“It’s Jeanette, ma’am:”
“Jeanette!” Caroline bolted out of bed and shrugged into her wrapper before hurrying to the door. “I’m so glad to see you,” she enthused as she let the maid in. “Was your stay at the posting station a trial? I would have sent one of the grooms for you, but I feared it was too late.”
“A nice family, the Hayes. And the blacksmith’s son...” Jeanette winked. “Perhaps his lordship can send them some trade. I profess I did promise to visit sometime.”
Caroline was beyond worrying about her maid’s flirtations. She had her own difficulties to deal with. “I’m so glad you’re here. Mrs. Butterly means well, but she can’t do a thing with my hair.”
“And how is married life agreeing with you?”
Caroline realized that this was the moment of truth. Either she shared her problems with Jeanette, or she struggled on alone. Gazing at her pillow on the bed, which she had soaked with tears of frustration the night before, she decided she must have an ally.
“Well, it has been rather lonely,” she said. “Devon was gone all day yesterday, and I imagine today will be the same. I anticipate the business of setting the property to rights will take near all his time for some months.”
“But that still leaves the nights...”Jeanette smiled teasingly.
Caroline turned away. She’d decided to confide in Jeanette, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.
The maid crossed the room and put her hand on Caroline’s arm. “He hasn’t pleased you?”
Caroline made no response.
“Well, now, I wouldn’t have guessed that. He’s a moody sort, but he’s all man, too. He should have shown you some pleasure by now.”
Caroline shook her head.
“So,” Jeanette exhaled. “He’s not got the best style in the bedchamber. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Over time you can teach him what you like.”
“That’s not exactly the situation,” Caroline managed. “The thing is...” Her voice quavered.
Jeanette patted her arm. “La, but he’s upset you! What’s the man done? You’re no milk-and-water miss to go to pieces over a trifling business like this.”
“I hardly call it trifling when your husband refuses to have marital relations with you!”
“Never?” Jeanette whispered. “Not even the first night?”
Caroline began to pace. “I thought then that he was being considerate. Then when we arrived here, I assumed...” She gave a helpless sigh.
“Well, well,” Jeanette said. “I wouldn’t have thought it of the earl, but there it is. He means to put off the bedding. I wonder why.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t desire me.” Caroline’s voice held a self-pitying tone that sickened her.
“I doubt that. Men aren’t usually picky about their bed partners. And almost any man I know would say you’re beautiful. His lordship should be pleased to have you.”
Caroline nodded. She had no reason to believe Devon was repulsed by her. What, then, was the matter?
“Perhaps it’s because he dislikes Mr. Beaumont so much,” Jeanette suggested.
“You think his hatred of my father extends to me?”
“Not exactly, but he might be holding off bedding you because he doesn’t want to give Mr. Beaumont what he desires above all else.”
“Which is?”
“A blue-blooded grandson.”
Caroline started. More than once at the wedding her father had made some reference to his hopes for grandchildren. What if Devon had heard him and decided that this would be the perfect way to thwart his father-in-law’s wishes? Perhaps he did mean to exact revenge for the way her father had coerced him into the marriage.
“If it’s true,” she said slowly, “what can I do? I can’t make him take me to bed.”
“Well,” Jeanette said in a practical tone. “There are women who would be relieved to find themselves in this situation. You have his title, his name, and whatever material wealth he brought to the marriage. You are Lady Langley now. That’s nothing to sneer at.”
“But I want children! And besides, I can’t live like this.” Caroline paced fretfully across the bedchamber. “It makes me feel so inadequate, like a fraud. It’s almost like I’m not his wife at all, but some sort of business partner!”
“A lot of marriages are like that, I can assure you.”
“But that’s not what I wanted! Never! It’s bad enough that Papa arranged everything without even asking my opinion of what I wanted in a husband, but now I find myself in this cold, formal arrangement. I’d wager that Devon speaks more openly and shows more fondness to his manservant than he does with me!”
