Then her father broke in. “Good for you, my boy,” he mumbled as he returned to his food. “Good for you.”
Caroline’s eyes shot up to stare at him.
Robert grunted. “This is a farce, Weymerth. You cannot possibly expect us to believe your wife takes care of your books.”
Jane looked at her husband with hard, angered features. “I’ve told you for years about Caroline’s ability, Robert. Why must you be so stubborn in your belief?”
He gazed at her as if she were completely dense. “Because, darling, women are never clearheaded about such things. It’s difficult enough to concern yourselves with poetry and babies and charitable causes.” He patted her hand. “You know as well as anyone that a lady of breeding has no business learning mathematics. Doing so isn’t normal or proper.”
That statement made Caroline so angry she nearly picked up her full plate of food and flung it in his face.
“I don’t know if I entirely hold that belief, Waxton,” Carl drawled, speaking at last as he stared at his wineglass in deep contemplation. “If Charlotte, my wife, were talented in a field of study reserved for men only because of convention and nothing more, I think I would encourage her to use her knowledge in any way she could.” He looked up and shrugged. “What could it hurt?”
Robert’s face turned completely red; Gavin’s mouth opened wide in speechlessness; Brent looked at her father, who did nothing but eat ferociously; Charlotte Becker fairly beamed at her husband with complete adoration; the other ladies and their respective husbands looked increasingly uncomfortable; and her sisters, bless their hearts, sat back and simply appeared lost.
Caroline wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the entire conversation.
“What could it hurt?” Gavin finally bellowed, slamming his hand on the table for emphasis. “I could lose every penny I earn if I let a woman keep my books!” He lowered his voice a little. “No offense, Weymerth, but I simply don’t believe Caroline really knows as much as a man when it comes to numbers. This is not a matter reserved for men because it’s a convention. As a woman, mathematics is completely against her nature.”
Brent’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” He leaned forward in his chair. “Can you multiply three hundred and twelve by oh…say…ninety-seven, Gavin?”
The man looked baffled for a second or two, then quickly composed himself and sat straight up in his seat. “Of course. Give me a pen—”
“That’s not what I mean.” He turned his head and looked to the end of the table, smiling. “Caroline?”
She swallowed hard, attempting to push that ever-present piece of stuffing down her throat. “Pardon?”
They all looked at her except her father who continued to stare at his food.
“Can you multiply three hundred and twelve by ninety-seven?”
“Of course she can,” Stephanie admitted for her. “Tell them, Caroline.”
She tensed her body, eyeing her husband nervously. “I don’t think—”
“Caroline…” Brent cut in, daring her not to answer, “can you multiply three hundred and twelve by ninety-seven?”
“Yes,” she finally muttered.
“This is preposterous,” Robert exclaimed, throwing his napkin on the table. “If given a moment to think, I’ll come up with the answer in my head.” Then he turned to her and smiled arrogantly. The smile of a man without a brain, in her opinion. “Can you multiply four hundred seventy-six by one hundred thirty-two, Caroline dear?”
Intense fury bubbled inside of her. She despised men who treated women in such a manner, who chose to humiliate them in the company of others. Instead of trying to understate her abilities as she would have done at any other time, at that moment she wanted to shout her talent to the world, to show the pompous fool just what an idiot he was.
Her face broke out into a brilliant smile to sweetly reply, “Sixty-two thousand, eight hundred thirty-two, Robert dear.” With that, she filled her mouth with more stuffing.
“She made that up,” Gavin asserted, turning once again to his food and slicing his duck as if it were leather.
Carl slowly stood. “Let’s see if she did.”
“You’ll find a pen in my study,” Brent said quite casually, the first words he’d ever actually spoken to the man, although he did manage to avoid looking at him by reaching for his wine.
The minutes Carl was gone from the room were the longest in Caroline’s life. The silence was deafening as everyone pretended to be involved in eating. When he finally returned, tension filled the air so thickly, she knew she couldn’t begin to cut it with a sword if she had one.
