He gazed at her approvingly. “Your fresh beauty eclipses that flower.”
Did he think her beautiful? “How poetical, Lord Debenham.”
“I’ve read the poets,” Nicholas said. “But I don’t pretend to be one.”
“Why did you choose the army, after studying mathematics at Oxford?”
“A second son has to find his way in the world. There was nothing here for me.”
“But you might have been an academic, gone into the church, or chosen politics like your father.”
“I’m a man who prefers to be active,” he said a heated look in his eye.
Caroline threw the blossom away. “We’d better hurry; I don’t like the look of that sky.”
“You’re now willing to admit it might rain?” he asked with a crooked grin.
She must have appeared overbearing, and wrong, as it turned out. Chewing her bottom lip, she managed to halt the laugh tickling her throat. “I’d best return your coat.”
“You may keep it until we are inside,” he said. A gallant gesture for he must be chilly. His buff waistcoat was spotted with raindrops and his white linen shirt clung to his broad chest and defined the muscles of his upper arms.
Dropping her gaze Caroline pulled the coat closer. “Your cravat appears to be ruined. I am sorry.”
“It’s of no importance.” He smiled. “I did plan to become an architect when I left university. My father didn’t like the idea, he wanted me to become a politician. After we argued, I decided on a whim to join the army.”
“Did you come to regret it?”
“No. I liked army life. But architecture holds no interest for me now, and politics does.” He gave a rueful smile. “I was a hot head when I was young.”
She gazed at him carefully. “But you don’t have a bad temper now?”
He narrowed his eyes, but could not hide the flash of humor. “Appalling, I’m afraid. I fear I shall beat my wife every Sunday.”
She gave a tremulous smile.
He laughed and took her arm. “I am joking Caroline, I’m the mildest of fellows.”
She could only hope he was.
They entered the house and delivered their news to her delighted parents. During afternoon tea, her parents discussed the wedding. A notice was to appear in the Morning Post. Events rushed to a conclusion over which Caroline had no control. She accepted it with a nervous quiver of excitement and a good deal of trepidation.
Chapter Six
In the weeks that followed, Caroline’s elated mother took her on endless shopping trips to London. A renowned couturier made her wedding dress and trousseau. Finely stitched undergarments and nightgowns designed to delight the most demanding husband. And she didn’t enjoy a minute of it.
“I wish you were happier about this wedding, my dear,” her mother said as they emerged from the milliners.
“Oh Mama, I am merely a little nervous,” she said. She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I am so grateful to you and Father. You have been so generous.”
“We only have one daughter. And for a while I feared we wouldn’t have grandchildren.”
Poor Mama, she was still so sad. It filled her with guilt. Caroline wasn’t sure she would have children. Or whether it was even possible. “Not everyone can, Mama.”
“Oh, dear, don’t even say that.” Mama laughed. “What nonsense. A strong young woman like you. Of course, you will. And they will be fine looking children.” She cast Caroline a doubtful glance. “Your betrothed is a very handsome man. And interesting I find.” She raised her brows. “Surely you think so?”
“Yes, I suppose he is,” Caroline said. A little too much so. The way he looked at her last night after dinner when they’d played whist in the drawing room, as if he wanted to undress her, made her study her cards for too long in nervous embarrassment. All her plans to keep him at bay became less effective each time she saw him. And he’d invited them to dine on Saturday evening at Debenham Park, where she suspected he would attempt to see her alone.
“You look very pretty, my dear,” her father said as they traveled to Debenham Park. “Your fiancée is hardly getting a bad bargain with you.”
Caroline wished he hadn’t reminded her of why Nicholas was marrying her. She smoothed the skirts of her embroidered white muslin, and patted her hair elaborately curled and dressed with a circlet of violets as the carriage drew up outside the house. The old building looked like a fairytale with the warm glow of candlelight spilling out from the windows.
