Caroline and the Captain: A Regency Novella

by Maggi Andersen

  “My bride’s a little overwrought. Thought I’d give her some time alone.”

  Freddie nodded. “A wise move. These ladies are gently bred. One has to take it slow.”

  Taking it slow meant being in the same room and hopefully the same bed, Nicholas thought dejectedly.

  A glance at his watch told him it was late morning. Aware he should make an effort, he dragged himself from his bed and allowed Holmes to shave him. Then he went down to the breakfast room where Caroline was drinking tea, looking fresh and far too delectable in a lacy apricot-colored morning gown.

  “Good morning.” He signaled the footman for coffee.

  She put down her teacup. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Was that shame he spied in her eyes?

  “Not particularly.” He wasn’t in the mood to humor her. “Did you?”

  She eyed him carefully. “I was tired. You look a little under the weather.”

  “Do I? That might be because I am.” Nicholas took a deep sip of coffee hoping it would clear his head. It didn’t. Perhaps a hair of the dog was needed.

  “Shall I send for some willowbark tea?”

  “No thank you. The coffee is helping.” The throb in his head was more from a lack of sleep than wine. He hadn’t been foxed when he came home. In the end, he’d felt disinclined to reach that inebriated state. It seemed a coward’s way out, and he needed to think clearly to deal with this wife of his.

  She cast her eyes downward. “What do you plan to do today?”

  He wanted to go back to bed. And he wanted her to come with him. “What would you like to do? We might take a carriage ride in the park, if the weather remains fine.”

  She gave a grateful smile. “I’d like that. That is kind of you, I’m sure you don’t feel like it.”

  “I shall rally by this afternoon. What shall we do until then?”

  She flushed. “I need to familiarize myself with the house. I have requested an interview with Mrs. Fort after breakfast.”

  “Who is Mrs. Fort?”

  “The housekeeper. We must discuss the running of the house; it has been rather neglected. I notice some of the linens are practically threadbare.”

  “Good God yes, one should never ignore the linens. The future of our fine country is at stake.” He pushed back his chair. Food was out of the question. “I shall be in the library if anyone expresses an interest.”

  He stalked into the library. Why was this house kept fully staffed, when George had been so short of funds? It made no sense. He couldn’t help a wry grin. That was George all right. Nicholas went to the sideboard and poured a small glass of brandy in the hope it would improve both his head and his bad temper. He hadn’t been particularly pleasant to Caroline, and that served neither of them. He would make it up to her that afternoon.

  He began to feel better as he drove Caroline around town in the phaeton. She admitted to having seen very little of London. They traveled down Pall Mall and he showed her colonnaded Carlton House, where the Prince of Wales resided.

  “Father was angry with Prinny’s lavish spending and unfair taxes,” Caroline said. “He thought the Prince failed to support the country during the years of war.”

  “Your father is right,” Nicholas said shortly.

  He drove past the Horse Guards parade ground in Whitehall, pointing out historical landmarks, on a circuitous route back to Hyde Park, while his pretty wife asked questions from beneath her lacy lavender parasol.

  “There are all sorts of amusing tales about London,” Nicholas said, wishing to entertain her and draw her out more. “Have you heard of the Berners Street hoax?”

  She smiled and shook her head.

  “It’s believed it was carried out by a Mr. Theodore Hook in Westminster back in ’10. Hook made a bet with his friend Samuel Beazley, that he could transform any house in London into the most talked-about address within seven days.”

  Her eyes widened with interest. “And did he?”

  Nicholas pulled on the reins as the coach ahead stopped at a crossing. “He did. He sent out thousands of letters to tradesmen in the name of Mrs. Tottenham, who lived at No. 54, requesting deliveries, visitors and assistance.” With the road free ahead, Nicholas urged his horses into a trot. “At five o’clock in the morning, the first sweep arrived to sweep the chimneys. He was sent away by a maid who said no such sweep had been hired. A dozen sweeps followed.”

