Caro straightened said backbone and narrowed her eyes. “I wish I could think of a way to make him wish he had never been born. Where is a knight when you most need one? He could challenge the cad to a duel.”
“I was once engaged to a cad,” Elise said. “Before I met the duke. He made my life intolerable. Have patience, Caro.” She stole a grape. “From that experience, I learned that life is a circle. No one escapes justice in some form. If he truly is a cad, and did not suffer some kind of brainstorm caused by your swoon, he will be visited with an appropriate punishment in time.”
“What do you mean, brainstorm?”
“You should have seen his face when you crumpled in that stone circle. It was nearly as white as yours. He rushed to catch you before you could fall to the ground. Then he sped out with you in his arms, running as though he were pursued by a dozen devils. Was he not gentle with you?”
“Yes,” Caro said, thinking back. “That is why I was so shocked by what he said.”
“It is my belief,” the duchess said, stealing more grapes from Caro’s plate, “that he does not fully understand his feelings for you. They have caught him off guard. He is so certain that he has this heroic, all-consuming love for Sarah Randolph.”
“Hmph. I just wish I knew what made him think I was a lightskirt.” Caro took another bite of chicken. “Do you know the story behind that very sudden engagement?”
“Yes. Peter told me in confidence. He is Ned’s closest friend, you know. I cannot repeat it, I am afraid. But, I do not believe it was a real flesh and blood love. I think it was a fairy tale.”
Caro debated whether to tell the duchess of her former feelings for Beverley. She finally decided that no good purpose would be served by it. In fact, it could be foolhardy. The Ruisdells undoubtedly shared everything, and perhaps Elise’s Peter would feel bound to tell Beverley her secret. No one knew about those feelings, and after today’s incident, things must stay that way. They must be buried deep inside her and forgotten. If she could manage it.
“You know,” Elise said, “this really does make a horrid kind of sense, when you view the entire episode in the context of Ned’s recent experiences.”
“It does?”
“For some reason, it is important for Ned to cling to the idea that he is in love with Sarah. Therefore, he has relegated the attraction he feels to you to the station of mere lust. That is the only explanation I can think of.”
“What a horrid idea!” Caro thrust her luncheon plate back into Elise’s lap and began vigorously to wipe her sticky fingers with her napkin. “I wish I had a face like a fish. Then perhaps we could deal honestly together. I hope I do not need to tell you that he is dead wrong about me.”
“No, Caro. You need not tell me that. Although I must own that I have been pleasantly surprised by your spunk. In London, I knew you were a great beauty . . .”
“Do not speak of that! I hate to think of all the misconceptions people have about me, merely because I have a pleasing face. Look at Beverley! He is as handsome as you please on the outside. But he is appallingly dissolute!”
“And most beauties do not have your character, Caro. You must know that is true from your time in Town.”
Caro was silent. Her fit of pique was not a pretty thing, she realized. But how could she go back to the party? Looking across the greensward, she noted that Beverley had apparently disappeared.
“Let us join the others,” she said.
“That is a splendid idea,” the duchess agreed.
Taking her plate back, Caro followed her down the carriage steps and onto the green. When she joined the party, she found that they had gotten up an impromptu game of loo. The dowager was looking ferocious as she stared at her cards.
Elise fixed herself a plate of grapes and two rolls. “I am famished,” she said.
Caro sat beside her on the rug. She wished she had something to occupy her hands. She was not looking forward to two hours in the carriage.
She was about to go for a stroll when she remembered that she might encounter the duke. Instead, she pulled up the tiny daisies that sprinkled the green, intertwined their stems, and made a chain which she looped several times around her wrist.
The duke returned, looking grave, but kept his distance. How was she ever going to endure his presence at the party being held that evening?
* * *
On the return drive back to Northbrooke Park, Kate’s cousin, Cleaverings, took Beverley’s place in the carriage.
“I am looking forward to introducing you to Harry,” he told her again. “He will be arriving at Cleaverings Manor in a week's time. Perhaps you and Kate and Jack could make us a visit.”
