Pushing the thought aside, he went over to the long French doors and gazed out on the night. Snow blanketed the lawn and clung to the spindly branches, glowing in the moonlight with ethereal light of its own. He struggled with the surge of unpleasant emotion, willing it under control so as not to ruin their fine evening.
He glanced back at his wife and brother, feeling left out somehow, which the rational part of his brain recognized as ridiculous.
This was his house. Caroline was his wife, and she had never made an untoward overture toward David. In fact, she had shown uncommon affection to Magnus, something he had not expected from the arrangement. Looking about the room, he tried to find some means to pull himself from his disturbing thoughts.
It was then he noticed the Waterford bowl was missing. It would not have registered except for David commenting on it only a few days ago. And the Dresden figure was gone as well.
Odd. He turned to ask his companions if they knew anything about it, then stopped. He wasn’t certain why. Something nagged at the back of his brain, something not right. His mother’s things had remained untouched all the years she had been dead. For two objects to suddenly go missing without explanation was more than coincidence.
With an effort, he forced himself back to David and Caroline. His brother had her laughing at some silly jest. His eyes narrowed, and he could not stop a cold bitter feeling from rising up to lodge in his throat. Next Christmas, when he was not here, would they laugh and toast and make merry together? Would it be David in the master’s chamber and Caroline in hers—and would the connecting door remain open as it now did?
Caroline turned to him, her delight fading from her lovely face. “Magnus, is something wrong? Are you ill?”
“No,” he said, then forced a reassuring smile. “Nothing like that. Shall we retire?”
“Very well,” Caroline agreed, coming to slip her arm through his. A sharp pang affected his heart, for he realized how unkind his thoughts had been. He was wallowing in one of his selfish sulks again. This woman had done nothing to merit his fractious suppositions. She had been only compassionate and giving and flawless in her devotion to him. She had even said she cared.
As they made their way upstairs, Magnus relaxed. He could dispel his fears with the knowledge that Caroline was honest and pure, and she had never done anything to deceive him. It was his own jaded past that made him suspicious, looking for the bad. Caroline was completely trustworthy. That he knew.
Magnus took ill late Christmas night, but the attack was not severe. Caroline stayed by his side, holding his hand while he slept and keeping vigil that his condition didn’t worsen.
David stepped into the room. Caroline pressed a finger to her lips. “He’s sleeping.”
“Is he doing all right?” David whispered.
“He’s on the mend already. It wasn’t a bad one.”
David came to stare down at his brother. “Thank God.” He was silent for a long while, and then he said, “I know it is considered unmanly for me to say this, but I love him. More than just brothers. I idolized him growing up, and I suppose I still look up to him.” His chin dropped to his chest. “I can’t stand this, Caroline.”
Caroline rose and put her arms about him. “Hush, David. It’s going to be all right.”
He looked at her, his brown eyes full of pain. “Do you promise? Oh, God, Caroline, I am so frightened.”
Breaking away, he walked a few steps off while he struggled for control.
“David?” Magnus’ voice was weak.
David’s head came up and he paused a moment before swinging around, a smile neatly in place. Caroline was astounded at the speedy transformation, appreciating his brave face. David would not want Magnus to see his grief.
“Feeling better, old boy?”
“You still here?” Magnus croaked. Caroline put a cup of water to his lips and he drank.
“Just leaving. Came to say goodbye.”
Magnus lifted a corner of his mouth ever so slightly. “I don’t want you missing any parties on my account.”
“Right.” David made for the door. Caroline went him, pulling on his sleeve. “Do you have to go soon?” she asked.
“I have to get out of here,” he said sharply, and pulled away.
In the wake of his exit, Caroline felt a twinge of disquiet. Many people could not cope with illness. It made them too uncomfortable. David was one of these. He always retreated when Magnus suffered an attack. She should understand, but it made her angry. She knew what it was like to watch a beloved brother grow weaker before her eyes, yet she could not see abandoning him because of her own pain.
As her mind touched on James, she gave a silent prayer of thanks that he was doing well these days. Her mother’s last letter thanked her for the generous funds she had sent and reported that James was increasing in health at an alarming rate. Caroline missed him so much.
She had sold the Dresden figurine. Who was she to judge David, she thought miserably. He had no backbone to face Magnus’ illness, it was true, but he was not a thief.
“Are you hungry?” she said, but Magnus had fallen back asleep. She paused, looking down at his handsome face, so peaceful. Her hand came up over her belly, spreading over the flatness. If what she suspected were true, she would have wonderful news to tell him when he awoke. Knowing she must wait until she was absolutely certain, she sighed. She wanted so badly to please him. She wanted to tell him it was true—she was at last with child. She wanted.so much. More than just to fulfill her part of the bargain.
She wanted a lifetime with this man. She wanted to see him with their son hoisted on his shoulders, romping about like a fool. She wanted to see him in his garden, shirtless and sweating and smiling in the sun as he gazed on his precious roses. She wanted to see him gray and bent with age and still looking at her with desire in his eyes.
Oh, God, she had fallen hopelessly in love with him. She had tried not to, but it had happened all the same, beyond reason and beyond wisdom.