  Caroline put her hand to her mouth, her eyes dancing. “My goodness.”

  “Then a fleet of carts entered the street, delivering coal. Cake makers brought wedding cakes. Doctors, lawyers, vicars and priests, called at the house, summoned to visit someone purported to be dying. The incredible debacle continued, with fishmongers, shoemakers, and over a dozen pianos and an organ…”

  “Oh no!” Caroline started giggling.

  Nicholas turned to gaze at her appreciatively. “Dignitaries including the Duke of York and the Lord Mayor of London arrived. The narrow streets became congested with tradesmen and onlookers, as the unrelenting deliveries and visits continued, and brought a large part of London to a standstill.”

  “How very wicked,” Caroline said with a naughty laugh that made him grin.

  “Officers were enlisted to disperse the people and prevent trades people from entering the street. Hook and his friend apparently watched from the house over the road.”

  “Was he caught and jailed?”

  “No, Hook managed to avoid arrest by disappearing into the country. Convalescing, so it was said.

  “And here we are.” Nicholas guided the horses through the park gates where a line of carriages drove down the South Carriage Drive and horse riders cantered along Rotten Row. Those in vehicles wishing to see and be seen, crowded the thoroughfare. The men greeted Nicholas and a woman fluttered a lacy handkerchief from a carriage window, smiling at him. He nodded briefly and turned back to his nervous horses.

  “Did you know that lady?”

  “Yes. Lady Pamela Wallace. The sister of a university chum.” He settled the horses again as the crush edged forward.

  A fellow riding past on horseback, pulled up beside them. “Good to see you in town, Debenham.”

  “Lord Forster, I’d like you to meet my bride.”

  The man bowed in the saddle. “Lady Debenham. We look forward to seeing more of you both during the Season.” He rode on.

  “Do you know all these people?”

  “I’ve been away for years, but some attended my school and university, and many would have known George, and my father too. The ton are often referred to as the Upper Ten Thousand.”

  “Like a large unruly family.”

  “Some are not always so kind to one another.”

  “Should I be careful when in their company?”

  He turned to look at her. “You’ve nothing to hide and therefore no reason to be. I meant that the gossipmongers can be cruel at times.”

  “Oh?” She fiddled with her bonnet ribbons.

  Another horse rider cantered down the row.

  “I should love to ride,” Caroline said sounding wistful.

  “When we return to the country. One can barely get their horse to canter when the Row is crowded, and galloping is frowned upon here.” They reached the end of the South Carriage Drive, and left the hubbub behind. Nicholas drove the phaeton back to Berkley Square. “You should rest. We are to attend Lady Ralston’s ball tonight.”

  “I know we must go,” she said, exhibiting a surprising amount of reluctance. Didn’t young ladies like dressing for balls, and dancing? “But might we go home tomorrow?

  He raised his eyebrows. “We have received many invitations to dinners, card parties and routs. Enough to fill the next sennight.”

  “Would they mind very much if we didn’t attend?”

  “I shouldn’t think so.” Nicholas didn’t care for such things anyway. “They will think we wish to be alone.”

  She flushed and looked down at her lacy gloved hands. “It’s just tha
t I want to stroll through the gardens, as well as ride. To curl up with a book by the fire, while you read the broadsheets. Doesn’t that sound attractive? It’s all been so hectic and I confess I’m a little tired.”

  Nicholas wondered about her health. She ran like a hare, not someone suffering any sort of ailment. While he disliked being organized into the habits of a man of sixty, going home did appeal, so he wasn’t about to argue. At Debenham Park, he could persuade her, gently of course. ... It wouldn’t do to start on the wrong foot, just to get his leg over, he thought, smiling at his clumsy mixing of metaphors.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  He didn’t know he was such a close study. “I’m in agreement with you.”

  She drew in a breath and smiled with obvious relief. “Then we’ll leave in the morning?”

  “We shall.”