Then she glanced at Carl’s face. He smiled at her and winked as he placed a piece of paper on the table. “It took me a bit longer to multiply four hundred seventy-six by one hundred thirty-two, but I believe she’s right, gentlemen.” He looked back to her. “What number did you arrive at, Caroline?”
She cleared her throat. “Sixty-two thousand, eight hundred thirty-two.”
“Well,” Carl said flatly, sitting once again in his chair, “I’d trust her with my books.”
Caroline grinned delightedly at him, then drew the courage to gaze once again at her husband. The soft look he gave her was filled with admiration and pride. In that instant she had the incredible urge to stand and walk to him, take his face in her palms, and kiss his mouth with all the deep-felt passion she possessed for him alone.
“Goodness me, is it ten already?” Jane asked too loudly. “I believe I’m ready for dessert.”
They all started talking at once.
Charlotte knew what she had to do. Just watching her brother stare at his wife across the dinner table, his face betraying such depth of feeling for the woman he’d married, filled her with compassion and understanding.
By all accounts, Brent and Caroline had not yet been intimate with each other. She was almost certain of that, although she’d never speak of it to anyone. She could see it in the way they looked at each other during dinner with such longing between them, both trying to hide the fact that they were doing so, could sense it in the detached, matter-of-fact way Caroline spoke about her brother. There was something holding back the closeness, and in her own loving, irritating, sisterly manner, she felt it her duty to force each of them to acknowledge what their stubbornness wouldn’t allow to come forward.
Everyone had left the estate or retired for the evening, including Carl, who willingly left her side so she could talk to Brent alone. It took her only minutes to find him. He stood just outside the French doors overlooking the garden below, in the frosty, late-November air, hands resting on the railing as he stared at the clear, star-filled sky.
Wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders, she walked out onto the terrace, moving quietly to stand by his side. He drew a slow breath as he realized who was beside him but he didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge her in any way.
“It was an interesting affair, Brent.”
“Madam,” was his rather curt reply.
She turned her body to face his stiffened side. “I’m certain you remember my name.”
He said nothing, just continued to stare blankly at the stars.
Finally, her patience wearing thin, she murmured, “Caroline is a lovely woman. You did a wonderful thing for her tonight.”
He exhaled loudly and slowly as he lowered his gaze to the darkened garden. “Her family needs to recognize that I married an intelligent, elegant lady instead of a plain spinster who can do no more with her time than plant flowers.”
Charlotte looked out over the garden as well. “She’s certainly done a tremendous job with that. It’s as beautiful as I’ve ever seen it.” Dropping her eyes to study her blue satin slippers, she added, “I think she probably has more talent than Mother—”
“Of course she has,” he interjected with sudden distaste. “That’s plainly obvious.”
She gave him a calculating look and softened her voice. “You care for her very much, don’t you?”
He said nothing, and it took everything in her not to clobber him over the head for being so obstinate. He probably hadn’t even admitted as much to himself. Folding her arms across her chest, she decided to get directly to the point.
“Do you have any idea where she goes each morning?”
She nearly smiled when, just for a second, he seemed startled by the question as he turned his head to look directly at her for the first time since she’d returned to Miramont. Not wanting to ruin the moment, she just watched him by the glow of the dining-room light, holding his gaze and forcing him to speak before she said another word.
He drew himself up to stand erect. “Caroline attends to Rosalyn and gardens each morning.”
“Well,” she responded nonchalantly, looking back to her slippers, “perhaps she did that before Carl and I arrived, but lately she’s been leaving after breakfast each day, secretly, without telling a soul where she’s going, and usually I don’t see her again until well after luncheon.”
She glanced up cautiously, noticing how his face had hardened while he tried to keep his features masked.
“What exactly are you implying?” he asked in a dark, dangerous voice.
