She leaned back and wiped away the tears with her fingertips. “I’ll come with you, but not until tomorrow. I need time to pack and say my good-byes.”
“I don’t like leaving you here after finding you again.” She brushed Cara’s hair out of her eyes.
Cara smiled. “It’s just one night. I’ll be fine.”
“Very well, I’ll send our carriage for you in the morning. Our estate is within an hour’s ride from here.” She rose and glanced at the teapot. “I’m afraid we’ve let the tea go cold. Perhaps you can ask to have it heated later. I really must depart before your brother finds out I’ve been here.”
“What caused the bad blood between the families?”
“It’s a long, sordid story.” She adjusted her beaded bodice. “I promise you’ll have plenty of time to learn all the disagreeable details.” She tugged Cara to her feet and gave her a hug. “The girls aren’t going to believe I’ve found you. Your sister Beth is staying with us for a time with her two sons, Ian and Bradly. You’ll meet them tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Cara tried to sound enthusiastic, but the pain in Garret’s eyes as he’d left haunted her. Had it truly been an act? If so, it was the most despicable form of treachery.
Her mother patted her cheek. “Don’t fret. Things will look better in the morning.” She hurried from the room, then gave an encouraging smile as she tugged the double doors closed behind her.
Cara took a slow appraisal of the room, trying to commit each detail to memory. It seemed hard to believe she’d be leaving Belcraven and Garret behind.
She wandered to the wing-backed chair he was fond of using. With languid, circular movements, she ran her hand over the area where his head normally rested. The smooth leather warmed under her fingertips, reminding her of the texture of his skin.
She closed her eyes, feeling adrift. A sadness so intense she had to struggle to breathe gripped her, causing her fingers to curl and her nails to scrape across the supple leather.
Her entire life had been built on lies.
But one thing hadn’t been a lie—her love for him. That had been real from the first moment she’d gazed into his troubled blue eyes.
Garret allowed Regina to lead him across the elaborate salon toward yet another small cluster of dinner guests. The banks of gilt mirrors on the walls reflected each highborn member of the Ton, creating the illusion of a crowd.
He followed her, observing her movements as she searched the room, her straight back and elaborate upswept hairstyle, dotted with pearls and gems, the very essence of the well-bred lady.
In all actuality, her neck was a little too long for his taste. Not that it was an unforgivable flaw, it’s just that she put him in mind of a goose bobbing its head as it forged for food.
He’d never had such thoughts about Cara. Curvy, but delicately made, she’d enchanted him from the first. Her love of life, childish references to fairy tales and odd wisdom had changed his view of the world. She was everything a man could wish for. Even the tuck of her waist had fitted his palm as though she’d been made for him. Just the memory of her satin skin caused his manhood to jump in response.
He curled the fingers on his right hand until his nails imprinted the skin. He wouldn’t think about Cara or what might have been. That part of his life was dead.
“Your Grace, I’d like you to meet Lord Owens.” Regina took his arm. “He’s a great friends of my father and has been very anxious to make your acquaintance.”
Lord Owens inclined his gourd shaped head. His eyes and mouth were mere indentations in his fleshy face, but the astute gleam in the man’s eyes gave Garret pause. “I take it your Lordship is not happy with the festivities.”
Garret made it a point to smile. “On the contrary. How often have I had the good fortune to be betrothed to a beautiful woman?” Cara came to mind, in spite of his best intentions.
Regina twittered, ending on a high-pitched giggle. “Your Grace, you flatter me.”
Garret clenched his jaw. He hated her laugh. He couldn’t help it.
“You’re a lucky man, Your Grace. Lady Regina will make an admirable duchess.”
“I have no doubt.” He gazed down at the woman clinging to his arm and tried to give her a warm smile. Her father’s friend seemed a little too interested in how Garret felt about Regina. Was Lord Stanford worried that Garret would mistreat his daughter?
Regina’s attention focused on a point behind him. “Did you know Lady Mallory would be attending?”
Garret swung around. “No, my sister often does the unexpected.” He didn’t care that he sounded exasperated. Mallory’s change of heart about accompanying him could only mean trouble. But what kind of trouble?
Mallory swept through the crowd, nodding at acquaintances, but moving quickly until she’d joined them. She appeared composed, dressed in one of her best gowns, but then she would never let the guests know about any dire situations.
Sweat broke out on Garret’s palms. “Is there a problem at the estate?” Perhaps the killer had found a way to get to Cara at Belcraven.
“Of course not. I simply wanted to be here when you made your momentous announcement.” Her expression was entirely too sweet. “You haven’t signed anything yet, have you?”
“No. All the papers will be put in order during the festivities next evening.” He held her gaze. “But the contract is merely a formality.” Garret wanted to groan, but settled for raising an eyebrow at his sister.
“That’s such a relief. I told Miss McClure I’d be in time.”
“Who’s Miss McClure?” Lady Regina glanced from brother to sister.
“Rachel’s governess. I thought you met her when you last came to Belcraven.”
“I don’t believe so.” Regina peered up at him from under her lashes and gave his arm a squeeze. “If she’s very good, perhaps we could hire her when we start our family.”