  He pulled up the phaeton at the front door where a groom waited to drive it around to the stables.

  Nicholas helped her down and escorted her into the hall. “I’d best change my gown,” she said climbing the stairs.

  “Would you like me to help you?” The dress had a row of fasteners down the back. Immediately, the startled fawn look made another appearance.

  “My maid will assist me.”

  “Of course.”

  Nicholas sauntered off sulkily to inform the butler of their plans for tomorrow. If Caroline didn’t cause such a combustible reaction in his body every time she pushed out that bottom lip, he could rustle up some patience. Tonight would be torture, but they wouldn’t return home until the early hours. He wasn’t about to try and seduce an exhausted, reluctant woman. This marriage had begun under difficult circumstances; he didn’t wish to make it worse. Debenham Park awaited, and at the thought of home, he discovered he was every bit as keen to leave London as she.

  Chapter Eight

  At nine o’clock, Caroline came down the stairs in her new ball gown. She found Nicholas waiting for her at the bottom. In his dark evening clothes, he looked startlingly handsome. His brown eyes wandered over her appreciatively.

  “You look beautiful, Caroline.”

  “Thank you. I like this color. It reminds me of green apples.” She thought the palma green silk gown with the low scooped neckline suited her.

  Nicholas put his hand in his pocket and withdrew a velvet pouch. He pulled from it a fabulous necklace that caught fire in the candlelight. She recognized the Debenham emeralds. He gently removed her diamond earbobs. “I believe your natural beauty and the necklace to be enough,” he said, his hand on her arm turning her.

  His fingers at her nape made her tingle all over.

  She stood before the gilt-framed mirror in the foyer. Behind her, he placed his fingers lightly on her shoulders. “Do you approve?”

  The huge emerald was smooth and cool against her breasts. “It’s magnificent, Nicholas.”

  “It’s you who looks magnificent, sweetheart.” He took her evening cape from the butler and placed it around her shoulders. “Shall we go?”

  Lord and Lady Ralston greeted their guests at the door. The Mayfair ballroom was in full swing, the dancers performing a quadrille, as the orchestra played on the dais. Men gathered in corners and seated ladies sipped champagne and chatted beside potted ferns and floral displays.

  “We are so sorry for your loss, Lord Debenham.” Lady Ralston curtseyed. “I’m delighted to meet you, Lady Debenham. How charming you look in the famous emeralds.”

  “I read in The Times that they’d been sold,” Lord Ralston said.

  “That would indeed be a crime,” Nicholas said ambiguously.

  “Quite so,” Ralston said with a nod.

  Nicolas took her arm and drew her through the hot, noisy, smoke-filled room as the dancers left the floor. A small crowd converged on them. It took several minutes for Nicholas to introduce her around. Caroline began to feel overwhelmed and drew strength from Nicholas, her gloved hand resting on his arm. These sophisticated members of the ton knew that she’d been engaged to George. She looked away from their questioning eyes, and wanted to flee back to the quiet and comfort of Debenham Park. But she couldn’t, and would not let Nicholas down, so she employed her fan and smiled and sipped a glass of chilled champagne. She provided the name of her seamstress to the lady who’d expressed an interest, and accepted a gentlemen’s invitation to dance.

  When she returned to her seat after a long, country dance, she spied Nicholas talking to a circle of men. Husbands and wives did not remain together at these affairs, and any displays of affection were generally frowned upon. She expected she wouldn’t see Nicholas again until it was time to leave. But when a waltz was called, Nicholas came to her side, as the music swelled, beating two other gentlemen with the same intention. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  When the first strains of a Mozart sonata began, he drew her into his arms and swept her over the floor. He was an excellent dancer and so very attractive that many women smiled at him, as they danced past. The urge to scratch their amorous eyes out, surprised her. She smiled to herself, feeling a good deal better.

  “What makes you smile?”

