“You are doing quite well,” he stated as they crossed swords. “It was my hope that a lighter foil would enable you to fence with a more competitive edge. And I believe I prefer you in breeches.”
At his admission, she tripped. “My lord, you are scandalous. Now if only I could find a pair of lighter feet.”
“Don’t get discouraged.” With a boyish grin, he adopted a defensive posture. “This time, see if you can recover faster.”
She nodded once and charged. “En garde!”
“Excellent. Your technique is superb.” Trevor lunged, but she managed to outmaneuver his attack. “Wonderful. I daresay you could defeat many a man twice your size.”
“Truly?” Caroline laughed, and he winked. How she loved the nuances of his unconventional character. “Including Cavalier?”
No sooner had she uttered the words than Caroline knew she had made a horrible mistake. In less than a second, Trevor’s demeanor changed in much the same fashion as it had the day they arrived at Althrup. As though rooted to the tile floor, he paled before her eyes. Yet the reason for his discomfort eluded her.
“What did you say?”
“It really does not signify.” She swallowed hard and cursed her loose tongue.
“Has something happened?” The brooding expression that heralded a vicious mood swing returned with a vengeance. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing, I swear.” Despite the pleasant hours spent in their chambers and all her hard work, it was evident the spell had been broken. And she was at a loss in regard to the situation. “My apologies. I did not mean to upset you.”
“I am not upset,” he barked, then lowered his chin. “But I suggest you defend yourself as though I were your worst enemy.”
Chilled to the marrow, she raked the sleeve of her shirt across her brow. She would not ignore his warning. “As you wish.”
The clash of steel meeting steel sliced through the air, and in an instant, she knew she had pricked his temper. With a well-placed thrust, he launched a vigorous offensive. And Caroline soon found herself cornered.
“Parry.” Trevor evaded her safeguards and tapped her shoulder. “Again.”
“My lord, this is practice.” She stumbled, and he prodded her elbow with the end of his foil. “I am not your adversary.”
“But what if I am yours?” He assumed an attack stance. “Pretend I am Cavalier and fight.”
She backed away. “Trevor, I have had enough for today.”
“Do as I say.” He lunged, and she parried.
“Please, I am tired.” And Caroline was a little scared.
“Come at me.” His gaze was wild, animalistic. “Do it now.”
At his command, she thrust.
With masterful precision he deflected the blow, and her practice sword slipped from her grasp. Just as fast, he brought the tip of his foil to her throat. Letting her arms fall to her sides, she met his turbulent stare and managed not to scream.
“How could I--you are so--” Her husband opened, and then closed his mouth. And looked unbelievably lost.
“Don’t be afraid.” In an attempt to calm, to soothe, Caroline set her palm to the flat of the blade and pushed it aside. She had to reassure him. Had to dispel his palpable fear. “I will never leave you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Trevor threw his sword to the ground, stormed forward, clutched her shoulders, and shook her once. “You think to make me an emotional cripple, to bend me to your will like some addled fop from the schoolroom?”
“No.” Realizing her mistake too late, that he misread her actions as manipulation, she framed his face with her hands. “I only want to be your wife.”
“Hear me well.” He speared his fingers through her hair, and their noses were mere inches apart. “I had a good life before I met you, and I do not need you.”
“All right.” Determined not to flinch, resolved to stand for love and marriage, Caroline met him, toe to toe. But inside, she ached for her husband.
“I will not yield.” To the contrary, his grip loosened.
Desperate seconds ticked past.
In a flash, Trevor claimed her mouth in a searing kiss and released her just as fast. Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and stomped into the house. Alone on the terrace, she searched her mind, grasping at clues in regard to his peculiar behavior. Suddenly, her mother’s words of wisdom shimmered as hope on the horizon.
Love does not come easy for men.
Was it possible?
Could it be true?
