His Compromised Countess

by Hale Deborah

  Taking advantage of his momentary daze, she dodged past him and fled the room. But when she reached the hallway, Caroline found herself confronted by a sight that stunned and horrified her.

  Her son’s small face peeped up just above the head of the stairs. His eyes were open so wide, they looked twice their normal size, while his mouth had fallen slack. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost or witnessed some other terrifying sight.

  How much of their vicious row had the poor child overheard?

  ‘Wyn…’ She wanted to assure him it was all right, but that obvious falsehood stuck in her throat.

  Before she could think of anything better to say, the child spun around and disappeared from view.

  ‘Wyn!’ she cried, running after him. ‘Come back, dearest! You needn’t be frightened!’

  Her words brought Bennett thundering down the stairs after her. ‘I thought you said he was back at the inn with Albert.’

  His words seethed with accusation. Did he think she’d lied about that, risking Wyn overhearing them? Was there any conduct so vile he would not believe her capable of it?

  ‘He was at the inn!’ she insisted. ‘Albert must have brought him back here. I don’t know why.’

  From the parlour, the hinges of the front door shrieked as it was wrenched open. Caroline and Bennett raced toward it, jostling one another in their haste. When they reached the entrance, the door hung open, swinging back and forth as the wind blew in gusts of hard, cold rain.

  When had this storm started? She’d been too deeply immersed in her quarrel with Bennett to notice. Could this be why Albert had brought Wyn from the inn—to get here ahead of the rain?

  How her son had come to be there did not matter, now. Caroline and Bennett ran outside, peering frantically around for some sign of the child, calling his name at the top of their lungs to carry over the gathering fury of the storm.

  The rain lashed down in sheets out of a dark, angry sky. It soaked Caroline to the skin before she had taken half-a-dozen steps. Though it chilled her to the bone, it was nothing compared to the icy fear that clutched her heart at the thought of her son wandering out in this deluge.

  ‘Wyn! Come back, dearest! Come to Mama!’ Where could he have gone? Surely he could not have got far in such a short time. Had he ducked behind the house perhaps, seeking shelter from the wind and rain?

  She groped her way around the house, continuing to call out for the child as she went. But the howling wind seemed to catch her voice and steal it away. Would Wyn be able to hear her? And if he did, would he be willing to come to her after the scene he’d witnessed between her and his father? Caroline struggled to subdue her alarm, but it seemed to feed on the power of the storm and grow stronger.

  As she rounded the corner to the back of the house, she saw Bennett moving towards her from the opposite direction.

  ‘Get back inside!’ he bellowed. ‘I’ll look for Wyn!’

  ‘No!’ Caroline pushed a hank of sodden hair off her face. She was not going to be Bennett’s wife for much longer, so what was the use of obeying his wishes now? ‘I have to look for him! Don’t you understand? It’s my fault he’s out here! If any harm comes to him…’

  Fearing Bennett might try to stop her, she turned and ran blindly. To her relief, he did not follow. He must realise it was no use wasting time they desperately needed to search for their son.

  ‘Where are you, Wyn?’ she cried, though the question was more to herself than to him.

  Calling his name again and again, she staggered forwards. Her dress and shoes were so thoroughly soaked they weighed her down almost as much as her guilt. She was the one who had taken Wyn from his safe, familiar nursery and brought him to this stormy island with its turmoil and danger.

  If any harm befell her son, it would be a judgement upon her for putting her needs ahead of his well-being. Perhaps that was what Bennett had meant when he’d accused her of not knowing what love was. All these years, she had thought of love in terms of endearments and gestures of affection, when in truth it might be something simpler and far more substantial.

  Would she ever get the opportunity to learn to love her son that way?

  ‘If any harm comes to him…’ As Caroline ran off into the rain, her last unfinished sentence echoed ominously in Bennett’s mind.

