Though it was usually Sebastian who ran away. Not that she could blame him, after yesterday’s revelations. It made her feel quite sick, thinking of how miserable he must have been as a child, abandoned by his mother, bearing the brunt of his father’s anger and shame. Had the countess made a failed attempt to contact her son? Surely, surely she would have. Yet there were parents who didn’t care for their children. She had one herself, for goodness’ sake. Perhaps Sebastian was right, it was better not to know. Or was it? Wouldn’t it be better to be certain? Or would that hurt even more?
He had been so angry yesterday, quite furious with her, yet she had not once felt threatened. It hadn’t taken much, of late, for her husband to turn his anger upon her. She had learnt to detect the signs, and had become adept at smoothing the waters, diffusing the threat. She could see now that such behaviour only made things worse, enhanced her feelings of being a helpless victim, trapped in a loveless marriage. She was getting stronger now. Feeling much better about herself. Thanks in no small part to Sebastian. Though trying to picture herself confronting Sir Grahame—her mind baulked at the notion. Not yet. Perhaps she should tackle her father first. But even that thought made her stomach knot.
Sebastian was right. She had far better focus her energy on her own problems without interfering in his. But his were so much more interesting. She didn’t love him of course, but she did care for him. It was her duty, really, to help him, when he had helped her so much.
She had reached the boundary wall. Through those woods, across the rustic bridge, lay the formal gardens of Killellan Manor. She had come here by that route ten years ago. She’d thought herself miserable at the time. How young and how very naïve she had been. Looking back, she realised Bella must have been younger than Caro was now. Not much older than Celia, in fact. It’s true, Bella could have made more of an effort, but really, they had made it so clear that they considered her an interloper—little wonder she was so uppity with them.
Caro propped her chin on her hands, leaning on the cool stone of the wall. No one could ever accuse Bella of having failed to do her duty. Four healthy boys, and when last they had met, she had been increasing again—a surprise to all, since it had been six years since the twins were born.
A melancholic mood stole over her. She knew her father well enough. Once he had made a decision, he would stick to it. Given time, a great deal of time, spent in whatever obscurity she could manage, her father may soften his stance enough to allow her to call upon him, but she doubted very much that he would allow such a wayward daughter to contaminate the air breathed by any of his precious sons. She did not see her brothers often, but she loved them wholeheartedly, and it pained her a great deal to think about how long it might be before she was permitted to see them again.
It was pointless even to contemplate changing her father’s mind. In fact, it was wrong of her to think about doing so, when it was obvious she would fail. She was done with bending to his will, and she would not return to her husband. Which left the tricky question of what she proposed to do instead. She was not at all confident she could persuade her husband to provide her with an adequate allowance upon which to survive. While living in London, her lack of funds meant she had no option but to run up debts in Sir Grahame’s name. Meagre debts, for necessities, but even those he had held against her, exaggerating both the amounts and the nature of the purchases. If she could live independently she would, but how to do that, when he would not even return her dowry?
It was so unfair. The marriage she had made to make her father happy was the cause of their estrangement. She had paid a high price for her mistake, physically and mentally. She had failed, but it hadn’t been wholly her fault. She wasn’t so conceited as to think she was entitled to an easy life, but surely she didn’t deserve this?
Suddenly exhausted, she sank down on the daisy-strewn grass. What with dead mothers who weren’t dead, and fathers who didn’t deserve their daughter’s love and husbands whom she wished were dead, she had barely thought about yesterday afternoon. Sebastian’s kisses. Sebastian’s touch. The mirror over the Queen’s bed. Who would have thought there could be such pleasure in doing such wicked things. She smiled and closed her eyes, remembering. Within minutes, she was asleep.