“There, now.” Jeanette patted Caroline’s arm. “You’ve only been wed two days. Things could change. If you really try, I’m certain you can win him over. He’s a man, after all. And susceptible to the same temptations as the rest of them. You’re alone with him here at Darton, and there’s no other women for him to... relieve himself with, except servants and he doesn’t seem like the sort for that. If you continue to be your usual fetching, agreeable self, he can’t help but weaken over time. I’ll wager that in a few weeks, he’s forgotten all about his notions of depriving your father of a grandson.”
Caroline gave a little sniff, then nodded. She’d known a happy marriage was not an easy thing to achieve. It was far too soon to give up. After all, she and Devon hardly knew each other. And that was something she intended to remedy as soon as possible.
Five
Caroline stilled a yawn as she started down the stairs. What a ridiculous time to arise. It was still dark, the house cold and quiet. She pitied the servants forced to get Devon’s breakfast at this ungodly hour each morning. As for herself, she had not a shred of appetite; she would be lucky to refrain from slumping into a heap at the table.
But Jeanette had insisted, and indeed, it seemed a reasonable plan. If her husband rose before dawn and she were up as well, the earl could hardly refuse to dine with her. And the whole while, he would be exposed to the effect of her scandalous morning gown.
She glanced down, wondering if Devon would notice her goose bumps. The bodice of her dress was cut very low and fashioned of sheer white muslin. Caroline had never worn anything so daring, but Jeanette had insisted. The maid felt certain that if Devon were exposed to Caroline’s charms, he would rapidly warm to her.
If only her “charms” weren’t exposed to everyone else as well! A wave of panic swept over her as she recalled the young footman who usually waited on her at breakfast.
Then Caroline forced her spine straighter. If this was what was required to make her husband take note of her, she would do it.
Devon was already eating when she arrived in the breakfast room. As she entered, he pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “Madam. You’re up early this morning.”
Caroline caught her breath and approached the table. “I... I thought I would try to adopt a schedule similar to yours. So the servants wouldn’t have to prepare breakfast twice.”
“How very considerate,” he commented neutrally. As he helped her sit down across from him, she knew he observed the skimpiness of her costume. She wondered if he would say anything, but he did not.
“What are your plans today, Caroline?” he asked as a footman served her.
Toying with her eggs, she said, “Mrs. Butterly told me you like to ride. I thought perhaps we could go together. I’m not a skilled rider, but I would like to improve.” She raised her gaze to meet his. He looked surprised, then uncomfortable.
“Perhaps,” he finally answered in cool, noncommittal tones. “You should be aware that I do not really ride for pleasure. I always have a set destination and business to attend to.”
“Business? What sort of business?”
“I’ve told you about my responsibilities as landowner and steward of the property.”
“But surely your duties are not so pressing that you can’t take one day off to go riding with your wife.�
� She smiled brightly.
He returned her smile with a brittle one of his own. “Of course not. But not today.” He rose. “Today, I truly do have obligations.” He gave her a faint bow. “Have a good day, Caroline.”
She gaped after him, shocked and infuriated at the way he’d neatly dismissed her. Then she looked down at her food. The sight of scrambled eggs and bacon this early in the morning made her feel ill. She was freezing in her scanty attire, and her head had begun to ache from arising so early. Throwing her napkin down in a most unladylike manner, she rose from the table before the footman could even help her up.
“Madam?” he asked in concern. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” she answered tightly. “I am well. Well enough to go riding. Please ask one of the grooms to have a mount ready. I’m going upstairs to change.”
Which direction had he gone? Caroline drew rein and absently patted the chestnut mare’s neck. She felt an utter cake for following her husband, but she was determined. If she “accidentally” came across him as he was riding around the estate, he would have no choice but to converse with her.
Caroline set her jaw. It was obvious her husband meant to keep avoiding her. The last few nights he’d come home so late that there had been no question of their eating dinner together. Then he’d immediately retired to his private chambers. Her plan to get to know her husband was failing miserably. The thought increased her resolve, and she turned the horse down the right-hand track.
