When her aunt announced it was time for her to leave, she drew a deep breath and bade her father, Lord Estaria, and Mr. Langley, a good night. The steps away from him were heavy. She told the Dowager Duchess that she was tired and wanted to go to bed. Slowly, she walked up the stairs, thinking of the time she had surprised Mr. Langley in her father’s office. His strong hand on her waist, possessive and firm.
She sat at her worktable and brought out a piece of paper and began writing. The quill skated across the paper, writing down everything she wanted, what she desired. Her cheeks were pink, and the buzzing in her center continued at an agonizing ferocity. She folded the letter in threefold and sat back in her chair. This was not a letter she could let Madeleine take. This was much too private—the letter was beyond scandalous.
While considering whether or not to chuck the letter in the fire, she heard a sound outside. She hurried to the window and saw that the carriage was being brought in front of the house.
Oh, it’s that horrid barouche of Lord Estaria’s. This must mean that Mr. Langley will leave soon as well. It is a mad idea, but I cannot stay up here. I must see him if only from a distance.
She walked toward her wardrobe and pulled out a dark cloak she hadn’t used for a long time. She draped the cloak around her, covering her hair and her white nightgown. The corridor was empty, and she tiptoed down the stairs and directly outside.
The warm night breeze felt soothing on her flushed skin. It was mad, being out here alone, but she didn’t care. The darkness made it easy for her to run toward the hedges by the gate. There was a perfect little spot where she could see anyone coming out of the house, but not be seen. She did not have to wait for long. The door opened, Mr. Langley walked outside.
I cannot hear the hooves from Mr. Langley’s carriage. This is my chance. I will call him, as softly as I can. I hope my voice will carry over the thumping in my chest.
“Mr. Langley!” Her voice was magnified in the still night. Terrified that someone else would see her, she hid again. Slowly, she peered back and saw that he was looking around for the source of the sound. He noticed her. The sound of hooves signaled his carriage had arrived.
Caroline heard muffled voices and then the sound of footsteps approaching her. “Lady Caroline?”
“Come to me,” she whispered. He stepped into the dark enclosure and was swallowed by the darkness that surrounded them.
“You should not be out here,” he said with concern. “It is too cold.”
“My body is burning,” she breathed, reaching out her hand. She touched his chest. Her fingers moved up and down, grabbing the front of his jacket, pulling him toward her. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as he put his big and strong hand around her waist. He pulled her toward him, crashing his lips against hers.
Their kiss was hungry. He grunted roughly, lifting her up and holding her close against him. There was an explosive throb buzzing inside her.
But just as suddenly as the kiss had begun, it ended. A horse whinnied and he put her down, stepping away from her. “You have this power over me,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “That makes me lose my sense, all propriety.”
“I yearn for your touch.” She interlinked their fingers, bringing them to her chest. “Can you feel how my heart hammers, whenever you are near me?” His fingers stroked against her bosom, and a shiver of ecstasy ran up and down her body.
“I must go,” he said sadly and kissed her again. She stuck the envelope in his jacket pocket without him noticing.
“Good night, Lady Caroline.” He stepped away from the hiding place and ran back to the carriage. Caroline waited until the hooves were far away, and hurried back to the house.
The corridor was dark, but there was still someone moving about. She stepped toward the grand staircase, but a sound of approaching footsteps made her freeze where she stood. “Lady Caroline?” It was Mrs. Wilson, holding a candle in her outstretched hand. “What are you doing up so late, My Lady?”
“I—” Caroline was at a complete loss for words.
“Come with me, dear,” Mrs. Wilson said and led her downstairs to the empty kitchen. Mrs. Wilson grabbed the large bottle from the cabinet, the one she had brought out the last time they were together here.
“You look like you need this,” Mrs. Wilson said, pouring a generous amount in two glasses and sliding one to her. Caroline took it and gulped down the whole thing in one sip.
“That bad?” Mrs. Wilson tutted, and refilled her glass.
“I’m afraid,” she finally said.
“Of what, dear?” Mrs. Wilson patted her hand softly.
“I fear to live a dull and lonely life.” She closed her eyes. She could still smell him on her.
“Is this about the mighty Lord Estaria?” Mrs. Wilson guessed.
She nodded her head slowly.
“How can I continue, after I have experienced… Lo–” the word caught in her throat.
“Love,” Mrs. Wilson said simply.
“Yes,” she replied. “I love him, but we will never be able to be together.” Saying these words out loud felt almost sacrilegious.
“You have to follow your heart,” Mrs. Wilson said gently. “It is all anyone can do. If you have the chance to take a risk and experience something as wonderful and beautiful as love, you must do so.”
“I caught a glimpse of my future tonight.” She continued. “A gilded cage. Trapped, alone, and without love.”