“No!” The word erupted from Garret’s chest. His sister was going too far.
“Oh, but that’s a wonderful idea.” Mallory was all smiles. “Just imagine it, Your Grace, we could keep Miss McClure with us.”
“She may not wish to remain.” Garret could barely force the words through his lips.
“Oh, but you could make her an offer to keep her there. Perhaps if you tell her the truth.”
There had to be some way to rein in his sister. What did she think she was doing?
“What truth?” Regina dropped his arm and stepped back, a confused expression on her face.
“My sister believes that I should tell the governess that I find her work adequate. It seems Miss McClure feels she’s not appreciated.” He shot Mallory a warning expression that dared her to contradict him.
Regina wrinkled her nose. “Then I wouldn’t want her to remain, Your Grace. You shouldn’t have to concern yourself with the feelings of servants."
Cold iced Garret’s blood. Her observation was a commonly held belief amongst the Ton, but that didn’t make it right.
Mallory sounded sympathetic. “I couldn’t agree more. I imagine you’ll make several changes once you’re the Duchess of Kendal.”
Regina blushed. “I do have several ideas.” She gave Garret a coy smile. “With Your Grace’s approval, of course.”
Mallory appeared very interested. “Such as?”
“Well, I thought we could add a tower. Leave our imprint on Belcraven.” Regina warmed to the subject, her voice rising in pitch and speed. “I do love Mr. Wren’s work and that area on the North wing seems like the perfect location.”
“What area?” This was the first he’d heard of building. He’d never thought of Regina as having any real ambitions.
Regina practically clapped her hands. “I thought we might clear off that glass structure on the roof and add another tower.” She made it sound as if it were the grandest idea in the whole world.
Garret choked. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you.” Regina meant to tear down his conservatory. Of course,
it really wasn’t her fault. He’d never told her about his secret retreat. “I grow many rare plants in that location.”
Mallory held her bottom lip between her teeth, but still managed to maintain her innocent façade. What his sister needed was to have someone turn her over his knee.
Regina pouted, her eyes wide and pleading. “Couldn’t you put your plants elsewhere?”
Lord Owen’s chuckled. “There, Your Grace, is the reason a man’s home is not his castle after he marries.”
Garret knew Lord Stanford had indulged his daughter, but he’d never thought of her as willful. Perhaps he should reevaluate his assessment.
“We will discuss this at a later date.” He inclined his head at Mallory. “May I speak with you privately? I have a few messages I’d like you to take back to Timmons.”
That wiped the smug expression off Mallory’s face, but she raised her chin. “Of course, Your Grace.” She turned toward the elegant group. “Would you excuse us?”
“Certainly, Lady Mallory.” Lord Owens gave Lady Regina a small bow. “May I offer you some refreshment?”
“Thank you.” Regina turned toward Garret. “I shall look for you when they announce dinner.”
“I shan’t be long.” He glared at his sister. “Shall we?”
She followed him out the French doors and onto the balcony. Soft evening mist brushed his face, but didn’t cool his anger.
He turned as soon as they were away from prying ears. “What the devil are you about? Do you have any idea what you almost accomplished in there?”
“Yes. I was rescuing you.”
“From what?”
“Not what. Who.”
“What in blazes are you babbling about?”
“I’m rescuing you. From yourself.”
“I don’t need your help. I told you at Belcraven, I’ve made my decision.”
“But you didn’t see her.”
“Who?”
“Cara. She cried all afternoon.”
That shouldn’t make him happy, but it did. So she hadn’t been totally impervious to his departure. “Why should that make any difference?”
“You can play the Marble Duke with others, but I know better. You’re making a mistake, Garret.”
“Perhaps, but it’s mine to make.” He pinned her with his gaze. “Now, if you dare to interfere again, I’ll send you to Aunt Mae for the Season. She’s been wanting to get you married off and the way I’m feeling I’d be happy to give her the opportunity.”
Even by the light of the torches he could see Mallory blanche. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I would. Please feel free to stay for the ball tomorrow night, but if I even suspect you of playing your games I’ll ship you off to Aunt Mae right then and there. You know how I am once I make up my mind.”
Mallory glared at him. “You deserve to be miserable.” She picked up her skirts and flounced back into the salon.
He stared after her. Was he making a mistake? Perhaps. But at least Cara had remained at Belcraven where he could be assured of her safety.
With a sigh, he leaned back against the cool stone of the building. It really didn’t make any difference whom he married. The only woman he had ever wanted was out of his reach forever.
Treachery can come from even the most ordinary places in your life. You must always be on guard.
Bashful / Snow White
Chapter 18
Cara let the lace curtain drop from her trembling fingers and glanced at Esther, who was busy packing the last of Cara’s belongings. The carriage had arrived. Her stomach lurched, making her glad she hadn’t been able to eat any breakfast.
She surveyed her room for anything she might have left behind. The bedroom appeared exactly as she’d found it, aside from the sealed letter propped against the cherub-covered powder dish on the dressing table.
Making a point of avoiding that part of the room, she crossed to Esther. If she went anywhere near that dressing table, she’d change her note yet again.
