by Laura Martin
‘Just talk to me, Cara, we’ve never had a problem talking.’
‘I will, but will you do something for me first?’
‘Anything.’
‘Dance with me.’ She didn’t add one last time, but it was what she was thinking.
From their position on the terrace they could hear the music from the ballroom and as James swept her into his arms Caroline felt her body begin to sway to the rhythm. He held her close, much closer than he would be able to if the eyes of the other guests had been watching, but here on the terrace they were completely alone, completely unobserved. Letting her head drop down so it rested on his shoulder, Caroline gave herself over to him, allowing him to guide her every step, every movement.
Even though the dance must have lasted at least a few minutes it felt as though it were over in no time at all and Caroline felt the dread pulling at her as she straightened up and looked him in the eye before nodding silently. It was time.
He was gentle, taking her hand and leading her down off the terrace and into the garden. In the darkness it was difficult to pick out the paths, but James seemed to have better night-time vision than her and he lead her without faltering away from the house and the muted sounds of the ball to a quiet portion of the garden. Even though it was cold, Caroline was glad for the privacy. ‘There,’ he said when they were ensconced together on the wall of the little pond surrounding the fountain, hidden from view of the house. ‘Now just tell me.’
She screwed her eyes tight, feeling the words stick in her throat. ‘I love you.’
He regarded her, searching her face, and she felt the full weight of his scrutiny.
‘I know,’ he said softly.
It wasn’t the reply she’d been dreaming of. Even though she knew he didn’t love her, not as she wanted him to, a small part of her had still fantasised that he might gather her into his arms and declare an undying love that he hadn’t before realised he felt.
Even as her heart was breaking she pushed on. ‘I’ve loved you ever since we first met.’
He was silent, but she could see the admission didn’t come as a complete shock to him. Even if he hadn’t been totally aware of her feelings for him, he probably had suspected on some level.
‘I love you,’ she repeated one last time, and although the pain in her chest was becoming almost unbearable with his silence she felt the declaration was cathartic.
‘Marry me, Cara,’ he said eventually. He was looking at her earnestly, his hand gripping hers. ‘We should be together.’
Wordlessly she shook her head, knowing she might regret whatever she did next for the rest of her life.
‘We care for one another, we desire one another. Marry me.’ Still no mention of love.
‘I need to ask you something first and I want you to promise me you’ll tell me the truth.’
‘I...’
‘Just promise me, James.’
He nodded.
‘Do you still believe in love? In the sort of love your parents shared? The sort of love that means two people are fated to be together?’
As she spoke he dropped his gaze down to the floor and she knew even without pushing any further she had her answer.
‘You promised,’ she reminded him.
‘It doesn’t matter, Cara. I want to marry you.’
‘Do you still believe in it?’
‘It’s irrelevant.’
‘Just answer me.’
Finally he looked at her again and nodded once and she could see the desolation blooming in his eyes. He knew where this was going, knew that she was going to make the hardest decision of her life.
‘And you don’t feel that way about me.’
‘Cara, I...’
She waved a hand to stop him, trying to hold back the tears so she could get through the next few minutes.
‘You don’t need to say anything, James, you don’t need to apologise. Just as I can’t help loving you, you can’t help not loving me.’
‘Don’t say that.’ He looked anguished and she felt her resolve settle.
‘If we married, you would always be thinking what if. You’ve held off from marrying, from settling, because of your beliefs, I can’t be the one to make you settle now.’
‘It wouldn’t be settling, Cara. I want to marry you.’
She drew herself up, squared her shoulders and smiled, feeling more tears pour down her cheeks as she did so. ‘When I decided to get married I abandoned all hope of marrying for love,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t expect it, didn’t even entertain the notion. It was to be a business arrangement, a companionship, and I was quite happy with that...’ She paused, then added quietly, ‘But not with you. I don’t want to settle for that with you. It would be too hard, too painful. Knowing every day I would be waking up next to the man I loved who didn’t love me back.’
She turned her body towards him, reaching out and running her fingers over his cheek. James was silent and she could tell he was finally accepting her words.
‘Don’t do this,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
‘We’ll still be friends.’ It was a lie, although a hopeful one. She didn’t see how they would ever return to their easy companionship after everything that had passed between them.
‘I can’t lose you.’
Knowing she shouldn’t, Caroline brushed her lips against his, feeling the tears wet on her skin as she kissed him. One last kiss before they parted for a final time. With a shuddering breath she stood and began to walk away, hating the small part of herself that was still hoping James would run after her and declare his love.
There was no crunch of gravel, no shout calling her back. Just silence and the coldness of the night. Pulling her cloak around her tighter, she contemplated the house in front of her, but unable to face even the possibility of anyone seeing her instead she turned left and fled into the formal gardens, needing a few minutes alone with her tears.
* * *
Caroline looked back out of the window of the carriage and blinked furiously to stop herself from crying again. She knew she would never ever be able to come to one of the Wellingtons’ house parties. Even just seeing the façade of the house would drag all the pain right back to the surface.
