by Kelly Boyce
The ladies were slower to warm up, though some did approach her. Even the very proper Miss Eugenie Caldwell, who despised anything indecorous, made her way over to say hello. Having such a pillar of propriety make an overture brought forth other ladies who had so far held back their own greetings. Perhaps Miss Caldwell had a few redeeming qualities after all. Though, after what she had done to Nick, he would reserve judgment for now.
Oh, there were a few hold outs. Lady Franklyn, of course, and those too afraid to go against the duchess for fear of reprisal. And Lord Tunston did not seem to be taken in by Caelie’s sudden return to popularity. Perhaps they would have to strike the earl off their prospect list. Which left Lord Cranbrook and the Viscount Shaftsbury, both of whom appeared to show an interest.
Unless one of the other gentlemen who had fawned over her decided to step up and make his intentions known.
Spence sighed and ran a hand down his face. A night of frivolity did not usually leave him so exhausted. If one could call it frivolity. In truth, it had been a rather torturous experience he did not care to repeat, yet knew he must in order to keep his promise to Caelie. All he wanted to do was find his bed and bury his head in the pillows then wait for oblivion to find him.
“Well, I for one am ready to retire, but I believe I will check in on Marcus first,” Grandmama said. “Sleep well, my dears.” She patted Caelie’s cheek and kissed Spence’s before disappearing through the door to Bowen’s bedroom.
Spence pulled his gaze away from the closed door of the bedroom and rested it on Caelie. Even after a night of dancing and entertaining she remained as ravishingly beautiful as when they set out hours earlier. He, on the other hand, felt bedraggled and…and…
Irritated.
He offered her his arm and escorted her down the hallway to her own room, one door down. When they stopped, she turned to face him.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” she asked.
“I did not.”
“Truly?” She sounded surprised.
He shook his head. He was out of sorts. Caelie stood in front of him, her back pressed against the door to her bedchamber as she looked up at him with those lovely green eyes a man could lose himself in if he wasn’t careful.
And he hadn’t been careful. He hadn’t even realized he’d been at risk until it was too late.
“My apologies. I enjoyed part of it.”
Her smile returned and the confusion in his heart eased. The glow from the sconce on the wall next to them bathed her ivory skin in a golden light.
“Which part did you enjoy?”
“Dancing with you.”
Her smile grew wider. “I worried I might have forgotten the steps.”
“You did exceedingly well. I’m sure all the other dancers were extremely jealous.”
“I am certain they were not. Which part did you dislike?”
Where did he start? The part where other men fawned over her like slobbering puppies awaiting a pat on the head? He particularly disliked the part where that idiot, Cranbrook, claimed the last dance, a waltz, and held Caelie in his arms. But the most unbearable part had been standing on the outskirts, pretending to be happy for her with her bevy of admirers when all he really wanted to do was toss them aside, grab her hand and run away with her.
“Spencer?”
He blinked. How he loved the sound of his name when she spoke it. “It must have been all the marriage-minded mamas stalking me like prey,” he quipped. He could not tell her the truth. There was no point. As much as he wanted her, she did not belong to him. She would never belong to him.
But sweet Judas he wanted her to.
“I should go,” he said. “You need your rest and I need—”
No. He could not tell her what he needed.
He mustn’t.
“What do you need?” She whispered the question and he closed his eyes, let her words wash over him.
“I’m not sure I know anymore.”
Her hand touched his face, lightly. Even through the barrier of her glove he could feel her warmth. It bled into him, set fire to smoldering embers. He opened his eyes and discovered he’d moved closer, though he had no recollection of it. His heart pounded against the walls of his chest and blood rushed to his groin. He lifted a thick curl that rested against her collarbone, then let his fingertips touch the soft skin beneath it. Her breath hitched.
He was close enough now to feel the rise and fall of her breasts.
How desperately he wanted to reach behind her and open the door, back her into the room, onto the bed. He wanted to lose himself inside of her, let her consume him until nothing remained. Maybe then he could move on, continue with this farce of finding her a husband and let her go.
He bent his head and his lips brushed the delicate skin on her neck where her pulse beat. She tasted of sweet aphrodisiacs, drawing him in, enticing his senses. She leaned into him, her hands fisted into his lapels. She wanted it to. He was certain.
He reached a hand behind to find the door knob.
But the door that unlatched came from behind him, not in front. The sound rushed down the hallway and doused him like a bucket of ice water. He leapt backward as his grandfather stepped out of Bowen’s room, his head turned to address Grandmama who remained inside. When he did step out, Spence held his breath as his grandfather’s gaze swept across both of them.
Spence did not dare look at Caelie, afraid if he did, his grandfather would see the guilt and desire stamped over every inch of his face. Perhaps he had seen it already as he stood silent for far longer than necessary before finally speaking.
“I understand this evening was a success?”
“Yes, my lord,” Caelie said. Her voice shook slightly. Did Grandfather notice?
The older man nodded. “Very good. Spencer, when you are done saying goodnight, if you could join me in my study, I would like to discuss certain matters with you.”
