by Darcy Burke
Alex let out an unbridled laugh that startled her. He leaned in. “As angry as I was, I didn’t need to threaten him into marrying you. Caldwell is his own man and, in the end, knows when to do the right thing. And marrying you is the right thing. Forget about your stupid need for romance, Caroline, and use your common sense. You’ll grow to love each other. As all couples do.”
She shook her head and kept shaking it in disbelief. She didn’t want to be like all the other couples. Most were miserable. She wanted something special. She deserved something special. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t have him. Not like this.”
Alex waved his hand in riled agitation. “Caroline, when Father passed, I was given full responsibility for not only your well-being but also your future. And your future will be Caldwell. I have already applied for a special license. You and he will be wed in five weeks time. Or next week. The choice is yours.”
Dearest God. Everyone in London would think she was pregnant. “Next week?!” she shouted up at him, her eyes widening. “Oh, like that won’t ruin me?” What was he trying to do?
“Then in five weeks time,” he laid out, shifting from boot to boot. “It really doesn’t matter. You’ll have him for the rest of your life, either way.”
“But he doesn’t even love me!” she cried, wishing he could understand. “You can’t throw me into a loveless marriage. You simply can’t!”
He glared and boomed back, “You made the decision when you damn well flipped up your skirts! Don’t you understand what you’ve done, Caroline? You’re ruined! Completely and utterly ruined! And unless you marry him, not only will you be at the mercy of the ton, but so will all of our sisters. Have you ever stopped to think about them during your self-indulgent lust parade? Even once? You’ll render all of their opportunities useless! Useless!”
The fact that he was yelling that she was doomed didn’t really help. “Damn you, Alex!” she yelled back. “Don’t you think that I know that? Don’t you think I—” She whirled away from him and swung a gloved fist through the air, wishing she could undo everything she had ever done, which included meeting Ronan in the library seven years ago.
Sadly, it couldn’t be. And even worse, she knew her brother was right. She couldn’t hide from this. If her brother knew and Lady Waverly knew and Lord Hughes knew and her mother knew, it was only a matter of time before everyone knew and she couldn’t punish her own sisters in the name of defiance.
She had to face this for what it was: hers to swallow. Hers to choke on.
Muttering beneath her breath “I am such a half-wit,” she shook her head and lowered her hands to her sides. Just when she thought she had been given a chance to escape Ronan, he’d come back with a blade to her throat, sending her own brother to do it.
She turned back to her brother and coolly announced, “You’re right. It’s the right thing to do. For our family. For our sisters.” Though not for me.
“Good.” Alex angled toward her. “You’re heading back to London with me. We’re not staying here.”
Given that tone, her brother was probably going to have Ronan call on her immediately. She wanted to scream knowing it. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose you expect me to still love you after all this.”
He lowered his chin. “Damn right I do. Just as I’m expected to love you. We are and always will be family. And as such, we have no choice but to remain steadfast.”
Steadfast? It wasn’t a word he used. Apparently, he was not himself. Not that him being half-naked didn’t give it away. “I take it you have involved yourself with someone and that is why you are here? To keep Mama and the rest of us from knowing about it?”
He didn’t meet her gaze. “Yes. But I…it’s over. I ended it tonight.”
He said it with such regret and such anguish she knew this wasn’t a mere dalliance. This woman, whoever she was, had dug a finger into his soul. Something she knew Alex had never allowed. “Did you need to end it?” she softly asked, trying to understand.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I had to. I have neglected my duties as your brother and protector. What happened to you was because I was too distracted with her. And I won’t neglect my duties to you or anyone in our family again. I won’t.”
“Oh, Alex.” Even though she was about to be sentenced to a marriage she wasn’t ready to face, she now felt sorrier for him in that moment. He had miserably taken on a role of being more than a brother and it wasn’t fair to him. She reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “Do not blame yourself for what happened. I am taking the blame for all of it and will face it knowing that.” She leaned in close and tried to search his face. “How long have you known this woman?”
He opened his eyes but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “For some time.”
Which meant long enough for him to get attached. “Do you love her?”
He still wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I care for her. Yes.”
Which meant he loved her. She rubbed his shoulder again. “Marry her. Be happy. You deserve as much.”
His features twisted and he shook his head. “I…I ended it in a way that there is no going back. I don’t want to talk about her. So don’t ask me about her again.” He turned away. “I need to get dressed. And we need to leave. It’s late.”
She swallowed, lowering her hand from his shoulder and eventually murmured, “Can I sit with Papa’s coat for fifteen minutes before we leave?”
“Yes.” He trudged back to gather his clothes.
Caroline numbly turned to go up the stairs to retrieve her father’s coat.
Alex paused and added, “Caldwell will be calling on you at our house in the next few days to discuss the wedding. I gave him permission to do so.”
She quietly went up the stairs knowing that she was about to face Ronan again. Damn him. Damn him for confessing everything to Alex.
Lesson Twenty
A rake can become a romantic. But why settle for merely that? Challenge yourself into wanting more and you may be surprised to find you can get more.
