Caroline's ComeUppance

by Tess Quinn

  She railed at his mockery. “Of course not! The very suggestion is an effrontery, as if I have not been prevailed upon already too much this night.”

  Sir again offered Caroline a sherry, then sat opposite her when she accepted it from him. “So tell me, Miss Caroline. Why were you out this evening on your own?”

  “If you must know, I was bored with a social event, and was on my way to visit my intended. And I should add that, not having arrived there, both he and my brother are at this moment scouring London for me. When they learn of your barricade and their search leads them here – as I know it shall – you will rue that you ever crossed paths with me.”

  Sir ignored the last remark. “Your intended, you say? So it is that gentleman’s remembrance in the locket? Pray, lady, if you are affianced, why was your betrothed not at the ball with you?” He was met with a telling silence. “Ah, I begin to see. The gentleman is unaware of your intentions, is that not it? Or perhaps refuses to play your game? Can you be certain he is not married?” At Caroline’s outraged glare, Sir capitulated by throwing his hands up to protect himself. Then he laughed. Caroline maintained her silence, staring into the fire to avoid Sir’s perusal, but a blush suffused her cheeks, giving her lie away.

  “Is this gentleman a monk?” he asked with mock sincerity. “For there must be some extraordinary reason that he could resist your obvious charms, my lady.” He drained his glass of brandy after speaking.

  She wished he would stop calling her ‘my lady.’ “Oh, leave me alone. Have you not heaped enough indignity upon me tonight?”

  “My humble apologies, Miss Caroline. But please, come, indulge me in a little conversation and sherry, and I promise I will see you returned home unscathed. I will not even seek a ransom for it.”

  Caroline sulked in silence for some minutes, but it had no effect on Sir’s equanimity. Finally she relented. “May I ask, Sir, what business I stumbled into this evening unawares? I do recall you saying that I was not the pigeon you sought…”

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with. Only a letter which had to be intercepted… it could have been embarrassing to … er… well, to someone of very high standing, had it made its way to France. The gentleman we took it from is a traitor, though we haven’t enough direct evidence as yet to formally accuse him of it. That will come with time.”

  “And who is ‘we’?” Caroline tried coyly, sure that she could bring this man around to her wiles.

  “Now, that I truly cannot tell you, Miss Caroline; secrets of state demand it.”

  “How intriguing,” she replied, although her tone confirmed she found it anything but. She was certain he was lying. And yet, her surroundings did bespeak privilege.

  “So this ‘intended’ of yours, who is he? Anyone I might have occasion to know?”

  “Certainly not! And you know very well you have seen through my ruse. I have suffered indignities tonight, please do not continue to make sport of me!” At this, Caroline renewed her pout with great enthusiasm.

  “Again, my apologies, dear. And I have gone to such great lengths to ensure your comfort. But if you should truly wish to leave, please, finish your sherry and we will go. My man has no doubt discovered your residence in the time that we have dallied here.”

  Once again bristling at his over familiarity, Caroline drank her sherry in one gulp and, flushed, stood up imperiously to signal her desire to leave at once. She wavered a little as she stood, and Sir reached out to steady her, earning a scathing glance for his troubles. She had been abducted, ridiculed, robbed, laughed at – in short, humiliated this evening, and now that she felt herself to be in no danger of physical harm, she had had more than her fill. It was time to end this.