* * *
Sebastian finished tying his cravat and slipped into a striped waistcoat. Frowning, he picked up the calling card from the silver tray, but the flowing script gave him no more clue as to his visitor’s purpose than when Mrs Keith had delivered it fifteen minutes earlier. There was still no sign of Caro, who had missed breakfast as well as last night’s dinner. He had spent a sleepless night wrestling with his conscience. All very well to tell himself that Caro was as much to blame as he for what had happened in the Queen’s bed. All very well to tell himself that it was exactly what he had told her, a pleasurable way of spending the afternoon and nothing more. All very well, but it was Caro and not some courtesan who had been in that bed with him, and no woman, courtesan or mistress, had ever made him feel that way.
But Caro was not the sort of woman who had affaires, and he was not the sort of man who had anything else. Yet he struggled to convince himself that it was wrong. Which was the thing that worried him most, because it was wrong.
He picked up his coat of dark blue superfine and pulled it on. He had lied to her, deliberately understating what she had made him feel because he didn’t like admitting that he felt anything. Other than pleasure, of course. Pleasure was perfectly acceptable, provided that was all he felt but the truth was with Caro, that wasn’t all he felt. He liked Caro. He admired her. He enjoyed her company. What he didn’t like was the way she got under his skin. He didn’t like the unpalatable truths she told. He didn’t like the way she challenged him, forced him to look anew at long-established facts. His mother, for example. Ancient history. Dead and buried.
Until yesterday, dammit! Now the questions she had thrown at him went round and round in his head demanding answers. Which was rich, considering how many questions of her own she was avoiding. Most likely in fact, that she was managing to avoid them by distracting herself with his problems. Damned if he would let her!
Now fate had unexpectedly dealt him a wildcard. He smiled, eyeing the visitor’s missive. It would be interesting to see how this particular hand played out. Giving his reflection a final check in the mirror, he quit his bedchamber.
* * *
Throwing open the doors of the Gold Drawing Room, Sebastian made a sweeping bow. ‘Lady Armstrong,’ he said to his visitor, ‘this is an unexpected pleasure.’
He remembered Caro’s stepmother as a large, full-bosomed woman with a raddled face. The woman who held her hand out to him now was substantially slimmer, rather pretty in the manner of a faded English rose, and dressed in the height of fashion, if rather over-elaborately for a country call, in a violet gown with a silk underdress and a tiered tulle skirt embroidered with white cotton lace in a floral design. ‘How do you do, Lord Ardhallow.’
He brushed her gloved hand with his fingers, and sat down in the chair opposite, banishing the image that flashed into his mind of himself and Caro kissing on the window seat. ‘It has been some years since I had the pleasure of your acquaintance.’
A tight little smile greeted this remark. ‘Indeed.’
‘I think it was in London, wasn’t, it, the last time our paths crossed? At a ball hosted by one of our neighbours in fact. Lady Innellan. I had the pleasure of meeting her son only the other day. I wonder if her ladyship mentioned it to you?’
Another tight little smile, but he noticed the tell-tale blush on her cheeks. Naturally Lady Innellan would have interrogated her son about his visit to Crag Hall, for the rumours of Caro’s presence would have been bound to percolate through by now. Even if Sir Timothy had tried, as he had promised, to be discreet, Sebastian doubted he’d have lied. Caro’s name, or even the colour of her hair would have bee
n enough to alert Lady Innellan who would, of course, have been anxious to alert Lady Armstrong. It was clear Lady Armstrong’s curiosity exceeded her scruples, given her unexpected and not coincidental decision to come calling.
‘This room is in need of some radical refurbishment,’ she was saying, eyeing the drawing room with disdain. ‘I hope you will not think me rude, Lord Ardhallow, but I must inform you that your housekeeper deserves her notice. This place has not been swept for months.’
‘You must not blame Mrs Keith. She has not the staff to maintain the estate adequately.’
Lady Armstrong fidgeted with the strings of her reticule. ‘I have heard—you must be aware—in short, my lord, it has come to my attention that you have a—a female residing here who is not of the servant class.’
‘Come to your attention via Lady Innellan,’ Sebastian replied, earning himself a sharp look.
‘A female whom I suspect is not unknown to me, my lord.’