-The School of Gallantry
Days later – early afternoon
The Hawksford residence
Caroline grudgingly stared at the gold-rimmed porcelain plates stacked with enough scones and sandwiches on the tea table in the parlor to feed fourteen people. It was ridiculous. Even though it was only going to be her and Ronan sitting at the table, her mother had insisted the chef prepare enough to last for an hour visit.
Apparently, their new chef thought he was amusing to think two people could eat eleven scones and fourteen sandwiches in an hour. Or maybe the chef thought she would be taking said sandwiches and scones and pummeling her guest with them throughout said hour. That would explain the amount needed.
Either way, Ronan hardly deserved to be greeted so warmly.
In fact, he needed to know exactly what his place was.
She assessed the blue-and-pink porcelain vase filled with white roses that had been set at the center of the tea table by her mother. The last thing Caroline wanted was Ronan thinking she had set this oh-so-romantic table.
Glancing toward the doorway and knowing everyone had left the house and that Ronan would be arriving at any moment for their so-called social hour, Caroline rose from her cane chair. Leaning toward the vase, she yanked out all of the flowers from it, scattering rose petals everywhere. Marching them over to the open window of the parlor, where the breeze ruffled the embroidered curtains, she mercilessly tossed out the roses, letting them land in the bushes where they belonged.
She wasn’t the one who needed to be romantic.
She had done enough of it since knowing him.
Sweeping back to the table, she gathered the rose petals that had fallen and shoved them all into the vase which she then carried over to the mantle. She paused, glancing toward the table.
It still looked too pretty for her liking.
She sighed. Bustling her way back to the tea table, Caroline shuffled and disorganized the p
lates, spoons, napkins and setting, so it looked like countless other people had already indulged, and he was but an afterthought. She even plucked up a few scones and sandwiches and randomly bit into a few of them. Chewing, she then set the half-eaten things back onto the plates. Taking up the small silver spoon from the small jam pot, she also wagged its clumpy stickiness over on the side of the tablecloth where Ronan would be sitting.
Was it childish? Oh, yes. Did she enjoy knowing he wouldn’t be able to set his forearms anywhere on his side of the table to lean toward her? Oh, yes. Caroline spattered an extra dollop randomly at his place setting for good measure and then daintily set the spoon back into the jam pot, stirring the jam just enough to smooth out the marmalade.
The table now looked exactly how she felt: full of loathing and chaos.
The calling bell rang, causing her heart and her thoughts to skid.
She scrambled toward the cane chair set at the tea table opposite the chair set out for him and sat down. Smoothing her lavender gown around her thighs, she primly placed both ungloved hands onto her lap and waited. Although she had worn her best gown and had spent about an hour fussing over her hair with her lady’s maid, that was the only thing she had fussed over. She was rather glad her mother and brother had taken all of her sisters shopping on Regent Street for the next hour. It meant everything that needed to be said would be said in sixty minutes or less.
And there was a lot to be said.
The butler appeared in the doorway. Emerson paused, glancing toward her and then the jam-spattered and unorganized table.
She smiled. “Yes, Emerson?” she offered pertly, pretending nothing was wrong.
Emerson eyed her. “Lord Caldwell has come to call, my lady.”
“Thank you, Emerson,” she offered, still smiling. “You may send him in.”
He hesitated. “Yes, of course, my lady.” Emerson eyed the table one last time, inclined his head and turned to retrieve Lord Caldwell from the foyer.
If Emerson, who had been in service to the Hawksfords for too many years to be easily perturbed by much, appeared ruffled by the table, Caroline knew her duty as disgruntled hostess was done.
Within moments, steady footfalls approached.
She pressed her hands together feeling as if she would retch.
Ronan veered into the room and towered in the doorway. He paused, holding a closed, wicker basket in the crook of his arm. A blue-black morning attire emphasized his tall, muscled frame.
She paused. Something was different about him.
His leather boots, which were usually well-polished, were scuffed and his blond hair, which was always perfectly brushed back with tonic, was a wind blown mess. It was as if he had spent the entire morning outside and left his valet and comb at home.
Even unkempt, he looked annoyingly divine. She slowly rose from her seat, trying not to let on she noticed.
Ronan’s dark eyes slid down the length of her gown before settling on the curls her lady’s maid had fashioned into a chignon. He lowered his chin against his white linen cravat. “You look beautiful.” His deep voice penetrated the silence and sounded surprisingly sincere.
She tightened her lips. If he thought complimenting her appearance was going to make her kneel, he had yet to get slapped.
He shifted his jaw and slowly made his way toward her, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he advanced. He paused at the table she lingered by, the heated scent of amberwood drifting toward her from his attire.
She paused. That was new. Was it cologne?
He trailed his gaze to the table and eyed her.
She stiffly and wordlessly gestured to the table, asking him to sit on the jam- spattered side. Where he belonged.
He eyed her again and carefully setting the closed small wicker basket beside his chair, pushed aside the tails of his coat with a hand and sat. He shifted, scanning the spangled table of jam and half-eaten scones. “Is there a reason the scones are bleeding?”
