‘Let us rather say that it has crystallised things,’ Caro replied.
Watching her pull herself out of the tangle which her marriage had become, his admiration for her had grown. Seeing her today, witnessing the courage with which she faced the ill-disguised antagonism of the party guests, knowing how painful it was for her to come up against the appalling indifference of her parent, he felt a fierce pride combined with an equally fierce urge to protect her from all and sundry. The intensity of that desire took him aback. ‘I would have been tempted to throttle your father had I been present at your interview,’ he said grimly. ‘Perhaps it’s as well that I was not.’
‘I was tempted to throttle him myself at one point,’ Caro replied, this time with a more convincing smile. ‘Having you with me got me across the threshold at Killellan. Knowing you were there, that you were on my side, gave me the strength to face my father, but that I needed to do on my own.’ She reached for his hand and brushed it against her cheek. ‘Thank you.’
Her words had an air of finality about them that instilled a strange sense of panic in him. ‘You have no need to thank me. We social outcasts must look out for each other, since no one else will,’ he said in a feeble attempt to make light of things.
‘That is another thing my father made very clear. My being here is not just improper, it is exposing you to a—in short, he thinks that Sir Grahame could sue you for criminal conversation.’
‘Nonsense. He would not dare.’
‘Sebastian, listen to me. If my father is right, my husband would have your name bandied around the courts and the gutter press. Such cases are horribly sordid and very public, I could not...’
He yanked at the knot in his neckcloth and hurled the starched linen to the ground. ‘How many times must I tell you, I don’t give a damn about my reputation.’
‘But you should.’ Caro caught at his sleeve. ‘I care. I care that people are talking about you because of me, I feel terribly guilty about that, after all, you virtually saved my life. And I—I also care that the things they are saying of me are true. When it was unfounded rumours about boot boys and stable hands it didn’t matter because I was blameless. But our actions have—don’t you see, I’m not blameless any more?’
‘Devil take it, your father has made an excellent job of heaping guilt upon your head.’
She winced. ‘He said only what everyone else will say.’
Sebastian had no choice, thinking back to his conversation with Lady Armstrong, other than to accept this unpalatable truth. ‘The fact is, Rider’s is the only opinion which really matters.’
‘I know. I have to see him.’
‘I would do anything to spare you the need to confront the man. Perhaps I could arrange for a lawyer to speak on your behalf...’
‘You cannot fight my battles for me, I must speak to him myself. It is not only that I have to understand what his position is regarding our marriage, I also need to put matters between us on some sort of more dignified footing.’ She made a wry face. ‘I find I am uncomfortable being the wrongdoer.’
He caught her to him. ‘Damn your father, I am very proud of you, Caro. You’ve come a long way from the pitiful creature I found languishing in St John Marne’s opium den.’ He kissed her swiftly, tearing his lips from hers before passion could take hold of him. ‘I will make the arrangements for your journey to town. The sooner the better, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I agree. Thank you.’
‘And while you are gone, I shall take the opportunity to write to my mother. You have not the monopoly on guilt. Whatever her reasons for leaving here, I owe her the opportunity to explain herself. I see that clearly now.’
He watched her go and the panicky feeling which had been gnawing at his belly intensified. What was wrong with him? Of course he was concerned for her, that was natural, but he had every confidence in her ability to handle the situation with her husband. She had to go, because without this meeting she would be in legal limbo. But he didn’t want her to go. Not now. Not ever.
Why? Because he was in love with her. It was quite simple.
Sebastian discovered that it really was possible to feel as if the world had stopped turning on its axis. He was in love, for the first time in his life, and the woman he loved belonged to another.
Dammit to hell!
He began to prowl restlessly around the ruins of the orangery. He loved her, and she had more than enough problems to last her a lifetime without him declaring himself. Even if she did return his feelings...
Sebastian came to an abrupt halt in front of a long-dead vine. Last night, there had been an intensity in her love-making. A desperation in her kisses. A new depth to their passion. Last night they had truly made love. He swore under his breath. Of course she cared for him. And he realised too, with a sickening feeling, that last night had been her way of saying goodbye.
She was, as she had just admitted, at heart a moral woman. She would return to Crag Hall after seeing Rider, but unless by some miracle she could free herself without shame, she would not consider staying. Which meant, Sebastian told himself squarely, that they needed a miracle.
Love, he was discovering, was a most contrarily optimistic emotion, quite oblivious of logic and facts. It really was possible for a heart to overrule a head. He loved her. They were meant to be together. They would find a way because he simply could not contemplate a future without her.
Chapter Eleven
Caro reached London a few days later, weary but determined. It was tempting to pass the journey conjuring daydreams of what might have been had she not been married, but that way lay heartache. That Sebastian cared for her she did not doubt. That he could have grown to love her—had circumstances been different—she would not allow herself to contemplate. Circumstances were not different, and were highly unlikely to change. Indeed, it would be better if he felt nothing for her, for she would not—she could not—inflict the life to which she was likely to be condemned on him. The best she could hope for was freedom, from both her marriage and society’s disapproval. And that was a great deal more than she had dared wish for when she had been so foolish as to seek oblivion with opium. To have finally known love, to have made love to the man she loved, that would have to be sufficient to sustain her on whatever path her future might take her.
