“Caroline–” he tried again, but she no longer wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Please leave,” she said hoarsely.
“I really think we should–”
“Leave.”
“Fine.” He squared his shoulders. “You know, I am beginning to think this is really a marriage of inconvenience. I never should have picked you.” And with that last cold, cutting remark, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.
Caroline allowed herself precisely one hour of self-pity. Then she picked herself up off the bed, dusted herself off, and walked out of her bedchamber as if nothing were amiss. If her husband truly did not love her – which he’d just proven yet again – then she wasn’t going to waste another second’s worth of time and energy trying to convince him otherwise. And she most certainly was not going to allow him to ruin Christmas.
Thankfully the manor was very large, and over the next few days she only saw Eric twice. Once while she was having breakfast in the solarium and she glimpsed him walking out to the barn, and another time when she ducked into the library late at night to pick out a book to help her sleep.
He’d been reading in front of the fire and they’d both caught the other off guard. For the span of a heartbeat their gazes had met before she’d snatched a book blindly off the shelf and fled with what little dignity she had left.
During the day she kept herself busy by decorating every nook and crevice she could wedge a piece of holly into, and by the time Christmas Eve dawned the house was nearly complete.
Candles burned in every window, clumps of mistletoe hung from every doorway. There was garland twisted through all of the bannisters and red bows pinned to the drapes. A large wreath hung on the front door and a matching one had been nailed to the mantle in the drawing room.
There was only one thing missing.
“You there,” she called out brightly to a footman. “Could you have Buttercup saddled for me, please?”
“You’re going for a ride now?” Emerging from the parlor balancing a silver tea tray, Anne glanced out the window. “But it will be dark in a few hours. And it’s cold.” Her nose wrinkled. “And snowing.”
Caroline wrapped a long wool scarf around her neck and drew up the hood of her fur-lined cloak. “I will not be gone long and I won’t be going very far. Just to the tree line and back.”
“If it’s fresh air you’re after the footmen have shoveled a path around the garden. Why not a short walk instead?” her maid suggested. “I don’t know if His Grace would want you riding out alone.”
Caroline’s mouth thinned. “His Grace doesn’t give a donkey’s behind what I do.”
“That’s not true,” Anne protested.
She lifted a brow. “Isn’t it? I won’t be gone long. I promise.”
“But where are you going?” Anne called out as Caroline opened the front door and stepped out into the lightly falling snow.
“The Yule log!” she called back over her shoulder. “I am going to get the Yule log.”
Chapter Thirteen
“With all due respect, you cannot hide in here forever, Your Grace.”
Looking up from the ledgers he’d been tallying, Eric scowled at his butler. “I am not hiding,” he growled as he pushed his chair back and stood up. “I am working.”
“And I suppose it is just a coincidence that you have been ‘working’ ever since you and Her Grace had a falling out?” Newgate asked.
“How the bloody hell do you know about that?”
“Aside from the fact that you have both been taking great pains to avoid one another for the better part of a week, Her Grace’s bedchamber still smells like perfume. Adelaide threw a candlestick at my head once,” he said, smiling vaguely at the memory.
Walking around to the front of his desk, Eric crossed his arms and leaned back against it. “What did you do?”
“Before or after I regained consciousness?” the butler said dryly.
It wasn’t often that Newgate spoke of his wife, who had died nearly eight years ago of consumption. She had been a sweet woman, constantly sneaking Eric biscuits when she thought her husband wasn’t looking. Which of course he always had been. There wasn’t very much that escaped the butler’s notice, then or now.
Including the dismal state of my marriage, Eric thought silently. Picking up a feather tipped quill, he twirled it absently between his fingers.
“You and Adelaide seemed happy, Newgate.”
The aging butler inclined his head. “We were, Your Grace. Very much so. I miss her every day.”
He touched the quill to his chin. “My parents were never happy.”
“No,” Newgate agreed. “I fear they were not.”
Eric was silent for a long moment. After his fight with Caroline he’d been filled with righteous anger. He’d made it clear what their marriage was and what is wasn’t, had he not? Why couldn’t she be content with what he could give her, instead of dwelling on what he couldn’t? But then his anger had faded, and he’d felt…lost. Empty. Alone. And the only thing he’d wanted to fill the void in his heart was Caroline.
Whether by accident or design, his little wife had gotten under his skin in a way no other woman ever had. He didn’t just want her body. He wanted her smile. He wanted her laughter. He wanted her blushes. He wanted the shy glances she snuck in his direction when she thought he wasn’t looking. Until she had taken them away he hadn’t realized how much they’d come to mean to him. How much she had come to mean to him.
If that wasn’t love, then devil take it he didn’t know what was.