It was an overcast fall day, threatening rain. Caroline glanced at the sullen sky and wondered if it would storm before she returned to the manor. She felt a little uneasy at riding out alone. If she had a mishap, it might take several hours before anyone discovered she was missing. But she could hardly take a groom along, especially considering her intentions once she found her husband.
The path widened, and Caroline urged the mare faster. She was rewarded by a flash of movement far in the woods ahead. Increasing her speed, she caught a glimpse of the bay stallion and the earl astride him. She eased up on the reins. If she followed too closely, she risked being discovered.
The well-used bridle path cut a straight course through the woods, and with the autumn foliage growing sparse, she was able to make out details of her quarry. Devon wore no hat, and his black hair streamed back in the breeze. She imagined the muscles of his broad shoulders straining against the old riding coat he wore, his worn buckskins clinging to his long, lean legs. The image caused a fierce longing inside her.
Far ahead, a dead tree blocked the path. Caroline held her breath as she watched Devon prepare to jump. The stallion easily cleared the tree, horse and rider merging into one perfect, powerful form. Her husband rode as he seemed to do everything, with an easy, unconscious grace.
When she reached the fallen tree, Caroline patiently guided her horse around the obstacle. Soon afterward, the woods ended. She halted the mare, and then eased her mount slowly into the open. There was no sign of Devon, but a well-worn track through a harvested field reassured her that she had not lost his trail.
She followed the path beside a tall hedgerow, now bare and brown with the season, then past a little copse of trees. On the other side was a stone cottage, entwined with ivy. The stallion stood tethered nearby.
Caroline surveyed the dwelling with interest. Was it the home of one of their tenants? It did not look as run-down as she’d expected.
She paused, considering. Reason told her to wait. Devon would come out soon, and she could pretend to be riding leisurely along, enjoying the fall day. But some instinct urged her on a more daring course, and she guided her mount behind the hedgerow and dismounted. After anchoring the reins to the mass of hawthorn branches, she walked around to approach the cottage from the back way.
Past a row of shrubbery, Caroline saw evidence of a vegetable garden, as well as the remnants of asters and late roses. She reached the rear of the house and paused. The cottage had been modernized with a slate roof and glazed windows. Given what Devon had said about the decaying tenant dwellings, that seemed very odd. Her curiosity even more aroused, she went around to the front, then stole up to the window and stood on tiptoe to look in.
She saw a neat, sparsely furnished parlor. Before the fire, Devon stood talking to a woman. Even from her poor vantage point, Caroline could make out the vivid red of the woman’s hair. She guessed her to be fairly young, perhaps mid-twenties. Caroline decided she must be the tenant’s wife. Her husband was probably out in the fields.
The woman touched Devon’s arm, and Caroline’s alertness intensified. Tenant’s wives did not usually show such familiarity with their lords.
She moved closer, straining for a better view. The woman said something then laughed. The sight of her husband’s answering smile sent shock waves through Caroline. She stepped back from the window. Could it be that Devon had a mistress? And not some elegant demi-rep in London, but a plain, red-haired cottager!
Taking a quick breath, she resumed her spying. Although terrified of what she might observe, she had to know more.
Her eyes widened as a small boy came into the room carrying a brightly painted top. The child went directly to Devon, who leaned down to talk to him. The earl’s white teeth flashed as he smiled and reached out to tousle the child’s auburn hair. Caroline’s mind reeled as she recognized that the boy’s reddish curls were a shade similar to the woman’s.
She closed her eyes as bitterness suffused her. Her husband had a lovechild! The haughty earl had not only entered into a liaison, but had indulged in the affair long enough to produce a son—a son he obviously cared for.