Intent upon coming to a resolution with her husband as soon as possible, Caro was dismayed to discover that Sir Grahame had been summoned to his estates in Derbyshire, though was expected back any day. She had a note sent round to Aunt Sophia from the lodging-house she had booked into, thinking merely to confirm that this door too was closed to her, and was astonished when the lady turned up in person.
Her aunt, who had always had the demeanour of a grumpy camel, had aged considerably in the last year but though her back was no longer straight, her conversation was, as ever, to the point.
‘You’ve certainly made a spectacular hash of things, young lady,’ she said, dusting off a rickety chair with a lace handkerchief and lowering herself carefully down. ‘Now, tell me exactly what’s being going on.’
* * *
‘I have to take my hat off to you, you may even have outdone your sisters in the behaviour-beyond-the-pale stakes, which takes a bit of doing,’ she said, when Caro had concluded a brief and carefully edited summary of recent events. ‘I was relieved to get your note, I must say. My brother won’t even have your name mentioned. And yet you inform me that you had the gumption to walk in on Isabella’s christening!’ Lady Sophia cackled. ‘Wish I’d witnessed that, but egad, Caroline, what on earth were you thinking? Henry can’t abide being put in the wrong, you should know that.’
‘So you agree then, that he is in the wrong?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’
‘I won’t go back to my husband,’ Caro said, crossing her arms over
her chest. ‘If that’s what you’ve come to tell me...’
‘I always did think there was a stubborn streak under that compliant façade.’ Her ladyship’s expression softened. ‘Come here, child,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Is it true? Not that balderdash in the scandal sheets, no one believes that, but—did he mistreat you?’
Caro nodded.
‘Why didn’t you confide in me?’
‘I was so ashamed. Besides, what could you have done? I was his wife. I still am.’
‘I may be old, but I am not necessarily old-fashioned,’ Lady Sophia said firmly. ‘I don’t subscribe to the popular belief that a wife is a man’s property. I don’t say that I’d have been able to make him stop, but I could have had words, warned him off. And I could have offered you some much needed respite.’
‘Sanctuary. That is what I had at Crag Hall.’
‘Aye. I remember you were always fond of young Conway. You look surprised. My body may be failing but I still have my faculties.’ Lady Sophia’s grim smile faded. ‘Are you in love with him?’ she asked sharply.
‘It doesn’t matter. I am married to Sir Grahame.’
‘And Lord Ardhallow, what are his feelings towards you?’
‘Sebastian has his estates to think of. He would deny it of course, but I really do think he has changed. Deep down, his heart belongs to his lands.’
Her aunt nodded. ‘Which is precisely as it should be. It is an impossible situation, my dear. Painful as it is, I am pleased that you recognise that unfortunate reality for yourself.’
Which she did, though it was horribly difficult to have it articulated in such an unequivocal way. Caro managed a weak smile.
‘I take it then, that this upcoming interview with your husband is to agree terms?’ her aunt continued in a business-like manner. ‘I am relieved that you will not be discussing divorce.’
‘Would that be so terrible?’
Lady Sophia looked aghast. ‘Caroline, you are not seriously considering—why, you would be forced to leave England. Your father would insist on that.’
‘I am of age, Aunt. My father cannot insist on anything.’
‘He can if he holds the purse strings,’ Lady Sophia said tartly. ‘How do you think you will live elsewise? As a divorcee you will forfeit your dowry, and it is not as if you are equipped to earn a living.’
‘I hadn’t thought about that.’
‘Then you would do well to do so before you meet with your husband.’ Lady Sophia threw her a sharp look. ‘I have always thought you the most sensible of Henry’s girls, Caroline. Difficult as this situation is, I am sure that given time, your father will come round.’
‘Provided my behaviour is exemplary,’ Caro said bitterly.
‘Precisely,’ her ladyship said, unaware that she was breaking one of her golden rules and agreeing with her brother. ‘Now, one thing is certain, you cannot stay here while you await Sir Grahame’s return to town, this place looks as if it might be overrun by vermin at any moment.’ Lady Sophia sighed and heaved herself to her feet. ‘Pack your bags. You’ll have to use the side door to come and go, and you’ll need to keep to your room when I have visitors, but you can stay with me until you resolve matters.’
‘Aunt! Do you mean it? My father...’
Lady Sophia snorted. ‘What Henry doesn’t know cannot harm him. You’re family, and no amount of proclaiming otherwise can change that. Now, are you coming or not?’
* * *
Some three days later, Caro paid off the driver and descended from the hackney carriage into Portman Square. The town house belonging to the Rider family was one of the smaller residences, a narrow three-storey building constructed in red sandstone, with a stuccoed frontage. She had never truly felt at home here, and had consequently never made any attempt to change the old-fashioned fixtures and fittings which dated from when Sir Grahame’s grandfather had built the house eighty years ago.
