.”

  “Good heavens, Randall, what’s wrong?” Caroline set down her teacup with a little clink, unable to keep up even the pretense of drinking.

  “I hope you won’t consider me too presumptuous, but I’ve come upon some information about your husband’s history of which you may be unaware.”

  A chill ran through her as suspicion reared its head. Why would Cousin Randall, who for most of her life had considered her either an inferior female or a veritable lunatic, suddenly develop such concern for her welfare?

  And now that she thought about it, why would Rogan feel the need to engage an investigator to look into Randall’s past? Something was going on between the two men, and in typical overprotective fashion, Rogan had told her nothing about it.

  Her growing anger with her overbearing husband steadied her nerves. Randall was here now, his face the picture of gentlemanly concern. Now was her chance to learn what Rogan was hiding from her.

  “I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?” Randall said, apparently attributing her silence to feminine sensibilities.

  Caroline gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m afraid you did startle me. I cannot fathom what ‘history’ you refer to, cousin.”

  “I was afraid you might not know.” Randall sighed and gave her a sympathetic look that she found hard to believe. “Your husband’s volatile temper is well known all through the area, Lady Caroline.”

  She dropped her gaze to her teacup in mock modesty, masking her sudden interest in his words. “I’m certain you don’t heed the loose tongues of gossips, Randall.”

  “Normally no.” He leaned forward in his chair, the picture of earnest concern. “But my own sources have confirmed the rumors. Caroline, I’m afraid for you.”

  She gave a little laugh, all the while noting his every flicker of expression. “Rogan has treated me very well, cousin. You worry for naught.”

  “I’m afraid I must disagree. Are you aware that while your husband was at war on the Continent, he killed a woman?”

  Having heard the story from Rogan’s own lips, she was unsurprised at this revelation, but she gasped anyway. “How can you say such a thing to a new bride, sir?”

  “I do hate to be the bearer of ill tidings, cousin, but I fear for you. My contacts tell me that Hunt supposedly loved this woman, yet he killed her during one of his rages. I can’t help but fear what he would do to his gentle wife.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Randall, but there is no reason to fear for me.”

  Randall looked down at his hands. “There is more, but if you do not believe me about this, how will you believe the even more incredible tale I wish to relay?”

  “I don’t disbelieve you,” she said. “I just don’t think I am in any danger.”

  Randall raised his brows. “Forgive me for disagreeing, cousin, but I believe you should be on your guard.” He paused, his expression reflecting some sort of inner struggle. “Caroline, may I be honest with you?”

  “Of course, Randall. I prefer honesty.”

  “It’s no secret that Hunt married you because you are an heiress.”

  “I suppose that had something to do with it.” She gave him a gentle smile. “It’s done all the time, you know. A destitute man marrying an heiress is hardly illegal.”

&n
bsp; “No, it isn’t.” Randall suddenly jerked to his feet and began to walk about the room, his hands behind his back. “This next piece of news is so disturbing that I hesitate to relay it.”

  “Honesty,” she reminded him.

  “Very well.” He stopped pacing and faced her, his expression grim. “Caroline, I fear Rogan has poisoned your father.”

  “What!” She set down her cup and saucer with a clatter and rose to her feet. “What nonsense is this?”

  “It’s not nonsense. Your father is dying, Caroline. He was a vigorous, healthy man before this mysterious illness laid him low in a matter of weeks. Rogan is a known killer, and I believe he is hastening your father’s death in hopes of increasing your portion of the Belvingham fortune.”

  “You’re mad. Rogan would never hurt my father.”

  Randall stepped closer to her, locking her gaze with his. “Men would do many desperate things for money, my dear innocent cousin,” he whispered.

  A tremor rippled through her. There was something in Randall’s voice, in his eyes, that drew all her defenses into play. “But poison, Randall?” Her voice broke, and she turned away from him.

  Dear God, could it be? It would explain the suddenness of Papa’s illness, the confusion of the physicians, the rapid decline of Papa’s strength. But Rogan?

  “No,” she whispered. “No, it can’t be.”

  Randall came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Dear cousin, I know this is a shock to you.”

  “Yes,” she choked out. Tears welled in her eyes despite her will to stop them. Someone was deliberately trying to kill her father. Murder him.

  But it wasn’t Rogan.

  She turned back to Randall, not even bothering to hide her distress. “I’d like to be alone now, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Are you certain?” He peered into her face, his eyes watchful and concerned. “Shall I call someone for you? Your maid perhaps?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll just go up to my room. Please forgive me.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be foolish; you’ve had a shock. I’m only sorry my news has brought you to this end.”

  “It’s not your fault, Randall. You were only doing what you felt was best.”

  “But if there’s anything I can do—”

  Someone cleared a throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Caroline turned to see Colin standing in the doorway of the parlor. She swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Hello, Colin. I didn’t realize you were coming to visit today.”

  “I’m not visiting, I’m staying for a while.” He sent a hard look at Althorpe. “And who’s this?”

  “This is my cousin, Randall Althorpe. Randall, this is Colin Hunt, Rogan’s brother.”

  “Ah. The master of Hunt Chase, I take it?”

  “As a matter of fact.” Colin came into the room, his canny dark eyes on Caroline’s face. “Is something the matter?”

  “It’s nothing.” Caroline tried to smile at him. “I didn’t know you were coming, so I’ll need to have the maid air out the other bedroom—”

  “It can’t be nothing,” Colin said, cutting her off. “You’re crying.” He cast a narrow-eyed glance at Randall, looking very much like Rogan in the process. “Has this fellow upset you?”