She moved away from the window and began to walk woodenly across the yard. This was too much to endure. She would ride back to the manor and immediately begin packing for London. Her father would have to understand that she could not remain Devon’s wife under these circumstances. The marriage had never been consummated, thank God for that. She could seek an annulment. She would advise her father to let Devon keep the money. Anything to avoid a scandal, to avoid a confrontation with her unwilling husband.
A sob welled up in Caroline’s throat. She began to run, tears stinging her eyes until she could hardly see. Bushes and brambles caught at her rust velvet riding costume, and twice she fell on her way to the horse. She tore her gloves trying to untie the mare, but her hysteria helped give her the strength to jump up and grab the sidesaddle and mount unassisted. She barely bothered to catch her breath or position the skirts of her habit before signaling the horse into a trot.
It began to rain. The blowing raindrops mingled with Caroline’s tears as she rode in earnest. As she neared the fallen tree, she leaned forward and fatalistically urged the horse over the jump. The mare cleared the obstacle easily, but she was too distraught to experience any satisfaction.
The rain poured down. She hardly felt the damp penetrate her habit and soak her skin, but soon she was shivering and her hands were stiff on the reins. She rode on with grim determination. They would leave that very afternoon. The chaise could not get far before dark, but there was the nearby posting station where she and Jeanette could stay. Anything to avoid spending another night under the same roof with him.
The tears flowed harder. He obviously thought she was a complete fool. That she was too stupid to discover that he had a child by another woman, and kept his mistress in a cottage only a short ride from the manor house. No wonder he hadn’t bedded her. He had no need to; he sought his satisfaction elsewhere!
Hot anger flamed through her, but it didn’t seem to warm her body. How cold she was. At least she didn’t have much farther to go. She could see the outbuildings of the estate.
The horse raced homeward without any direction. By now, she had near lost feeling in her hands, and teeth-rattling tremors continually wracked her. It took all her will to remain upright on the mare.
They must have been watching for her, because a groom hurried out to meet her as soon as she neared the stables. “Madam, are you well?” he a
sked as he took the horse’s reins.
“Just cold,” she whispered. “So cold.”
After the groom helped her dismount, she started to walk to the house. Jeanette came running out the back entrance. She took one look at Caroline and cried out for a footman. A burly young man came and swept Caroline off her feet. Protesting faintly, she was carried in.
The footman set her down in front of a roaring fire in the drawing room, and Jeanette began to help her out of the sodden velvet riding habit.
“We have to pack,” Caroline gasped, her resolution returning.
“Pack?” Jeanette asked.
“We... have to... leave here... tonight.” The sound of her chattering teeth punctuated her words.
Jeanette stopped drying and stared at her. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
Caroline could only shake her head.
Jeanette wrapped her in a blanket and spoke firmly. “You’re going nowhere, except to bed.”
“Have to leave,” Caroline whispered.
“I’ve brought some chocolate.” Mrs. Butterly came in with a steaming cup.
Jeanette shook her head. “She don’t need chocolate. Fetch the brandy.”
Mrs. Butterly looked at Caroline, then rushed off.
“No brandy,” Caroline said.
“Brandy, love,” Jeanette whispered soothingly. “It will warm your insides.”
Caroline felt too weak to argue. Perhaps brandy would do her good after all. She needed something to fortify herself or she would never manage to get ready for their upcoming journey.
Mrs. Butterly came in with a glass of brandy. Caroline choked some down, her eyes watering. Her limbs seemed to warm, even as her thoughts slowed. When Jeanette fetched the footman to carry her to bed, Caroline did not demur. She would rest awhile then she would set about getting ready for their journey.
She floated in a hazy, dreamlike state as she was conveyed to her room. Sleep claimed her almost before her head touched the pillow.
When she woke, the house was filled with the heavy silence of very early morning. She sat up in bed and saw that one of the large armchairs was drawn up by the fire. Jeanette had probably decided to stay with her. Caroline sighed. As much as she longed for someone to talk to, it would be the height of selfishness to wake her maid.
Devil's Own Bargain (London Lords) Page 5