by Louise Allen
‘It is you, my lady. You would have this room at your feet even if you were wearing sackcloth. You make me proud to be your husband.’
Hold this moment a little voice inside her urged. You will need this memory, you will need its strength.
* * *
‘How married do you feel?’ Gabriel asked as the chaise rattled over the cobbles past Brixton church and Caroline took off her bonnet and sat back with a sigh. They had a six-hour journey ahead of them, it was already well past noon and his bride was a trifle wan. She was still beautiful, but pale now and her smiles were beginning to look artificial. She would regain her spirits, he had confidence in her resilience, but for now he would try and keep things light.
‘I feel very married. But I am not certain about being a countess,’ Caroline confessed, with a dimple appearing that looked perfectly natural. ‘I will have to get Harriet to address me as Lady Edenbridge with every sentence until I become accustomed. How married do you feel?’
‘Exceedingly. The sight of my beautiful bride might have been a dream, but I have been comprehensively lectured by Cris and Alex on the subject, I have signed numerous legal papers, much to Louis’s delight, and I have seen an alarming amount of luggage loaded on the coach this morning. That all feels very real.’ So did the pleasure he felt when he looked at her, caught one of her smiles. It was almost easy to believe that he could make her happy. That she could make him happy.
‘Wait until the bills arrive, then you’ll most definitely know you have a wife,’ she said darkly. ‘Tamsyn and Tess insisted that you had given them carte blanche to buy whatever they felt was necessary, but it seems like a great deal to me.’ Glancing down, he saw that the dimple had vanished. ‘I wish my father would release my dowry, I do not like coming to you empty-handed.’
‘You bring yourself. That is all I need. I am a rich man, Caroline. I can well support a wife in style.’
She slipped her hand into his. ‘Thank you.’ Caroline was silent almost as far as Streatham village and he was wondering if she had fallen asleep. Then she said, ‘I do like your brothers.’
‘You do?’ He had kept a wary eye on them, as far as he was able amidst the demands of an early wedding breakfast.
‘Ben is a good officer, I imagine. He has that same knack of leadership that you do, but allied to military discipline. And I imagine that he takes good care of his men, for all his seeming rather abrupt. That is like you, too.’
‘Me? I lead no one anywhere except into trouble and I have no one to take care of. Except you now.’ A sweet duty.
‘And your brothers. And your friends. But if you are going to be foolishly modest I will tell you that I also liked George and I consider him quite indecently good looking for a clergyman. The poor man will spend his entire career evading heart-struck spinsters in the vestry. He will make a very beautiful bishop, which Louis informs me he intends to become.’
‘I am prepared to admit that he resembles me in looks,’ Gabriel said, fishing to see just how truthful she would be.
‘George is better looking than you are. His nose is straighter and he has a very engaging smile.’
‘That puts me in my place. And what about Louis?’
‘Oh, Louis is a darling. He is anxious to do well in his studies so that when he graduates he can be of the greatest use to you. He hero-worships you, of course.’
‘Nonsense. They all avoid me like the plague unless they need money. Or, in Louis’s case, employment.’
‘They are in awe of you,’ Caroline said, tipping back her head to frown at him. ‘They look up to you. I never spoke to them all together, but they all said the same thing, that they owe you so much. They love you, you know.’
Gabriel shifted on the seat, the plush upholstery suddenly as hard as planks. They could only have been referring to their childhood, but none of them knew just what lengths he had gone to in order to protect them. And none of them had witnessed that final crisis, only Louis, for whom the memory had been blanked out by shock.
He had sneered at Caroline’s devotion to Anthony, her total commitment to putting his welfare above her own. But he knew now why it had made him so uneasy and defensive. He had felt the same, had made his own sacrifices. But all this flummery about love... No. Even if his brothers did know, all he had done was his duty to them. He was the eldest and they were his responsibility.