Dressed in a dark blue wool tailcoat with a blue plush velvet collar, a grey-and-white embroidered waistcoat and grey pantaloons, his cravat expertly tied, he seemed to have changed from the soldier she’d first met. He looked every inch the elegant and sophisticated earl as he came to greet them.
Nicholas had spared nothing to entertain them royally. They dined beneath the heavily beamed ceiling, in the dining room where a handsome crystal chandelier threw golden light over the polished table and oak paneled walls. Kettle and Horace served a tasty dinner of cauliflower soup, baked and stuffed salmon, jugged hare, roast lamb and a variety of vegetables. Her father remarked on the superb quality of the wines brought up from the cellar. The conversation was lively. They discussed Prinny’s extravagant domestic expenditure which had been brought to light in Parliament, and his infatuation with the Stuarts. The Prince of Wales planned to erect a monument designed by Canova in Rome in memory of the exiled Stuarts, for which the Whigs were up in arms.
Syllabub and nuts were served for the dessert course.
“You have an excellent cook,” Father said, putting down his spoon with a satisfied sigh.
After dinner, Caroline rose with her mother and left the room to take coffee in the drawing room leaving the earl and her father to drink port and discuss the changes to taxes and government bills.
“It’s a charming old house,” Mama said, seated on the sofa. She picked up the Spode bone china teacup from which the rich aroma of coffee wafted, and gazed around the room. “But my goodness, you will be busy restoring it to its former grandeur.”
Caroline knew her mother would not miss the faded damask drapes nor the worn arms on the sofa. “I will enjoy it.” She could say that honestly. She was keen to make changes. She just wished she was as keen to embrace the other demands marriage would make on her.
♥♥♥
Nicholas strolled into the drawing room with Sir Marcus at his elbow. The ladies sat on the sofa before the fireplace, where a wood fire crackled in the hearth. He could see where Caroline got her looks. Lady Mirringham was an attractive woman in her green silk, a feathered headdress adorning her fair curls. She had the same delicate appearance, which could be deceiving. He imagined she was just as determined as her daughter when the need arose. Neither she nor her husband had been taken into Caroline’s confidence about this business which occurred some years ago. If some rake had ravaged her, Caroline was extraordinarily brave to have kept it to herself. His curiosity as to what had happened to her returned full force as she smiled up at him. He would find out, and was determined that the fellow, no matter the extent of his seduction, would not get away with it. He curled his fingers into his palms at the thought. Perhaps then, his marriage had a reasonable chance of success.
As Sir Marcus settled by the fire with his brandy, Nicholas turned to Caroline. “Have you seen the portrait gallery?”
“No, George never showed me much of the house.”
“You must view my ancestors and see what a fine lot they are. You can hardly take me and my family on trust.”
Sir Marcus and his wife laughed.
“Yes. Do go and view them Caroline,” Sir Marcus said.
As Caroline failed to express any eagerness at the proposal, and was obviously wrestling with a polite refusal, Nicholas held out his arm. “May I escort you?”
She rose silently and he tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow. They strolled from the room. “Do you have any ancestors you’d rather not mention?” he
asked politely.
He was glad to see her lips twitch. “One or two.”
“We can’t claim blue beard, but there’s a baron who couldn’t explain the disappearance of two of his wives.”
Her eyes widened, as they climbed the staircase together.
“My goodness. Did he murder them?”
“It was thought they ran away and left him.”
“Did they leave with another man?”
“I don’t believe so, but it’s said that the baron became quite odd when there was a full moon. Danced around naked and performed all sorts of strange rituals.”
When she abruptly stopped to gaze up into his face, he couldn’t hide his laughter.
Caroline grinned back at him. “You are a dreadful tease.”
“I look forward to the day when our portrait joins these, and our children’s,” he said, as they approached the long gallery.
She dropped her hand from his arm. Her eyes looked so stricken he was rendered silent. He stood aside for her to enter, fighting not to question her further. Now was not the time. Patience, he urged himself, while fully aware that quality was sadly lacking in him. He was more at home giving orders and expecting them to be carried out. Returning to society was testing him more than he’d ever imagined.