“You cannot give up hope,” Mrs. Wilson replied.
“How can I not?”
“You are stronger than you think you are, sweet Lady Caroline. It has been my privilege to watch you grow up, and I know your strength.” Mrs. Wilson took a large sip from her drink.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson.” She laid her head on the housekeeper’s shoulder, just like she had done when she was a child.
* * *
Never had Jasper’s lodging felt as cold as it did now. The dark interiors filled him with bitter loneliness that he had never before experienced. He plumped down in his bed, still fully dressed. The image of Lady Caroline looking at him from the dark enclosure would haunt him for the rest of his miserable life.
He could still taste her sweet lips, and feel her body against his. This evening had been a reminder of everything that was at stake for him. When he had sat with Lord Brighney and Lord Estaria, all fight had left him. It was impossible to compete against the nobility and wealth that a gentleman like Lord Estaria had.
Yet he was not ready to give up. He would find a way—he had to. He removed his jacket and felt something in the pocket. It was a letter. He opened it and recognized Lady Caroline’s handwriting.
Dearest Mr. Langley.
How will I ever be able to describe how your presence affects me? I do not even recognize the sensation. A wildfire invades my body, thrusting the image of your hard body pressed against mine. When I close my eyes, I can feel your lips. I feel as if I am dissolving, praying you will catch me before I turn to dust. The days that we are apart are unbearable.
Yours, C.B.
The letter still smelled like her. It sent a bolt of lightning down to his loins. He realized that he was willing to do anything for her. He would leave London and his whole life here if it meant they could be together. A wild, impossible image conjured up in his mind. Lady Caroline, dozing against his chest, bare and smoldering.
The unknown paradise he imagined had golden sand and a warm breeze. A cocoon, sheltering them from the rest of the world. But he shook his head to rid him of the image. He did not want a fantasy, but real life. He would find a way for them to be together. There was no other choice for him, as there was no life without her.
Chapter 22
Caroline sat huddled in her bed. She didn’t want to get up. Her dream had been so wonderful that she wanted to lay in bed all day, reliving it. For her dreams were filled with only her and Mr. Langley, and completely void of the forces that kept them apart. The image her mind had rais
ed made her breath quicken.
She had been in the dark enclosure again, but this time Mr. Langley had pushed her against the fence, pressing his piercing hard manhood against her. His hands had roamed her body, pushing up her skirt. His fingers tickled up her thigh, causing her to gasp. But he swallowed the gasp with a kiss, biting softly on her bottom lip. She clung to his strong arms, feeling the muscle quiver with his every move.
She desperately wanted to tear off his shirt, to be able to touch his skin and kiss his chest. He had squeezed her supple nipple, making her moan out loud. Her neck was wet from his kisses, and her center was burning, longing for his touch.
In her dream, they did not care about propriety, only each other. It had been like stepping into icy rain when she woke up. Perhaps she ought to say she was not feeling well. At least her cheeks were flushed enough to make her seem fevered. But then she remembered that today was Friday.
Emma!
After breakfast, she and Madeleine walked into the back garden. Madeleine was carrying her painting supplies. She had told her aunt she wanted to paint again, claiming she had seen pretty flowers in her latest walk in the garden. The Dowager Duchess told her to not stay out too long, as Lord Estaria would arrive soon.
The spot Caroline chose was not far from the place Emma had written about in her letter, and it had the added benefit that it was impossible to see her from the manor. It was almost noon, and she was impatient to hear what Emma had to say.
“I will go now and take a look,” she said. “Stay there and keep watch.”
“All right, My Lady,” Madeleine replied. “Be careful.”
“I will.” She walked toward the edge of the garden, near the fence. There was a small enclosure there where it was possible to access the backroad. She looked around, trying to see any sign of her former lady’s maid. There was no one there. The dew on the grass was undisturbed, and no movement was visible. She waited for a long while, increasingly uneasy.
“My Lady!” Madeleine said. “I think Lord Estaria has arrived. I saw a carriage.”
Where is Emma? Something is not right.
“Lady Caroline, you must return to the manor.” Disappointed, she returned to the garden. Madeleine had already packed the untouched painting supplies.
“Let us hope that Her Grace will not want to examine my progress,” she said grimly. If her aunt saw the empty canvas, she would have to face awkward questions.
“I will hide everything,” Madeleine replied. “Did you find the person that sent the letter?”
“No. It was all very strange.”
“Was it from your former maid?” Madeleine asked. “Emma?”
“She sent me the letter, but I cannot understand why she would not have arrived like she said she would.” She turned back and watched the small clearing where she had been waiting.
“Perhaps, she could not go,” Madeleine suggested.