Admitting it to herself didn’t help. It only made it more real. The situation was hopeless, and she powerless. She wished she could, like David, run away, but where could she run to? The only place she wanted to be was at Magnus’ side.
Her troubled thoughts kept her company until he awoke a few hours later.
“What day is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse and groggy.
“It is still Thursday. You were not out long.”
“Mmmm.” He sat up, rubbing his temples.
“Headache?”
“Not bad. This was a short one?” She nodded. “The past few have been easy ones.”
She leapt at hope. “Has this happened before?”
“No. It usually varies. Since you’ve come, the attacks have been less frequent. And aside from the one severe one, they have on the whole been milder.”
“Perhaps you are improving. Shall I call a doctor in?” Perhaps he could evaluate you again—”
“No doctors!” Magnus said. “They are a bunch of ninnies. Don’t know a damned thing and always wanting to bleed you!”
“But if the condition is lessening, we must know immediately!”
He shook his head. “Maybe it’s just my imagination. Or perhaps my will to live has finally awakened. But it won’t stave off the inevitable forever. No, Cara, I consulted the best physicians.” He paused, looking at her as if in wonder. “You really do care, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!” she declared.
He reached out a hand to brush his fingers across her face. She caught it and pressed her cheek into its warmth, wanting so badly to share the depth of her feelings.
“Sweet Cara,” he murmured. “I’m starving.”
She giggled. The way he recovered so quickly always amazed her. It was so strange to see him ravenous and hearty mere hours after having been completely unconscious. “I’ll tell Mrs. Bronson. She’s got something marvelous prepared for you, I’m sure.”
He relaxed against the pill
ows and Caroline went to order his meal. While she was downstairs, she met up with David and several servants who were laden with his luggage.
“I thought you had gone,” Caroline said.
“Just now. I had some business papers to get together for Magnus.”
“I know what a comfort it is for him to have you to help him, David,” Caroline said, laying a hand on his arm. He almost flinched. “It eases his worry to know you are handling his affairs.”
“It’s you who has made all the difference, Caroline. Ever since you came, he has changed. I suppose if anything good has come of all of this it has been you.”
“Thank you, but I’ve done nothing,” Caroline began.
David cut her off. “You’ve done everything.” He patted her hand. “I’ll be back soon. Until then, take good care of him.”
“I will.”
They said their farewells and Caroline went in the kitchen. Mrs. Bronson looked up from the scrubbed oak table. “Is he ready for a feast?”
Caroline laughed, lighthearted and excited at the lingering optimism from knowing Magnus’ condition was definitely improving. “He is always ravenously hungry after a bout, so pile on everything that you have.”
“Bless him, the poor man.” Mrs. Bronson fussed as she bustled about, “never knowing what to expect. Just when a body starts to think it’s all over, he goes into one of his fits. Like his father did, but worse. Terrible it is. Such a fine man, too.”
“Yes,” Caroline agreed quietly, “he is a wonderful man.” She looked at Mrs. Bronson hopefully. “Did you know Magnus’ father?”
The cook bobbed her head as she sliced some cold beef. “I did indeed. Wonderful man, too. Very quiet. Such an odd match for the mistress, but he doted on her. He loved his boys, too. Gentle but stern, he was.”
Caroline sensed this woman didn’t mind an innocent gossip, so she asked, “Did he and Magnus have a falling out? Magnus mentioned some unkind words exchanged, and I think it wounded him quite a bit.”
“Oh, the master Magnus, he was a wild one,” the older woman chuckled. “When he was young, he was handsome and sensitive. His mother called him her little poet because he was always wanting to be around her friends. Then as a youth, he changed. He became colder, less happy, irritable. The old master, he didn’t like it.” She ladled gravy onto some potatoes. “Never said anything, but you could tell. Then, after the mistress died, the old master, he went into decline. His heart failed because it was broken, I always said. He was so lost without his Esmine.”
She shook her head in sadness, apparently at the poor departed Esmine Eddington. “That’s when the master really went wild, staying in London and carousing like the devil. He hardly ever came home. When his father died, though, Lord Magnus was here. That was a sad day, indeed. It affected him more than I would have thought. He stayed up in his room for a good long time, then went back to London, and from what I’ve heard, tried to kill himself with late hours and drinking and all manner of uncivilized living. Oh, he has grief in him, that one.” Her big eyes filled with tears and she brushed them away while arranging hot bread on the platter she was preparing. “One never understands the good Lord’s plans when you see a man like that with so much heartache.”
“So he came back to Hawking Park when he became ill?”
Mrs. Bronson bobbed her head and said, “Right after he met you, I reckon, though he kept you a good secret at first. Never mentioned a word about you, then suddenly, you were getting married.” Her large form shook with mirth. “I’m sure many have been waiting to see if you are ‘increasing’ as they say, after all that rush.”
“It did happen rather quickly,” Caroline agreed.
Mrs. Bronson rubbed her hands together as she surveyed the results of her labors. “Well, here we go. That should keep him for a while. I’ll have Tim bring it up for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bronson. For the talk, I mean. There is much about my husband I don’t know, and I hate to ask him if it would cause him distress.”