‘One who should, in fact, be a lot more dear to you than she is. Did Lady Innellan, for I have no doubt it was she, also speculate as to the intimacy of my relationship with this lady? No doubt she put the most scurrilous slant on it. I trust, since you are marginally better acquainted with this lady than our neighbour, that you had no hesitation in contradicting her?’
A dark flush stained Lady Armstrong’s throat. Her mouth pursed as she wrestled with the need to demonstrate her outrage by quitting his depraved lair at once and her desire to discover whether the rumours were true. Her inquisitiveness won. It was, in truth, a routine victory. ‘Since I have had no communication with Caroline for months, it is impossible for me to make any comment whatsoever on her various—behaviours,’ she said, twitching her skirts.
‘I believe that to be rather your fault than hers. Or should I say, it is rather attributable to the decree Lord Armstrong issued.’
‘My husband only ever wants what is best for his daughters.’
‘It would appear he signally failed in the case of Caro.’
Lady Armstrong flinched. ‘It is a mistake to interfere between man and wife, Lord Ardhallow. One must not judge what goes on behind closed doors.’
In the face of such determined indifference, which bordered on the callous, Sebastian could hardly control his anger. The woman must know what type of a man Rider was, she could not possibly be ignorant of what Caro had suffered. Her own stepdaughter! ‘You advocate a reconciliation?’
‘My husband believes that Sir Grahame would be most forgiving.’
He jumped to his feet. ‘It is not for that bastard to forgive. Dammit, have you any idea...’ He forced himself to bite his tongue. ‘I beg your pardon.’
‘I see Lady Innellan was right in her suppositions as to Caroline’s presence here,’ Lady Armstrong said tightly. ‘And I was right when I warned Caroline about you all these years ago.’
‘Once a rake, eh? You were wrong, you know. I never had any intentions of ruining her.’
‘One can only assume that like is attracted to like, however. She is quite ruined now, and will be beyond rescue if she continues to reside under your roof.’
‘But if she returns to the man who beat her all will be forgiven and she will be welcomed back into the family fold, is that that?’
‘She is his wife. My husband assures me that...’
‘Your husband would call black white if it suited his purposes. Caro won’t go back.’
‘Not while you are providing her with an alternative, Lord Ardhallow. But what will happen to her when you grow bored with her as you do with all your mistresses?’ Lady Armstrong got to her feet. ‘You see, I am not so ill informed as you might think, for one who spends most of her life in the country.’
‘Caro is perfectly capable of making a life for herself.’
Lady Armstrong snorted. ‘From which I must assume that her residence here, under your protection, is indeed temporary. I confess I am relieved, it is somewhat embarrassing for my husband to have her so near at hand.’
‘He would prefer she took her disgrace abroad?’
‘He would prefer she repented. Be assured, I will keep Caroline’s presence here to myself. I see no point in inflaming the situation even further.’ Lady Armstrong opened her reticule and handed him an embossed card. ‘I did not come here solely to discuss Caroline. The other reason for my visit is to deliver an invitation to my daughter’s forthcoming christening.’
Sebastian took the card with some surprise. ‘You want to invite me to Killellan Manor, even though...’
‘You are the Marquis of Ardhallow.’ Lady Armstrong interrupted him with one of her tight smiles. ‘Whatever I may think of your person or your habits, your title is one of the oldest in the county and your lands the most extensive. I freely confess it would be quite a social coup for me to have you attend Isabella’s introduction to the world, given your reclusive reputation.’
He was about to throw the invitation dismissively at her feet, when a most devilish thought occurred to him, giving him pause. Sebastian made a small bow. ‘Since it would be most ungallant of me to deny you your social triumph, Lady Armstrong,’ he said, ‘I look forward to seeing both you and Lord Armstrong on the day.’
* * *
‘Bella was here at Crag Hall!’ Caro put a hand to her mouth in horror.
‘I received her in the Gold Drawing Room, to be precise,’ Sebastian said. ‘She is gone now, so you need not look so spooked.’