Men could be so positively predictable. “Truly, Brent, I wasn’t implying anything. Several of us have noticed that she leaves. I simply wondered if you knew where she spent those six or seven hours each and every day all by herself.”
Slowly he turned, clutching the railing with both hands as he once again stared into the night. “If you know something, you should tell me instead of dallying around the facts.”
She shrugged lightly. “I don’t know anything.” Which was a lie, because she was fairly certain that Caroline, being the botanist she proclaimed to be and the expert with flowers everyone at Miramont proudly admitted, had found the greenhouse, and for whatever reason hadn’t told a soul about the discovery.
Brent could just find out about it later this evening when he accused her of being unfaithful, which, she hoped, would make them unlock the honesty, then the passion brewing between them.
She placed a gloved hand on his arm. He flinched but didn’t pull away, and although she felt saddened at what she considered an old and ridiculous argument between them, part of her knew it wouldn’t last. They were talking, she was touching him, and that was a beginning.
“I’m sure she’s still awake, Brent. Just ask her where she goes each day.” She pulled her hand from his sleeve and turned to leave. “I don’t want to see you hurting.”
Charlotte stared at the side of his darkened face, and when she realized he didn’t intend to reply, she lifted her skirts and walked back into the house.
Chapter 17
Gwendolyn finally made her nightly departure, leaving Caroline alone at her dressing table, her body clothed in only a purple silk wrap as she brushed her hair in contemplation.
The evening had been the strangest, most awkward she’d ever experienced. She’d never realized just how unhappy her sisters Jane and Charlotte appeared to be with their husbands, how condescending the men they’d married were, how they humiliated the women even in small ways. As gently bred men of polite society, however, they probably didn’t know how to behave any differently.
But it was her father’s quiet acceptance of her handling the finances at Miramont that had surprised her the most. He hadn’t seemed startled by the revelation, hadn’t lectured, hadn’t even really spoken, and keeping opinions to himself was completely against his nature.
During the last several hours, she’d gained a clear understanding of just how fortunate she was to have a man who defended her, who treated her as if she had a mind, who understood her as an individual, who made her shiver with desire from a look, a simple touch.
Placing her hairbrush on the dressing table, Caroline slowly stood and moved to the bed, where her nightgown and robe lay waiting. Reaching down to loosen the sash at her waist, she heard him open the door. No knock, just an entrance, as if she’d been expecting him.
She opened her mouth to tease him, but something in his eyes unnerved her.
“What a fool I’ve been, Caroline,” he said quietly, leaning back against their adjoining door, now closed behind him.
He’d removed his waistcoat, unbuttoned his shirt just enough to expose the top of his chest, and rolled up his cuffs. She stared at him, unsure and growing more nervous with each breath.
“What is it?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”
He just watched her for a moment, then the corner of his mouth curved up in a cynical smile, his eyes narrowing as he slowly began to move toward her.
“I just came from a nice talk with Charlotte.”
That stunned her. “The two of you spoke?”
He remained silent until he stood directly in front of her, and were it not for the fact that his statement had surprised her so, she surely would have taken a step back from his formidable stance.
He shook his head disdainfully. “The conversation was unwanted but truly enlightening, sweetheart.”
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into eyes now cold, daring, and utterly spilling over with rage.
He dropped his tone to a whisper. “She insulted both of us by asking me exactly where you go each morning, and to my complete, husbandly ignorance, I couldn’t respond because I didn’t know.”
“Brent—”
“But she didn’t have to splash water in my face with the answer, Caroline. Obviously since you don’t want to have sex with the man you married, you need to get it elsewhere.”
The expression of astonishment that graced her features evidently forced him to falter; she could see it on his face. Then he dropped his hand abruptly.
With a very deep breath, he closed his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Who is your lover?”
She gaped at him, the shock of his words finally giving way to indignation as she fairly shouted, “I don’t have a lover!”
