“Well, I’m glad enough. That means My Lord isn’t traveling through some terrible tempest.”
Caspian watched her a moment, his mind still turning over Lady Gwendoline, who he’d come to affectionately think of as his favorite, special problem.
“You really care about my father,” Caspian said slowly, “Even though you didn’t marry him out of love.”
“Of course, I care about your father. I’d be a terrible Lady if I wanted some misfortune to befall him,” she replied.
Caspian furrowed his brow. “But would you…”
Lady Elderdale paused and considered him. “Has a young lady caught your fancy, finally?”
Oh, one had. But he certainly could not reveal who that young lady was. And Caspian was not entirely sure how to define his feelings for Lady Gwendoline. She was an enchanting creature, and perhaps, he did feel more fondness for her than he should. But it was difficult to put name to it. Perhaps, affection. Or friendship. That word did not seem too strong now.
“I’m unsure,” he said, avoiding the question as best as he could. “But I wondered only what your thoughts were. For two people who never loved one another, you and my father seem to have a marriage which works.”
Somewhat. Caspian wondered, not for the first time, if his mother was truly happy with her Lord. If Caspian received lectures and admonishments as often as he did, he imagined that it wasn’t much better for his mother.
“Well, I suppose we have grown fonder of one another over the years. Or perhaps, we have grown fonder of the situation. Love is nice, but I also think that true love is quite rare. It’s a fine way to begin a relationship, but it is not the only way. And it is not the only important aspect to consider. Compatibility is as important as advantage.”
His mother sounded so sensible.
But how bold do I want to be? Surely, I can’t ask her if she thinks her decision was worth everything.
“If it’s any consolation,” his mother said, her voice softening. “I’m certain that your future bride will love you, whoever she may be. Sometimes, it takes time for love and affection to grow, but I have found both can flourish if given a little tending.”
And Caspian couldn’t help but think, for all his father did to manage the estate, that he hadn’t, perhaps, tended his love as well as he should have.
“I suddenly don’t know if I have told you that I love you enough, Mother,” Caspian said.
His mother smiled, and the wrinkles stretched like spiderwebs across her face. Caspian had been a terror as a boy, and perhaps, he was still a terror, only in a different way.
“I know you love me. You don’t have to tell me that,” she said, smiling. “Hearing it once is enough.”
“But surely, you must think it’s nice to hear sometimes, regardless?”
“I suppose.”
Caspian returned his attention to the letter, his eyes roving over the contents. There wasn’t a word in there about Lady Elderdale or Noah. But scarcely a word was spared for Caspian, too, aside from the mentions of what he ought to be doing.
“It appears as though all is well with Lord Elderdale, or if it is not, he’s neglected to tell me,” Caspian said. “Mostly, this letter contains a list of things I ought to be doing.”
“And I imagine sitting with one’s mother is not among them.”
The comment was light-hearted, but Caspian’s chest still ached. Ever since Lady Gwendoline became more involved in his life, he’d begun to think more of his poor mother and her marriage to his father. No, sitting with one’s mother was not mentioned because—if Caspian was being honest with himself, he’d admit that—his father simply did not spare a thought for his wife.
And I will never be that. No matter who my wife is.
“I imagine my father did not include such because he suspected I’d tend to my mother without being told,” Caspian replied.
“What a lovely thing to say,” his mother said.
“It’s the truth of the matter.”
She held out her embroidery, showing him the delicate colorful flowers which lined the handkerchief. “What do you think?”
“I think you do it much more beautifully than I could,” Caspian teased. “Do you recall when I was a boy, and you used to task me with threading your needles?”
“Only because you were always underfoot and troubling the staff. And your father. You would climb upon his desk and scatter your father’s books and paperwork, despite being told often that you ought not to do that. I thought you might cause less damage if you were with me and threading my needles.”
“I suppose it worked,” Caspian mused, flexing his fingers, “At the cost of maiming myself. I have lost count of the number of times I pricked my fingers.”
“It was hardly a maiming. I suffered many needle pricks myself.”
He smirked. “So you say. But I doubt that you injured yourself quite as much as I did. You, after all, derive pleasure from needlework.”
“I find comfort in my embroidery,” his mother replied, with a shrug of her thin shoulders. “It helps me when I feel as though I’m being asked to shoulder too much.”
“Do you mean the balls?”
Or perhaps, her two unwed sons. Although Caspian was far from being some doddering, old man, he was still at the age where people would begin to gossip if he did not marry soon.
“Yes, mostly that.”
Caspian though of Lady Gwendoline at Hyde Newhost, and he began to wonder if that might be a way of inviting her. He’d been invited to a Lockwood property, so it was only proper to invite Lady Gwendoline to a Farraday property.
But even if I invited her, I doubt her father would let her come.
