“Yes,” she said, her voice so soft she almost could not hear it. He did, though, and he did not hesitate.
Anthony drew her up, his hands spanning her waist. He lifted her, and she leaned back against the door, her arms around him, her legs around his hips. He raised her up with both hands on her bottom and entered her wet warmth without a word, a deep groan torn from his throat.
He held her high so she did not have to bear the brunt of his assault. He was a careful lover, even as he had her against the door of the inn. He lost himself in her, the motion of his body slapping hers against the wooden door, faster and faster as he sought his release.
Something about his desperation drew her in, and she felt her own desire rise. He had been so careful with her the night before in their borrowed bed, but now he had lost all control. Now it was he who murmured her name against her hot skin as if it were a prayer. She had a measure of power yet.
As his thrusts increased in intensity, a streak of pleasure shot from the core of her being. The spike turned into a wave of ecstasy, until she was clutching his hair and moaning his name as he called her own.
His satisfaction took him, and he groaned against her throat, his hands on her bottom still supporting her weight.
Anthony lowered her carefully to the floor even as he caught his breath. Her skirt slid down, covering her legs. He did not release her, for he seemed to know she had no strength to stand. They stood together, one of his hands cupped behind her head, the other on the curve of her hip.
Caroline came to herself slowly. Her body ached as if she had been caught in a thresher, as when the chaff is drawn from the barley. She leaned against her husband, the warm velvet of his coat soft against her cheek.
She realized he was dressed for the road, and she remembered they were to have left at first light. He had meant to let her sleep longer than he should have, and all the rest of the morning’s business had come from that kindness.
Caroline looked at him and found his eyes on her, watching her already. She laughed, a low and throaty sound she almost did not recognize. Her anger had burned away in the heat between them, heat that had already begun to dissipate. Anthony quirked an eyebrow at her.
“So we both have a temper,” he said.
Caroline heard a polite cough behind the door they leaned on and realized the entire inn likely had been listening to their antics.
“Perhaps we should begin again. Good morning, Wife.”
Caroline met his eyes, laughter still on her lips. “Good morning, Husband.”
“We ride out soon, if you are willing.”
Caroline pressed her body against his in a way that never would have occurred to her the day before. She watched his eyes darken with desire as she moved against him. She leaned up to whisper to him. “I am indeed willing, my lord. There is other riding I would prefer. But if we must leave here, we must.”
Drawing back from him, she saw the hunger on his face. But he was a man used to restraint. As soon as Anthony knew she could stand without his help, he stepped away from her, fastening his breeches tight.
“We will have to leave off the other riding until tonight, my lady. We have many miles to travel before then.”
Caroline’s eyes took him in, reflecting on the memory of what he looked like under his clothes. She raised her gaze to his, but he did not accept her challenge. Anthony simply stood and looked at her, his desire betrayed only by the unevenness of his breath.
She accepted his harsh breathing as a concession, proof he still wanted her, that she still held power over him. She stepped past him, brushing against him before she walked away.
“As you say, my lord.”
Caroline turned back to take one last look at him before she walked into the bedroom. Anthony was already gone, the door to the hallway closing behind him. Tabby came in the next moment, her face a blank mask. For once, she did not say a word. Caroline did not speak of what had passed but kept her voice even, her tone light. She could still feel his hands on her body and taste him on her tongue.
“You’d better pack before you dress my hair, Tabby,” she said. “I think his lordship means to leave within the half hour.”
Caroline stripped off the soiled traveling gown from the day before and dressed in a new gown and shift, this one of emerald green trimmed in harvest gold. She went alone behind the wooden screen in the corner of the room and washed while Tabby packed her portmanteau, dropping a hairbrush and comb in her haste.
“Tabby,” Caroline said as the girl bound her hair in braids. “Don’t be troubled. Lord Ravensbrook is a good man.”
“So they say, my lady. But his temper is fierce,” Tabby whispered.