  It conjured up terrifying visions of the dangers their son might encounter if he strayed any distance from the house. The sea-swept cliffs. The ancient tin pits that pocked the hills above Dolphin Town. The restless, hungry ocean that gnawed at the edges of the island. By force of will, Bennett wrenched himself back from the perilous downward spiral of such thoughts.

  Caroline’s barely contained panic was contagious. One glance at her and his heart had raced even faster, his stomach lurched and he had trouble catching his breath. He knew he could not allow such potent emotions to overcome him. His son’s life might depend upon him keeping a cool head.

  Since Caroline had struck out towards the interior of the island, he would search along the coast, where the greatest danger lay.

  ‘Wyn!’ he bellowed as his gaze ranged desperately. ‘Where are you? Come to me, son!’

  Yet while he walked and called out and scanned the area, he could not banish his last glimpse of Caroline from his mind. Her porcelain skin had the bluish pallor of whey. Her eyes had been opened too wide and moved restlessly. Not even the legendary Mrs Siddons could have put on such a convincing performance of distress. Much as Bennett longed to doubt her, he could not. She’d looked so vulnerable, so worried, so guilt-ridden, it stirred a sense of protectiveness he had not felt towards her in a very long time. He struggled to subdue it, but the two of them were bound tightly together by something far more important than their many differences.

  He could no longer deny that Caroline loved their son. She might not have been the most attentive mother, but perhaps he had not been the most affectionate father. Faced with the dark dread of losing his child for ever, Bennett began to understand the desperation that had driven her to keep Wyn with her at all costs.

  As more and more time passed with no sign of his son, Bennett found it harder to contain his mounting anxiety. Wyn was the only person in a very long time he’d permitted himself to love. There were others he might respect or admire, but none for whom he felt this consuming mixture of pride, protectiveness, fondness.

  If Caroline was right, he had not done nearly enough to show the child how he felt. It grieved Bennett that Wyn might regard him in the way he had his own cold, distant father. Worse yet, what if he never got the chance to let his son know how much he cared?

  That dread brought back wrenching memories of his mother’s abrupt disappearance and the grim silence that had met his anxious inquiries. After years spent protecting his heart from ever suffering that kind of ordeal again, he’d been powerless to keep from loving his son.

  Now he feared he might experience that same torment again. Only this time it would be real. And it would never end.

  ‘Bennett!’ Caroline’s voice, faint and hoarse, called him back from the edge of the bottomless abyss into which he’d been staring.

  His gaze flew towards the sound of it and he saw her standing near the house clutching Wyn.

  In a daze of joy and relief more profound than any he’d ever experienced, Bennett ran towards them and caught up with Caroline as she reached the kitchen door.

  She looked like a half-drowned angel with her golden hair hanging drenched around her shoulders and her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Yet, never in all the years he’d known her had she looked so beautiful. Not swathed in the finest silk and decked with sapphires, nor gloriously naked in the throes of newlywed desire. For now she held their son in her arms, safe from dangers Bennett could not bear to contemplate.

  He longed to wrap his arms around them both and clutch them tight to his heart. But if he did, he feared he might lose control of his tightly bound emotions. Instead he channelled his overwhelming relief and concern into pr
actical action.

  Throwing open the door, he ushered Caroline into the kitchen. The disagreeable smells he’d noticed upon first entering the house overwhelmed him, but he had more important things to worry about.

  ‘We need to get you both into dry clothes. Are there any here?’ He addressed the question to Parker, who swooped toward her mistress the moment they entered.

  In answer to his abrupt question, Caroline’s maid bobbed a nod. ‘That fellow with the cart fetched them from the inn when he brought Albert and the young master.’

  ‘Good. Then attend your mistress while I see to my son.’ Turning to Caroline, Bennett opened his arms. ‘I can take Wyn now.’

  But the child tightened his hold around Caroline’s neck and hid his face against her shoulder. ‘Papa will be angry with me for running away, like he was with you, Mama!’

  Wyn began to shiver. Was it from the cold, Bennett wondered with a pang, or was the child trembling with fear?