“I saw what my mother did to my father,” he said slowly. “The pain she put him through. The ultimatums she gave him. I thought that’s what love was. What it looked like. What it meant. But now I don’t think it is. Love isn’t something to be bartered or traded. It isn’t a weapon or a means to get something you want. It can’t be found in an emerald necklace or a pint of ale.” He met Newgate’s steady gaze. “I was so bloody determined not to turn into my father that I became my mother. But I don’t want to be either one of them. Not anymore. Do you think Caroline and I could be happy together? That we could love one another, as you and your Adelaide did?”
“Respectfully, Your Grace, that is a question only you can answer.”
Eric’s chest tightened as he recalled the misery in Caroline’s beautiful gray eyes when she’d poured out her heart to him.
‘I know you are capable of more than what you’re giving. I’ve felt it when you touch me. I’ve seen it in your eyes when you look at me. It would be easier if you really couldn’t love me. But I know you can. I know it. You just don’t want to.’
“I think I already have, Newgate.” He dropped the quill, picked up his coat, and, much to Newgate’s astonishment, gave the butler a two-armed embrace that left the older man gasping for breath. “I think I already have.”
Where the devil did I leave it? Caroline asked herself, borrowing one of her husband’s favorite curses as she steered Buttercup between two towering pines. Her head bent and her ears flattened against the brisk wind, the draft mare trudged gamely through the snow as they wound their way deeper and deeper into the woods.
They’d been walking for what felt like hours, searching in vain for the short, stout log that Caroline had left propped against an old stump the last time she’d ventured this far into the forest. Of course there hadn’t been any snow then…and it hadn’t been nearly as cold, or as dark. With a shiver she pulled gently on the reins and Buttercup came to a halt, twin plumes of smoke rising up from her nostrils as she lifted her neck.
“I am terribly sorry,” Caroline said apologetically, reaching down to brush flakes of snow off the mare’s scruffy mane. “I did not think it would take this long. If I could just find where I left it…” She brought a hand to her brow and scanned their surroundings, but with everything covered in a blanket of white it was impossible to decipher one log from the next.
The one she was looking
for was much smaller than a traditional Yule log, but that was why she’d picked it. So she could easily drag it back herself. In hindsight she wished she’d sent a group of footman to carry out the task for her. But there was nothing she could do about it now…except to turn back around.
Collecting up the reins, she nudged her frozen feet into Buttercup’s sides and the mare started walking again. But they’d gone no more than ten feet before Caroline pulled her up once more, a flicker of unease coiling in her belly when she realized she hadn’t the faintest idea what direction they were traveling in. She’d thought the manor was behind them. Or was it in front of them? With the snow on the ground and more falling from the sky every minute, she could no longer be certain.
“Oh dear,” she fretted. “I never should have come out here.”
Maybe if she allowed Buttercup her head the mare would know how to get them back to the barn. But when she loosened the reins and gave a light kick the draft merely turned and looked up at her with large, unblinking brown eyes as if to say, ‘You got us into this mess and it’s your job to get us out’.
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. The manor is…that way!” she decided, pointing at a cluster of pine trees that looked vaguely familiar. Drawing her cloak more snugly around her shoulders, she urged Buttercup onwards through the snow with an encouraging cluck of her tongue.
After two wrong turns and one frightening slide down an embankment, they finally stumbled out of the forest and Caroline breathed an enormous sigh of relief when she saw lights twinkling in the distance.
“See?” she said, leaning down to give Buttercup a teeth chattering hug. “I knew we could do it!”
But no sooner had they set off across the field than an icy chill of warning swept down her spine.
And then the wolves began to howl.
Chapter Fourteen
“You there. Have you seen my wife?”
Anne stopped dusting the mantle. She turned to find the duke standing just inside the drawing room, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers and a deep line creasing his brow.
“She hasn’t returned yet?” Her gaze darted to the window, but it was so dark the only thing she could see was her own reflection. “Oh no. I didn’t realize she had been gone this long.”
“Gone?” the duke snapped, dark brows pinching above the bridge of his nose. “What the devil do you mean she’s gone? Gone where?”
“The woods.” As worry for the duchess drained the color from her cheeks, the feather duster went clattering to the floor. “She’s gone into the woods to look for a Yule log. But she left hours ago. I did not realize – oh!” she gasped when the duke crossed the room and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“What direction?” he demanded, his expression fiercer than she’d ever seen it. “What direction did she go? Answer me, damn you!”
“The field behind the stables. I – I think she went to the field!”
With a vicious curse the duke let her go, and Anne ran after him into the foyer.
“Do you think she’s in d-danger?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear at the thought of something perilous having happened to her dear friend.
“I don’t know.” Forgoing a jacket or even a cloak, he pulled on his riding boots and then disappeared into his study. Less than a minute later he emerged, and her eyes widened when she saw what he was carrying.
“Is that a–”
“Pistol. Stay right here in case she returns. Do not move from that spot. Do you understand?”
Anne nodded jerkily. “Yes,” she whispered. “I understand.”
A gust of freezing wind and snow swept into the foyer when he opened the front door. “If I am not back in half an hour sent out the footmen.”
“Which one?”
“All of them,” he said grimly.