A thick fog hung over the city like a damp blanket. In the manicured green space at the centre of the square, the leaves were already changing colour on the trees. Though it seemed to her that the weeks at Crag Hall had been golden, in fact the summer which had so rapidly ceded to autumn had been one of the wettest for years.
Her stomach was churning. Despite her father’s threats and her aunt’s dire warnings, Caro could not dispel the tiny seed of hope that today she would discover some resolution which would free her from both her husband and from scandal. It was unlikely in the extreme, she knew, but so much depended upon it. She could not bear the idea of remaining married to a man she had come to despise.
She had not spoken to her husband since the day she left him, almost six months ago. Though she had told herself she was no longer afraid of him, crossing the familiar dark reception hall in the wake of the ancient butler, fear turned her fog-damp skin clammy. He was just a man, she reminded herself even if, like it or not, she was still legally his property.
As the butler opened the panelled door, Caro summoned up Sebastian’s image. She remembered him, tall, strong, unflinching, resolutely by her side that day at the christening. Courage, he’d said, and she’d found it because she didn’t want to let him down. She found it now, not just because she wouldn’t let him down, but because she wouldn’t let herself down either. ‘Courage, Caro,’ she whispered to herself, and stepped into the morning room.
Her husband was standing by the window which looked out over the square, and had obviously observed her arrival. He was a tall man, well built, with a long narrow countenance and cheekbones so sharp that they made shadows on his face. Black hair receded from a sharp widow’s peak to loose curls which she knew he despised and regularly weighted with hair pomade. He had a strong nose and a sensuous mouth. Caro had once thought him handsome. Hovering next to the door, uncertain how to greet him, she could not help but compare his pale complexion with Sebastian’s tan, his grey eyes with Sebastian’s brown ones, his thin smile with Sebastian’s warm and endearing one. This was the man she had married more than five years ago, the man she had promised to love, honour and obey, the man to whom she had given her virginity and with whom she had hoped to have a family. The man who had destroyed her confidence and her reputation. The man who had hurt her, literally and metaphorically.
Looking at him now, she could not quite believe any of it. It was as if that life belonged to another Caro, not just younger but less formed and more uncertain. And Sir Grahame—she felt as if she did not know him, had never known him. It made her feel vaguely queasy to think of how intimate they had once been. She felt as if she was looking at a stranger. What she didn’t feel, she realised as he crossed the room towards her, was fear.
‘Hello, Caroline.’
She turned her face away so that his lips brushed her cheek, and slipped quickly from his embrace to take up position at the window, putting a table and a sofa between them. ‘Sir Grahame,’ she said, pulling off her gloves and setting them down on the half-table which spanned the gap between the windows. She kept her bonnet and her coat on.
‘Won’t you sit down? I’ve ordered tea.’
‘I’m fine where I am, thank you.’
His mouth twisted into that smile which had always made her skin prickle. ‘Sit down, Caro.’
In the old days, she’d have dropped her gaze and done as he bid her. Now, she looked him straight in the eye. ‘As I said, I’m quite comfortable here.’
His smile became rigid, but eventually he shrugged and pulled a chair around to face her, carefully spreading out his coat skirts behind him, a habit which had always irrationally irked her. ‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘I take it that you don’t want tea?’
‘I want to talk about an end to our marriage.’
‘You did not use to be so blunt. Then again, you have been keeping uncivilised company at Crag Hall.’
‘You know, then.’
‘That you are an adulterous bitch?’
The filthy words, spoken in a silken tone brought back memories which made her shudder. A brief flash of real hatred coursed through her. It was true that she had technically been unfaithful, but she was not about to allow what had transpired between Sebastian and her to be cheapened by this vicious bully. It was also true that her husband, however he had come by his information, was reliant upon conjecture. ‘I take it you are referring to the boot boy? Or perhaps the stable hand,’ she said tightly, and had the pleasure of seeing him flinch.
‘You know perfectly well that I never believed that rubbish.’
‘Then why did you have it broadcast?’
‘A tactical error, I admit. I confess to being somewhat taken aback when you left me. I had ample reason, as you well know, to think you lacked the nerve.’
‘Because you beat it out of me,’ Caro retorted. ‘You mean it was simply spite?’
Sir Grahame shrugged. ‘What emotive language you choose to deploy. It is true, my pride was bruised, but I was rather more concerned with the possibility of you blackening my name.’
‘So you decided to get your retaliation in first and blacken mine instead. How little you know me.’
‘Indeed, seeing you now, Caroline, I begin to think that there is some truth in that. You are looking very well, I must say, all things considered.’
‘A tribute to my absence from you.’
To her surprise, he laughed. ‘I had not taken you for a wit. There was a third reason for my spreading those scurrilous rumours, my dear. I wished to make you persona non grata. That way, you see, you would have no option but to return and I would be cast in a favourable light as the forgiving and magnanimous husband.’
She stared at him in dismay. ‘You thought that saying those dreadful things would make me come back to you?’
Rumors That Ruined a Lady Page 20