“I’m sure you’ll plan a splendid night,” Caspian said.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it. It’s a lot, but it’s no burden I haven’t shouldered before.”
That was true. The manor had seen countless grand occasions over the years, and it would see more still. Caspian pursed his lips together. Lady Gwendoline couldn’t come; he couldn’t see any way for that to happen.
“Will Lord Woodmore be in attendance?” Caspian asked suddenly.
His mother blinked at him, appearing startled. “I intended to invite him. Why would you ask?”
Because he might know what happened. What really happened.
And yet that was dangerous business. Asking Lord Woodmore about his vanished fiancé and broken engagement might only renew the Lord’s fury.
Caspian found himself faced with a problem that had no clear and easy solution. While it would be easy enough not to mention the matter, somehow, that course of action felt morally wrong. Like he was doing Lady Gwendoline a disservice when he had resolved to solve the mystery of his aunt Lady Helena and her uncle Lord Charles.
* * *
It was night, quiet and calm. But Caspian’s own thoughts refused to calm. Instead, they tossed around inside his head like a tempest, filled with lashing winds and hammering rain. He couldn’t tear his mind away from Lord Woodmore and whether or not he ought to approach the lord and inquire as to what he remembered of Lady Helena.
Perhaps, Lady Gwendoline would have some notion of how to approach Lord Woodmore and effectively inquire about Lady Helena, and that was justification to see Lady Gwendoline.
And at night, no one would see them. So Caspian prepared his horse and quietly abandoned his family’s London manor, going instead to the Newhost manor.
I do hope that she will not be distraught to see me arrive unannounced and with no further information to share.
Although the Lady had seemed cheerful and accepting enough of his previous visit, Caspian had—at least—given Lady Gwendoline a small hint that he might arrive by night. At least, he’d implied that he meant some mischief. Now, however, she would not expect him.
But I hope she greets me cheerfully.
As he had last time, Caspian tied his horse to a tree at the edge of the estate grounds, hidden by a small grove. After giving a fond
pat to the horse’s flank, Caspian quietly began his walk across the grand estate grounds. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing Lady Gwendoline once more, her fair face framed by the darkness of her room and the light of the moon and stars.
His enthusiasm must surely be because of the joy he felt at having an adventure, at doing something forbidden and daring. And maybe, he fancied, Lady Gwendoline reveled in the thought of an adventure, too.
Noah would tell me this is a dreadful pursuit and that I ought not to visit Lady Gwendoline by moonlight.
In truth, most would counsel Caspian to abandon such a pursuit, save for perhaps Alexander.
But even Alexander would only agree in the hopes that I was tormenting the young Lady rather than merely asking for her counsel on this matter.
Still, the excuse sounded somehow hollow to Caspian. It was as if there was some part of him that just desired to see Lady Gwendoline, to bask in her presence and enjoy her company.
Perhaps, it is only because we have been enemies so long, and I enjoy the thought of putting an end to this absurd feud once and for all.
Surely, that was what drove him to the willow tree beneath Lady Gwendoline’s window. In the darkness, he could just barely see the form of the heavy curtains covering her window. A shiver of anticipation raced along the line of his spine, like a river tracing its course along the banks. Would Lady Gwendoline even deign to answer his summons?
Caspian crouched to the ground, sorting through the blades of grass for the small, smooth pebbles he knew were there. He was careful, too, not to choose any pebbles that might be too large and crack or break the lady’s window.
When he had five of them, he straightened. Then, steeling himself and drawing in a deep breath, he tossed the first pebble into the air. It flashed through the air, a spot of white, like a shooting star and struck the lady’s window.
He waited, scarcely daring to breathe. Moments passed, and there was no answer.
But she did not answer the first time either.
Testing the weight of a second pebble, Caspian lobbed it at the pane of glass. The pebble struck, its impact releasing a sharp, musical sound into the air.
Caspian took another breath, waiting in silence as he waited. When he received no response, he took another pebble. Perhaps, the third time would be the time when Lady Gwendoline answered.
He tossed the pebble, arching it high toward the window. It struck, making a sound like the one before it. Caspian waited, the seconds stretching into an eternity around him.
Then, the light above him seemed to shift. The curtains covering Lady Gwendoline’s window moved, and a delicate, fair hand appeared. Was it her? Caspian knew it was still possible that he might be caught by some housemaid or other servant, awake at the late hour.
But when Lady Gwendoline’s face appeared, Caspian let out a quiet sigh of relief. She stood in the window, her lips curved into a shy, pleased smile. The lady held a finger up, indicating that he must wait for a moment.
Then, she turned away. Caspian leaned against the trunk of the willow and waited. A faint rustling noise reached his ears, drawing his attention further along the estate. The thought of what his was doing, of the impropriety of it, filled him with an anxious energy.