“Perhaps your son would object to such an obvious scheme,” Caro said. She had no interest in obtaining a beau. All she wanted was to be left alone to write her play and to manage the children for the church fête. And to recover from Beverley’s outrageous behavior and this blighted house party. “And I am to be very busy this summer with the church fête.”
“Ah! And when is that to be, may I ask?”
“On July twelfth.”
“Scarcely a month away!”
“Yes.” She told the marquis about the play she would write and her plans for the children’s races and contests.
“You are useful as well as ornamental, I see.”
Looking out the window, she rolled her eyes. Would she never escape people’s preconceptions?
The marquis continued, “Perhaps Kate will have me and both my sons to stay during the fête. I want my boys to meet her and Jack. Would that be acceptable to you?”
“I will be very preoccupied with my duties, I warn you.”
“But what a lovely setting for you to appear in, my dear. Harry will instantly see that you are far more than a beautiful woman.”
She could see that the marquis was determined. “That would certainly be a nice change. Do as you please, my lord. I will be happy to meet both your sons, whenever you choose to visit.”
.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IN WHICH OUR HERO
IS INCREASINGLY FRUSTRATED
Ned spent the two interminable hours of the journey back to Northbrooke Park separated from Caro in the other carriage with Jack, Miss Archer, Somerset, and the dowager. The latter was in a funk, having lost at loo. Though they had been playing for pennies, apparently the circumstance rankled.
“Now, Mama,” Jack said. “You do not want to get yourself into a pet. There will be cards at the party tonight, and you can make up your loss.”
“I hate to say it, my dear,” the dowager said, “but I suspect Cleaverings of cheating!”
“That is a pretty thing to say about your childhood sweetheart!” Jack said.
“Actually, I think I have been guilty of romanticizing the past.” The dowager had a faraway look. “Now that I think on it, he was always a little too cunning. He had a silver tongue and inevitably managed to talk his way out of a punishment. And he was very clever at getting his own way.”
“He sounds like you, in fact,” Jack said with a smile.
Ned wondered if it was still his friend’s plan to promote a match for his mother with the marquis. Personally, he had taken him in dislike, but he couldn’t think why.
“Didn’t take to him, myself,” Somerset said. “Too insinuating by half.”
“Yes,” the dowager said. “I quite agree. I cannot think what you were doing, Jack, inviting him to our home.”
“Now, now, Mama. It was Kate’s idea, you know. She wished to become better acquainted. The man is head of her family now, and a cousin besides. And we thought you would enjoy renewing the acquaintance.”
“Hmph,” was the dowager’s only reply.
Ned found Miss Archer to be little company. She seemed inclined to poor spirits and showed no interest in her intended swain, nor he in her.
“I say, old man,” Somerset addressed Jack. “Your childhood sweetheart. . . a stunner! Diamond of the first wa
ter.”
Ned resolutely looked out the window.
“Poor gel,” the dowager said. “Her mother says she has a broken heart. Some rakehell in London, no doubt.”
A broken heart? Caro? Who on earth had broken through that mask of determined good breeding she had placed over what he saw now to be high spirits? She had not displayed an ounce of partiality for anyone as long as he had been in her court. Had something occurred during the weeks he had been engaged?
“Jack,” he said, “what do you know of this?”
“No more than Mama. And really, it is not quite the thing to be gossiping about her in this way. Mixed company and all that.” His lips firmed as he looked at his mother. “Mama, do not let your losses at loo overtake your manners and good sense.”
Jack inquired of Somerset what horses he was backing at Newmarket. When this topic was exhausted, he began waxing eloquent on the topic of his new stud, Apollo, that Kate had given him as a wedding gift, and the qualities he was breeding him for. Ned, a keen connoisseur of horseflesh, was drawn into this conversation while Miss Archer remained mum and the dowager added only an occasional comment.
