He laid his hand over her clenched fists, surprised at the iciness in her fingers. “You’re exhausted—”
Another giggle escaped her and she turned her head away to choke it off.
He gripped her hands, trying to force some of his warmth into her chilled flesh. “Drink your sherry and get some rest—”
“Rest? Where?” she threw at him. “No one wants me here. No thought has been given to assigning me a room. I—”
“You will simply pick a chamber and request the assistance of a maid.”
He glanced at his aunt. “Mrs. Pembroke will also stay, so there is no need for concern—”
“I will do no such thing!” Caroline stared at him, shocked.
“And demand nightclothes and a gown for the morrow.”
“I-I cannot!”
“Why? Did you hide a satchel in the kitchens containing your necessities?”
She laughed briefly. “You know I didn’t. I never thought I’d need it.”
“You thought you’d apologize, eat plum pudding and return home before your parents missed you? After two years?”
“I-I don’t really know. No, of course not.” Her eyes shone with tears. She clutched his hands as if afraid he would pull away in disgust. “I never expected it to be this difficult.”
A heavy weight settled on his chest at her words. “Because of Lord Tarlton?”
“In part.”
“You must wish me to the very devil,” he murmured.
“I wish Lord Tarlton there first. I had no notion he was such a…harsh man.” She glanced at him. A look of sorrow passed through her eyes as if she remembered something almost too painful to bear. “I don’t understand why he dislikes me so. What did you tell him?”
“I beg your pardon?” Edward watched her warily as a cold tingling sensation twisted down his back.
“You convinced him to run away with my sister, didn’t you? You must have said something to give him this dislike of me, this near hatred.”
“Did he say I convinced him?” The cold sensation crystallized around Edward’s heart.
She nodded. “Yes. I suppose I should have guessed. Lord Tarlton would never have done such a thing on his own.”
“I—”
“So what did you tell him?” she persisted, her brown eyes hardening.
“I told him you were too intelligent for him.”
Her eyes widened. After a long moment, she pressed her right hand against her mouth to smother another uncomfortable laugh. She took a deep breath. “You never said that? It’s nonsensical.”
“I did,” he said, regaining his equilibrium. He pressed his hand over her fingers and smiled. His grin widened when she flushed. “I insisted he would not enjoy being married to a woman obviously smarter than he was as evidenced by the fact that he understood less than half of your remarks.”
“He doesn’t appreciate irony.”
“He doesn’t understand irony or sarcasm.”
“I’m rarely sarcastic.” She straightened. “Cynical, perhaps.”
“Biting.”
She blushed in a way that sent his pulse racing. “I’m not sure I like that.”
“Too bad, my moppet. But you frequently have a tongue sharper than a new blade.”
“Is that why you dislike me enough to say such things to Lord Tarlton?”
“You cannot believe I dislike you.”
“I no longer know what to believe. I confess the entire day has been overwhelming.” She rubbed her temples tiredly and closed her eyes. Her dark lashes fanned her rounded cheeks, deepening the bluish shadows under her eyes.
She stood and stared past his shoulder to the door beyond as if she could not bear to look at him. “You’re correct, of course, so you must excuse me. Although it pains me to take advantage of Lord and Lady Tarlton’s hospitality, I believe I will do as you suggested and pick a room at random. I bid you good night. Mrs. Pembroke, I hope to see you again on the morrow.”
Mrs. Pembroke’s eyes remained closed but she waved one thin, white hand in response.
Edward stood as well, wishing he could take her in his arms. “Good night, Miss Bartlett. I promise you the morning will be brighter.”
“So one would hope,” she replied, her effort at tartness showing only her sorrow and exhaustion. “In my experience, it is always brighter when the sun is out.”
Edward watched her go, wondering how many mistakes and mishaps there would be before the new year finally gave them all the opportunity to begin anew.
“Aunt, dearest, do you wish to retire?”
