Lady Caro

by Marlene Suson

  She smiled shyly at his words, reveling in the feel of his arms about her.

  “And delighted, too, to learn the good news about your father’s marriage and vastly improved health.” Ashley’s voice suddenly took on an inexplicably frosty tone, and there was a glint of anger in his eyes. “That is why I have come to claim my bride.”

  Caro’s heart seemed to tumble to her little, kid-shod feet. Ashley was angry because he had been summoned to take her to London. Feeling utterly unwanted, she protested, “I do not wish to go. Nor can you want me to.”

  “Who gave you that nonsensical idea?” he asked curtly.

  All of Aunt Olive’s criticisms came back to haunt Caro. Her eyes were gray pools of misery. “I will embarrass you.”

  “Nonsense! I shall be very proud of you,” he declared as though he meant it, but Caro knew that he could not. “We will leave in the morning.”

  She was devastated at the thought of leaving her home with a man who, although he was her husband, did not want her. “Surely not so soon! I cannot possibly be ready. I must pack and—”

  “You need bring only an extra gown or two with you. Your present wardrobe is better suited to a schoolgirl than a fashionable young London matron. I have taken the liberty of ordering a new one for you from Madame Balan.” Seeing the startled, half-angry look in her eyes, he added with a disarming smile, “I know it was presumptuous of me, elfin. But I promise you that you will like my taste better than your aunt’s. And do not worry about a maid. My mother is hiring one for you in London.”

  Caro was stung that he considered her such a child that she could not be trusted to hire her own maid. “I do not wish to go to a city where I know no one,” she pleaded. “I shall be so lonely.”

  “No you won’t,” Ashley predicted. “You will soon be caught up in such a social whirl that you will long for a respite from it. And I am persuaded that Mama and you will deal famously, elfin.”

  Remembering Bourn’s reaction to her, Caro knew that her husband was wrong. His mother would be as bad as Aunt Olive.

  Chapter 21

  Caro came slowly awake, drowsily conscious of a jarring cacophony about her, a rough jolting beneath her, and strong, protective arms around her. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the darkened burgundy velvet interior of Ashley’s traveling coach. She stifled a groan. How long it took to reach London. She must have fallen asleep sitting upright on the cushions.

  Now she was lying on her side against her husband, braced in the corner of the coach so that her head and upper body rested on his shoulder and muscular chest. The day, which had seemed promising when they had set out so early that morning, had quickly turned gray and blustery, and she saw that Ashley had tucked a traveling rug around her to ward off any chill.

  Cosseted like this in her husband’s arms, Caro felt so comfortable, cherished, and, above all, happy that she could not bring herself to move or even to confess that she was awake for fear that he might relinquish his protective hold. If only she could stay like this forever.

  Despite her languor, Caro could no longer ignore the clamor that attacked her ears. The heavy curtains of burgundy velvet had been pulled across the windows, creating an artificial twilight in the coach and preventing her from looking oat. Above the din of horses’ hooves pounding and carriage wheels clanking on paved stones, a dissonant chorus of raucous voices was shouting, but Caro could only make out a word or two.

  Puzzled, she lifted her head and discovered that Ashley was watching her. A smiling tenderness in his eyes made her heart beat in double time. Shyly, she returned his smile, and his lips settled over hers in a kiss so achingly sweet that her besieged heart seemed to stop beating altogether.

  When you lose your heart to a man, you will like his kisses very much... You will yearn for them.

  After their lips parted, she looked at him with eyes so wide that he laughed. “Yes, elfin?” he asked, his green eyes sparkling with amusement and something else that she could not define.

  Her face reddened and she looked hastily away, too embarrassed to try to explain to him the exciting sensations that had buffeted her during their kiss.

  Once again the din beyond the coach intruded on her consciousness. “What ... what is all that noise?” she asked shakily.

  “That, my elfin, is London.” Ashley reached up to open one of the curtains that he had drawn when she fell asleep.

  Sitting up, Caro pressed her face eagerly to the glass for her first glimpse of the metropolis. Her initial impression was of a profusion of conveyances—carriages, curricles, carts, horses—and of people, most of whom seemed to be shabbily dressed and shouting at the top of their voices.