When at last they arrived at Jack’s home, Ned had decided that he must get his apology out of the way at once or his behavior would taint the rest of the party. However, he didn’t have a civil explanation ready to hand. Anxious to exercise his long legs, he bounded out of the carriage and walked across to meet the arrival of the second conveyance. It was his intention to help the female who had so disordered his senses to alight.
First, he assisted the duchess, whose face looked positively green, and he remembered that she was increasing. Ruisdell emerged, all solicitousness toward his ailing wife. Then came Caro. Evidently surprised to see him, she scrunched her eyebrows and flashed him an angry look instead of watching where she put her feet. The normally graceful woman put a foot wrong, wrenched her ankle, and fell to the gravel drive.
She muttered to herself in what he suspected was unladylike language. Getting to her hands and knees, Caro winced with pain and sat, hand to her ankle.
“Of all the shatterbrained things to do!” she said. “Never in my life have I been so clumsy.” She glared at him as though it were his fault. Everyone else had gone into the house, and they were alone in the drive.
“It must hurt like the devil,” he said. “Best not to step on it.”
She shot him another angry glance from under brows now contracted in pain.
“Much as you might wish it otherwise, I shall have to carry you again.”
“No,” she said.
However, though she tried, she could not manage to get to her feet on her own. Ignoring her protests, he once again picked her up and cradled her in his arms. Cumming, Jack’s butler, held the door wide for them to enter.
The party was engaged in removing hats, bonnets, and gloves in the hall.
“Turned her ankle,” Ned explained. “I’m taking her upstairs to her room.”
Kate moved forward. “Oh, Caro! Does it pain you terribly?”
“Do not put yourself out, Kate. I shall come about presently,” said the woman in his arms.
“A fomentation! That’s the thing,” said Jack as Ned put his foot on the first stair.
“I am not a horse, Jack!” Caro said. “I am not suffering from a sprained fetlock!”
“Pipe down,” Ned said to her. “It is a jolly good idea. Same principle.”
“I shall send a footman for the doctor, Caro,” Kate said. “We must consult him. He will be able to tell if you have broken anything.”
“But I am certain I have not. Such a fuss!” Caro said as Ned ascended the stairs.
Kate sent Cumming for a footman and then followed up the stairs.
“One more flight, Ned. Her room is next to mine. I will show you.”
Carrying Caro while she was stiff with outrage, keeping her head averted, was not nearly as pleasant as rescuing her that afternoon when her unconscious form had been so pliant in his arms. However, he was still very aware of her lovely, soft body next to his chest. It warmed him all over, causing surges of longing. Unbidden, images of her in dishabille visited him as her honey-colored hair fell loose over his arm. Why were his thoughts of this woman so unremittingly carnal? She stirred him as no other woman. For his former fiancée, he had felt nothing approaching this desire.
At length, they reached her room, which was feminine and bright. Just like Caro. The walls were yellow, the counterpane flowered chintz, matching the bed curtains and the upholstery on two overstuffed chairs.
He laid her carefully on the bed when Kate pulled back the counterpane. Looking at Caro’s face, which was now pinched and gray with pain, he felt protectiveness surge within him, almost containing his desire.
“Thank you, Ned,” Kate said. “I can manage from here. The others are gathering for tea in the Round Room. You will find it on the first floor. Second room on the right after the staircase.”
Caro seemed completely unaware of him now, and it struck him that, for as long as she was confined to her room, he would not be able to see her alone to offer the apology he intended. In a way, he was relieved, but he hated to think of leaving Jack’s home without giving Caro a chance to vent her spleen, and himself a chance to soothe her.
Leaning down with his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “I will find a way to see you alone, and we will take up unfinished business.”
“Do not dare!” she said.
“What is this?” Kate asked.
“Just sweet nothings,” Ned assured her.