“It grows late, Grandfather. Could we perhaps discuss it on the morrow?” He needed time to compose himself, to find his scattered wits and cool the ardor that had thundered through his body only a moment before.
“We can discuss it now. I will await you downstairs.”
* * *
Caelie closed the door behind her and collapsed on her bed, her limbs limp and her mind racing. What had just happened? They had been having a pleasant conversation one minute and the next…
The next her entire body had been on fire with a desire she had been helpless to stop. Worse yet, she hadn’t wanted to stop it. She had wanted to let it rage, to burn through her until only cinder and ash remained. She wanted to know the sensation of his touch on her bare skin, the weight of his body on hers, the feel of him inside of her.
Her hands flew to her mouth to muffle the sob of shame that tried to escape. Mother had been right. She did have too much of her father in her. His heedless passions had been their family’s downfall, and now her recklessness had very nearly been hers.
Oh, but how she had wanted him.
When he leaned in and kissed her neck she had a vision of everything they could be. Their lives rolled out in a flash of vision that had rocked her to the very core. The happiness she had always dreamed of dangled at the tips of her fingers. She had only to reach out and grab it and it would be hers. There would be no turning back.
If she allowed it, he would have to marry her. He would insist upon it.
And he would hate her for it.
Tears streamed down from the corner of her eyes, across her cheeks and into the quilt beneath her. The very notion of his resentment, growing year after year as he was consigned to a life he did not want grew uglier with each passing moment.
She had lived that life. And she had hated it.
Every day until the day Mother abandoned her in Portsmouth she had been under the rule of someone else, of dictates and desires not her own. She had accepted it. Unlike Abigail she did not possess the fearlessness to buck convention. The consequences of doing so,
of dealing with Mother if she even dared, were too great and not worth the risk. Her only hope of escape had been marriage to a man who would treat her more like an equal and less like a piece of property.
Billingsworth had promised to be that man but she had soon learned what his promises were worth.
She had promised Spencer she would not trap him into a marriage he did not want.
She sat up and sniffed.
She would not be like Billingsworth. She had given her word and she would uphold it. If she did not, she was no better than a man who had used and betrayed her, then threatened to use that betrayal to ruin her in the eyes of others.
Caelie swiped at the trail of tears across her cheeks. She would not be that person. With Mother gone, the only guidance she had came from within. The decisions she made were hers to live with. She could not, in good conscience, do something that would make Spencer so unhappy. He was a good and honorable man, but a man nonetheless and he had a man’s desires. She could not expect him to be otherwise.
She must be the stronger one. Diligent. She must stamp down this scandalous passion before it destroyed them both.
There was no other way.
* * *
Spence walked into Grandfather’s study. A low fire burned in the hearth and cast a warm glow against the back of his grandfather who stood at a nearby window, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out into the night.
“You wanted to see me?” His grandfather often summoned him to speak about estate business or listen to yet another list of reasons as to why he should marry. It seemed rather late for a discussion on the Ellesmere estates, which left only the latter.
“Your grandmother indicated tonight met with success. She believes finding Lady Caelie a suitable groom will take no time at all. Apparently your ruse of pretending you were enamored of her proved worthwhile after all.”
“Yes. So it would seem.” He dragged his finger along the edge of Grandfather’s desk then picked up a paperweight and bounced it in his hand. He had given it to him one Christmas over two decades ago. He’d given a similar one to Bowen as well. It was nothing more than a rock he’d found and cleaned. The man had kept it all these years as if it was worth its weight in gold.
His grandfather turned. “I am glad to hear.”
“Because it will mean she is out from underfoot sooner rather than later?”
“You judge me harshly.”
“You’ve made your feelings toward Lady Caelie perfectly clear.”
“My feelings toward Lady Caelie are irrelevant. In truth, I think her a fine young lady of upstanding quality. It is the scandal that comes attached with her that I do not countenance. We have seen enough of it in our own family, do we need to court it in others as well? I will not apologize for trying to avoid further association with scandal, ours or anyone else’s.”
He didn’t bother arguing. Grandfather felt as strongly about avoiding scandal as Spence did about avoiding marriage. Likely, in the end, neither of them would get their way, for if Spence was forced to marry nothing but scandal and misery could follow. It was the way of the men in this family, save for the one standing before him. He had avoided it. He had copiously stepped around it at every turn, lived a life of exemplary goodness.
Spence had not. He had lived recklessly, with abandon, determined to outrun his fate. A fate that would leave him miserable and broken in body and spirit.
“The time has come,” Grandfather said, as if reading Spence’s thoughts. “I have been in contact with several families who I feel are suitable.”
“Grandfather, I won’t—”
“You will.” The words came down with a stony finality. “Enough is enough.”
Fear roiled in his gut and a vice clamped around his neck making it difficult to breathe. He watched his future slip away, dissolve into something bleak and ugly. “Please, don’t force me to do this.”
Grandfather fell silent a moment and in those few seconds hope grew only to be crushed by what came next. “Baron Caldwell is amenable to discussing a match between you and his daughter, Eugenie. As well, I have been approached by Lord Renfrew with respects to his daughter, Lady Beatrice.”
