‘As I said, it was a tactical error. I underestimated you. Significantly, it seems. My compliments, Caroline, you have grown up. Seeing you now, I really do believe that we can start on a new footing. I said as much to your father some weeks ago, though I was not certain—but now I see that is a real possibility.’
She shook her head, wondering if she had mistaken his words. ‘Grahame, I’m not coming back to you.’
Her husband abruptly got to his feet, making Caro shrink back instinctively. He held up his hands. ‘For heaven’s sake, woman, I have no intention of striking you.’
Annoyed at her temporary lapse, Caro drew herself up. ‘And I have no intention of permitting you to. I won’t be bullied.’
Once again, he astonished her by laughing. ‘Damn me, I don’t think you will. Won’t you sit down, Caroline, and let us discuss this like civilised beings.’
She took a seat warily, on the opposite side of the table. ‘As civilised beings, we must agree that we are not well suited.’
Her husband’s smile thinned. ‘Well suited or not, we are nevertheless married, Caroline, and I still require a son. As you know, my estates are entailed, an unbroken line from father to son stretching back more than two hundred years. I don’t want the ignominy of being the first to break with tradition.’
She had not forgotten, for it was the reason he had married her, but she had managed to put to the back of her mind how very passionately he felt about having a successor to secure his lands.
Sir Grahame got to his feet and began to pace the room, keeping fastidiously, she noted, to the other side of the table. ‘I have of course consulted my legal advisors. The fact of the matter is that there is no simple solution. I may divorce you for adultery, which would involve my suing Ardhallow for criminal conversation. Don’t look so shocked. Unlike the mythical boot boy, I have every reason to believe your liaison with Ardhallow is all too real. I would be obliged to sue Ardhallow for damages if you continue your association with him, for I will not be branded a cuckold.’
Which was exactly, Caro realised sickeningly, what her father had said. ‘I will not co-operate. Under no circumstances will I permit you to subject Lord Ardhallow to such a degrading experience,’ she said.
‘It is not a question of what you will permit, but rather a question of what I will allow,’ Sir Grahame sneered. ‘You are my wife, Caroline, I will not stand by and allow another man to defile my property. We are married, and the fact is that the law and the church would prefer us to remain so, no matter how much you wish otherwise.’
‘Then I humbly beg to differ with both the law and the church. I am not coming back to you. I won’t! What if I went to—to Brighton. Hired a man to act as my paramour—a boot boy or a stable hand, if you feel that would add authenticity. There are professional witnesses who can be bought, are there not? I have read that is common practice in crim. con. cases.’ Caro jumped to her feet, catching her husband’s arm. ‘Well?’
He gazed down at her, his face set. ‘You would humiliate yourself in a public display of adultery in order to be rid of me? You certainly are full of surprises.’ Distastefully, he removed her fingers from the sleeve of her coat. ‘You are under a misapprehension, my lady. A crim. con. case does not in itself constitute a divorce. There must follow an application to the Ecclesiastical Courts for a legal separation, which can take years, and then I would require a private Act of Parliament to allow me to remarry, and that would put paid to my political ambitions which, as you know, burn almost as brightly as my desire for an heir.’
‘Then if you will not divorce me, I will divorce you!’
Her husband laughed viciously. ‘I am afraid that the law is even less amenable to such an action. You would have to prove both adultery and cruelty, and while you may think you have grounds for the latter, you would not dispute my fidelity, I trust.’
She shook her head slowly, appalled by the implications of what he had outlined. For the rest of her life, she would be forced to endure the humiliation of being married to a man who patently cared absolutely nought for her. She returned to the window seat, wishing to put as much distance between them as she could, anxious too that he would not have the satisfaction of seeing the devastation he had wreaked. ‘Which leaves us then with a formal separation as the only viable option,’ she said, trying to keep the despondency from her voice. ‘I think it best that I consult my own lawyers. They will be better placed than I to discuss the precise terms.’
