by Wolf, Bree
“What alternative?” he demanded hoarsely like a man dying of thirst, eager for a glass of water.
Caroline inhaled a fortifying breath, ignored the slight tremble that settled in her limbs and nimbly closed the distance between them. His eyes remained on hers, merely curious at first, but then quickly narrowed as he watched her move closer and closer. Perhaps he could see her thoughts reflected in her eyes. Perhaps his own happened to turn in the same direction by chance alone. Perhaps it was neither or both.
It didn’t matter.
The moment Caroline’s hands slid up his chest, his own reached for her with a desperate urgency, hauling her into his arms. A fierce need burned in his eyes as his head swooped down toward her, her own rising to meet him. Who initiated that kiss would forever remain unclear for it was neither his nor hers.
It was theirs.
And it felt exactly like the ones they’d shared before, out in the alley, in the hackney coach and in the orphanage; overwhelming, intoxicating and utterly addictive.
Caroline’s head spun for the second time that night. Only this time, she never wanted it to stop. She felt delirious, all her senses focused on the man holding her in his arms. She could not have told up from down if anyone had asked her to do so. She could no longer sense the soft warmth of the flames dancing in the fireplace behind them. She barely felt the smooth wood of the door through the fabric of her dress as he pressed her against it.
All she was aware of was him.
His lips against hers. His hands moving back up into her hair. His fingertips tracing the line of her jaw before moving down the small dip to her neck. “Don’t ever wear such a high collar again,” he growled against her lips before she felt a sharp tug and then the fabric give way. She heard the sound of small buttons dropping to the floor like pebbles and felt cool air against her flushed skin. Then his lips moved against her neck, and she drew in a shuddering breath, her fingers digging into his shoulders as her knees buckled.
Perhaps there was some merit in marriage after all, was the odd thought that crossed her mind in that moment and she wondered what it could possibly mean.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A Change in Affections
Sarah was shocked to see the state of Caroline’s dress when she returned barely an hour before dawn, and Caroline needed all her powers of persuasion to dissuade her friend from the somewhat murderous thoughts that had taken up residence in her mind.
“He’s a vile man!” Sarah hissed, her cheeks blazing red and her arms akimbo. “I should never have allowed you to go to him! To his house! At night! Alone!” Pacing Caroline’s bedchamber as the sun slowly began to rise, Sarah quietly cursed herself, Caroline, Pierce—as Caroline had resolved to call him from now on—and the world in general.
“You need to calm down,” Caroline tried to pacify her, afraid that someone would take notice. After all, with a few servants already up and about, it had been almost impossible for her to sneak back into the house after Pierce had dropped her off a little down the street from her father’s townhouse. “Nothing happened. I—”
Sarah wheeled around, her eyes narrowed in suspicion before her hand shot out and grasped the ripped fabric of Caroline’s collar. “This doesn’t look like nothing! He’s an animal! He—”
“Then so am I!” Caroline interrupted her friend’s tirade.
Sarah stilled, her eyes going wide in shock.
Caroline chuckled. “You should see his shirt. Completely in shreds.”
A dark glare came to Sarah’s green eyes. “This is not funny.”
Exhaling a liberating breath, Caroline wrapped a companionable arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I merely wanted to distract you. That glimmer in your eyes was quite worrisome.”
Sarah heaved a deep sigh before her shoulders slumped and she rested her head against Caroline’s. “I didn’t mean to yell,” she whispered, her anger suddenly deflated. “But I was worried. You didn’t come back, and I didn’t know what to do. I was close to going after you a thousand times, but then I thought what if…” Her voice trailed off, and the two women sank down onto the edge of Caroline’s bed side by side.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner,” Caroline mumbled. “I feel terrible.”
Sarah nodded. “You should.”
A chuckle rose in Caroline’s throat. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Don’t do it again,” Sarah demanded as she lifted her head and looked at her friend. “You don’t plan on seeing him again, do you?”
Caroline didn’t know how to answer that. Quite honestly, she hadn’t done much thinking that night despite her efforts to make Pierce see reason, which she hoped had succeeded. At the very least, she’d distracted him from that murderous vendetta of his. However, this was not the end of the story. Far from it.
“Tell me,” Sarah said, her green eyes sweeping over Caroline’s face.
Caroline sighed, knowing that Sarah deserved the truth. Now, at least, she knew better how to explain all the many confusing things that had happened, and so Caroline told her friend everything, beginning with the night Pierce had tried to rob her.
With every word of her story, Sarah’s eyes grew rounder, the expression on her face teetering between shock and outrage, fear and fury until Caroline spoke of Daphne and all that had happened to her. Hearing of the little girl’s past filled Sarah’s eyes with tears and her hands grasped Caroline’s in a sudden need for comfort. “What will he do now?” she sniffled, dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes.
“I’m not certain,” Caroline admitted, determinedly shoving aside the part of her that was already busy listing all the things that could and were most likely to go wrong. “We need to find witnesses. I know it’s been two years, but there must be someone who remembers seeing Lord Coleridge that day. Where he was. When he and his friends set out. In what direction. Who they were.” She drew in a deep breath, hoping that all this was not merely wishful thinking. “We need witnesses.”