“Lady Beatrice?” Grandfather couldn’t seriously be considering her. Why he would choose the icy and remote Miss Caldwell who had done everything in her power to trap Nick into marriage before he chose Lady Beatrice. It did not matter how large her dowry, it could not make up for her constant snuffling nor drown out her incessant complaining over everything that crossed her path. There was a reason she had been out in society for the past five years without a single proposal.
His stomach lurched. Was this how Caelie had felt when the seasickness took hold? As if her insides were being battered against a cliff and nothing she did could stop it?
“If neither of these options are to your liking, I have also considered approaching Lord Blackbourne with respect to his sister Lady Rebecca. Given your friendship, I am sure he would be amenable to a match.”
Spence’s head shot up. “Lady Rebecca? But she is a child!”
“Lady Rebecca is twenty and has been out in society for the past two years.”
Perhaps, but in his mind she was still the little girl who chased them as boys and refused to be ignored or left behind.
He shook his head. “Grandfather…no. I can’t do this. I can’t marry any of these women.”
“And who, pray tell, would you like to marry then?”
“I—” One name popped into his head unbidden but he pushed it aside. Caelie deserved to be happy. He would not rob her of that. “No one. I wish to marry no one.”
Grandfather took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I have given you three viable options of women I find to be acceptable, Spencer. Once you have found a suitable candidate for Lady Caelie to marry and the ruse of your being enamored with her comes to an end, you will have until the end of the Season to choose one of these three as your bride. If you do not, you will have nothing. I will not provide a roof over your head. I will not put food in your belly. I will not put clothes on your back. I will not pay your debts. Do you understand me?”
Spence had the sense of being shut inside a dark room where the walls closed in inch by inch until he became trapped with nowhere to go. Part of him wanted to break out of it, tell Grandfather to go to hell; he’d make his own way, but doing what? The only skill he possessed was being lord of the manor. He’d spent his entire life training to take over his grandfather’s role when the time came. It wasn’t as if he could hang out a shingle: Lord for Hire.
He had no choice.
“I understand.”
Though understanding and accepting were two completely different entities. The only question remained which of the two could he live with—destitution until the title reverted to him and he had some level of income once again, or marriage to a woman he did not love, did not want, and certainly could not make happy?
Chapter Eighteen
“You’ve been very quiet this afternoon, Lady Caelie. Are you quite alright?”
The Dowager Countess of Blackbourne’s voice drew Caelie’s attention and her guilt. She was not being a very good guest. Lady Rebecca and her mother had invited her for an outing to Hyde Park and yet she could not seem to pull her mind out of the fog it had been in for the past few days.
Oh, how she wished Abigail had stayed in town, but Nick had insisted they return to the country so as not to overtax her during her confinement. Caelie had not argued, wanting the best for her cousin, but her absence left her without a confidante when she sorely needed one.
“Forgive me. I was wool-gathering, I’m afraid.” She straightened in her seat as the carriage conveyed them past a pair of gentlemen who strolled along the side of the pathway. Both tipped their hats to offer a good afternoon. She should be enjoying the unseasonably warm day, made even lovelier by the hint of newly budded flowers and the twitter of birds in the trees heralding spring’s long-awaited arrival.
> If nothing else, today’s outing was a far sight better than her last trip to the park. Was it almost a year ago that Abigail had coerced her into coming out after the fashionable hour to take a row in the lake? Unfortunately, things had not gone as planned when they encountered Nicholas, then still Lord Roxton. The combination of water, Abigail’s temper and Nicholas’s presence had the end result of her cousin landing in the water and Caelie being left adrift, while the lords and ladies of the ton gathered along the shore to watch the entire debacle.
Her fortunes had turned since that day, mostly due to Lady Ellesmere and Spencer squiring her about. The past few days had been a whirlwind of parties and teas and even a trip to the theatre. But through it all, something had changed. While Spencer played the part of the doting escort, making it appear that he fancied her, a remoteness had crept into his demeanor. Gone was the warm, engaging man she had come to lo—
No. Not love. She shook her head. Not that.
Lady Rebecca reached over and patted Caelie’s hands where she held them clenched in her lap. “You have every right to lose yourself in your thoughts. Did Mother tell you every house hummed with the news of your latest sightings when we paid our morning calls?”
“Truly?” Funny how once she would have coveted this information and now it hardly seemed to matter.
“Indeed,” Lady Blackbourne said. She inclined her regal head and the ostrich feather perched dramatically on the side of her lavender hat bobbed with the movement. “Well done. People are saying Lord Huntsleigh looks every inch the smitten suitor, as do Lords Cranbrook and Shaftsbury. I would not be at all surprised to see those two gentlemen try to race the other to a proposal.”
Lady Rebecca smiled, her delicate features protected from the late afternoon sun by a fashionable bonnet. “You are a much sought after prize. If this keeps up, by the end of the Season, you may have your pick of gentlemen!”
Caelie forced a smile. Indeed, she should be happy. She wanted this. Or she’d thought she had. To be accepted back into the folds of society. To leave the taint of scandal behind her. To have a husband and a family of her own.