* * *
At seven o’clock in the evening, the party guests began to appear. Ned anticipated a very dull time without Caro to enliven things, but was gratified somewhat by the appearance of her parents, Lord and Lady Jonathan Braithwaite. He met them over pre-dinner Madeira in Jack’s newly refurbished gold drawing room. Caro’s mother was still an attractive woman, and it was easy to see where the daughter had come by her beauty. Her father was tall and angular with a mane of prematurely white hair.
“I am assuming you have been up to see your daughter, Lady Jonathan. What did the doctor tell her about her injury?”
“How kind of you to inquire, your grace. I cannot think how Caro came to fall when she is usually the soul of grace! Fortunately, no bones were broken. It will just be a matter of rest, and she will be right as a trivet.” She tittered. “Of course, Jack has administered the most malodorous fomentation that he swears healed his mare’s fetlock. Poor Caro! I only hope that it will prove effective.”
Ned laughed. “I understand that they have been bosom beaux since their childhood.”
Lady Jonathan tittered again and raised her fan. Ned was very grateful that Caro had not inherited that habit. “Yes. He actually offered for her, you know.” She leaned forward and confided sotto voce, “Caro told me she could never live under Serena’s thumb. Jack’s mother, that is.”
This offer was news to Ned. “Well, Kate and Jack seem to suit each other down to the ground at any rate.” He could not picture his friend married to anyone else. Certainly not Caro.
“That is what I think. And then, Caro had such a successful season. They called her the Incomparable, you know. I believe she can look anywhere she likes for a husband. But she seems in no hurry.”
Lord Jonathan was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Are you a card player, by chance, your grace?”
“Faro and piquet are my games, Lord Jonathan. What are yours?”
“I like a good game of piquet, as well. I understand we are to have cards after dinner. If you are not otherwise engaged, I would enjoy taking you on.”
This suited Ned, who wanted to get to know Caro’s father better without Lady Jonathan at his elbow. It was clear that she was bent on singing her daughter’s praises to all and sundry. It was difficult to understand how Caro’s no-nonsense temperament could have flourished under her mother’s insipid tutelage. Perhaps she took after her father.
Dinner
was enjoyable. Again, he was placed next to Miss Archer, whom he coaxed into conversation by asking if she were engaged in any charitable work other than Elise’s soup kitchen. On his other side sat Lady Stanfield, who entertained him with stories of Jack when he was growing up. She clearly held their host in great affection.
“Though I should not say it, Jack and Serena had a rough go of it, your grace. The former marquis was a notorious despot.”
Another piece of news about the man he thought he knew so well.
“Perhaps that explains why Jack spent so many school holidays with me in Cornwall.”
“That would be it. Serena was always grateful he had so many friends.”
Ned was left to reflect on the superficiality of this, one of the most cherished of his friendships. Perhaps it was the result of his own tendency to keep his thoughts and ideas to himself. Until this afternoon. Confound it! How had he ever come to blurt out that unforgiveable, stray reflection to Caro? Damn those Druids!
After the ritual of port and cigars, the men joined the ladies and were entertained with a short vocal concert. Elise accompanied Miss Archer on the piano forte. The latter had an exceptionally beautiful coloratura soprano voice. She chose to perform three ballads. Singing transformed her completely, rendering Miss Archer a very desirable female. Ned stole a look at Somerset and was amused to see him enthralled. After the short concert, the marquis strolled slowly to her side where he remained, though the other gentlemen and the dowager repaired to the card tables.
While playing piquet with Caro’s father, his thoughts strayed to the room upstairs where she lay. Her mother had gone up to her. Frustration ate at him. The longer he went without apologizing, the more egregious his faux pas became. How the devil was he going to manage to see her alone? He fell to scheming.
Tomorrow’s program included attendance at church in the morning. Of course! He would stay behind and storm the citadel.
“Come, your grace, you are wool gathering,” Lord Jonathan said. “I expected better of you.”
Such forthright speech could have issued from his daughter’s mouth. Well satisfied with his plan, Ned gave himself over to the cards.
Three Rogues and Their Ladies - A Regency Trilogy Page 46