"What the hell is going on here? Why is Caroline here alone?" bellowed Charles.
Tom immediately jumped to his feet.
"Funny, Charles. I was about to ask you the same thing."
"Boys, please," Rebecca spoke calmly, "let's not start drawing pistols just yet."
"How did you know she was here anyway?" Tom demanded, still furious at the lot of them for letting Caroline slip away so easily.
"Let me ring for tea and I shall explain."
"I do not want tea," Tom answered mutinously then, taking a look at Rebecca's expression, he swore under his breath and rang for it all the same.
Caroline sighed in contentment as the hot water soaked into her shivering bones. For a while there she had thought that she would never get warm again.
She could not believe her luck in Tom finding her, just when all seemed lost.
And now she was here, in his house.
She knew that as soon as news got out of this, and it always did in London, she would be utterly ruined. Yet she could not bring herself to care.
No, all she cared about was the fact that she was here with Tom and she was not going to leave until she told him how she felt.
Caroline soaked until the water began to cool and then reluctantly stepped out, allowing herself to be assisted by one of Tom's downstairs maids.
She was sitting wrapped in a fluffy blanket drying her hair by the fire when a knock sounded on the door.
Mrs. Smith, the kindly housekeeper, had said that Tom was arranging gowns for her and Miss Channing. She had no idea how, nor did she care; she was just anxious to see him and tell him what a silly mix up all this marriage nonsense had been.
Calling, 'come in' Caroline turned back to the fire to continue drying her hair. It was almost done, with just a few damp strands left.
"Caro."
Caroline nearly yelped at the familiar voice.
Rebecca stood in the doorway, clutching a bundle of material that Caroline guessed to be clothes.
"Becca, what on earth are you doing here?"
"Oh, dearest, we were so worried," said Rebecca coming forward and dumping the bundle on the bed before clutching Caroline to her in a brief hug. "Are you alright?"
Caroline was too shocked by Rebecca's presence to answer for a moment.
"Y-yes I'm fine. But, how are you here?"
"Well, I came to check on you in your room and Sally said you had disappeared. We searched the house and then the stables and finally Jimmy confessed that you had tricked him and taken Fortuna. At first we thought it was just for a ride but then, why would you lie about that? Charles guessed that you must have headed straight to London. And it looks as though he was right."
There was a brief pause before Rebecca burst into speech again.
"Oh Caroline, how could you be so foolish? What a risk you took. Anything could have happened to you. You could have been killed or—or worse."
Caroline wondered if she should ask what could be worse than being murdered but Rebecca wasn't finished.
"And as for your reputation, well you can kiss that goodbye. Who knows who saw you riding through the streets of London? And then to come here and send for a dress. I mean, really. What can you have been thinking?"
Caroline listened to Rebecca's lecture and was suddenly struck with how much their roles had reserved. Only two short years ago they'd had similar conversations only it had been Rebecca sitting meekly while Caroline delivered a sermon.
She could not help it. She burst into peals of laughter.
"How can you possibly think this is funny?" asked Rebecca sternly.
"I do not. Truly, Becca. I am sorry for worrying you. But does it not strike you as a little humorous that I should be sitting here with you ringing a peal over my head about behaviour and propriety?"
Rebecca tried to remain stern faced but eventually laughed along with Caroline.
"Be that as it may, it is still a very serious situation. I do not know what we are going to do. Hadley was of course there for the uproar and since Charles told him in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome to pay his addresses to you, I am afraid London will be filled with news of your disgrace."
"I am sorry," Caroline said now sincerely. "I know that yours and Edward's names will be dragged through the mud because of me."
"Oh I do not care about that," said Rebecca stoutly. "Nobody will be brave enough to say it to our faces and Edward's reputation is impeccable enough that we could withstand anything. And Charles thought that perhaps with Tom leaving, the scandal might die down soon enough. Especially if there's a new one soon, which I'm quite certain Charles could orchestrate, given his talent for it."
"Tom is not leaving."
Rebecca looked confused.
"Oh. Isn't that why he came here? To leave?"
"Yes, but he's not."
"Did he tell you he was staying?"
"No."
Rebecca gazed at Caroline in some astonishment before frowning and touching her forehead.
"Have you caught a fever?"
Caroline stood and brushed Rebecca's hand away.
"I'm perfectly fine, Rebecca. Did you bring those clothes?"
"What? Oh, yes. We had just arrived home and were preparing to send out search parties when a note came requesting clothes. So we all came rushing round."
"Right," Caroline answered distractedly, pulling the clothes on haphazardly.
Rebecca stood to help with the buttons and then was left standing in shock as Caroline rushed from the room, her hair flying out behind her.
Tom, Charles, and Edward had finished with the recriminations and were settling down to discuss how to do damage control when the study door flew open signalling the arrival of Caroline with Rebecca fast on her heels.