“Or something happened,” she replied, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine.
They walked back to the house, and Caroline could not stop thinking about Emma. She was so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she did not hear Lord Estaria’s greeting, from his position in the middle of the foyer.
“I do beg your pardon,” she said apologetically. “My mind was still on my painting.”
“Do show me,” Lord Estaria said.
“No!” Her voice was almost rude, and Lord Estaria looked highly affronted. “I’m a terrible painter,” she added. Lord Estaria’s retort was interrupted as the butler opened the front door. Caroline turned around and saw Mr. Langley enter the house. Their eyes locked together and she was unable to contain her wide smile. “Afternoon, Mr. Langley,” she said.
“Afternoon, Lady Caroline,” he replied. For a moment too long, he didn’t move but stood still gazing at her. “Good afternoon, My Lord,” he added to Lord Estaria.
“I thought we would go to Vauxhall Gardens today, Lady Caroline,” Lord Estaria said in a pointed tone of disapproval.
“That sounds lovely,” she replied, still looking at Mr. Langley, who was now walking up the grand staircase. Madeleine cleared her throat and stepped closer to Caroline. She finally looked away from Mr. Langley and turned to Lord Estaria. “Vauxhall Gardens, I cannot wait.”
“The carriage is ready.”
They walked outside, and she was relieved to see that he had abandoned the barouche for a fashionable carriage instead. He helped her up the small step, but just before she sat down, she noticed Lord Estaria’s manservant in the seat behind the folding top. She was shocked to see he had a scratch across his cheek, which was unmistakably done by fingernails.
* * *
Later that evening, Owen returned to his bachelor lodgings. Being in Vauxhall Gardens with Lady Caroline was exhausting. Never before had he had to work so hard with a lady before. Their conversations were tedious. He would be happy if he never discussed the weather ever again. He could not understand what was wrong with her.
The cook had prepared supper for him, which he ravaged in minutes. He had spent the majority of his time at the Brighney Manor, but he could not propose to Lady Caroline yet, not until he was certain she would say yes. He supposed he might push Lord Brighney to make her accept his proposal, but if Lord Brighney said no, he would be in trouble.
A soft knock on his front door pulled him from his worries. Mr. Tiff opened the door. “Lady Louisa, My Lord.”
“Let her inside,” he replied. He was not particularly interested in seeing her, but since she was here, he might as well turn this evening into a success. Lady Louisa pulled off her dark cloak and ran into his arms.
“Darling, are you all right?” He stroked her hair, and her perfume shot straight to his groin. He bent down and kissed her passionately. She reciprocated the kiss, but most unusually, she pulled away from him almost at once.
“We have to talk,” she simpered.
“What is it, dear?” He guided her to the sofa. Since the first time he had brought her to his bachelor lodgings, she had never looked so concerned.
He had seen her one morning a few weeks ago and had to have his way with her. It had been easy; she was so young, and surprisingly willing to follow him wherever he told her to go. The first time she snuck here in the dead of night, she had been trembling with nerves.
It had been an especially good night. He managed to ease her nerves away with sweet kisses and gentle words whispered into her ear. Not long after she had arrived, she had been writhing and moaning underneath him. But now she was staring at him, with her wide eyes, and he could see genuine terror there.
“I—” she began, but was overcome with emotions and burst into tears. He pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Tell me what has happened?” His voice was kind but firm.
“I—I am with child.” She sobbed, shaking with every breath.
Time stopped moving. He could not comprehend what had happened. “What did you say?” He broke their embrace and stared into her eyes, waiting to catch the lie.
“I am with child,” she said quietly but very clearly.
No, no, no, this cannot be happening!
His mind was racing.
How could I have allowed this to happen?
This pregnancy would end him, that was for sure. It would cause a huge scandal, making his father surely disown him. Lady Caroline would not come near him within an inch.
My life is over.
Lady Louisa was staring at him, waiting for him to bring the solution to this problem. Sweet little Lady Louisa, who boosted his ego with her adoration, who obeyed him like a loyal pup, who he knew loved him.
Perhaps there was a way out of this. An idea was forming in his mind, and it was an ingenious one. A solution to all his problems.
“Darling,” he finally said. “We will get through this, you have my word.”
“Owen,” she wailed and clung to him.
“But you have to trust me.” He stroked her cheek lovingly. “Do you trust me?
”
“With all my heart,” she said at once.
“Good.” He took her hand in his. “You know that if my father finds out about your pregnancy, he will write me off. I will be left alone and penniless. You don’t want that to happen, now do you?”
“Of course not!”
“I need more time to prepare so that we can be together,” he continued. “We need to make the world believe that someone else has brought this upon you.”
“What?” Lady Louisa looked horrified. “Someone else?”
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