‘Terms! You are in no position to demand terms.’
‘My dowry...’
‘I will not reward you for forcing my hand. My generous offer to take you back still stands. Your refusal to accept it not only deprives me of the heir I require but also makes you a deserter. I have no obligation to return your dowry nor to offer you any other form of support.’
Caro stared at him abjectly. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would be so vengeful. She had assumed in fact, that remorse for his past cruelty would make him inclined to make his peace with her. Looking at her husband’s pale face, she tried to conjure some vestige of sympathy for his plight, for he stood to lose any prospect of an heir, but felt only an acrid anger. ‘So you will cast me out on the streets, having of course enlisted my father’s support for your cause.’
‘I have no more desire for scandal than your esteemed parent. I will provide you with adequate funds, but they will be on my terms.’
‘And those are?’ Caro asked, pleased to find that her voice did not betray her.
‘Quite simple. You will leave England and you will behave with perfect propriety. You may trust that I will know if you do not. Your name is not unknown at the various embassies on the Continent. As I said earlier, I will not, repeat not, be made a cuckold. These are my terms, and they are non-negotiable, no matter how many lawyers you enlist. Naturally my offer to welcome you back into the marital fold remains open.’
‘An offer which I can happily swear I will never accept.’
‘In that case, may we agree on my terms?’
‘No, we may not. You will hear from my lawyers in due course. Goodbye, Grahame.’
Caro picked up her gloves and made for the door, conspicuously avoiding his outstretched hand.
Outside, devastated but resolute, she took calming gulps of the metallic-tasting city air and decided to walk back to her aunt’s house. Her bravado quickly deflated, a deep melancholy stole over her, for she knew her husband very well. He was an astute politician who would have made very sure of his facts. Her future lay abroad, alone, and probably impoverished. She could buy time by employing a lawyer, but unless Aunt Sophia provided her with the funds to do so, even that was not an option. She would still be married, far from her family, but at least she would also be far away from her husband.
And from Sebastian. He had saved her life. She owed it to him to tell him what form that life would take. She should write to him, for in a letter she could depict an optimism which she had to hope would manifest itself eventually. It would be the sensible course of action, but she was going to have to be sensible for the rest of her life. She decided she would commit one last reckless act, and say goodbye in person.
Crag Hall—two days later
As the post chaise drew up in front of the stable block, Caro wondered if her shaking legs would actually support her descent from the carriage. She dreaded seeing Sebastian, and yet wanted to see him more than anything in the world. Pushing a stray lock of hair back under her bonnet, hoping that she did not look as travel weary and defeated as she felt, she declined Mrs Keith’s offer of tea and entered the parlour.
‘Caro!’ Sebastian was sitting at the desk, but he was by her side almost before she had closed the door. He was dressed in his habitual garb of shirt, breeches and riding boots. Catching her to him, he surveyed her face anxiously. ‘Are you well?’
She longed
to throw her arms around him, to burrow her face in his chest and drink in his familiar scent, but she was holding on to her self-control by such a thin thread, it would be a mistake. She must not mar this last meeting with tears or confessions. Gently, she disengaged herself and untied her bonnet. ‘A little tired from the journey.’
‘I expected you back sooner,’ he said, taking his customary seat opposite her.
He looked strained. The lines on his forehead seemed deeper. Had he missed her? It didn’t matter. ‘Sir Grahame was out of town. I had to await his return.’
‘But you eventually saw him? How did the encounter go, Caro?’
She shook her head. ‘I was apprehensive, but—you will think me foolish—I imagined you by my side, and I discovered that really, all it took was for me to stand up to him. I wonder I did not before. It was so strange, I felt as if I was quite a different person from the woman he married.’
He reached across and caught her hand. ‘You are. I am proud of you.