“I know you worry about him, dear. I do, too. We can always pray for a miracle.”
Caroline nodded, unable to speak.
She was going to lose him. Magnus, who was infuriating and noble and exciting and exasperating all at once was the most important person in her life. She wondered if she could bear it.
Oh, God, she thought, I do need a miracle.
Chapter Sixteen
Magnus’ recovery was quick and complete, and within days he resumed his normal routine. He was fond of riding the snow-laden woods on his beloved Balthazar. Sometimes Caroline joined him on the well-trained mare, and these were the times he liked best. With her cheeks coldkissed and rosy, her corn-silk hair flying in loose tendrils and dark violet eyes sparkling, she looked like an angel by his side as they roamed the forests.
She was delightful company. She could make him laugh and within an instant, look at him in such a way that he would go weak-kneed with desire. He took her to the delta often, and they would watch the changes as it lay blanketed in white, then melt away to shades of brown and gray.
Often, he would dismount and test the frozen ground, arching a speculative brow at his wife. She would giggle and shake her head. “Too cold,” she would say, and they’d laugh together. It became a frequent joke, yet Magnus’ blood would race every time, for he had full intentions of one day laying her down on the soft spring grass and peeling away her clothing and making slow, maddening love to her under the lacy canopy of new leaves. In the spring.
Perhaps he would see another. He hadn’t thought to, but he was feeling well so much of the time, and despite his protests to the contrary, a fledgling hope was coming alive that perhaps he would not die before too long. And life was becoming very precious of late.
It was after one of these excursions when they were warming by the fire in the parlor and sipping tea that Magnus noticed Caroline behaving strangely, as if her thoughts were far, far away. Upon reflection, he noted she had been a bit distracted today, in fact for the past few days.
He studied her as she stared into the fire, disgusted at himself when uncharitable suspicions began to assert themselves in his brain. He was a bounder to think it, but the idea she was wondering how long it would take him to die flashed in his mind. He had been doing so well, she had even said so herself, yet she had not bargained for so long a commitment.
He pushed the horror away, but the stubborn notion stuck to the fringes of his consciousness.
“Magnus?” she said at last, ending the long silence.
She turned to him, uncertain and unable to meet his eye. His doubts flared anew. His voice was cold. “Yes?”
“I was going to wait to tell you, but I believe it’s fairly certain. That is, I am almost sure. Well, very sure. I think.” He waited. The sound of his own heartbeat thrummed in his ears and all feeling drained from his body. She had her head bent, her eyes lowered. Then she glanced up at him.
She said, “I am with child, Magnus. My courses are almost a full three weeks late, and I am beginning to experience the other signs.” She paused, her breath catching. “I would have waited to tell you until I spoke to a physician, but there was no way to see him without telling you first. I hope it is true. I think it is. I would not want to disappoint you if I’m wrong.”
The world narrowed to a singular pinpoint of vision, and all he saw was Caroline’s face. Lovely, hopeful, filling his head while her words echoed with perfect clarity. He stood abruptly, walked a few paces away and turned back around. Caroline was on her feet, a million questions written in her expression. He was mortified to feel a stinging in the back of his eyes, and a knot constricted his throat.
He turned his head.
He couldn’t think. His brain was numb.
The hard slam of conscience almost brought him to his knees. This woman was preparing to tell him his dream had been fulfilled, and he had been thinking horrible thoughts of her. He might remember in the future, he thought wryly, not to jud
ge her by his own standards.
Oh, God, a child.
Soft footfalls on the thick carpet told him she had come to stand just behind him. He waited until he was sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself, then turned and took her in his arms.
She smiled, her own eyes shining. Magnus held her closer, burying his face in the fragrance of her hair. He wanted to fold her into himself, surround and protect her without end.
“Thank you,” was all he said. Regret and elation blended into a soul-shattering emotion that left him nothing else to say.
She murmured, “If I’m correct, the baby should be born next fall:”
Almost a year to the day of their meeting. Memory sprung to life, of her sitting in the salon with that ridiculous dress, her breasts spilling over the neckline like a sumptuous soufflé. Looking brave and struggling to remain composed, she had not been able to hide the fear in her eyes. He had acted like a satyr and she had put him in his place without a moment’s hesitation.
He felt an insuppressible impulse to laugh. It started as a distant rumble, then blossomed into a full-throated guffaw. He laughed and laughed until tears streamed down his face, the release he had held at bay for so long flowing forth at last unchecked.
Caroline looked astounded, and then he cupped her face in his hands and she laughed, too. A beautiful sound, mingling with his own like a melody.
His child. His legacy.
He closed his eyes, and murmured a prayer of thanks. It had been a long time since he had last prayed. Apparently, the Almighty hadn’t forgotten him in his absence.
He kept Caroline close as he led her upstairs. He wanted her, to love her and tell her with his body, his hands, his mouth how he felt—all the things he had no words for. Halfway into their chamber, he stopped.
“Can we—? Is it safe to make love?”
Slipping her arms about his neck, Caroline pressed her slim form up against him. “I am led to believe it is quite all right, Magnus.”
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