‘You will invite them to stay, won’t you?’ Caroline rested her head on his shoulder. ‘There is room for guests at Mount Street and I imagine Edenvale is large enough for proper house parties. Now what have I said?’ She sat up again. ‘You have gone all stiff.’
‘None of us likes Edenvale.’
‘Then we must fix whatever is wrong with it. It is a wicked waste to have a large house uninhabited. It should be giving employment to the entire district, for one thing.’
She sank back against his shoulder and Gabriel wondered why that gesture was quite as pleasing as it was. This was his wedding day, he should want kisses and caresses from his wife, not confiding snuggling. Then she nudged him in the ribs. ‘Ouch!’
‘What about Edenvale? What is wrong with it?’
‘You are quite right about the employment. And I had meant to open it up for you as I imagine you would be happier down there when the children come along.’ Now it was her turn to stiffen, but he judged it unwise to ask why. ‘We did not have very happy childhoods there, that is all. A familiar enough tale, I suppose. Our mother died when I was fourteen. Ben was eleven, George ten and Louis only four. Our father was not an easy man.’ And that was all he was going to say on the subject.
‘And I suppose it is entailed, so you cannot sell it,’ Caroline mused as they entered Croydon. ‘But as I assume you did not intend depositing me, and our hopeful family, down there and never visiting, we must change it enough to reconcile you to it.’
‘As you say,’ he temporised, choosing to ignore the soft snort that produced. ‘Tell me why you have never been to Brighton. I would have thought your father was entranced by the Pavilion.’
‘Oh, yes, he much admires it. But he did not believe in taking the family on holidays when we had a perfectly good country house for fresh air and recreation. Tell me all about it. Where will we stay and what is there to do?’
‘I have taken a house overlooking the Steine. We were lucky to get it at this date, but apparently Lady Maltravers, who was renting it, had a violent quarrel with her bosom friend Lady Feldrake over a young man and has flounced off to Weymouth, declaring that the company there is far less vulgar.’
Gabriel talked about assemblies and libraries, drives and public breakfasts, the dubious aesthetics of the Pavilion and, of course, the opportunities for sea-bathing, until Crawley was behind them. ‘This is Pease Pottage,’ he said, expecting a murmur of amusement at the name. ‘We will change horses at the Black Swan.’ A soft, ladylike snore greeted this intelligence so he made no move to get out, instead settling Caroline more comfortably against his shoulder and gesturing away the landlord who came busting out while the grooms changed the horses and the postilions vanished into the taproom for a hasty pint of ale.
She was exhausted, and no wonder, he thought, surprising himself when he realised he was feeling no impatience at being trapped in the chaise instead of being able to get out, stretch his legs and take refreshment. It was a novelty to have a woman to take care of, one that he was discovering an unexpected tenderness for.
* * *
Caroline woke with a start and found they had drawn up abruptly because a young man was struggling to turn his gig and half-blocking the road. ‘I am so sorry.’ She sat up, uncomfortably aware that the shoulder of Gabriel’s coat was creased where her head must have rested, that her hair was in disorder and that she had slept at a time when any other bride would have been wide awake and paying close attention to her new husband. �
�Where are we?’
She had expected Gabriel to be irritable with her, but his smile was the rare one that reached his eyes and made her want to hug him. The smile she had seen at the altar. ‘Hand Cross, thirty-three miles from London. We’ll stop at the Red Lion, I expect you would like some tea.’
‘I would, definitely. I am sorry I went to sleep.’
‘Why be sorry? You are tired, which is no surprise, given what has transpired over the past few days.’
‘It is not very wifely behaviour,’ she said primly, which made him burst out laughing as the chaise turned into the inn yard.
‘And what do you know about wifely behaviour?’
‘About as much as you, I imagine. Or were you in the habit of driving down to Brighton with young ladies in the guise of Mr and Mrs Smith of Scandal on Thames?’
‘Ladies? One at a time, Lady Edenbridge, please. You have a flattering notion of my stamina.’ When she shook her head at him he smiled. ‘I am not in the habit of travelling with females.’