“Don’t lie to me, Caroline. I know you’ve had them before, you’ve made that clear, so your virginity is not the issue. I couldn’t care less who took it from you.” He raised his lids to gaze at her sardonically. “According to Charlotte, everyone knows you leave the house for hours each day, and now, since your absences have come to my attention, I demand to know if you’re spreading your legs for someone I know, someone you’ve met at Miramont, or are you doing it for someone you’ve been sleeping with for years?”
She simply stood there, looking at him, cheeks burning, heart pounding, wanting to slap him but unable to do so because her mind was working fiercely to determine where and why he would suddenly acquire such wild, fatuous notions. But she was also relieved that his anger brewed simply and only because Charlotte had seen her leave for the greenhouse and had inadvertently mentioned it to him. It pulled at her inside, too, for if she told him about it now, he could very well take away the only part of her dream she’d managed to preserve. She needed to confess, but she would also need to be careful in defending herself.
Relaxing, she gave him a pleasant, reassuring smile. “It’s true, I leave, but you don’t understand—”
He chuckled softly to cut her off, shaking his head in disgust. “I understand, Caroline, because I’ve seen it before. Women are coy, deceitful, self-absorbed, and cruel. I’ve never known a faithful woman in my life, and you certainly fit the image of the perfect woman since you have the ability to kiss me as if you actually desire me, rub yourself against my body with the expertise of a paid tramp, then turn to another man for release.” He clenched his jaw. “I only wish I hadn’t been so ignorant of why you avoided me for so long. How ironic that it took another woman to point out what has been staring me in the face for months.”
Her anger grew with each word from his lips, building to an intense boil as the insufferable man in front of her spoke to her so heartlessly, wronging her terribly, without allowing her to explain what was obviously a misunderstanding.
Eyes shining defiantly, her
voice filled with a rage now equal to his, she retorted, “I absolutely refuse to discuss anything while you’re standing here shouting instead of listening to what I have to say. You are being illogical and ridiculous, and I want you to leave.”
With that she turned away, excusing him rudely, but he grabbed her instead, jerking her around to face him once more. She opened her mouth to call him the name he deserved, but sudden apprehension compelled her to hold her words in check. His features had hardened to granite, and his eyes had darkened and thinned as he stared at her, tightly clasping her arm with his hand.
“Yes, I suppose I’ve been illogical and ridiculous for believing in us, Caroline. I believed we could have something between us because you were different and smart and fit me like a glove in so many ways. I even thought you were beginning to like me, to enjoy my company, to want me as a man.”
He dropped his hand, and she took a step away, amazed at such a disclosure from someone who kept his personal thoughts so tightly locked within.
He looked her straight in the eye, his voice harsh, strengthening with each word as rage emanated from his entire body.
“I wanted you, Caroline. I’ve wanted you since the day we married. I’m a human being just like you, with wants and needs, with emotions that can be bruised, with hopes and dreams that can be crushed. I have feelings deep inside of me that I’ve learned to protect because they’re the only part of me remaining that hasn’t been picked apart and destroyed by someone else. And I’ll bet you’ve never once thought about that, have you? You’ve never thought about what I want, or about my feelings, my desires.”
She couldn’t bring herself to respond, or even breathe for that matter, stunned as she was. Whether it was from her continued silence or the look on her face, his dark, dangerous hazel eyes suddenly came alive with fire as he pointed to his chest and began shouting in pure, uninhibited fury.
“Well, this is what I want, Caroline! I want to make love to you! I want to touch you and make you feel passion you’ve never felt with anyone else! I want to hold you and go to sleep with you in my arms every night! I want to open up and let you know what I feel deep inside, the part of me nobody has ever known! I want you to need me as much as I need you! And suddenly, slapping me in the face tonight, I realize that in the four months we’ve been married, you’ve never considered my desires, my needs, because the greatest talent you possess, Caroline, is thinking only of yourself!”
My Darling Caroline Page 17