Stunned by the revelation her captain had unwittingly laid bare, Caroline folded her arms and considered her next move. There would be no tears shed today, because the evidence was irrefutable. He might not like it, might even deny it.
Trevor cared for her.
#
The sun blazed brilliantly against a backdrop of cloudless azure sky on the morn of the Harvest Moon Festival. Villagers arrived in droves for the event, their curiosity apparent as they waited to meet the long absent earl and his bride. Their odd extended family was the talk of the town, for never had Althrup hosted so many members of the peerage, and Caroline beamed, as would a proud mother.
The air was heavy with the aroma of roasted ham and beef flowing from the taverns, which mingled with the scent of fresh-baked goods from the cake houses. A long line formed at the apple stall before noon. A team of acrobats, which Trevor had generously hired, thrilled audiences with daring feats. Later, a crowd gathered in front of the platform erected to showcase local musicians and a small dance troupe. Children eagerly awaited rides on the swings and the roundabout. At three, the races began, with Blake, Dirk, and Damian acting as judges. Afterward, Lance and Dalton supervised the archery contest and the axe throwing competition.
For their part, the Earl and Countess of Lockwood made an effort to meet and greet everyone. Caroline fought hard to suppress a twinge of jealousy when a group of smitten young ladies surrounded her handsome husband. Until she retreated to the sidewalk and was mobbed by local dandies who appeared happy to serve as her escort. Only seconds had passed when Trevor, sporting a nasty scowl, elbowed his way to her side and dispatched the eager bucks with a lethal stare.
“Damn bloody scamps,” he said with a pout. “Who will protect you when I am at sea?”
“You need not worry on that account.” She could not help but giggle. “What care I for boys when I have you?”
“Spoken like a Lockwood.” Though he smiled, his brow was a mass of furrows. “Well, my dear countess, your festival is a success.”
“Yes, we have had nary a glitch.” Caroline gazed at the sky, which evidenced that night was fast approaching. “But the day seems to have flown.”
“Perhaps.” Trevor tapped her nose. “But there is still one surprise left.”
“Oh?” She clucked her tongue. “Just what are you about?”
“You shall see.” A man on a mission, he steered her through the crowd.
When he paused at the entrance to the inn, she pulled up short. “My lord, you can’t be serious...I mean...not here. We have guests. Can you not wait until we return home?”
“What a dirty mind you have, love.” He opened the door and ushered her inside with a pat on her bottom. “And I promise to make good use of your imagination tonight.”
“Good evening, your lordship,” said a man behind the counter.
“Mr. Ridley.” Trevor snaked an arm around her waist. “Would you be so kind as to give the word?”
“Aye, sir.”
“What word?” Inclining her head, she peered at her husband. “And where are you taking me?”
“Patience, my dear.” He led her to a small staircase. “After you.”
Hiking her skirts, Caroline ascended to the top, and then paused before a little door. When she glanced over her shoulder, Trevor simply smiled, reached around, and turned the knob. The tiny portal opened to reveal a rooftop access, probably used by the chimney sweep. Darkness enveloped her as she
stepped to the platform. Stars twinkled, and moonlight illuminated his face.
“All right.” Not since his angry display on the terrace had she been so perplexed by her spouse, and she folded her arms. “Would you care to tell me why I am here?”
Trevor shifted his weight, slipped his hands into his coat pockets, then reversed his stance and set his palms to her waist. “Because I owe you an apology.”
“Oh?” Dare she hope?
“My behavior of late has not been very noble.” He pulled her close. “My conduct has been unforgivable, and I am sorry.”
In that moment, Caroline let her heart sing.
But before she could bask in the glory of his expression of regret, a thunderous roar pierced the quiet, and a starburst of color exploded in the night sky.
“Fireworks.”
Trevor nuzzled her temple and said, “They are for you.”
Another rumble sounded, and light flickered over the village as a cascade of radiant sparkles showered from high above the treetops.
“How marvelous.”