‘Are you not?’ she quizzed him, but he got down from the chaise and helped her out. She did not like to tease when there was the chance they might be overheard.
To Caroline’s surprise, Gabriel returned to the subject when she joined him in the private parlour after seeking out what the landlady coyly referred to as, ‘The amenities, ma’am.’
‘Did you think I travelled with a bevy of light-skirts and opera dancers?’ he enquired as she poured tea.
‘I have no idea.’ Caroline passed him his cup and surveyed the assortment of dainties that had been brought in with the tea. ‘I have no knowledge of that sort of thing, but you do have a reputation.’
‘For a sequence of chères amis, all of whom were, shall we say, ladies rather than professionals. And note I did say sequence. One at a time is quite adequate.’
Caroline digested this along with a cake that was turning to sawdust in her mouth. ‘Who is the current one?’
Gabriel choked on his tea. ‘No one!’ He recovered himself and added with his old, mocking half-smile, ‘Terribly bad ton for a newly married man.’
‘So you gave the lady her congé?’ She tried to gain some comfort from this, although the implication of his words only confirmed his earlier remarks about the likelihood he would stray from his vows.
‘I did. All very amicable, I assure you.’
Caroline almost believed him, but she was beginning to be able to read Gabriel, just a little, and there had been a betraying tightness about his mouth for a moment. So, the mistress of the moment had not been pleased. She repressed a little shiver, then assured herself that pride, if nothing else, would prevent whoever it was from making an unpleasant scene when she next encountered Gabriel in public. All the scandals about this marriage were going to be the ones she was responsible for bringing with her.
I will be a good wife, she promised herself. I will make him happy if it kills me. And I will not give him any excuse to chase other women, she added grimly. If he does then I will not be a complacent wife, even if Gabriel thinks that would make me a good one. I love him and I do not intend to share.
‘This is an excellent inn,’ Gabriel observed, looking round at the warm glow of the polished panelling. ‘It has been a long day. Shall we ask if they have a decent room available to go with this parlour? We could break our journey here.’
‘But we are only about twenty miles from Brighton, surely?’
‘Yes, but that is another two hours and there will be all the business of arriving at a hired house which is never straightforward, however early one sends down the staff. We could rest and then have dinner and go to bed early.’ His eyes had the heavy-lidded look she had seen before, the one that sent an answering frisson of desire through her.
‘Rest, my lord?’ Caroline pushed away the niggling little doubt that it was talking about his former lovers that had made Gabriel think about bed now.
‘A convenient euphemism I have learned from my married friends. It is amazing how weary marriage makes some couples. It is, after all, our wedding night.’
‘Then, yes, let us take a bedchamber. You have warned me, after all, not to overestimate your stamina.’ She widened her eyes at him in mock-innocence and felt a certain return of confidence when he got immediately to his feet and strode from the room.
* * *
There was a chamber, charming and old-fashioned with a great oaken four-poster bed, a thick Turkey carpet on the uneven floor and a ceiling that bulged and dipped so that Gabriel banged his head as he straightened up after dragging the curtains part-way across the window. Caroline bit her lip with sympathetic amusement, then felt the laughter die as she saw his face, recognised the heat and the desire. He wanted her and she wanted him, wanted him with a fever that had consumed her for days, ever since he had shown her what they could be together.
‘No, leave it all,’ he said as she lifted her hands to open the catch on her necklace, a fine double string of pearls left to her by her mother. They lay warm and comforting against her skin, now she arched her neck so he could lift her hair away from the nape and manipulate the delicate fastening.
Gabriel seemed in no hurry. His fingers played along her hairline, making the fine hairs stand up in response to his touch, then he bent and kissed her nape, his lips slightly open so she felt the heat of his breath, the tiny touches of his tongue.
The pearls curled on to the dressing table, then he unhooked her earrings, kissing behind each ear. Caroline leant into the delicious, teasing caress as he nibbled his way down the tendon at the side of her neck and gasped as he closed his teeth over it and bit down gently.