  “With regret, my dear, I must confer one final indignity and cover your eyes once more until we yet again reach town. Such fine eyes they are, laced with green fire. Why, I am certain that were you to turn those eyes upon me with any gentleness of feeling, I could not resist their charms. Indeed, this mystery man of yours must be a monk!” At this, he laughed, but not unkindly; and Caroline found herself almost laughing with him. Though she not would entertain them seriously, his compliments were sorely needed to her bruised ego of recent months, and they served to thaw her resentment just the slightest bit. And his laugh did have a certain infectious charm, she supposed.

  ~~~~~~

  Caroline was allowed to descend the stairs on her own without eye covering – noted as she did so a richness of design that matched the study she had occupied – but in the entry hall a mask was applied once more, albeit a small strip that covered her eyes alone. This time, she did not struggle at it; and indeed it was applied with a very light touch that almost carried regret.

  Again she sensed the nearness of this imposing man; saw his shadowy outline through the silk blindfold, felt his breath warm upon her cheek and caught the essence of the brandy on his breath. She stood quite still, unaccountably shy to move lest she brush against him. She heard him sigh, “Yes, indeed, a shame to cover those eyes” and felt a tingling sensation in her fingertips as he raised them to his lips and gently kissed them. As he let her arm fall back, he pressed a small item into her hand. Caroline was caught by surprise as she recognized the feel of her locket once again.

  Wordlessly he led her to the carriage and settled her into it. Caroline started when she realized he had again taken the opposite bench. Noting her surprise, he said “I would not see you home unaccompanied, Caroline. I do have some scruples.” She noted his familiar use of her name, but could not mount a reproach.

  They drove without speaking for some time and, at a certain point, she again felt her blindfold being removed. When her sight was liberated, she could see they were only blocks from her home, and she felt a quick stab of disappointment before chastising herself that this was most assuredly not a social engagement to be prolonged. Her abductor seemed to notice her discomfort, and politely looked away to the window, but with rather a playful half smile forming.

  When at last the carriage arrived at Hanover Square, Caroline discovered her night’s adventure had yet one more event to play out. Sir preceded Caroline from the carriage, and then turned to give her a hand in descending. The driver had long since disappeared from view. As she touched the pavement, Sir did not release her immediately. Still holding one hand, with his free arm he encircled her waist, much like the action which had begun this escapade. But rather than pinning her arms this time, he swept Caroline into an embrace, their faces only inches apart. Her quick glance of surprise into his bronze eyes was all the encouragement he needed. He lowered his mouth to hers in a hard, greedy kiss. Caroline reeled from it. Her eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to protest, but seeing his gaze on her she hesitated. He kissed her again, gently this time, and she found herself returning it without reserve, little knowing what she did but unable to prevent her lips from responding to the warmth of his.

  After what seemed an eternity, he withdrew with a sound something between a sigh and a groan. Upon their parting, he slowly bowed his head to her in farewell, turned and walked away without a word, removing his mask with a flourish as soon as his back was turned. Caroline stood on the walk, bosom heaving with breathlessness, feeling everything and nothing, and watched him disappear into the London night, her finger lightly tracing her lips where his had lately been. She recalled the locket in her hand and played nervously with it. Opening it, she discovered a lock of golden hair tied with ribbon. She stood stunned until, finally shaking her reverie, she could enter the house.

  Caroline went immediately to her brother’s study, certain that he would be at home and frantic with worry over her disappearance; and wishing in addition to easing his concern to share her strange tale with Charles. Well, perhaps only part of her strange tale. She fair burst into the room without knocking, to see Charles ensconced in his chair, casually sipping brandy and reading the day’s newspaper before the fire.

  “Oh, hello Caroline” he smiled benignly at her. “You h
ave just missed Jane, she has only now retired. Is your headache better?” She stood in disbelief as he continued, “Why on earth are you still wearing your ball gown?”

  Caroline shook her head violently from side to side, and stalked out of the room, crying as she slammed the door, “Oh! Men!”

  ~~~~~~

  Caroline hurried up the stairs to her chambers. She had not even thought to ask Charles if he had enjoyed his evening. After all, it was his first formal engagement in town since returning a married man. All their acquaintance had fluttered around the happy couple; no need to ask about it, Charles had been in his glory, Caroline knew. Still, he would have

  appreciated her asking, had he not so miffed her at being found unaware of her absence from the house – had her senses not still been reeling from her recent shocking encounter.