Caroline smiled. “Indeed. So is mine.”
Chapter 14
Pembroke House, Derbyshire
Caroline and Anthony rode once more in silence, though on the second day of their marriage, his wife did not spend as much time staring out of windows as napping. Her bright emerald dress hurt his eyes, and he reminded himself to take her to a modiste in London and make certain she was fashionably dressed. Of course, as he looked at her, he knew he would love her body in any dress she wore, and better in none.
Her breasts rose and fell with her gentle breathing beneath her green spencer. Her soft blond hair was beginning to come free from its pins beneath the monstrosity of the bonnet she wore, this one trimmed in ostrich plumes. Anthony saw her mother’s hand in that. He wondered how beautiful Caroline might look in the finest London fashions, in the softer shades of mint and pink, light blue silks and sprigged muslin frocks. He would dress her in gold and silver for her first ball, with nothing in her hair but diamonds.
Anthony spent a joyous, tortured afternoon thinking of his wife in diamonds and nothing else. She woke, raising her head from his shoulder as they approached his friend’s house in Derbyshire. Raymond Olivier, the Earl of Pembroke, back from the war, lived now at Pembroke House almost full time.
The old castle, its interior converted to a modern dwelling, was still dominated by the shades of the past. Pembroke House sat on a bluff surrounded by a well-kept park of oaks and hawthorns. Ivy clung to the old walls, and in spring, the wisteria climbed the stone to bloom white and purple in the sunlight. Anthony had spent many happy days of his childhood at Pembroke House whenever Raymond’s father was away. Now that the old earl was dead, a man his friend still hated, Raymond, the new earl, had finally come home.
The traveling coach drew up before the great house, and the door opened before the footmen could come down from their perch. As soon as Anthony stepped down from the carriage, Pembroke’s great hand took hold of his shoulder and brought him into his embrace.
“Anthony,” he said. “It has been too long.”
While Anthony had returned home at once after resigning his commission, Pembroke had stayed on the Continent to indulge in fine wine and women. His friend’s dark blond hair still fell rakishly over one eye, and his blue gaze was bloodshot, though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. But Pembroke’s smile was as warm as it had ever been. Behind the depths of Pembroke’s hidden pain, Anthony could see the boy he once had known smiling back at him.
“It has been three months since I saw you last,” Anthony said.
“Too long,” Pembroke repeated. “Where is your wife?”
“Here, my lord.”
Caroline did not wait for one of the gentlemen to help her but climbed down from the traveling coach in one leap, her white leather boots crunching on the gravel driveway. “Good day, Lord Pembroke. I thank you for welcoming us to your home.”
“You have had a long journey. You must be tired.”
“I am well enough, my lord. I slept most of the day away. There is little else to do in a rocking carriage.”
Pembroke did not raise a brow or offer a knowing smile to Anthony. Indeed, there was a great deal more to be done in a rocking carriage, as they both knew well. There was no reason for a man to ride in a closed carriage other than
to indulge himself with his chosen woman. Pembroke did not look at Anthony at all but only at Caroline.
“I am happy to find you well. Anything I have is yours, for as long as you are here.” He bowed over her hand, and she covered his hand with both of hers. “I see my friend’s taste in women has only improved with time,” Pembroke said.
As Anthony knew she would be, Caroline was quick with a pert answer. “Indeed, my lord. I am glad to hear it. I wonder if his temper has improved as well?”
Pembroke’s great booming laugh filled the courtyard, and he clapped his hand on her shoulder as if she were a companion-in-arms. She winced but did not flinch away.
“If it has, I haven’t noticed, my lady.” Pembroke led them into his house as he spoke, and Caroline fell into step beside him, letting her husband follow as he would.
“If I lose my temper, I have good reason,” Anthony said.
Caroline raised her eyebrows, and Pembroke laughed again. “You always think you have cause, at any rate,” he said.