She was in the process of lifting his hand to her lips when she remembered, and dropped it. ‘I am afraid the interview did not go as well as I hoped.’ Haltingly, she told him just as she had rehearsed it over and over on the journey here, her tone matter of fact, her explanation simple, leaving no room for doubt. She was conscious of his eyes fixed upon her, of his expression, set into stern lines, as if he was afraid to show his feelings. What feelings? She wouldn’t think about that. ‘So it appears that I have no option but to live abroad, at least for a while,’ she concluded, managing a very weak smile. ‘My aunt has been so kind as to permit me to remain with her for a few more weeks while arrangements are made, but her lawyers have confirmed the position is just as Sir Grahame told me.’
‘But it’s damnable!’ Sebastian jumped to his feet and began to pace the room. ‘Surely there is something else to be done. Your aunt...’
‘Aunt Sophia has been extremely kind, but she still believes that the best solution would be for me to return to my husband, especially now that it seems—that I am not afraid of him. She has also offered to warn him off.’ He would not dare touch a hair on your head if he knows I am watching him, had been her aunt’s exact parting words.
‘You will not succumb?’
She shook her head. ‘No. No,’ she said again, more confidently, ‘I won’t ever go back to him, but I had not realised—Aunt Sophia is my one supporter, and even she disapproves of my actions.’
‘Not your only supporter, Caro. You will never find a stauncher supporter than me, or one less disapproving.’
The way he looked at her made her heart turn over. It was a look she had longed for and now dreaded seeing. Facing her father had been painful. Facing her husband had been extremely testing. Both paled in significance compared to this. ‘Sebastian, it is very clear to me that only harm can come from our continued acquaintance. I am grateful beyond words for what you have done for me, but in return I have merely inflicted damage upon you. I already have to bear the weight of that guilt. I will not compound the felony by inflicting even more damage on you. Our acquaintance must come to an end, for your sake.’
‘Our acquaintance,’ he repeated flatly. ‘You make it sound as if we have engaged in nothing more than the exchange of calling cards.’
‘Sebastian, it is precisely because we have shared a great deal more than that—can’t you see, I will not allow you to be tainted by association with me,’ Caro exclaimed.
‘Don’t say that! Don’t speak of yourself in that way.’
‘When both my father and my husband called me an adulteress, I was horrified. It doesn’t defile what you and I share, but it might, if it were said often enough.’ She was on her feet now, pacing the room as he had done a few moments previously. ‘Sebastian, I’m the wife of a fellow peer. My presence here as your mistress is a public stain on your honour—and don’t say that you don’t care about your honour, for I know perfectly well that you do.’
‘Dammit, I don’t want you to be my mistress.’
‘Oh.’ She stared at him, wondering frantically if she had misjudged the situation completely.
‘I don’t want a mistress, Caro. I want a wife. I want you to be my wife. I love you.’
She sat down abruptly, fearing she would faint clean away. Now her ears were deceiving her as well. She gazed at Sebastian in complete incomprehension.
* * *
He hadn’t meant to say it, but seeing her, so bravely trying to hold back the tears, talking about the life her bastard of a husband was trying to condemn her to lead, had been too much to endure. Sebastian swore. ‘The first time in my life I have said the words, and you’re looking at me as if I have announced a bereavement.’
‘Please don’t.’
‘Love you? I don’t seem to have any choice in the matter,’ he replied tersely.
‘Please don’t say it. I don’t think I can bear it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I love you too. So very, very much.’
‘You do?’ He swore again, and caught her in his arms, kissing her ruthlessly. For a brief moment he felt wild elation, his heart soared, his blood roared, he felt heady, joyous, and then he realised that she was not responding, lying limp in his arms, and he let her go.
‘Sebastian,’ she said gently, ‘it doesn’t change anything. It’s still impossible.’
He had known that almost from the start, yet he had hoped. He had told himself that he would say nothing unless it were possible, but still he had spoken, and having spoken, he was not going to give up without a fight. ‘There must be a way,’ he said grimly.