  Althorpe stiffened. “I brought news of her father. Family business,” he added meaningfully.

  “I’m family now.” Colin caught Caroline’s gaze. “Bad news, I take it?”

  She nodded, words jamming in her throat.

  “The duke isn’t doing well,” Randall said. “We fear he will not be long for this world.”

  “I was just going upstairs,” Caroline whispered.

  “You do that,” Colin said, his voice gentle. But the look he sent Althorpe was not. “I’ll see your cousin out.”

  “Thank you,” Caroline whispered.

  She fled the room before the tears came in force, leaving the two men glaring at each other.

  It was nearly dusk before Rogan arrived home.

  His meeting with Lord Traversleigh had proven most successful. His Lordship would be delivering two horses in the next couple of days for training, and more than that, he seemed interested in purchasing the first foal when Rogan began breeding Destiny with Hephaestus.

  Between the money from Caroline’s dowry and what Lord Traversleigh planned to pay him, he could begin to purchase stock for his new breeding line. Everything was falling into place.

  He walked Hephaestus into the stables. Grafton and Tallow had no doubt gone to have their dinner, and Rogan enjoyed the simple pleasure of removing his horse’s tack himself. As he brushed down the stallion, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

  “Your wife had company while you were gone,” Colin said.

  Rogan stopped and glanced at his brother, who leaned in the doorway of the stall. “If you were talking about anyone but Caroline, that remark would lead me to some interesting conclusions.”

  “Her cousin Althorpe, was here.”

  “Althorpe?” Rogan set down the brush and turned his complete attention to his brother. “What happened? What did he do to her?”

  “Just brought her some bad news about her father.” Colin frowned as Rogan swiftly locked the stall and pushed past him to head for the house. He hurried after him. “What’s the matter?”

  “What did he say?” Rogan didn’t slow his pace. “What did he say exactly?”

  “He said he brought bad news about her father.”

  “The duke is dead?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Otherwise I doubt she would have been up in her room all this time.” Colin caught up with Rogan and kept pace with him as he headed for the front door.

  “No, she would have gone with haste to Belvingham.” Rogan went into the house and glanced into the parlor. She wasn’t there.

  “She went upstairs, Rogan, and I don’t think she ever came down again.”

  Rogan paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. “Thank you, Colin,” he said without turning. “I think it’s better if I do the rest alone.”

  “I understand.” Colin glanced up as well. “I didn’t like the look in Althorpe’s eyes, brother.”

  “What look?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve seen friendlier eyes on a snake. Call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” As Colin left the house, Rogan began to climb the stairs.

  The quiet knock at her door startled Caroline.

  “Caroline?” Rogan said. “May I come in?”

  She rose slowly from her seat near the window and went to the door. When she opened it, Rogan was standing there, concern etched on his handsome face. She stared at him for a long moment, then turned away, leaving the door open.

  He followed her into the room. “Caroline?”

  She turned back to face him, folding her arms across her chest. “Rogan. How was your meeting with Lord Traversleigh?”

  “Forget Traversleigh. Colin told me that Althorpe was here today. What did he say?”

  “He had a lot of things to say. Now I want to hear what you have to say.”

  Her directness brought a frown to his face. “You sound angry with me.”

  “I don’t know how I feel right now.” She met his gaze squarely. “You’ve been keeping things from me, Rogan.”

  “What did Althorpe say?”

  “What did Mr. Archer have to say?”

  She could see she’d startled him. He narrowed his eyes. “How did you find out about him?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about him?” she shot back.

  “Answer the question.”

  “You answer mine.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  “What did Althorpe say to upset you?” he asked again, softly.

  She had difficulty holding on to her outrage when he spoke to her so gently. “Lies,” she replied. “He told me lies. Just like you did.”

  “I’v
e never lied to you, Caroline.”

  “Lies of omission are still lies. Why didn’t you tell me you were investigating Randall? And don’t you dare say it was to protect me!”

  He lifted a brow. “It was.”

  “Dear God, not again!” She spun away, rage bubbling up, rage that had been simmering inside her for years. “I’m not a child, Rogan.”

  “I know you’re not a child.”

  “Yet you keep things from me as if I am. Randall tells me my father is being poisoned. Is that true?”

  “He told you that?”

  “It’s true, isn’t it? And you’ve known all along. In fact, Randall says you are the one doing the poisoning.”

  He stilled, and his eyes grew watchful. “And what do you think?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Rogan. You’ve hired one of the best investigators in London to look into Randall’s affairs, and then Randall himself comes to visit and tries to convince me that my husband is a murderer.” She gave a humorless little laugh. “He even brought up…what was her name? Isabel.”

  He stiffened. “I told you what happened with Isabel.”

  “Yes, it was an accident. But my father’s illness is deliberate.”

  “I’m not trying to kill your father, Caroline.”

  “I know that.” She sent him a chiding look. “It’s Randall, isn’t it? He’s hurting Papa.”

  “That’s what we believe.”

  “We?” She glanced back at him, puzzled. Then realization swept over her. “Papa knows.”

  “Yes.”

  She let out a long sigh. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. Then again, of course I can. He was trying to protect me.”

  “He loves you. Of course he was trying to protect you.”

  “And what of today?” She stalked over to him, thrust her face as near his as her lesser height would allow. “I was alone in a room with my enemy, and I didn’t even know.”

  He cupped her cheek. “I would never let him hurt you.”

  “But you weren’t here.” She backed away from him, and his hand fell to his side. “If Randall can so easily poison a powerful man like my father, what’s to stop him from harming me?”