It had taken all her resolve not to show her hurt and disappointment in her writing. Instead, she’d simply told Garret she knew of her heritage and asked him not visit her at the Pemberton’s. Not that he would, if what her mother had said about the families was true.
With a sigh, she realized trust was one of the greatest things that had been taken from her. She used to have faith that most people told the truth, but it seemed truth often varied according to a person’s perspective.
Esther closed the trunk, then sat on the lid, her shoulders slumped. “I wish you’d wait for His Grace. I don’t trust those Pembertons.” A contrite expression crossed her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you. It’s just that . . . Are you sure Lady Pemberton’s your mother?”
Cara tried to give the maid a reassuring smile, in spite of her own misgivings. “I remember her.” The memory of the woman by the trellis had always been vivid, but just because they resembled each other, did that make Lady Pemberton her mother? She squared her shoulders. Now was not the time to succumb to doubts. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
She checked the contents of her reticule, then tightened the draw cord. The only thing she could be sure of was that she had to leave. If Garret returned, she wouldn’t know what to say. It was obvious he had believed in her heritage enough to bring her here and no matter what, that meant he’d lied to her.
Esther stood. “I’ll get the footman to take this down.”
“Wait. I have something for you.” Cara crossed to the window bench and slipped a white bundle from beneath the cushion. “I know you’ve always been fond of my ‘Maid in the Tower’ nightgown, so I thought you should have it.” She held the gown up, and the soft white material fell gracefully from the dozens of tiny tucks she’d used in the bodice. A long row of loops down the front closed over boned buttons she’d sewn on every inch or so, and she’d edged the cascading sleeves in lace.
“O-h-h-h.” Esther’s wide eyes glistened. “Are you sure?” She continued to gaze at the gift with awe.
“Yes.” Joy bubbled up in Cara, the first she’d felt in twenty-four hours. At least there would be a small part of her left behind at Belcraven. “I can always make another, and if you practice, you’ll soon be able to make your own.”
“Never like this.” Esther took the present and crushed it to her breast. “Thank you.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “Oh, Miss McClure, we’re going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss everyone here as well.” Cara captured her trembling bottom lip between her teeth and turned before she broke down. She was done with crying.
Without a backward glance, she swept out of the room and down the stairs, pausing a moment to stare at the carved birds of prey at the base—strong, arrogant, controlling—so similar to the master of the house. He’d thought to decide her fate through deceit and treachery, but she was taking back her life.
A crowd had gathered by the time she arrived at the carriage emblazoned with the Pemberton crest. The rampant griffins with a single swan on a blue background did seem familiar.
Rachel tugged at Cara’s cloak. “Why do you have to leave?”
The girl stood next to the carriage door and Cara shifted her out of the way so the footman could hoist her final trunk onto the roof. “We’ve discussed this.” Cara plucked at one of Rachel’s curls and gave her a smile. “I’m going to visit my mother.”
“Why can’t I come with you?” The girl glanced up at the carriage driver. “I don’t think Uncle would like you to go by yourself.”
Cara bent down and gazed into the little girl’s soulful eyes. “I’ll be fine. Your parents will be home soon, and you won’t even miss me.”
Rachel threw herself at Cara and wouldn’t let go. Unable to pry her lose, she glanced over at Mrs. Shaw, who was busy dabbing at her eyes with her apron, and Timmons, who was giving her his most disapproving look. “I could use your help.”
Both the servants had spent long hours last night try
ing to dissuade her from this course of action. Rather than come to her rescue, Timmons patted his chin with his index finger and raised his eyebrows. “Well done, little mistress.”
“Stop encouraging her.” She gave the valet one of her best schoolmistress expressions. “This won’t change things.”
“Oh, if you must.” He moved forward and managed to restrain Rachel, who promptly buried her face in Mrs. Shaw’s ample waist and began to sob.
“I’ll write.” Cara could barely hear her shaky voice above Rachel’s outburst. She didn’t trust herself to glance at any of them again and instead, not waiting for a footman, she opened the carriage door and entered the dim, curtained interior, surprised to find two other people inside.
The horses jerked forward and she struggled to close the door, then fell back into the seat. She attempted to make out the other passengers’ identities through her tears and the sudden darkness. Had her mother decided to come after all?
Her vision cleared and her hand clasped the cool metal fastening on her traveling cloak. “What are you doing here?” Cara gazed at the opposite seat, her mouth open, her attention jumping from Mr. Russell to her benefactor, Lady Margaret.
She hadn’t seen Lady Margaret for years. And why would Mr. Russell be with her? Dread coursed through her body. “Has something happened to Papa?”
“Nothing’s wrong with your precious papa.” Her father’s friend was gazing at her in a peculiar manner, rather like a wolf that has spotted its prey. Unease crept through her, heightened by the dark, enclosed space. Something wasn’t right.
The old woman shook her head, her expression very disapproving, as though she’d just caught Cara stealing a sweet. “I’d have expected better sense from my granddaughter.”
Cara felt as if she’d missed a step and waited for her stomach to catch up with the rest of her. Her benefactor was her grandmother? “Pardon?”
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