  ‘No, son.’ He tried to pitch his voice in a way that would reassure the child, but he was not certain he’d succeeded. ‘I’m not angry. I was worried about you, that’s all.’

  ‘We both were very worried, dearest.’ Caroline nuzzled the crown of Wyn’s head with her cheek. ‘But it’s all right, now. Go to your papa. He’ll take good care of you.’

  Did she mean that? After the insults and accusations they had hurled at one another such a short time ago, Bennett had his doubts. Yet when he scrutinised her tone for any barb of derision, he detected none.

  ‘Your mama is right, Wyn. You need not be afraid of me.’

  Their efforts to transfer the child from Caroline’s arms to his brought them into unsettlingly close contact. The back of his hand rubbed over the bosom of her sodden dress. The soft flesh beneath yielded to his touch. His leg brushed against hers. Her lips issued a silent but insistent call to his. It took little to rouse his gnawing hunger.

  Was that what Caroline wanted—to make him captive to his desires and slave to her whims? The mistrust Bennett had put aside came roaring back. Now that his wife had got a bitter foretaste of the life that awaited her outside the gilded bubble of their marriage, he would not put it past her to employ any means necessary to regain her position of privilege.

  That included seducing the husband she despised.

  Chapter Four

  How long would it be until Bennett got over his relief at finding Wyn and recalled that their son would never have been in danger if not for her?

  That thought plagued Caroline as her husband took charge to make her and Wyn as comfortable as possible after their ordeal. His reaction to the child’s sudden flight into the storm had proven that he cared more for Wyn than she’d ever suspected—far more than he had been able to show.

  She knew that should make her happy for Wyn’s sake. She wanted her son to have a father who loved him, even if he had trouble expressing it. But the more Bennett cared about their son, the less likely he would be to consider letting the child stay with her on Tresco. Especially now that he knew how dangerous it could be.

  ‘We’ll get you dried out yet.’ Bennett tucked a blanket around her and Wyn as they huddled together on the sofa, which he had pulled up closer to the parlour hearth. ‘It looks as though we may be obliged to spend the night here since the storm shows no sign of easing up.’

  Vexed as she was with Bennett for the hurt he’d caused her in the past and the worse harm he intended to inflict, Caroline appreciated his calm resourcefulness in a crisis.

  ‘What about you?’ She wrapped her arms around their son and pulled him closer. The child had not stopped shivering in spite of dry clothes, a blanket and the warmth of the fire. ‘You look half-drowned.’

  And yet it did not make him a whit less attractive…unfortunately. His close-cropped dark hair was only a little damp now and he had removed his sodden coat and waistcoat. But the driving rain had penetrated all the way to his shirt, which clung to his broad shoulders and well-proportioned chest in a way that made Caroline feel altogether too warm. It also made her self-conscious of what a fright she must look with her hair hanging lank and damp.

  ‘Half-drowned?’ Bennett glanced down at his clothes. ‘More than half, I should think. Perhaps I can borrow some dry clothes from Albert, for mine are still on the ship.’

  Parker bustled in then with cups of hot tea for them all.

  When Caroline took a sip of hers, her stomach squealed, as if demanding something more substantial.

  She cringed with embarrassment until Wyn gave a little chuckle—a sound so sweet it made her laugh along with him. ‘Are you hungry, Mama?’

  ‘I believe I am. All that housework must have given me an appetite.’

  ‘Dare I ask what you’ve prepared for supper, Parker?’ Bennett cast a dubious glance in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘A mess, I’m afraid, my lord.’ The maid cowered. ‘At least that’s what Albert says, the useless lump. I tried to make a fish stew, but I’m a lady’s maid, not a cook. It got all thick like paste and it burnt to the bottom of the pot and…’

  Parker gulped and sniffled.

  ‘Never mind that.’ Though Bennett’s gruff tone expressed horror at the prospect of female tears, it also carried a note of reluctant sympathy. ‘Is there any other food you didn’t cook?’