Sarah frowned. “We? What do you mean ‘we’? You don’t intend to help him, do you?”
Caroline shrugged. “We didn’t truly talk about how to proceed but I simply—”
“That, I believe,” Sarah snapped, once more fingering Caroline’s ripped collar where a number of buttons were missing, in all likelihood never to be seen again. “It looks as though you didn’t do much talking at all.” One corner of her mouth quirked upward, and a teasing gleam came to her eyes as she gently elbowed Caroline in the side. “Was it worth it?” she whispered then. “Was he?”
Swallowing, Caroline nodded. Although she had been shocked to learn that men like Lord Coleridge existed, did the things they did without thought, without mercy, she could not deny that it felt wonderful to know the depth of Pierce’s compassion, his devotion and deep sense of justice. Granted, he’d chosen a questionable way to balance the scales, but his heart was in the right place.
There was such good in him and, therefore, in the world as well, wasn’t there? It was a comforting thought.
Two days passed without a word from anyone. Not from Pierce. Or Rebecca. Or Lord Coleridge—who had promised Caroline’s father to return his niece unscathed. Her parents were livid. While her father yelled and ranted, mostly locking himself away in his study, her mother had taken to pacing the drawing room floor.
Up and down.
Up and down.
All day.
Caroline felt she was going mad, mostly because she worried about Pierce and what he might do. Of course, she would have loved to hear from her cousin. However, Pierce had assured her that Lord Pembroke truly loved Rebecca and would see to her safety.
And Caroline trusted him. How or when it had happened she could not say, but she trusted him. More than once, he’d proven himself to be an honorable man—perhaps not in the strictest sense, but in the one that mattered to her. He’d always kept his word, always been there for her, always done his utmost to help her, to help the orphanage. And
she felt safe with him.
Always had.
Even from the start.
And then the next day, Caroline’s world was turned upside down when she learned that Lord Coleridge was expected for supper.
The smile slipped off her face, and she had trouble reassuring her mother that she was, indeed, all right. She didn’t feel all right. Not since the night Pierce had informed her of Lord Coleridge’s true nature had their paths crossed and, for a reason Caroline could not explain, she’d assumed she’d never lay eyes on him again.
“Why is he coming, Mother?” she asked with an ill-concealed croak in her voice. “Rebecca is not…”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned in a most disapproving way at the mention of her wayward niece. “He is still a friend, and we must do what we can to make him feel welcome, do you hear?” She reached out and tugged on Caroline’s hair. “Perhaps we ought to try and make you look more…appealing, Dear. All hope cannot truly be lost, can it?” she mumbled as her eyes swept over her daughter.
Caroline felt her breath lodge in her throat as realization found her. “I’m not…pretty enough to catch the attention of a man like…Lord Coleridge,” she objected, almost choking on the man’s name, “even if Rebecca is not here.”
An odd smile tugged on her mother’s lips before she patted Caroline’s shoulders and turned to discuss the supper menu with Cook, a soft hum leaving her lips as she walked away.
Cold shivers ran down Caroline’s back as she realized that her parents hoped to transfer Lord Coleridge’s regard from Rebecca to her.
Panic flared to life at the thought, and Caroline rushed to remind herself that experience had proven time and time again that men simply did not notice her, did not find her appealing in any way. Soon, her breathing calmed and she felt sufficiently reassured that her parents’ hopes would suffer severe disappointment come suppertime.
Oh, how wrong she was!
The second Lord Coleridge walked across the threshold, his gaze sought hers, a charming smile lingering on his flawless features. For all intents and purposes, he portrayed a kind and caring young man, delighted to be received by dear friends and most eager to entertain their daughter with humorous anecdotes and witty comments.
Caroline barely managed to eat a bite all evening, her stomach in knots as her mind tried to see beyond the mask he’d most likely been wearing all his life. She tried to glimpse the cold, unfeeling monster she now knew him to be, but struggled to do so. Indeed, his mask was almost flawless, and it riled her that a man with a heart so dark would possess such an innocent face.
“I hear you enjoy embroidery, Miss Hawkins,” he commented with a sidelong glance at her parents, who all but beamed at him, no doubt already working on the guest list for their wedding.
“I enjoy little else, my lord,” Caroline replied, determined to be the most boring and tiresome creature he’d ever encountered. Unfortunately, the blasted man would not be deterred no matter what she said. And so, Caroline decided to see this moment as an opportunity instead of a curse.
“A charming man like yourself must have a lot of devoted friends,” she remarked over a bite of venison. “Do tell, who are you most intimately acquainted with?”
Smiling ever so charmingly, he told her about various lords he considered friends, how they’d met and how often he saw them. Caroline filed all of the information away for future reference before she launched into questions about his favorite pastimes, travels to the country, his estates and all else that came to mind and would not be considered too inquisitive of her to inquire about.
“Do you hunt, my lord?” Caroline wondered, a timid smile playing on her lips. “I must admit the sound of a shot being fired frightens me terribly. What if it went astray?”