  Ashley’s coach, caught in this confusion, had slowed to a crawl.

  “Why are they yelling so?” she asked.

  “They are peddlers, hawking their wares. See the woman with her overskirt pinned up ... she is selling spoons. The man next to her is an oyster monger. The woman holding her hat in front of her has it filled with cherries. Listen carefully and you will be able to make out some of the different items.”

  She did as Ashley instructed. Slowly, her ears became more accustomed to the strange sounds, and she was able to pick out cries of watercress, rabbits, and gingerbread for sale.

  “Is London always so noisy?” she asked apprehensively. “I shall never sleep again.”

  “Our home is in a quieter neighborhood.”

  Our home. The words thrilled her. So did the comfort of her husband’s arms about her. She never wanted to relinquish them—not to Lady Roxley, not to any woman!

  The carriage turned a corner, and Caro’s nose wrinkled in distaste as it was suddenly assailed by strong, stomach-wrenching smells.

  Noticing her expression, Ashley signaled to his coachman to stop at a flower girl’s stall. Its profusion of violets, roses, and yellow and orange wallflowers provided a brilliant splash of color to the drab street. Ashley chose a bouquet of pink moss roses and green mignonettes. As the carriage started up again, he presented it to Caro. “Put it to your face,” he advised her. “It will make the odor more bearable.”

  Burying her nose in the flowers, Caro could no longer discern anything but their sweet fragrance. She was touched that he should have noticed her discomfort.

  He will treat you always with the utmost kindness and consideration if you do not plague him about his other interest.

  Caro had removed her bonnet before she had fallen asleep. The coil in which she had fastened her uncontrollable hair had loosened during her nap, and now wayward strands drifted about her face as she sniffed her bouquet. Gently, Ashley smoothed them back from her face, his touch sending a frisson through her.

  “Your hair has a will of its own,” he observed.

  “Yes,” she said ruefully, raising her head from her bouquet. “If I had my way I would have it all cut off.”

  “I want you to have it your way. I think your hair would look charming cut short and curled about your face,” he said, caressing her cheek lightly with his fingertip.

  He is fond of you ... If you strive to be the kind of wife Vinson wants, my pet, he might in time come to love you.

  Caro’s mouth tightened in determination. She would make Ashley a wife that he would be proud of, a wife that he would learn to love. But what kind of wife was that?

  Ashley, noticing the questioning look in her eyes, said lazily, “Yes, elfin?”

  “What do you want of me?”

  His emerald eyes blinked at her in surprise. “What?”

  “Oh, Ashley, I so want to be the kind of wife you wish for, but I don’t know what that is.” Her eyebrows knit together in a woebegone frown. “I suppose I must learn to become a lady of the first respectability.”

  “Yes, I would like that, elfin,” he said, the gravity of his voice belied by the smile in his eyes. He tilted her chin up. “I would also like another kiss,” he added, lowering his lips to hers. His fingertips, as light as a butterfly’s wing, stroked her
face, and this time Caro’s arms crept around his neck and clung to him. His kiss grew more ardent, stirring exquisitely unsettling sensations in her.

  When he lifted his mouth, he gazed into her eyes, still dreamy from the effect he had on her. “I am persuaded, elfin, that you no longer find kissing repulsive.”

  “Not with you,” she murmured, her voice as languid as her gaze.

  He frowned. “Was there someone with whom it was repulsive?”

  She looked away, remembering that she had given Tilford her word.

  “Caro, answer me,” her husband insisted. “Was it Tilford?”

  “How did you know?”

  He ignored her question. “Tell me what happened.”

  She did, including the promise not to tell that her cousin had extracted from her. When she finished, her husband looked so furious that she asked uneasily, “Why are you so angry at me?”

  “Not you, elfin. Your cousin. I promise you that it will not be like that with me.” Ashley folded her into his arms and held her tightly, as though he meant to protect her from the world. She nestled happily against him.