Wrapped in her husband’s warm embrace, Caroline relished each successive spectacle. Volley after volley rocked the building beneath her feet, and the crowd gathered on the thoroughfare below signaled their approval with a concert of shouts and applause. The finale commenced with a rapid barrage, and she held tight to Trevor as fiery streams turned night into day. And when the last aerial blaze extinguished, he pressed on her an impossibly sweet kiss.
“My lord, you are forgiven.” She nibbled his lower lip.
“Is that all I get for my hard work, love?” he asked, in his playful voice.
“Of course not.” Nervous anticipation sparked in her belly. “Rest assured that I shall endeavor to convey the depth of my appreciation of your efforts upon our arrival at home.”
“But what about your family?”
“They are our family, and I will plead a headache. Trust me, they will understand.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” He opened the little door, and they retraced their steps.
As they crossed the lobby, Trevor saluted the innkeeper. “Thank you for the use of your facilities, Mr. Ridley.”
The man dipped his chin. “A pleasure to be of service, your lordship.”
On the street, the crowds had dispersed, and only a few people lingered. Trevor looked left, and then right. “I do not see our coach.” He glanced at her and frowned. “And you are without a wrap. Perhaps you should stay in the lobby, while I locate our rig.”
“But the stable yard is not far.” The wind blew, and she shivered. “I can come with you.”
With an arched brow, he doffed his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Thornton may have to harness the horses, and I will not risk you catching a chill.”
Thrilled by his show of concern for her welfare, Caroline decided this was one battle she could afford to surrender. “In that case, I shall do as you ask and remain here.”
Tucked, safe and warm, in the inn, she stared out the window as her husband went in search of their equipage. A lad smiled as he swept refuse from the sidewalk, and she responded in kind. Shortly thereafter, a steady clip-clop caught her ear. When she stepped outside, she spied the Lockwood coach coming down the lane and started in that direction.
Near a tavern, Caroline heard a noise and paused at the entrance to an alley. A mountain of casks blocked the narrow passage. “Hello?” Wood creaked and groaned. “Is someone there?”
A cat shot out from the stack.
#
When he spotted his wife standing at the roadside, Trevor waved a greeting. Since Althrup was situated just east of the town, the driver had to turn the rig around. As they came to a halt, he exited the coach. The wall behind her appeared to shift, he narrowed his stare and realized the wall was not a solid surface but was in fact--
“Caroline, look out!”
Breaking into a full sprint, he lunged and reached her in the nick of time. With only seconds to spare, they landed hard on the street and skidded on the gravel. The barrels crashed on the walkway, sending splintered wood flying, and missed them by a hairsbreadth. As the commotion echoed on nearby buildings, a few villagers darted from their homes, and liveried footmen rushed to their aid.
Trevor shook his head in an attempt to gather his wits, and his wife lay eerily still. “Darling, are you hurt?”
After what seemed an eternity, her eyelids fluttered, and she gasped. “I believe I am fine.”
“Be careful.” A quick assessment showed her dress was torn and dirty, and her elbows were bleeding. Providing support, he helped her up. “Here, lean on me.”
“Oh, dear.” Caroline buckled.
Conscious of her injuries, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the coach.
“Does her ladyship require a doctor?” someone asked.
“Yes.” He covered his wife with his tattered coat. “Have him meet us at Althrup.”
“Aye, sir.”
A small crowd gathered along the fringe of the mangled mass, and Trevor approached a man holding a length of rope.
“I do not understand it, your lordship. As the barkeep, it is my responsibility to secure the empty casks.” The poor soul grimaced. “I swear those barrels were properly tied down.”
“No doubt it was a terrible accident.” Trevor accepted the section of twine and inspected the ends. The hair rose on the back of his neck, and he shuddered.
The original knot remained, and the protruding ends were frayed from age. The rope had failed in a different segment, and the twine looked clean-cut, as though severed by a knife. Coiling the section, he returned to the coach and shouted, “Home, Thornton.”