She sighed and stood. “I suppose I must.” She took his proffered arm and allowed him to escort her toward the stairs. “You were a trifle forward with Miss Bartlett. I should have intervened.”
“I’m relieved you did not.”
She nodded. “I gathered as much. I just hope you see to it that Miss Bartlett has no cause to blame me later.”
“She won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Mrs. Pembroke laughed, gathered her skirts and climbed the stairs wearily with his assistance. They followed Caroline a way down the hallway before Mrs. Pembroke stopped at the second door on the right.
“My bandbox is in here. Goodnight, Lord Wexley.”
“Good night, Mrs. Pembroke.” He kissed her cheek and gently closed the door after her.
Further away, Edward noted that Caroline took a room near her sister’s. She obviously hoped to be near at hand in case the opportunity arose to be of assistance and prove she was only there out of love.
Too bad she refused to believe he was there for the same reason.
Chapter Seven
The next morning the gap between Edward’s curtains was still dark with the final hours of night when he heard the muffled sounds of footsteps. A squeaking door opened and closed. He got up, wondering if the servants were already bringing the morning water.
The hallway was empty when he opened his door. There was no sign of the servants or Mrs. Pembroke and yet he had the sense of some disturbance lingering in the air. He walked down the passage a few yards, approaching the door to Caroline’s room.
As he neared, he heard a soft, petulant cry and a whispered shush. Caroline’s door was partially open. He pushed it wider revealing an empty room. The bedclothes were thrown back and soapy water still swirled gently in the white porcelain basin in the corner of the room. A rumpled, linen towel lay draped over the ewer’s handle.
Edward turned and heard the soft crying again. It was near enough for him to recognize it as a baby—Tarlton’s new son. The faint murmur of female voices carried through the wall and he realized Caroline must have arisen at the sound of the baby’s cries.
And he could just imagine Tarlton’s face if he found his newly born heir in Caroline’s arms.
He moved into the hallway but he was already too late. Lord Tarlton stood in his wife’s doorway, staring inside. The blank expression on his face revealed nothing of his feelings.
As quietly as possible, Edward eased out of Caroline’s chamber, relieved when Tarlton never turned around. Edward realized ruefully that his predawn presence in that particular room might be somewhat awkward to explain.
When Tarlton did not move, Edward eased behind him and stared over his narrow shoulder.
Lady Tarlton lay in bed, leaning tiredly against a huge pile of pillows. Her head was turned away from the door, focused on the woman pacing slowly in the shadows near the fireplace. Caroline paced there, dressed in what seemed like yards of linen that trailed behind her across the floor. A heavy red and gold paisley shawl draped around her shoulders and from underneath a lace cap, a thick braid of dark hair hung down her back. Her arms cradled the baby. As the men watched, she murmured something to the restive child and kissed his forehead.
“What’s wrong with him?” Lady Tarlton asked in a plaintive voice. “He seemed fine when I fed him—though he was frightfully greedy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with
him, and I’m glad you named him Thomas after Papa. He‘ll be very pleased,” Caroline replied, her voice amused and warm with love. She kissed the baby’s brow again before picking up one of the linen towels folded atop the washstand.
With a surprisingly expert gesture, she flung the towel over her shoulder. Then she eased the baby to rest against her until his red, angry face glared at the men in the doorway from over her shoulder. She rubbed the baby’s back in a circular movement for a few minutes before patting him on the back. He let out a resounding belch, followed by a thick, milky bubble. Then, he spat up a bit, blew another bubble and smacked his pink lips before smiling. Caroline rubbed his back again until he released another burp that brought a grin to the faces of both Tarlton and his heir.
Edward let out the breath he had been holding. A surprising curl of warmth filled him. Caroline had come to the aid of her inexperienced sister. She had found the right method to prove her affection.
And he was shocked at the fierce sense of pride and love he felt for her at that moment as she cradled her sister’s child in her arms. The fire flickered fitfully behind her, illuminating the curve of her face with golden light.