Aunt Catherine had gone to attend to Tom's surprise guest, Miss Channing, and had not yet returned.
He felt his mouth open at the vision Caroline presented.
Rebecca had obviously brought one of Caroline's own gowns for it fit her like a glove, the light blue muslin skimming her slender frame. She had obviously put it on in a rush for she did not have that well put-together air that usually surrounded her.
But what really grabbed his attention was her hair.
Tumbling loosely around her shoulders, it was like a curtain of golden silk. How many times had he dreamed of it like this? Framing her face and flowing down her back like a river of purest sunshine?
He had to physically stop himself from grabbing her and burying his face in all its glory.
She looked stunningly beautiful, her cheeks heightened by anger or excitement, her rosy lips parted, and that hair. Dear God how could he leave her? And yet, how could he stay?
"You're not leaving," she said as if she could read his mind.
"What?" he asked in confusion.
"You're not leaving," she repeated firmly.
"I—" he stopped because, in truth, he had no idea what to say.
He looked to Rebecca for some clue as to what was going on but Rebecca merely shrugged. She clearly had no idea either.
"Is she sick?" he asked Rebecca.
"I'm standing right here. And no I am not."
"Right."
He had no idea what to say and clearly, neither did anyone else as they all watched with avid interest.
Caroline marched over to him.
"How could you do this to me?" she asked, her tone accusatory.
"Do what?" he asked affronted because really it was she who had done something to him. At least, that was what he had thought until Charles had explained what had happened with Hadley.
Tom felt massively relieved but more than a little foolish that he'd almost gotten on a boat to New York in a fit of temper. In hindsight, it seemed a little overdramatic. In his defence though, his heart had been completely shattered.
"How could you leave? I thought—"
He stood now and moved to stand in front of her, in the middle of the room.
"You thought what?" he asked, his eyes piercing her own.
Would she be brave enough to say it? In front of everyone?
He watched as her eyes danced round the room, as her tongue darted out to wet her lips and very nearly gave him a heart attack in the process.
"I thought you loved me," she said huskily now and her vulnerability tore at his heart.
Of course he loved her. But he was terrified. He had believed, so easily, that nothing had changed. Did he deserve her? Did he trust her?
She had never said that she loved him.
But Caroline wasn't finished.
"I hoped that you loved me. That you would ask me to be your wife." Her eyes filled with tears and he moved to take her in his arms but she moved back and shook her head slightly.
And then he understood.
She wanted to do this alone, wanted to prove to him that she meant what she had said. That she was going to be brave this time, in a way that she hadn't been two years ago.
"I want to be your wife," she said now boldly, clearly.
From the corner of his eye, Tom noticed that Aunt Catherine and Caroline's beautiful companion had silently entered the room.
Caroline, it seemed, had not noticed at all.
"I want to be your wife because—because I love you. I have always loved you and I will never love anyone but you. And I meant what I said. I will only marry the man I love. If—" she swallowed nervously and the action nearly brought Tom to his knees.
She was being so brave. His brave, beautiful Caroline.
"If he will consent to have me."
He didn't know what to say. His heart was filled with words of love but none of them seemed enough.
So he answered her in the way he knew always worked for them.
He grabbed her, pulled her close and gave her an earth-shattering kiss.
Caroline felt light-headed as the impact of what she'd done registered within her. She had declared herself in full view of them all, after she had ridden alone to London to chase after a man.
Her father would kill her.
But all rational thought was fast leaving her body as Tom's mouth worked its magic again. She never wanted it to stop. But stop it did and all too soon.
Tom held her away from him and when Caroline reluctantly opened her eyes, they were met with his glowing with the power of his love. The sight made her heart catch in her throat.
"If I will consent to have you?" he said, hoarsely but reverently. "Caroline, I haven't wanted anything but you since the first time I met you when you marched straight into my heart and captured it."
Caroline beamed at his words. To hear him say it, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
"I do not just love you. Love is not a strong enough word for what I feel. I'm consumed by you, mind, body, and soul. I am yours. I always have been."
Caroline felt a tear trickle down her cheek but it was a tear of exquisite happiness.
"Marry me," he said now and to her shock, produced a beautiful sapphire ring.
"I've been waiting two years to give you this," he said shyly before slipping it onto her finger.
It fit as though it had been made for her.
"Be my wife."
Caroline smiled and wound her arms round his neck.
"I thought you'd never ask. Again."
EPILOGUE
NEITHER CAROLINE NOR Tom wanted to wait overly long to be married so Tom applied for a special licence and, thankfully, got one.
There was only time then for the banns to be read before the day came, four weeks later.
Caroline would have been married at home, of course, but her parents had assured her that they were ready to sample the delights of London again and were happy to make the journey to see her wed.
Her father had appeared even older and weaker since she had last seen him and Caroline felt the familiar stab of guilt.
Had she weakened him by not doing as he wished?