Caroline moved silently along the gilt-framed paintings, like a general inspecting his troops. He refused to be the first to comment, merely waiting for her. She paused before Elizabeth, the Countess of Debenham in the early 1700s, who held her son, Edward, in her lap, and then continued on. They reached the end of the gallery and she turned to smile at him. “They are most impressive. Thank you for allowing me to view them.” She moved toward the door.
Nicholas’ patience, or the lack of it, made him walk after her and grab her by the arm, swinging her around to face him. “What is the matter?”
Her eyes were huge, grey-violet pools and her cheeks flamed pink. But she frowned and pulled out of his grasp. “What if I cannot give you an heir?”
Startled, he dropped his hand from her arm. “Is there a medical reason why you cannot?”
“No…I…”
He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, studying her. “I think you owe me more than that, Caroline.”
“It’s just a fear I have. You are marrying me to secure Debenham Park for generations to come, and for that you require an heir. I cannot guarantee I’ll be able to provide you with one. Are you sure you want to take a chance on me?”
He gazed into her pretty face, her smooth brow creased with worry. She’d again offered him means to end this engagement. He might have taken it, if he wasn’t so damned attracted to her. He was ready to try for an heir right here and now. “What woman can ever guarantee that?”
“I suppose none, really. Then you have made up your mind?”
“Of course I have, dammit, Caroline. What a question to ask when they’re calling the bans in Debenham church tomorrow. Is it your wish to end our engagement? You can, I assure you. You don’t appear to find the prospect of marrying me at all pleasing.”
She flushed, the warmth spreading from the creamy skin of her décolletage over her throat. “This has nothing to do with you.”
He pushed away from the wall and held her in place, his hands on her shoulders as she tried to leave the room and end the conversation. “It has everything to do with me. And you.” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, then lifted her chin with a finger. “A man and a woman marry with a view to having children. No one knows what the future holds, but one at least begins with that hope. Is that not right?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then if you don’t have a physical reason to consider it unlikely, I shall continue to hope.”
She licked her full bottom lip and nodded.
He averted his gaze from her inviting mouth. Did he really want a reluctant bride? Something within him stopped him giving up on her. He wasn’t a man who gave up easily, but that wasn’t all of it. She reminded him of an injured fawn he’d brought home as a boy. Despite George’s derision, he’d fed and cared for the animal until it recovered. Then he’d released it into the woods. Was he mad? She was hardly like that fawn; she could exercise her free will if she chose. And she was dashed strong-minded too. Perhaps he should let her go.
“Unless, you wish to call a halt to this wedding. If so, do it now, Caroline, let’s not carry this any further.” His thumb stroked her chin. “What say you?” he asked softening his tone.
“I would prefer we continue as planned.”
He sighed, wondering why she did prefer it. “Very well. With a bit of effort on both sides, I believe we can turn this into a good marriage.” If not a blissful one, he thought.
Her doubtful gaze met his. “I want that, too, especially for you, Lord Debenham.”
Wasn’t it what she wished for herself? He didn’t understand her at all. A tryst with some rake that went too far in some moonlit garden, could not have produced this level of anxiety. He’d bet quite a few debutantes weren’t maidens at the altar and the groom never the wiser. “Want it for yourself, too, sweetheart.” He stroked her neck. He couldn’t resist lowering his mouth to hers. But the moment he took her sweet lips, she stilled in his arms. He could feel her pulse beating madly in her throat beneath his fingers. With a sigh, he stepped away and offered her his arm. “Shall we go down?”
She smiled tremulously at him. “I did like your ancestors, Nicholas. Especially the one with the black-and-white spaniel. He reminded me of you and Hugo.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m flattered. He was a soldier too. A brave one by all accounts.”