“He just needed burping,” Caroline said. “He’s fine and a most beautiful little boy.” She lowered him to the crook of her arm and kissed him again before wiping his bubbling mouth with the towel.
“How did you know?” Lady Tarlton asked, sounding increasingly petulant. Her slender fingers plucked at the coverlet as she watched her sister and child. A sharp expression of jealousy pinched her brow before she held out her arms. “Give him back to me. He should eat more.”
Caroline smiled and gently placed the boy in his mother’s arms. “I didn’t really know, it’s just that I remembered when you were born.”
“You were barely four!”
“Nearly five, and I never said it was a clear memory. Just…well, you were a very fussy baby. Nurse was always throwing you over her shoulder and slapping your back. I thought it fairly disgusting at the time. I remember that much quite clearly.”
Her sister’s face flushed before she bit her lips. “Oh, you—I suppose you are jesting.” As she spoke, she cradled the baby in her arms and gazed down at him, her face growing as soft and dreamy as a painted Madonna.
“Yes,” Caroline replied with a smile. “And your baby only needed to belch after his meal like any good Englishman.”
At this, her sister did laugh and shake her dark head. Lord Tarlton finally stirred and strode into the room. Edward tensed and gripped the doorframe, prepared to interrupt if necessary.
“You two ladies are up early,” Lord Tarlton said in a jocular tone.
Edward released the doorframe and relaxed, leaning his shoulder against the door.
“It’s your son who arose before dawn,” Caroline said. “Apparently, he fears he may miss the festivities if he lingers abed.”
Lord Tarlton laughed, although the sound was slightly tentative. “He is a lusty little fellow.” The proud papa brushed his son’s cheek with his fingers as the baby concentrated on his meal. Lady Tarlton caught his hand and held it briefly to her cheek in a swift gesture of love.
The evidence of the couple’s bond was so strong, so evident, that Edward took a step back, feeling like an intruder on a very private scene. And his need for Caroline overwhelmed him.
He wanted to see her drowsy in his bed, holding their firstborn son in her warm arms.
His gaze met Caroline’s. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing him in the doorway but she managed a small, tired smile.
After a quick glance at her sister, Caroline moved toward him.
In silence, he watched her, struck anew by her grace of movement and the warmth of her face. As if aware of his thoughts, her cheeks flushed. She pulled the woolen shawl more tightly around her in embarrassment at her state of dishevelment.
“You’ve found the key to reconciliation,” he said as she edged past him into the hall.
“I burped their child,” she replied in a dry voice. “Hardly an action deserving of their undying gratitude.”
“Nonetheless, I believe Lord Tarlton may see you in a new light. It’s a beginning.” He caught her elbow to keep her from entering her room.
“I hope so.”
“May I speak to you?”
She looked up and smiled, her brown eyes brilliant in the dimness of the hallway. “I can hardly stop you. However, I would like to dress.”
Aware that he was also clad somewhat informally in his dressing gown, he bowed with as good grace as he could muster and watched her slip away into her room.
Despite the tedious delay involved in ringing for his valet and tying his neckcloth, Edward was the first to enter the sitting room. He glanced around, hoping Caroline was simply ensconced in a chair shoved into one of the dark corners. But he had no company except dawn shadows in the chilly room.
Wood was already stacked in the fireplace. He rubbed his hands together before lighting it for want of anything else to do. The flames were already burning cheerily when Caroline finally appeared in the doorway. She had exchanged her linen gown for a long, heavy dress in deep green velvet. The color made her dark eyes and hair even richer, bringing out the rich chestnut tones that glowed against the pale rose purity of her skin.
“Come in,” he said, waving toward the sofa where they had sat last night. The memory of their kiss haunted him with her warmth and the softness of her mouth. He was aware again of what hung in the balance if she chose to refuse him.
He swallowed, trying to control his sudden nervousness.