  It was some moments before Ashley spoke again. “I thought that tonight we would dine quietly at home with my mother. It will give you an opportunity to become acquainted with her.”

  Caro’s happiness evaporated at the prospect of meeting the countess. It was hard for Caro to decide which she dreaded more: meeting her ladyship or being introduced to London society.

  But a half hour in her mother-in-law’s company was more than enough to prove to Caro that her grim expectations had been an unforgivable slander of the countess. She was quite the most vivacious and charming woman that Caro had ever met, and so youthful-looking that when her daughter-in-law first saw her, she thought that Ashley had neglected to mention that he had a sister. It was from his mother that Ashley had inherited his curly dark hair and laughing emerald eyes, his charm and his amiability.

  Instead of looking askance at her plain, awkward little daughter-in-law, the countess greeted her with the warmest of hugs. “You poor darling, you must be fagged to death after such a trip. And apprehensive, too, about what awaits you in a strange city where you know no one. But do not fret yourself about it. My son and I will take very good care of you.”

  Having grown up motherless, with Aunt Olive as her only maternal example, Caro was quite unprepared for Lady Bourn’s understanding and solicitude.

  Ashley installed his wife in a charming apartment furnished with exquisitely delicate pieces of French furniture that seemed scaled to her own tiny size. The walls were draped with a lovely peach silk moiré that was also used for the bed hangings. It was quite the loveliest set of rooms she had ever seen. When she told Ashley and his mother this, he looked very pleased.

  “My son chose both the hangings and the furniture himself,” the countess confided. “The workmen have been here from dawn to late in the night to finish it before your arrival.”

  “Surely you did not have it redecorated just for me?” Caro asked in disbelief.

  “Most certainly he did,” the countess answered for him. “And I have hired an excellent French maid for you. Unfortunately, she cannot start until the day after tomorrow. However, she comes with the most glowing recommendations. I am persuaded that she is precisely what you wanted, Ashley.”

  Caro wondered uneasily what precisely it was that her husband had wanted in her maid: a quasi-guardian, perhaps, to keep a close watch over her so that she did not embarrass him.

  Her spirits immediately lifted, however, as she looked at the bowl of daisies on the small secretaire, the chrysanthemums on the French commode, and the vases of white roses by her bedside and on the mantel of the fireplace. Ashley had kept his promise to her that she would not lack for flowers in London.

  “The ton is agog with curiosity over Caro,” the countess said. “We will be inundated with invitations when it is learned she is in town.”

  As if reading her thoughts, Ashley took Caro’s hand in his and squeezed it comfortingly. “Do not fret, elfin. We shall neither go into society nor accept callers immediately. My intention is to introduce you at Lady Jersey’s ball a fortnight from now. By then you shall be ready to bear the ton.”

  “I shall never be ready!” Caro exclaimed with strong conviction.

  He smiled. “I promise you will.”

  Dinner that night was a pleasant affair. Ashley and his mama took pains to draw Caro into their lively exchanges, and by the time the covers were removed, all of her shyness toward her mother-in-law had vanished.

  When it came time to retire, Ashley took her arm and led her upstairs. “How do you like Mama, elfin?”

  “She is marvelous! I cannot imagine her being married to your pa—” Caro broke off, realizing the quagmire into which her candid tongue was leading her.

  Instead of taking umbrage, Ashley laughed. “I think marrying my mother was the only unexpected thing my father ever did. But, strangely, for two such opposites, they are very happy together. He dotes on her.”

  When they reached her apartment, Caro was trying to hide a large yawn behind her hand.

  “Poor elfin. Are you exhausted?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I cannot wait to tumble into bed and fall asleep.”

  Opening the door to her apartment, he said, “Then I shall bid you good night, unless there is something that you might like me to do for you.”

  Caro regarded him with innocent, uncomprehending eyes. “Nothing,” she assured him, covering another yawn with her hand.

  Puzzled by the disappointment that clouded his face, she hastened to reassure him. “You have done so much already. It is the most beautiful bedroom I have ever seen.” She tried to stifle another yawn but was unsuccessful.