Her answer came during one fine autumn morning while she and her father sat in their townhouse.
"Papa, do you like him? Are you happy? I know it is not what you wanted but—"
Her father had held up a hand to silence her.
"What I wanted," he said, his voice weakened by the strenuous journey, "was for my little girl to be happy and well settled. Caroline, if I had known you had fallen in love with a man as excellent as our Tom, I would have been delighted."
Caroline had grasped his hand tightly.
"Truly?" she whispered.
Papa had patted her hand and smiled kindly.
"Of course. Caroline, I have only ever wanted your happiness. And that of your sister and brother. Tom is a wonderful man and I know you will be well looked after."
Caroline had felt her heart soar and a massive weight lifted from her shoulders. All that worry, all those years wasted for nothing. It was a sobering thought but rather than dwell on what she had missed, she focused on all the wonderful years that lay ahead.
And now, here she stood, resplendent in ivory silk, waiting for her father to walk her down the aisle and give her to the man she loved.
"We're leaving," Tom growled in her ear, sending delicious shivers down her spine, an hour later as they stood amongst the guests at their wedding breakfast.
"No, we are not," she answered back, though she could not keep the longing from her eyes.
"If you look at me like that again, we won't even make it home," he warned.
Caroline shivered. Perhaps they had been here long enough.
"How long have we been here?" she asked in a whisper, smiling at the guests milling around her parents' townhouse.
Tom checked his pocket watch then swore softly.
"Fifteen minutes," he answered.
Caroline laughed.
"It would cause a scandal if we were to leave so soon."
"And you've had enough scandal?" asked Tom regretfully.
"Oh," she answered with a mischievous wink, "I wouldn't say that."
He gave her a wolfish smile that turned her knees to water.
"Minx," he whispered in her ear before sweeping her from the room, bidding the swiftest goodbye in history to their respective families and tearing out the door to his waiting carriage.
Nobody heard from them for days.
Julia Channing stood a little awkwardly to the side of the crowded room, trying desperately to blend in.
She did not think that anyone would recognise her. But she did not want to take the risk.
"You know, if you move back any further you'll hit the wall."
Her breath caught as the silky tones of Charles Carrington's voice slid over her skin.
Julia was almost afraid to meet his eyes, knowing that she would feel the impact of them like a jolt to the heart.
"G-good day, my lord," she said breathlessly, curtsying and hoping he would move on.
No such luck.
"I never did get a chance to thank you properly," he said.
Julia frowned in confusion.
"For what, my lord?"
"Well, when that slithery little snake Hadley rushed back to London to destroy Caroline's reputation, you really stepped up and saved her hide, in a manner of speaking."
Julia had tentatively suggested, during the crisis talks that followed Mr. Crawdon's truly romantic proposal, that they put it around that she had been travelling as Caroline's companion.
Nobody knew where she had come from, so they had concocted a plan — the dowager was to say that she had hired Julia as her companion, and she had consented to travel with Caroline to London from Essex, where she lived.
It wasn't true, but then who was to know that?
And it had suited Julia in the end. After all, when she had left her father's house in the middle of the night with nothing but a small valise and a bagful of coins, she hadn't any plan in mind. Any thoughts of the future. Merely thoughts of escape.
She had been at the docks hoping to get on a boat, bu
t she did not really know where she would go. Her aunt in France was sure to send her straight back to Papa and she had no other family.
She had no idea what she was going to do with her life and in helping the new Mrs. Crawdon, Julia had managed to secure a position for herself.
The dowager insisted that Julia become her companion for at least six months to lend credence to their story. And since Julia had made plans as far as escaping and not much else, the companionship was an ideal solution.
That was, of course, unless someone recognised her. But she did not think they would. Her father was a baron of very little importance when compared to the leading ladies and gentlemen of the haute monde assembled in this room. No, the Channings were decidedly below the attention of most here. And hopefully the dowager would only move in such vaulted circles, for Julia knew that she would be recognised instantly by her father's peers, perhaps even her father himself would come looking for her. Him or the horrifying Lord Larsden…
Julia wasn't sure which was worse.
She realised the ridiculously handsome viscount was awaiting a response.
"It suited me well, my lord. Besides, Lady Caroline, I mean, Mrs. Crawdon is a good person. She did not deserve to have her reputation tarnished."
"But surely you could not have meant to be a companion?" Charles asked incredulously.
Julia felt her hackles rise.
"And why would you think that, my lord?" she asked still politely, though now with iron in her tone.
Charles noticed it and grinned. She was a sassy little thing. And with the type of looks that men went mad for; it was a heady combination.
"Just that you do not look like a usual companion, Miss Channing."
"I don't?" she asked in adorable innocence.
"No," he answered, his eyes raking over her and his blood heating instantaneously, "you are far, far too beautiful."
Julia felt shocked at his compliment and, to her surprise, her skin began to heat beneath his scrutiny.
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