But it was likely just some small mammal, an anxious fox or a nocturnal bird. As he watched the grounds, nothing seemed amiss.
Chapter 17
Lord Caspian had come!
Gwendoline felt heat rush to her face, and yet inside, her heart fluttered. She felt light as a feather, nearly skipping to her wardrobe. Once she’d retrieved her riding habit, she slipped it on. Then, standing before her mirror, she hastily adjusted her hair, trying to smooth away all the tangles and disorder that sleep caused.
It’s another adventure.
The thought sent an anxious thrill through her. An adventure! A scandalous, moonlit liaison! It was precisely like something from a lady’s novel, like some grand and romantic thing. Gwendoline felt her heart skip a beat as she donned her slippers and quietly hurried through the grand manor’s halls.
Once should have been the only time.
But Gwendoline never once considered not going to greet the Lord who’d come to stand beneath her bedroom window. It would be ruder to leave him, would it not? She was a well-bred lady, after all. Surely, it would be unkind to keep the gentleman waiting.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I’ll admit that I have no excuse. He is here, and I want to see him.
Maybe it was because, now that she knew him, Gwendoline realized that Lord Caspian had no grand, impossible expectations for her. No single-minded ambitions for her future.
Gwendoline sighed in relief and delight as she crossed the threshold and entered the garden. The fronds of the willow tree swept across the grass and across Lord Caspian’s form as he stood in their shelter. He had turned slightly, so his back was to her and his gaze elsewhere.
Feeling suddenly shy and anxious, Gwendoline clasped her hands before her and approached. She was terribly conscious of her smile. Did she look as though she was forcing joy at his arrival? Or did she look too pleased?
He turned abruptly a grinned at her, the expression some odd blending of gentility and roguishness. “Good night, My Lady,” he said.
Gwendoline averted her gaze. She knew that she must be flushing from the heat in her face, but she hoped the expression was at least moderately attractive. When she blushed, her face did not glow gently or shine like some of her peers. Instead, Gwendoline’s face turned as red as ruby, but a far less attractive hue.
“Good night, My Lord. What brings you out on a night such as this?”
Lord Caspian tipped his head upwards, his eyes fixing upon the sky between the fronds of the weeping willow tree. “It is a lovely night, isn’t it?” he murmured. “I don’t think we have many like this. So clear and pleasant. But why don’t we walk while we speak? Despite the late hour, it would still be a folly for us to linger and speak so close to your bedroom window.”
Gwendoline nodded, and together, they began the walk around the edge of the estate grounds. She lifted her skirts, careful to keep them free of the faint dew covering the grass and from the speck of dirt they passed. If she wanted to continue these secret appointments, it was crucial that she leave no signs of suspicion, even on her clothing.
“Where would you like to visit tonight?” Lord Caspian asked, drawing nearer to her.
Gwendoline pursed her lips together in thought. “I think I should like to see the Thames,” she replied.
Lord Caspian arched an eyebrow. “Surely, you have seen the Thames before.”
“Never by night.”
And seeing the Thames would mean that Lord Caspian would have to take her through the London streets, and it all sounded so romantic to her. A proper moonlit ride with no one about to see or—barring that—no one to recognize her! Her parents and the staff were all fast asleep, and as long as Lord Caspian returned her before they awoke, she would likely be safe.
And yet part of Gwendoline enjoyed the possibility that she might be caught. Of course, she had no desire to be caught, but the added bit of uncertainty made her feel as though she was being braver than usual.
“To the Thames, then,” Lord Caspian replied, offering his hand.
Gwendoline placed her palm in his and let the Lord help her onto the back of his beautiful horse. She had anticipated he would mount behind her, but instead, he took the horse’s reins and walked alongside the animal. Gwendoline’s slippers found the stirrups, as Lord Caspian guided the horse further away from the Newhost estate grounds.
“You never did quite answer my question,” Gwendoline said after a moment. “What brought you out tonight? I’m certain you didn’t simply desire the pleasure of my company.”
“Am I not allowed to seek out the pleasure of your company, My Lady?” he asked.
“Of course, you are. But I had assumed you had some purpose for seeking me out. If you desired only a l
ady’s company, I’m certain you would find many willing to spend a night with you.”
“Despite the impropriety of it?”
Gwendoline hummed, thinking. Lord Caspian did make an excellent argument. Most ladies would not agree to something like this, but Gwendoline was sure there must be some ladies of that ton who would happily join Lord Caspian for an evening adventure.
“I would think you could find someone. I have heard you are charming.”
“Heard? From whom?”
“I believe from your own lips,” Gwendoline teased. “Surely, you’re a good enough testament to your own character.”
The Earl That Overruled My Destiny Page 15