  “Get into bed, elfin, before you fall asleep standing up. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow. Your first fittings at Madame Balan’s are scheduled. Good night, and sweet dreams,” Ashley said, bending to give her a kiss that did much to ensure such dreams. “I will see you in the morning.”

  Chapter 22

  Lady Roxley had heard nothing from Ashley since the day her children had arrived in London, and with each passing day she grew increasingly concerned and incredulous. Why did he not come? Nothing was going the way Estelle had anticipated.

  Then Sir Percival Plymtree’s version of Vinson’s marriage reached her interested ears, and she asked him to call on her so that she might hear it from his own lips.

  “You need not worry, beautiful Estelle,” he assured her. “No man, especially not a man of Vinson’s taste, is going to lose his heart to that farouche creature. She so bored him that he left her behind and fled back to London.”

  Estelle was delighted. “How humiliating for her.”

  “To give Vinson credit, he did concoct some Banbury tale about her remaining behind at Bellhaven because her father was dying.” Sir Percival gave a loud sniff. “What a faradiddle that was. As I have been quick to point out to everyone, Levisham made such an immediate and remarkable recovery that he married again a fortnight after Vinson’s departure from Bellhaven. That hardly sounds like a man at death’s door.”

  “The marquess cannot be happy about Ashley deserting his daughter before the ink is dry on their marriage certificate,” Estelle observed. “Of course he is not. I wager that is why Vinson brought her to London yesterday.”

  “She’s here?” Estelle exclaimed, consumed by curiosity to see her lover’s wife.

  “But don’t expect to see them soon. They are not receiving callers or accepting any invitations at present.” Plymtree gave a nasty little laugh. “Vinson is clearly too embarrassed to introduce his poor awkward wife to society. I hear that he has ordered her a lavish wardrobe from Madame Balan to be completed in such great haste that the first fittings are scheduled for this afternoon. But it will take more than even Balan’s genius to make that anecdote presentable.”

  Estelle, eager to reassure herself with her own eyes of Caro�
�s unattractiveness, smiled at this bit of intelligence. Perhaps she, too, would pay Madame Balan a visit that afternoon.

  Caro, watching Lady Bourn descend from her carriage and glide as lightly as a cloud toward the door of Madame Balan’s shop in Charlotte Street, was determined to copy the countess’s graceful walk.

  In the short time that she had known her mother-in-law, Caro had come to regard this charming, bubbly woman with love and awe. The countess even professed to be amused, rather than shocked, by her daughter-in-law’s candid tongue and encouraged her confidences with understanding and sympathy.

  Caro followed her mother-in-law into the elegant shop. Exquisite examples of Madame’s wares—ball gowns, morning dresses, riding habits, even a wedding dress—were on display in the showroom. Next to them, Caro felt exceedingly dowdy and out of place in her plain, skimpy gown of blue cambric.

  A pretty young woman in a spotted muslin gown that was surely another one of Madame’s creations presided over the showroom. It had been outfitted like a large, opulent sitting room with Louis Quinze chairs and sofas. A round rosewood table covered with sketches of Madame’s designs caught Caro’s eye.

  The young woman, recognizing the countess, said that Madame Balan wished Milady to try on her new ball gown before beginning the extensive fittings her daughter-in-law’s new wardrobe would require.

  Lady Bourn, seeing Caro’s interest in the sketches, suggested that she remain behind to examine them for styles that she liked. Caro took a chair at the rosewood table while her mother-in-law disappeared through a curtained door. Caro knew from Grace and Jane that all of London’s best-dressed ladies patronized Madame Balan’s.

  The young woman in the spotted muslin asked whether Caro would like tea. When she replied in the affirmative, the girl also disappeared through the curtained doorway.

  After studying the sketches for some minutes, Caro rose from the table to examine more closely the intricately jeweled bodice of a satin ball gown displayed nearby. Hearing the door to the shop open behind her, she turned to behold the most ravishingly beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her face, with its lustrous complexion, seemed perfect in every feature, as did her form, which was elegantly displayed in a perfectly fitted gown of amethyst silk that was the same shade as her fascinating eyes.