She shook her head. ‘I am married, Sebastian, and most likely I always will be, for Sir Grahame was quite intractable.’
‘I don’t care,’ he declared, though he did. He would consider murder if it freed her of Rider.
And Caro knew that too. Her knowing him so well had been one of the things which made him love her. Now he cursed it as she took his hand and spoke to him gently, but firmly, as if she were speaking to a child. ‘I am married. Even if my husband did eventually divorce me, I would not be permitted to marry again. And in the unlikely event that an Act of Parliament allowed me to do so...’
‘Have such things been done before?’
‘It is very rare.’ Caro sighed heavily. ‘What matters is not really my marital status, Sebastian, but my reputation—or lack of it. By keeping any sort of company with me, you would be shunned. A social leper. How long would it be before you began to resent me for keeping you from your life? And I would feel so guilty—heaven knows, I am riven with guilt at what people are saying of you already. Our love would be tainted.’
All of it made horrible sense, but he did not want to listen to sense. ‘You think it would not survive?’ Sebastian asked harshly.
‘One cannot live on love alone,’ Caro replied carefully. ‘I think that it would destroy me, watching how I was slowly destroying you. I can’t do that to you.’
One cannot live on love alone. A mere few weeks ago, Sebastian would have agreed with her wholeheartedly. Now...
He dropped his head into his hands. Now, much as he longed to claim otherwise, he was beginning to see just how impossible it was. ‘I could bear it,’ he said, ‘I lived the life of a nomad for four years on the Continent. It would be a sacrifice to give up Crag Hall to a tenant, but if it meant we could be together...’
‘That is precisely the thing I could not ask you to do.’
‘You are not asking, I am offering,’ he said impatiently. ‘But it would resolve nothing, dammit. I won’t take you as my mistress. Just thinking about the whispers, the vicious gossip, the endless cold shoulders and direct cuts you would be subjected to makes my blood boil.’ He gazed at her helplessly. She would put up a front, but he knew how much it would hurt her. Eventually it would wear her down.
> ‘And then there is your family,’ Sebastian said grimly. ‘Your being with me would destroy all hope of a reconciliation. Even your Aunt Sophia would be forced to disown you.’ He held up his hand when she would have interrupted him. ‘Your father implied that he may see his way in the future to some reconciliation, as I recall.’
‘My father holds out his promises like a carrot on a stick to a donkey. I am not interested in half-promises and I’m not going to be dictated to.’
The determination in her eyes filled him with admiration, but he knew how powerful an incentive it would prove. Lord Armstrong’s reputation as a ruthless negotiator was not undeserved. ‘I don’t doubt that you can bear it, but in a year’s time, or two or five—you love your family, Caro. I can’t in all conscience deprive you of them for ever.’
He pulled her to her feet, clinging to her like a drowning man. ‘It is hopeless. I love you too much to put you through that, and you are right,’ he added with a grim little smile. ‘My honour does matter to me in one important respect. I won’t have it said that I ruined you.’
‘Any more than I am prepared to ruin you.’
The break in her voice was almost his undoing. Sebastian gently disengaged himself. ‘I have to let you go. Our being together will only make you unhappy. Best that you leave quickly, before I go down on my knees and beg you to stay.’
‘Or I chain myself to the railings and refuse to go,’ Caro said.
Her smile was a very poor attempt, but it was her trying which almost broke him. He ran the flat of his hand over her hair, the nape of her neck, the curve of her spine. ‘Goodbye, my darling.’
His voice was clipped, so tight was the rein he was keeping on himself. She raised her lips in mute invitation. Her kiss was sweet, tender and over far too soon. When she would have clung to him, he set her gently away from him. ‘I’ll have one of the grooms bring the post-chaise round.’
‘Please, don’t see me off. I don’t think I could bear it. Goodbye, Sebastian. I wish—goodbye.’
Rumors That Ruined a Lady Page 21