Smiling at her, Lord Coleridge patted her hand. Caroline wanted to vomit! “There’s no need to be frightened so long as you’re in the company of experienced hunters,” he boasted. “I often travel through the country in search of new hunting grounds. Kearsley and Amhurst generally accompany me as it does get a bit lonely being out on the road by oneself, especially after dark.”
“Surely, you don’t travel all night?” Caroline asked innocently, quickly returning her gaze to the peas on her plate.
“Of course not,” he told her, sipping his wine. “Fortunately, there are a number of inns on the road that provide adequate shelter to travel-weary lords.” He chuckled. “Sometimes we turn in at a friend’s estate. My cousin owns a small estate near London we used to frequent a while back.” Something in his tone changed, grew…darker, disapproving.
“Are you close?” Caroline asked quickly. “You and your cousin?”
Coleridge sighed. “We were.” His gaze became distant, and Caroline could sense that something severe had happened between them.
“What happened?” she asked carefully, hoping he would share his thoughts.
Unfortunately, Lord Coleridge heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. “It was nothing. A quarrel among cousins. I’m certain you’re familiar with familial disputes.” He gave her a pointed look, indicating her own wayward cousin.
“Of course,” Caroline replied with a false smile, cursing inwardly at this missed opportunity. If only she knew what had happened between him and his cousin!
Her parents, at least, seemed delighted and would have died utterly happy had lightning struck them down in that moment.
By the end of the evening, Caroline was exhausted. The muscles in her jaw ached from the fake smile she’d forced on herself all night, and her mind spun with all she’d learned. Most of all, however, was she distressed by the ease with which Lord Coleridge hid his true self. And yet, she could not help but notice that his smile, no matter how brilliant it might sparkle, never reached his eyes. There was nothing warm and caring in it. It looked pretty, but lifeless.
Not like Pierce’s smile.
His smile made her feel. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart skipped a beat or two. She felt shivers dance across her skin as though his fingertips were trailing up and down her arms. She felt all that and more when Pierce smiled at her.
When he winked at her.
When he grinned at her.
Staring out the window at the darkened world, Caroline sighed with longing. Three days had passed since she’d last seen him. Never had three days seemed that long. Perhaps she felt his absence even more acutely because of Lord Coleridge’s unwanted attentions. Quite frankly, the only reason for his interest was surely to be found in his financials, was it not? What else about her could possibly appeal to him but her dowry? Her father was a wealthy man, and her mother was the daughter of a baron. Caroline, herself, however, had nothing to recommended her beyond that.
At least not as far as men of the ton were concerned.
Only Pierce had been different. He had seen her from the beginning. He’d noticed her in a way no one else ever had…despite her efforts to dissuade him.
The thought brought a smile to her face, and she remembered the moment his fingers had moved to undo her hair. The moment he’d freed her of her tight collar, demanding she never wear another one ever again.
A flutter of regret came to her heart as her hand reached up and her fingers tugged on the high collar of yet another one of her greyish gowns. After all, she possessed none that were different, and for good reason.
Still, Caroline could not deny that a part of her wanted to do as he’d told her. Moving her gaze to the mirror on her vanity and her dull reflection within, she wondered what she would look like dressed like other women of the ton.
Like her cousin.
What would Pierce say if she ever did? Would he still call her little mouse?
Oddly enough, Caroline realized that she no longer hated it when he called her that. In fact, a part of her had come to love it.
It felt like an endearment.
One only for her.
For her alone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A Surprise
Arrival
Frustrated, Pierce pushed back the tall-backed chair and moved away from his desk. His feet carried him around the room in quick, slightly jarring steps as he fought to remain calm.
Five days had passed since he’d enlisted the help of a number of Bow Street Runners in order to uncover Coleridge’s whereabouts on the day in question as well as the identity of the men who’d been with him.
Thanks to his loyal servants, Pierce now knew a little more than he had five days ago. Albert had immediately seen that something worrisome—as his butler had put it—had happened the night Caroline had returned with Daphne in her arms. In the end, Pierce had decided to enlist the help of his rather unusual family. He’d shared Daphne’s past with them and he had asked for their help.
Albert had been shocked, appalled and nearly fainted.
Jacob, his eager, young footman, had been furious, close to rushing out and doing something unwise. Pierce had known exactly how he’d felt.
Miss Glass had cried silent tears and then run to hug her daughter and Daphne, assuring the children that they were loved and treasured and safe.
Mrs. Colden, their cook, who had only come to London because the townhouse cook had been called away to her sick daughter, had turned as red as a tomato, steam coming out of her ears as anger had narrowed her eyes. Then she’d nodded to Pierce in that way of hers and said, “I’ll get you what you need, my lord.” Then she’d marched off.
Over the following days, bits and pieces had reached Pierce’s ears about the night in question as well as the man responsible as his servants reached out to friends and family, acquaintances and strangers alike, carefully asking questions, uncovering details he needed in order to redirect the Bow Street Runners and facilitate their task.
Still, the wait nearly drove him mad. He was pacing far more than usual these days, his hands balled into fists as the night Daphne had lost her family kept replaying in his mind. The only thing that kept him from rushing out of the house in these moments of overwhelming rage was the thought of Caroline.