  ‘Some of the potatoes, sir. And eggs and a flitch of bacon for breakfast. Why?’

  Bennett squared his shoulders. ‘I mean to prepare a supper that might conceivably be edible.’

  ‘You can cook?’ Caroline would have been less surprised if he’d declared his intention to walk back to Cornwall on the water. How many other things about her husband had she never suspected because he’d never let her close enough to find out? ‘When did you learn how?’

  Bennett shrugged, as if to say it was not such a remarkable accomplishment. ‘I hung about the kitchen on my school holidays. I’ve always thought it a great disadvantage for a man not to be able to get himself a bite to eat in a pinch.’

  Now she understood. He had learned to cook so he would not be altogether dependent on others for nourishment.

  Without another word, Bennett strode from the parlour. Soon the hearty aroma of frying bacon wafted from the kitchen, overpowering the sickening stench of Parker’s burnt fish stew.

  Caroline cradled Wyn in her arms and tried to still his shivering. Deep in her heart, she quailed, too. During those terrible moments when she’d feared for Wyn’s safety, she began to understand how her husband must have felt when he’d returned to Sterling House to find their son gone. Soon Bennett would remember, too. No doubt he would also realise it was her fault Wyn had run away. If he had been determined to take their son back to London before, there would now be no hope whatsoever of him permitting Wyn to stay with her.

  A while later, the five of them sat around the table, masters and servants equally ill at ease dining together. Only Wyn seemed unperturbed by the situation.

  ‘Don’t forget grace,’ he reminded the adults, bowing his head and folding his small hands.

  Glancing down at her son, Caroline smiled with a mixture of amusement and doting pride. It gave her features a winsome glow that caught Bennett off guard.

  ‘Will you say it, Papa?’ the boy asked.

  ‘Er…of course.’ Bennett muttered something vague about giving thanks for the food before them. ‘Now, tuck in.’

  Caroline took a reluctant bite, perhaps wondering what harm this fry-up of bacon, eggs and potatoes would do to her delicate digestion. Her wary look soon melted into one of wholehearted pleasure. She cleaned her plate as if she were starving.

  ‘That may be the most delicious meal I have ever eaten,’ she declared when she had finished. ‘Thank you.’

  Her eyes had glowed with sincere appreciation.

  So his wife was capable of showing gratitude, after all. The revelation came as an awkward surprise to Bennett.

  ‘I’m…pleased my efforts met with your approval.’ His reply ca
me out stiff and self-conscious. Uncomfortable being the centre of attention, he turned his upon their son. ‘I fear Wyn does not share your enthusiasm for my cookery.’

  Caroline glanced at the plate Wyn had scarcely touched. ‘You should try to eat, dearest. It tastes very good and hot food will help warm you up.’

  Albert chimed in, ‘Try breaking open your eggs and dipping the tatties in the yolk. They taste even better that way.’

  Wyn pushed a chip of fried potato around his plate. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  Bennett was tempted to insist their son finish his supper, but Caroline forestalled him, indulgent as always. ‘You’re probably too tired to eat, poor darling. We must get you to bed.’

  Unaccustomed though he was to agree with his wife about anything, Bennett had to admit it was not a bad idea. The sooner Wyn got a good night’s sleep, the sooner he could begin to put the day’s distressing events behind him.

  Together they took the child upstairs, helped him change into his nightclothes and tucked him into bed.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ Wyn wrinkled his nose.

  ‘Cedar shavings, dearest.’ Caroline pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead. ‘All the linens were packed up with them to keep moths away. I hung the sheets out to air this morning, but I think they need more.’

  Bennett could not have imagined his wife hanging out bedding if he hadn’t seen her on her knees scrubbing the floor. She might not have managed well under such conditions, but at least she’d made an effort. That earned her something he did not give easily—a measure of his respect.

  ‘Now, son,’ said Bennett, ‘there is something very important I must ask you to promise me.’