‘Mine,’ Gabriel murmured, his voice possessive. ‘My bride to unwrap like a particularly delicious parcel.’
She had changed into a walking dress of deep sapphire, worn under a pelisse of paler blue that she had removed when they sat down to tea. Now Gabriel had unobstructed access to the row of tiny enamelled buttons down the back, which had taken Harriet her maid minutes to fasten, but which seemed to evaporate under his touch. The gown vanished, so did her petticoats, chemise and shoes, which left her in a corset, stockings and garters.
Gabriel stepped back from the bed and surveyed the result, like some pasha viewing the latest slave girl brought from his harem, she thought with mingled excitement and indignation.
She reached for her garters and he growled, ‘Leave them.’
‘But this feels more indecent than when I was wearing nothing,’ she protested, flustered.
‘I know.’ The growl became the purr of a large cat. ‘That’s because it is. Very arousing. Look.’ He tipped the glass on the dressing-table mirror so she could see herself sprawled on the pale-rose coverlet, her breasts pushed up by the tight lacing, her legs looking longer with the white stockings and the blue of the garters drawing the eye...
Caroline closed her legs abruptly and curled up against the headboard. ‘You are still wearing all your clothes.’
Gabriel sat down, hauled off his boots and stockings together, shed his coat, waistcoat and neckcloth, unbuttoned his shirt and then his falls. The breeches slid down his long flanks, taking his smallclothes with them. ‘Better?’
His shirt, open for the first ten inches, showed a tantalising amount of chest and hid a tantalising amount of everything else. Without troubling to remove it he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her towards him.
She wanted to say, No, take it off, let me look at you in daylight, but the words stuck to the roof of her very dry mouth and then Gabriel was running his finger along the top edge of the corset, teasing her nipples in their tight confinement. He pushed at the edge until they were free, then bent to blow gently on the tips.
‘Like cherries on a plate being offered up for me to nibble,’ he said, and did.
The corset was tight, the pressure seem
ing to tip both her pelvis and her breasts towards Gabriel, into his clever hands and wicked mouth. She was breathless, racked with tension and delicious, terrifying sensation, desperate to touch him, to have his skin against hers. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, but it was crushed between them, then her hands found the neck opening and she jerked the sides apart, heard the fabric rip, then burrowed down to fasten with lips and teeth on to his right nipple.
Everything happened very quickly then. Gabriel was inside her and her body remembered him, responded without her having to think or do more than cling to him as he swept her up into the storm of his own powerful urgency. Her fingers knotted into the shirt over his shoulders, her heels locked into the small of his back, she heard her own voice gasping his name, heard the sound of their bodies meeting in hot, wet, desperation and then he reared up on his knees, lifting her with him so that he sank impossibly deep and she buried her face against his neck as the pleasure exploded, spinning her into fragments and she was lost in him.
Chapter Eighteen
Gabriel woke her by trailing deliberately sloppy kisses and licks around her right ear.
‘Beast!’ Caroline sat up, batting him off.
‘It was the only bit of you I could get at,’ he grumbled, falling back on to the pillows. ‘You were curled up like a hedgehog.’
He was still wearing the ripped shirt and nothing else. When she leaned over and ran her fingers into the dark curls on his chest he caught her hand and pressed it flat until she could feel the beat of his heart under her palm. ‘Caroline.’ She looked up to meet his gaze and saw he was suddenly serious. ‘Did I hurt you? I was too rough, I forgot that this is still new for you.’
‘No, you didn’t hurt me, although, frankly I doubt I would have noticed. And I was rough, too, I ripped your shirt.’
‘That was exciting, my little hellcat. No one has ever done that to me before.’
She turned her fingers into claws beneath his hand and raked gently down his chest, following the trail of silky hair. When his eyes narrowed she whispered, ‘Do you know what I want to do now?’