“You are up early.” She moved to the wing chair opposite the sofa and sat down firmly within its embrace. “Is Mrs. Pembroke up, as well?”
He sat on the sofa and stretched an arm out along the back, playing at confident ease despite his awareness of her. Every breath she took, every movement she made caught his attention, making him as tongue-tied as any callow young lad.
“No, but there’s no need to run away. She’ll be down soon.” He stopped, trying to collect his wits. “You seem to have found your way back into your sister’s good graces.” His hand fisted as he swore at himself for beginning in such a poor manner.
She stiffened and frowned. “The baby woke me. It was crying.”
“The maid—”
“Was busy fetching tea for my sister.”
“I see,” he said, searching for a way to explain his apparent betrayal of her two years ago. He had so much to say before they were interrupted for propriety’s sake by his aunt. “I’m just relived you knew Tarlton’s heir only suffered from an excess of gas and not something worse.”
She laughed and shook her head. His heart leapt in response. An irresistible smile bent his lips. They were so much alike sometimes he wondered how he could survive if she remained elusive and unaware of him as a man.
He knew so well how she felt when others stared at her blankly after one of her sly comments. He had often felt the same disappointment and estrangement when others failed to comprehend. Only in her presence did he feel whole and wholly understood.
“So you are our Lord of Misrule,” she said in a too-bright, playful tone, obviously trying to divert their conversation onto a less difficult path.
He did not allow the diversion. “Yes. And later this morning we must work on our play. But in the meantime—”
“I should see if Mrs. Pembroke is awake. And we should see what the kitchen has to offer. I particularly wish to discover if there are any rolls and chocolate.”
“That can wait—”
One of her finely arched brows rose. “So you dislike me enough to wish me to starve in addition to everything else? First, you convince my betrothed to leave me at the altar, then you flirt with me cruelly and laugh when I fail to placate my brother-in-law. Now, you refuse me sustenance. How perfectly charming.”
He sighed and pulled the bell cord in the corner near the fireplace. Then he settled back against the cold, hard cushion
s of the sofa. “I don’t want you to faint from hunger.”
“No. It wouldn’t be half as amusing if I was unconscious while you tortured me. Although it is nice of you to confirm the list of your misdeeds. I wasn’t sure I had gotten them all.”
“You would not have been happy married to Tarlton,” he said, ignoring her attempt to argue with him.
“Perhaps not,” she agreed spuriously. “But I’m not sure anyone expects to be happy with their husband.”
“I disagree with you.”
“Oh, yes, the famed Wexley wedded bliss. I’m sure your future wife will be relieved to know she’s destined to live in perfect harmony with you for the rest of her miserable days.” He stared at her. Catching his gaze, she blushed and shifted, although she did not look away.
His heart pounded. “I’m sure it will be a relief to her.”
In the taut silence, she smoothed her heavy skirts with trembling fingers and finally glanced away. Then she stared down and carefully clenched her hands in her lap. Her next words surprised and dismayed him. He could feel the pain in her words.
“Why does Lord Tarlton hate me so?” she asked. “He is the one who abandoned me. And he seems happy with my sister. I can see no reason for his suspicions and disapproval. I have done nothingto merit it.”
“I’m afraid it’s easy enough to answer,” Edward replied with a sad smile. “He’s embarrassed by you. He behaved badly and is all too aware of it. Your presence makes him aware of his faults.”
“Then he should apologize—”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. If he apologizes, then he must acknowledge his imperfections. And your presence further humiliates him, particularly when you are kind and loving despitehis actions. You have destroyed his illusion of being the perfect gentleman and husband and he fears his new wife may realize it and see him as he really is.”
“Not Elizabeth,” Caroline said with a bitter laugh. “He can do no wrong in her eyes, no matter what evidence there is to the contrary. And if what you say is true, then why doesn’t he blame you? You’re the one who convinced him to abandon me. And that action is the source of all the ill will and scandals no one seems able to forget.”
A Cotillion Country Christmas Page 17