Buttercup whirled and snorted as the howls grew ever closer. Clinging to her mount’s neck with all the strength her frozen fingers could muster, Caroline fought desperately to keep a cool and level head.
“Easy girl. It – it will be all right.” But even to her own ears her words sounded hollow.
Oh, why hadn’t she listened to Anne? A walk around the gardens would have been a thousand times better than cowering in the darkness waiting to be devoured by wolves! But she had been so determined to have the perfect Christmas that she’d ignored the dangers of going into the woods by herself, and now she was paying the ultimate price for her stupidity.
Had anyone even noticed she was gone? Anne, perhaps, but certainly not her husband.
Eric is probably glad I am going to be eaten, she thought bitterly.
There was a loud rustle behind them and Buttercup spooked, spinning to the left as Caroline, not expecting the sudden movement, flew off to the right.
She landed on her backside, her fall cushioned by the snow. Clumsily trying to find her footing, she managed to stand just in time to watch the terrified draft mare gallop away across the field.
“Blast and damn,” she cried, pounding her fist into the palm of her hand. Another eerie howl had every hair on the back of her neck rising straight up, and with a frightened gasp she tried to run for the woods, but the snow was too deep.
Helpless to do anything but try to defend herself, she picked up a long stick and swung it like a sword as she spun in a circle, desperately searching the inky darkness for any hint of the vicious beasts that prowled and stalked.
Her heart was pounding so loudly she feared it was going to burst from her chest and no matter how hard she sucked cold, icy air into her lungs she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. A flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye and a shrill scream burst from the depths of her throat, but it was nothing more than a skeletal branch blowing in the breeze.
Or so she hoped.
“Please don’t eat me,” she pleaded desperately. “I – I don’t think I would taste very good.”
But if the wolves heard her – or cared – they gave no sign.
Just as she was about to give up all hope, a single gunshot rang through the night followed by the thunderous pounding of hooves.
“Buttercup?” she called out, squinting into the shadows.
But it wasn’t the draft mare who came cantering to her rescue.
It was her husband.
“Grab my hand,” he ordered tersely, and with little other choice but to obey his command Caroline latched onto his arm as he rode past. She was swept effortlessly into the saddle and then they were galloping back to the manor, leaving the wolves far behind as Eric’s stallion cut easily through the deep snow, his long legs doing what Buttercup’s shorter limbs could not.
“B-Buttercup?” Caroline asked, forcing the horse’s name out between chattering teeth. “Is –is she all right?”
“She’s back at the stables.” His jaw clenched, Eric did not look at her or speak again until they’d reached the front door. He swung his powerful thigh over the side of the saddle and dismounted first, but before Caroline could do the same he had her in his arms and was carrying her up the steps and into the foyer. Anne was there to greet them and her face lit up with relief when she saw Caroline was alive and well.
“You’re back! Oh, thank goodness. I was so–”
“Go. Away,” Eric snarled.
“Yes Your Grace,” the maid squeaked before she turned on her heel and scurried off, a small animal seeking shelter from the storm that was about to be unleashed.
Caroline squirmed in her husband’s arms. “You can put me down now,” she said, her voice muffled against his hard chest. “I am perfectly capable of walking.”
“No,” he bit out as her carried her through the foyer and down the hall to the library. “In fact, I may never put you down again!” To prove his point he sat down in one of the large leather chairs facing the fireplace, but he still did not loosen his grip.
Muttering something undecipherable under his breath, he sat her on his lap while he untied her cloak and pulled off her scarf and
mittens. For her part Caroline held perfectly still, not wanting to give him a reason to become even angrier with her than he already was.
He did not speak to her again until he’d stripped away all of her wet outer garments and wrapped a blanket around her shivering body. Sitting her on the floor directly in front of the fire, he sat behind her, his thighs pressing against her hips as he drew her back against his chest in an embrace that, if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought of as protective.
“You could have been killed,” he said flatly.
She shivered. “I know.”
“A few more minutes and those wolves would have ripped you to pieces.”
“I know.”
“You risked not only your life, but your horse’s as well.”
“I know.” She twisted in his arms and glared up at him through her lashes. “It was stupid of me to ride off by myself. Stupid and foolish and I will never do it again. Although I don’t see why you would care if I was killed or not,” she muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?” he asked sharply.
She sat up a little straighter. “I said I don’t see why you would care if I was killed or not!”
Firelight danced across the muscle ticking in his jaw. “Of course I would bloody well care!”
“That’s right, you still need an heir, don’t you? Next time I will make certain not to risk my life until after I’ve given you a son.” Ignoring her aching muscles, she jumped to her feet, and Eric did the same.
Had someone told Caroline when she first married the duke that she would one day square off with him as if she were a boxer stepping into the ring, she would have laughed at the absurdity of it. Her, standing up to him? Yet here she was, chin angled, hands curled into fists, gray eyes sharp with temper.
A Duchess for all Seasons: The Collection Page 9