  She couldn’t tell him of course. It was one thing to be attracted to Nicholas, another to allow intimacy between them. And she knew herself too well. “I’m enjoying the dance. You dance very well, Nicholas. I can’t imagine you’ve had much experience of it during your years in the army.”

  “Not so much perhaps, but we did enjoy society from time to time, the last affair was the Duchess of Richmond’s ball in Brussels before the Battle of Waterloo.”

  Caroline could visualize the gallant soldiers dancing before going off to war. So many had not returned. She could only be glad that Nicholas had. She wondered fleetingly if he’d known many women. She imagined he had. He would be a good lover. Women knew this instinctively, she thought, gazing around at the women on the dancefloor. She suffered a surprising burst of anger, that so much had been taken from her, that she would never get back.

  “Why what is this?” Nicholas asked, holding her closer. “You suddenly look so sad. As if you’re going to cry. Did you think of George? He never liked these affairs.”

  “No, he would consider them a fearful waste of time,” she said smiling.

  “You have a very pretty smile, Lady wife. I should like to see more of it.” With a nod of approval, he led her from the floor. “One more glass of champagne, and if you wish, we shall retire.”

  “Of yes, thank you.” She was relieved and grateful to him. He was far kinder than she’d expected. And certainly nicer than she deserved.

  The carriage took them through the streets, the steel rims striking the cobbles. It wasn’t far, but she was so very tired, perhaps it was the champagne. She’d never drunk so much before. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the squabs.

  Vaguely aware of his arm around her, she rested her head against his shoulder, the wool of his coat tickling her cheek as she breathed in his familiar manly smell. It was a short carriage ride to their home. Moments later, the carriage rocked to a stop, with the horses stamping and snorting. She heard the door open, the rumble of Nicholas voice. “The countess is indisposed.” She wanted to open her eyes but her lids felt so heavy.

  Nicholas hefted her into his arms and climbed the steps. Then they were indoors again, the air warm with the perfume from orchids in a pot on the table. Nicholas greeted the butler and continued up the staircase with her still in his arms. She’d never before felt like this, so cozy, and safe.

  Placed gently on the bed, she knew she should respond, but she lay still and listened to Nicholas’ mellow voice instructing the maid. Might he undress her? Perhaps it was the champagne, but the thought brought no sense of alarm.

  “Lady Debenham is very tired. Please help her out of her gown.”

  Caroline’s eyes blinked open and she struggled up. Her lady’s maid was laying out her nightgown. The door closed. Nicholas had gone. In he
r drowsy state would she have welcomed his touch? She didn’t know. But she did know one thing. Her fierce soldier husband was a gentleman.

  ♥♥♥

  Her new husband sat opposite her in the carriage. Even though he was careful not to let his leg even so much as touch her skirts, the turbulence of his passion swirled around her. He’d been cross with her yesterday and rightly so. She couldn’t blame him. But then he’d been excellent company on their ride to the park. So obliging and polite. She had not expected it. He was not at all as she imagined. The last evening remained with her in vivid detail, how much she’d enjoyed dancing with him at the ball, and how understanding he’d been afterward. His chivalry had torn down some of her defenses. She stole a glance at him from under the brim of her bonnet, and quickly dropped her gaze at the pensive expression in his brown eyes. She supposed she was a complete mystery to him and likely a disappointment. If she could only be entirely truthful and confess all, but he hadn’t seemed to understand. He would just try to talk her around, and she knew that would end in catastrophe. She needed time, and hoped he would give her that. Once they were home, though, it would become even more difficult.

  She looked up to see him watching her with a quizzical expression. “You look dreadfully serious. What are you thinking about?”

  Her ribcage tightened. “Home.”

  “Debenham Park is now home to you?”

  “I spent a good deal of time there with George.”

  “What did you two do together?”

  “We rode. And I helped him with the horses.” Did he think she lied when she said she and George had not…? She hoped he would believe her. Marriage must be based on trust. In time, she hoped to come to trust him in all things. But unless she was honest, could he ever trust her? “And I saw to the accounts.”