Caro sank down into her customary chair in the small cluttered salon. ‘I can’t believe she was actually here. Goodness, if I had not fallen asleep in the meadow, I might have bumped right into her.’
‘So that’s where you were.’
‘I had a somewhat disturbed night.’ She flushed, suddenly remembering the terms upon which they had parted yesterday. ‘You were right,’ she said, quickly turning the subject, ‘it is time I put my own house in order, so to speak, without attempting to order yours.’
‘Good. As to that I think you should start sooner, rather than later.’
Caro felt her heart sink. To her surprise, Sebastian smiled. ‘Did you think I meant...? No, a perfect opportunity for you to make a start has fallen into our lap, right here.’
‘Here?’ She wasn’t relieved, Caro told herself. It wasn’t that she wanted to stay, or that she would have any reason to object if Sebastian wished her to leave sooner rather than later. Not at all. ‘How so?’
‘Your stepmother came to invite me to her daughter’s christening.’
‘So Bella has finally had a daughter,’ Caro replied, momentarily distracted. ‘She will be delighted.’ Her face fell. ‘My stepsister will probably be making her come-out by the time I meet her.’
‘On the contrary, you will see her in two days. You are coming with me to the christening.’
‘Good grief, Sebastian, how can you even suggest such a thing!’ Caro jumped to her feet and began to pace the very small amount of available floor space anxiously. ‘My father will be there. My father who, in case it has slipped your mind, has utterly disowned me. And Bella too, you are not going to tell me that she included me in the invitation. No, of course not, how could she when she doesn’t even know that I am here at Crag Hall.’ She stopped in her tracks as a sudden appalling thought occurred to her. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here, does she?’
‘Lady Innellan put two and two together following her son’s visit, and made short work of informing her bosom bow. I’m sorry, but you said yourself it was inevitable.’
Caro nodded, feeling slightly sick. Bella knew. Bella would assume exactly what Sir Timothy had assumed and judge her accordingly. Leaving her husband’s protection, Caro had at least felt herself to be morally in the right. Living at Crag Hall with Sebastian, no matter how innocent—and there was nothing at all innocent about what had occurred between them
yesterday—she had placed herself firmly in the wrong. ‘Do you think my father knows?’ she asked faintly.
‘Your stepmother swore she would not tell him, but—Caro, your father is not a man who keeps his head buried in the sand. If he is not aware of your presence here now, he most certainly will be when you turn up on his doorstep.’
She shuddered. ‘I intend to do no such thing.’
‘Dammit, Caro, I thought you’d be pleased,’ Sebastian exclaimed. ‘This is a golden opportunity to send a message to your family and the world that you are not prepared to hide yourself away like some common criminal. You will attend as my companion and I for one will be proud to have you on my arm. You expressed a desire to be scandalous, since that is how you have been unfairly labelled. What better opportunity to demonstrate it?
‘I can’t! Sebastian, it is one thing to behave scandalously, it is quite another to be notorious, I think. Besides, I have no wish to disrupt or ruin the christening of an innocent child. That would be wrong.’
‘Which is why I suggest we forgo the church service and save our grand entrance for the party.’
‘Sebastian, I not sure I could carry it off. My father...’
‘Lady Armstrong made it very clear that you have burnt your bridges, Caro. Your father will not forgive you unless you return to your husband. Why are you concerning yourself with your father’s sensibilities? He has forfeited the right to such consideration.’
Caro nodded. ‘I know, but it is a very difficult habit to break,’ she said, managing a weak smile. ‘One thing is for certain, however, I am categorically not going back to my husband, regardless of what my father wishes. Did Bella—was she really so plain on that matter?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Sebastian said, pulling her into his arms.
She knew she should resist, but she was feeling decidedly unnerved and his embrace was distinctly comforting. Caro leaned her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, slow, steady, reassuring. ‘I married the man of his choice—at least, one of the selection he gave me.’
Rumors That Ruined a Lady Page 16