An image of Caroline, crushed beneath the rubble, flashed before him, and he gained a measure of relief when she snuggled close. But inside him, something shattered.
Because someone had tried to kill his wife.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Much to her displeasure, Caroline returned to London with her husband the following Monday. Since Trevor was scheduled to sail in a sennight, she politely refused all social invitations and opted to remain in their townhouse, so as not to miss a single minute with him. Preparations for Trevor’s impending mission consumed precious hours, and his maiden voyage as a Knight of the Brethren weighed heavy on her heart and mind. So, while he passed his days organizing his crew, ordering provisions, and readying the Hera, she busied herself devising different ways to show her captain how much she cared for him.
After commissioning a miniature portrait of herself from a noted artist, Caroline paid an extra fifty pounds to ensure the painting would be completed before Trevor departed England. An entire morning was devoted to the creation of a design incorporating their initials into a unique monogram, which she lovingly embroidered on his handkerchiefs. And at the corner of each lace-edged cotton square, she placed a small drop of her perfume.
On Tuesday, they rose from bed in the pre-dawn hours to watch the sun rise. Wednesday, Trevor spent a half-hour brushing her brown locks, only to devote three hours mussing them again, and she was not about to complain. And Thursday, ah Thursday, now that was a memorable afternoon made special when her rogue captain made love to her on the desktop in his study. Poor Mrs. Porter had been unable to remove the large ink stain on the back of Caroline’s dress.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“I do not believe that time flies when you are having fun.” Standing on the dock at Deptford, she peered at her brother and frowned. “Rather, time flies as danger nears.”
“Don’t worry.” Blake chucked her chin. “Lockwood is a devil of a seaman, and Dirk will be with him. Heaven help the French if they stumble upon those two.”
“I pray you are right.” Inside her ermine muff, Caroline clenched her hands.
The rising sun warmed the earth, quelling the chill of the brisk November morning. Waves splashed against the pilings, and tiny ripples formed a delicate mosaic of water in motion. The de
cks of the Hera were alive with the activity one would expect of a ship preparing to sail, and, at the helm, Trevor shouted orders to the crew. Mentally, Caroline rehearsed the speech that might help her discern, once and for all, whether or not her husband loved her. It was clear Trevor wrestled with inner demons, but the cause was not equally clear. Did he love her, or was his devotion more akin to the attachment one could muster for a favored hound?
“Will they be gone long?” she inquired.
At that moment, six cloaked figures, their faces shielded by black hoods, boarded the ship. As members of the secretive Counterintelligence Corps exchanged greetings with Trevor, she shivered.
“Little sister, you know well enough that is a question for which there is no answer.”
“I ask because I shall miss him.”
“Your devotion is commendable.” The teasing tone in her elder sibling’s voice was evident. “Perhaps I can provide suitable diversions to keep your mind from wandering to less pleasant thoughts while Lockwood is at sea. What say we take in a play?”
“You must be joking.” Trevor glanced in her direction, and Caroline smiled. “Your dislike for the theatre is surpassed only by your aversion to opera.”
“Be that as it may, I am willing to put your happiness before my own.”
“How magnanimous of you.” Men scrambled into the rigging, and she knew her husband would soon depart. Was he not going to bid her farewell? “Blake?”
“Yes?”
“Would you kindly inform his lordship that I should like to speak with him before he takes leave of these shores?”
“As you wish.”
#
The instant his brother-in-law started in his direction, Trevor realized he was not going to escape the duty he dreaded most. Of course, he had not intended to sail without stealing one last kiss from his wife. “It appears I have been summoned.”
“Indeed.” At his side, Dirk chuckled. “And at this moment, I must confess I do not envy you.”
“Lockwood.” Blake stood tall and clicked his heels. “My sister begs an audience, and you would do best to ally yourself with Bony should you refuse her request.”
Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) Page 22