He turned to Anthony as they stepped into the entrance hall. “I must warn you, Anthony. I think you have forgotten the date. Gentlemen of our acquaintance have arrived for our monthly meeting.”
“The Hellfire Club,” Anthony said, frowning like thunder.
“Yes,” Pembroke answered. His friend kept his voice scrupulously empty of all emotion. “Viscount Carlyle is among them.”
Anthony felt the blood drain from his face. Caroline must have noticed his sudden pallor because she reached for him. Her hand lay on his arm, but he did not acknowledge it or look at her. It was all he could do to hold himself in check.
“Should I turn them all out?”
Caroline’s eyes rested on his face, so Anthony was careful to keep his expression blank. She, like all decent wives, need know nothing of the Hellfire Club and its proclivities.
“I think we can share space with them for one night. Pembroke House is large enough.”
“I should say so,” Caroline interjected. “I look forward to meeting the members of your club, my lord. The company sounds bracing after so long a journey.”
It was Pembroke who answered, for Anthony’s throat had closed with ire. “Forgive me, Lady Ravensbrook, but we are not fit to accommodate a lady this evening. This is my fault entirely. I hope you will indulge me and take your dinner upstairs.”
“Will my lord be dining with you?” Caroline asked.
Pembroke looked distinctly uncomfortable and did not speak.
“Yes, I will, Caroline. And you will eat in your rooms.”
“Like a petulant child? I think not.”
Anthony’s voice sounded strangled in his own ears. “Caroline, please indulge me in this.”
She stared at him mutinously for a moment before her face transformed into a gracious smile. “Do not trouble yourself, my lord,” she said to Pembroke, turning from Anthony altogether. “All will be well.”
Pembroke’s smile showed his relief, but Anthony knew better. Caroline had not agreed to stay away. She had only smiled prettily, which meant she was up to mischief.
He would lock her in her rooms if need be. He needed all his energy to prepare to meet Carlyle in company for the second time in the same week. The man dogged his steps like a plague. Caroline would simply have to stay away.
***
Caroline was shown upstairs into a suite of rooms clearly meant for a lady, beautifully appointed with maple furniture and a soft blue rug. There was none of her mother’s dark burgundies and emerald velvet here. All was light and airy, the satin bedclothes embroidered in tones of ice blue and cream. For a fanciful moment, Caroline wondered if Pembroke had matched the room to some lady’s eyes.
She gave herself over to the ministrations of her maid as Tabby brushed her hair out, making it gleam gold in the firelight. Caroline listened with half an ear as Tabby recounted all the details of her journey in the baggage cart as if Caroline had not ridden the same road.
Caroline’s mind wandered to Anthony and how well he had looked in his fine green coat, which had encased the muscles of his arms almost like a second skin. She had spent the entire coach ride thinking about him, and of their lovemaking the night before.
Whatever Anthony said, she would go down for dinner soon and see him again. Her body hummed at the thought of her husband’s nearness, even in the midst of other guests. She wanted to feel the warmth of his presence and make sure he knew he was hers for the night to come.
“My lady, why are you smiling? Did I say something funny?”
“No, Tabby. I find I am in a pleasant mood.”
“Will you stay in your dressing gown after your bath?”
“That would be quite scandalous, as I intend to sup with my husband in the dining room.”
“But Lord Ravensbrook gave orders that we are to eat here, to rest for the journey tomorrow.”
“And now I am giving you different orders. Tabby, did we pack the white gown I had made last month, the one with the light pink trim?”
“Yes, miss…I mean, my lady. I’ll press it for you.”
***
Just as Caroline was dressed to go down to dinner, with her hair swept up in a sophisticated twist that no woman in Yorkshire would have worn, a maid came to her room, bearing a huge tray filled with more food than Caroline could have eaten in a week. The maid bobbed a curtsy and set the tray down on the polished table beside the fireplace.
“Your dinner, my lady.”
“Indeed. How kind. And where might my husband be?”