Chapter Seven
The wedding took place two weeks later at St George’s, Hanover Square, the church pews filled with relatives and friends of both families. Her father and mother beamed. She was pleased she’d finally done something that made them happy. After she and Nicholas had signed the Registry, they left the church under an arch of rifles formed by his regiment in their handsome ceremonials.
Nicholas was obviously very much liked by his men. They all milled around them on the pavement keen to convey their good wishes.
“That went well, I thought,” he said, as they settled in the carriage together.
He smiled at her, and bent to kiss her.
Caroline tried to respond as his lips covered hers. He was a confident lover, and while that would please most women, it only frightened her. She moved slightly away with the pretext of rearranging her skirts, and ignored his assessing gaze, as the carriage took them to the wedding breakfast held at her new London abode, Debenham House, a grand, five-story townhouse in Mayfair. Why couldn’t she be filled with joy, and look forward to a life that any woman would be thrilled to embark on. Instead, she felt bitter and hollow, and worse, deceitful.
♥♥♥
Nicholas roamed the drawing room, chatting to the guests, but his eyes strayed again to his graceful bride in her gown of pastel pink muslin stitched with silver thread, with ribbons threaded through her soft fair curls. A delicate diamond necklace nestled in her creamy décolletage and sparkling gems adorned her ears. He was proud of her, and wanted to tell her so.
As soon as the last guests departed, Nicholas took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Caroline’s bedchamber door.
Her maid opened it.
“I am about to change,” Caroline said in frigid tones. She stood with a garment in her hands, a picture of loveliness, her chin raised. Utterly unapproachable.
“I shan’t stay above a moment,” he said, his heart sinking. “Do you care to attend Lady Bishop’s recital this evening?” It was quite clear what he wished for, to undress his wife and enjoy making love to her, but by the expression on her face, he doubted his wish would be granted tonight, or any night soon.
She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’d like to go home.”
He raised his brows. “Home?”
“To Debenham Park.”
; “But we’re in London. The city is our oyster. We have the theatre, the opera and other entertainments at our fingertips. We’ve been invited to several parties and there’s Lord and Lady Ralston’s ball tomorrow evening.”
She dropped her gaze. “Of course. How unreasonable of me.”
Nicholas turned to the maid. “Please leave us.”
Caroline’s eyes widened.
“Sit down.” Nicholas pointed to a pair of armchairs covered in striped royal-blue and cream chintz.
She sat down and he took the other. He wondered if the rake who had supposedly deflowered her was in London. Did she think of him? “I need to know what this is about.”
Caroline put a hand to her hair. “I’m a little tired, I suppose. All the preparations for the wedding, the church and the wedding breakfast. Which was all quite wonderful,” she added with a quick glance at him.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Nicholas said dryly. He had no idea if she meant it, and suddenly felt helpless as to how to handle her. That a lady didn’t welcome his attentions was unfamiliar and he didn’t like it. That that lady should be his wife, was even worse. He was tempted to go out—chase up some of his friends and get drunk. However, that would tell the world how it was between them, and even though many marriages were thus, he did not want it for himself. But when the battle looked lost retreat was the only sensible option.
He stood. “Have a light supper and an early night. I believe I shall go out.”
She looked so relieved, he almost laughed. Had he lost his charm? He’d never had to persuade a lady into bed before.
“Thank you for understanding, my lord.”
“Call me Nicholas, Caroline,” he said, determined to gain some kind of intimate footing with her.
“Nicholas,” she carefully pronounced, with those beautiful lips so right for kissing.
He sighed and left the room.
The next morning, Nicholas woke alone in his bed with a thumping headache, his eyes gritty. He’d spent most of the night at his club catching up with friends and playing cards, while explaining to those surprised to find him there, that his wife was unwell. He wasn’t sure anyone believed him, and after a good deal of wine, he didn’t much care. His closest friend, Freddie Masters, who knew of Nicholas’ circumstances, raised an eyebrow. “Everything all right, Nick?”
Caroline and the Captain: A Regency Novella Page 4