If she wasn’t so angry, she would have laughed. But he wasn’t going to win that easily. Oh, no. No, no, no. “They must have known you were coming and threw themselves on the knife.”
He stared. “You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?”
She stared back and coolly said, “No.”
He leaned forward and toward her and was about to prop an arm against the table when he realized there was too much jam to bother. He sat back against the chair. “Now I know what the jam is for.”
She really was brilliant. “Exactly. Stay to your side of the table and we will survive. Simply know that this is what marriage will look like for the next forty years.”
His hand jumped to his cravat and he tugged on it, only to pause, as if realizing he was ruining the knot. He lowered his hand.
She held his gaze, keeping her tone even and steady. “Why would you tell Alex about us? When I had asked you not to? Why would you force me into something you know I didn’t want?”
He searched her face for a long moment before admitting, “I cannot begin to win your hand without him knowing, and enough lies were told by me to make me sick. You and I deserve better than this. You and I deserve to be happy.”
Her throat tightened.
Still searching her face, he leaned down to the basket and gently lifted it, setting it carefully onto his knee. “I brought something for you in honor of our engagement.” He rose and rounding toward her, opened the lid and lowered it toward her.
Caroline peered into the well of the wicker basket and drew in an astounded breath. A small black puppy lay curled in a blanket, sleeping peacefully in between occasional leg twitches that hinted he was dreaming. It was the most charming, beautiful creature she had ever seen, with little fuzzy ears that flopped in slumber. Her eyes jumped up to Ronan’s. It was like he remembered their conversation from three years ago. About her wanting a dog.
He held her gaze. “We all need someone to love.”
Caroline stared up at him and the way his brows came together with hope. It wasn’t fair. He was trying to get her to do more than forgive him. He was trying to get her to love him again.
His mouth quirked and he whispered down at her, “I tired him out this morning. I took him to the park shortly before he and I came here. I haven’t given him a name yet, because I wanted to leave that to you. Did you want me to take him out? So you can visit with him?”
He wasn’t supposed to remember the things she had said from three years ago. Nor was he supposed to bring a puppy. Drat him. “Don’t take him out,” she whispered. “Let him sleep. I will visit with him when he wakes up.”
He half-nodded and carrying the basket a few strides away, set it carefully onto the floor. He then rose, strode back toward her and lingered beside her chair, his tall frame towering close.
She breathed lightly through parted lips, trying not to panic or rise from her seat.
Still lingering, he said, “Time away from you got me thinking.”
When a man was left alone with his thoughts it was never a good thing. “About what?”
“About everything. Though mostly about us.” He knelt on one knee, tucking himself close to her gown and gathered her hand into his, clasping it against his warmth. Tightening his hold, he lowered his gaze to it and said, “I have always known there was something special between us. From the very beginning. From the moment I met you. You changed my way of thinking in a way I never expected and made me want to be perfect. Even though I wasn’t. Even though I knew I could never be.”
Her hand trembled in his. For she sensed he meant it.
Ronan leaned in closer, his gaze still lowered.
“At the time,” he offered, “I wasn’t ready to share my shame and what my life really was like, but I have had someone helping me reorganize my priorities and my life. And I am ready to finally share who I really am with you.” Emotion broke into his voice. “I have never been in love, Caroline. I never wanted to be. I never saw it as a good thing. I never
told you certain details about my life because they held too much pain for me. But I…I want you to know everything. I want you to understand me. If you are willing to understand me, that is.”
Caroline felt her soul melt at what appeared to be a genuine attempt to give her the one thing she had always asked of him throughout the years. The one thing he had kept tightly folded against his heart. She gently set her other hand atop of his. “I have always wanted to know more about you,” she quietly said. “You know that.”
He nodded but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And I have always denied you knowing me in that way. But not anymore.” He let out a breath. After a long moment of silence, he said, “My…my mother, whom I am fortunate to remember quite well, was a wonderful, wonderful soul. She was the sort of woman who knew how to make everyone laugh. Especially me. It didn’t matter how distraught I was, she knew how to tap at my good spirits and lift me up. My father was a gruff, notorious rake. He always had been. There were whispers that he was involved with illegal activities and that the estate money was coming from those activities. But when it came to my mother, he was none of those things. He was utterly devoted to her. He never talked to her of love or did any of those romantic things a woman would want, but he didn’t have to. You could see it in the way his features brightened when she walked into a room. He loved her. Mind you, we weren’t a perfect family. My parents argued quite a bit, and more often than not, they were violent toward each other during those arguments.”
Caroline tightened her hold on his hand.
Ronan, in turn, tightened his hold. “I uh…I hated it when they argued and would usually sit in my closet with both hands over my ears so I wouldn’t have to listen to any of it. And then…my mother died. I was nine. She was in a carriage on her way to see my aunt, her sister, when a wall that was being constructed for one of the new buildings toppled and crushed several surrounding carriages on the street. One of them happened to be the one my mother was in. She had been very pregnant with what would have been my brother or sister. Neither survived. It was instant death.” He sniffed hard, still staring at her hand.