“In the dining room, my lady. With the gentlemen, and the…ummm…”
“Other ladies.” Caroline spoke for her.
She watched as the girl blushed and stammered, and Caroline’s suspicions were confirmed. The gentlemen’s club might well be meeting after dinner, but she was certain the men had brought their wives, as well. She thought she had heard a hint of feminine laughter as she walked up the stairs to her room. Seeing the girl’s embarrassment, she was now certain of it.
“Yes, my lady.”
So there would be other ladies dining that evening. Anthony wanted to keep her from his friends for some idiotic reason of his own. Caroline squared her shoulders. “Thank you. That will be all.”
She walked alone down to the dining room. She had no trouble finding it and did not have to ask one of the many footmen in the household to escort her. She heard raucous laughter, the booming voices of men, and the sinuous, hissing laughter of women. Caroline pushed aside her anger at not being invited to dine.
Perhaps Lord Pembroke was simply concerned that she was overtired. And perhaps pigs would soon take flight over the city of London.
She saw as she entered that the first course had already been served. The dining room was full of laughing people. The gentlemen were dressed in coats of black and midnight blue, their waistcoats in tones of gold and silver, white cravats at their throats. The women wore their hair in curls around their shoulders and flowing down their backs. Their gowns were cut so low that Caroline blinked. This was why she had received no invitation to dinner, why a tray had been sent to her room. Pembroke had filled his house with courtesans.
She saw her husband seated among them. On his left side sat a woman, her dark hair spilling over the globes of her breasts, which she seemed intent on pressing against Anthony’s arm. To his right was a blonde with golden hair that had red roses nestled in it.
No place had been left for her. But when she entered, half a dozen men stood and offered their chairs. She recognized one of them from her father’s house party, searching her mind for his name. Victor Winthrop, Viscount Carlyle, the man who had won the golden bowl at archery. The man she had beaten. He smiled at her. It seemed that he remembered her, as well.
She straightened her back, ignoring the other women present, acting as if courtesans simply did not exist in that room or anywhere else. She smiled graciously first at Viscount Carlyle, then at Pembroke, who welcomed her with a smile, but who looke
d horrified to see her.
Ignoring Anthony completely, she seated herself between Victor and a second gentleman who immediately introduced himself as Admiral Washburn of the Royal Navy. The doxy who had occupied that chair only a moment before was escorted farther down the table.
Anthony’s glare heated her skin even from the distance between them. She could feel his anger from across the room.
She clung to her own anger, trying desperately to ignore the niggling pain in her heart. Caroline knew very well that, in spite of the heat between them, Anthony did not love her. And what better proof of this did she need than to see him seated among courtesans at his friend’s table, making no move to cross the room to greet her.
Caroline was shocked to feel tears pressing behind her eyes and jealousy gnawing at her innards like a jackal. She breathed deeply and tried hard to set her husband from her mind. She could not banish Anthony from her thoughts completely, but she managed to supersede him by focusing on the rest of the room. A lady should never sit with doxies. Indeed, a lady should pretend she does not know such creatures exist. Caroline could hear her mother’s voice in her ears as clearly as if Lady Montague sat beside her.
Caroline reminded herself she was a married woman. She was bound for life to a man she barely knew, but she was also her own mistress. She no longer had to fear what her mother would say if she walked her own path as she pleased. Her marriage at least had bought her that.
All the gentlemen treated her with strict courtesy, while Anthony continued to stare at her from down the table. The women ignored her completely.
After offering her a glass of wine and inquiring after her mother’s health, Carlyle turned back to the discussion that had begun before Caroline arrived, positioning himself so Caroline might hear every word of it.
She joined the talk of what was going on in Parliament now that the troops were coming home. The Prince Regent was at war with the Commons, as he so often was since he had taken the reign from his father. Caroline had heard a little of this even in Yorkshire. She read the papers brought up from London, though they were often a few weeks late.
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