  She entered her room and fell back upon the door as it closed behind her, needing the support to remain standing, as her knees felt quite unstable now she had stopped moving. The full import of her experiences tonight now confronted her. The few hours replayed themselves through her mind in brief scenes as she leaned against the door, trying to regulate her breathing. It came in short gasps and she pressed her hand against her breast to still the racing of her heart.

  She had placed herself in grave danger tonight! Though her initial mood of annoyance and disgust on leaving the Fortescue house lent her an equanimity to deal with her abduction somewhat rationally, she now considered what fate might have befallen her had ‘Sir’ and his cohorts been indeed a gang of common footpads. Why, she might have been brutally murdered – or worse! What if she had been violated and left by the road for any returning party of revellers to find? She could have been ruined! – forced to some remote country cottage to live out her days in “retirement” with only chickens and sheep for companionship, and an unwanted brat if her ravishment produced such. It would not matter a jot that she had been a victim of forces beyond her imagining or her direction; the damage would be irreversible.

  These thoughts raised a mortification in Caroline which, once she realized her fantastic notions were just that – as they had not occurred – quickly turned to fury. Whatever their intrigue on this night (matters of state, indeed) there had been no requirement to embroil Caroline in them. Even had they accosted her driver first by mistaking her carriage for that of another party, they had no call to detain her on finding their error. And certainly, Sir overstepped himself in abducting her, whether or no he eventually released her unscathed.

  That idea brought unbidden to Caroline her final moments with Sir as he returned her home. As she considered it, her anger renewed itself. She had, in fact, been violated at that! First in being bound and gagged and unceremoniously slung over the man’s shoulder for transport – how humiliating; followed by his liberties with her person. She found her fingers raise up to her lips to wipe from them the residue of his claim upon her, but instead of rubbing at them, she lightly touched them as she recalled the sensation of being kissed. He had taken her unawares with his sudden embrace, too swift for her to react, and there had been an urgency in the way his lips had crushed her own as he –

  “Miss Caroline?”

  Shaking her head, Caroline realized Allen was in the room and speaking to her. With an effort, she focused her eyes on the maid and quieted her rapid breathing.

  “Miss Caroline, are you ill?” Allen wore a look of deep concern. “Shall I fetch someone for you?”

  “I am perfectly well.” Seeing the disbelieving look her maid proffered, she snipped, “I am fine, I tell you!”

  Allen looked down, chastened by Caroline’s outburst, and turned towards the closet to get her lady’s night clothes ready. Caroline called back her maid.

  “Your concern does you credit, Allen.” It was the nearest to an apology Allen might expect and the girl seemed content with it as Caroline continued. “I have had a rather trying evening, is all, a near road accident that has put my mood out of sorts.”

  Allen’s concern immediately resurfaced. “A road accident! Are you certain you are unhurt, Miss?”

  “Yes, of course. The accident did not involve my carriage; it was ahead of me and a collision with mine was avoided. Only some thing of that nature makes one think of how dangerous our travel can be. I am overreacting to what might have been; I will be fine after a cocoa to assist me to a night’s rest.”

  The maid recognized the request and the dismissal and hastily took herself off to prepare the beverage for her mistress after first unlacing Caroline’s gown in the back.

  Caroline wondered a moment at her attempt to explain herself to her maid. Something about that downcast expression a moment before moved Caroline to guilt. After all, Allen noticed Caroline’s agitated spirits when her own brother did not! And the maid had also shown her favour and compassion over the last few months both in town and in Hertfordshire before. Caroline may not have survived those awful final weeks spent at Netherfield without Allen’s ministrations. She really should try to be less irritable with the girl.

  As if that last thought conjured the maid, the door opened following a light knock, and Allen appeared with the requested cocoa. Caroline noted that an assortment of digestive biscuits was also arranged on her tray.

  Allen appeared a little surprised to find Caroline still standing where she had left her. Leading the way into the closet, she gathered nightclothes as Caroline followed her in. A few moments later, Caroline emerged again ready for bed – nightdress and robe enveloping her, loose stockings for extra winter warmth, her hair brushed and shining in a braid that fell across one shoulder. Caroline did not wear a cap at night, could not tolerate the sense of confinement of her head being enclosed in one. She shuddered thinking of the covering she had been forced to wear tonight. As Allen straightened the closet and picked up her gown from this evening for airing, Caroline climbed gratefully under her bedclothes and took up the soothing hot drink.

  Alone once more after Allen closed the connecting door, Caroline’s thoughts reverted yet again to the evening’s misadventure. Suppressing a shudder at the fearful aspects of her experience, she could not help but wonder about ‘Sir’, as she had no choice but to think of him.

  Who was he? A man of means, certainly, if not of honour. One moment crass and violent, the next a perfect gentleman, or at least a parody of one. Educated, if his speech and the contents of his library revealed anything of the man; and yet engaged in rogue’s work. He spoke as an Englishman, in whichever of his accents Caroline considered; yet if an English gentleman, why had she never seen him before in town society. For Caroline was certain, even without being able to see his full countenance, that she had never encountered this man before tonight. And he was not young – Caroline judged him to have thirty years at the minimum. He was a paradox.

  A paradox who took liberties that tipped Caroline firmly on the side of “rogue” in her opinion! Why, if any of her acquaintance should ever know of his outrageous imposition upon Caroline’s person on her very doorstep, she would be ruined. How dared he to assume a right that only a husband – or at the very least an acknowledged and accepted betrothed – should claim. He had compromised Caroline’s respectability with his kisses! It did not matter if no one outside the pair of them knew of their encounter; she herself knew, and that was enough.

  Caroline drained the last of the cocoa from her cup, then raised her fingers to dab at a few drops that clung upon her upper lip. The contact, coupled with the tenor of her thoughts, brought yet again the feel of Sir’s lips upon hers. It had been her first kiss, at least the first since innocent early childhood busses with other neighbourhood children in play or with her parents and siblings. And those benign incidents bore nothing in common with her experience tonight.

  Again, Caroline tried to raise the anger she had felt earlier, but found somehow it had withered. In its place was a curiosity to explore the sensations she had felt.

  Sir had kissed her twice in close succession. The first had t
ruly caught Caroline by surprise. He had pulled her to him and, when she looked up into his face in shock, she was unprepared for his assault. He had covered her mouth with his own, pressing his lips into hers with insistence, rough in trespass. Some part of her wondered if her lips would bear a telltale mark of it by morning, a bruise or swelling. She briefly recalled the bristly feel of his lower cheek against hers in contrast to the smoothness just above where his silk mask still hid his identity. He had released her mouth quickly, almost immediately after taking possession. Astonished, as he pulled back Caroline met his eyes and for an instant the two had locked their gaze. Sir had seemed nearly as surprised as Caroline.

  In shock, Caroline searched for an appropriate feeling to express but the man had apparently read her confusion for submission. He had first lowered his eyes to her mouth for a lingering moment, then in succession lowered his lips to it once again. This time, however, his touch was lighter, less urgent but somehow just as compelling. His lips hovered, barely caressing hers, awaiting a sign of some sort from her. And to her current horror, she had responded by moving her own into Sir’s. His seemed to smile as he met the pressure of her action with movement, and for a moment Caroline had been lost to coherent thought.

  Why had she not cried out? Why had she not slapped the man resoundingly for his presumptuous actions? In that instant when his lips answered her physical response, her entire body had gone numb and incapable of reasoned movement. All feeling had been concentrated into that minute area in such heady contact with his mouth. Nothing else existed and an irrational fleeting thought raised itself that if she broke that contact she would herself cease to exist. She vaguely recalled reaching up her arms to grasp his above the elbow, holding on to ensure her very survival.

  And then the connection was broken, she could not be certain how. She only knew that before she could move, before rational thought could coalesce her senses, he was gone from her – moving off rapidly down the pavement, leaving her rooted with her arms still raised but holding only air as if in supplication, and adding a final insult by whipping off his disguise with a flourish while his back was to her.