‘Time is a great healer,’ her mother said quietly, smiling softly as Caroline nodded her head. ‘It may be a cliché, but it is also the truth.’
She hadn’t told her mother exactly what had occurred, but Lady Yaxley was astute enough to know something monumental had happened. Caroline had started the weekend at the Wellingtons with two suitors and now she had none.
‘We can return to Hampshire if you like, my darling.’
Caroline considered. She loved their family home in Hampshire, the familiar rooms and servants, the large estate you could spend hours wandering around and not see a soul. It was tempting to make that request, to run back to her childhood home and try to rebuild herself there, but she knew it would be selfish. She could quite easily hide away in London—just being in the same city as James didn’t mean she had to see him. Her father was due to make the journey to London to attend to his business while Parliament was in session and she knew her mother would be upset to miss him.
‘No,’ she said eventually, ‘London is acceptable.’
Lady Yaxley sat forward in her seat and waited for Caroline to look at her. ‘Whenever you need to talk, I’m here.’
‘Thank you, Mama.’
She couldn’t talk about it, not yet. Perhaps one day it wouldn’t feel so raw and terrible, then she would be able to go over where everything had gone wrong. Right now she just wanted the next few weeks to be over. She wanted the time to pass so she did not have to feel quite so wretched.
It’ll take years, not weeks.
She grimaced. She knew the little voice in her head was right. She wasn’t sure if she would ever go back to bei
ng the person she was before she had spent these last few weeks with James. Now she would always have the memories, the echo of the hope she had felt and, of course, the pain.
Closing her eyes, she tried to push away the image of his face, willing herself to think about anything but the man who had broken her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Slamming shut the lid of his suitcase, James looked around the room with a grim satisfaction. With the help of his valet he had managed to pack in less than twenty minutes, a new record even for him. Now all that had to be done was for him to book a passage and he could escape to the Continent and spend a few months in the warmer climes licking his wounds.
Coward. James growled in frustration. It did feel as though he were running away and he hated the idea of fleeing from anything, let alone from Caroline. Yet she had been the one to reject him, the one to say she didn’t want to marry him.
He closed his eyes and saw her face as she had asked him whether he still believed in true love, saw the last bit of hope shatter in her eyes as he mumbled something incomprehensible. Why couldn’t he have just grabbed her by the arms and lied, told her what she wanted to hear?
Not that it would have been a complete lie. He did love her. He loved the way she smiled and the way she laughed. He loved how she looked at him when they were together as though no one else in the world existed. He loved her kindness and her sense of righteousness and how she hated any sort of injustice.
Life without Caroline was going to be painful and dull and he couldn’t contemplate staying in England, knowing she was so close and yet unreachable.
‘A few months in Italy and things will be better,’ he murmured to himself. It was a lie, even he knew that. A few months in Italy wouldn’t change the fact that he’d lost his best friend, the one person he could rely on to be there for him no matter what.
With a growl of frustration he flopped down into his armchair. It wasn’t as though he could change anything so he just needed to work on accepting it. Caroline was trying her hardest to move on from him and he should do the same.
James closed his eyes and rested his head back, trying to find some modicum of peace. Instead he was plagued by images of Caroline, of her body underneath his, her brilliant blue eyes looking up at him filled with love.
No one else would ever love him like that.
He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Lady Yaxley, where she had stressed to him the different types of love. He’d dismissed it at the time, but some part of that conversation had burrowed its way into his mind and taken root, holding on through everything that had occurred and sprouting up now.
‘There are different kinds of love...’ That was what Lady Yaxley had said.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door downstairs, insistent and prolonged. For a moment his spirits soared—it would be Caroline, deciding she had made a mistake, that she couldn’t live without him.
He took the stairs three at a time, barrelling into the entrance hall just in time to see his footman admit Milton into the spacious hallway.
‘Milton,’ he said, trying not to let his disappointment show.
‘Heydon. You thought I would be someone else.’
‘Come in.’
Milton stepped through into James’s study, taking one of the seats by the fire, rubbing his hands to warm them after he’d slipped his thick gloves from his fingers.
James took the seat opposite and waited. Milton looked purposeful and James wasn’t in the most sociable of moods so he didn’t bother with any small talk.
‘I overestimated you,’ Milton said without any preamble. ‘I thought you were one of the sensible ones, clever even.’
James raised an eyebrow.
‘Damn it, Heydon. The woman loves you. And here you are not engaged to be married.’
‘It was her choice,’ James said quietly. He should be angry with Milton for bursting into his house and making accusations.
‘And you’re too blind to see that you love her, too.’
James blinked, Milton’s words like a slap in the face.
‘I...’ He thought of the surge of happiness he felt whenever they got to spend even just a few minutes in each other’s company and the warmth he felt when she laid her hand over his. He thought of the desire that still coursed through his body at the thought of her and the contentment he’d felt lying in bed with Caroline by his side.
‘You’re so caught up in the idea that love has to be overwhelming and instant and exactly as your parents experienced it that you can’t see what is right in front of you.’ Milton sounded angry, but James ignored the tone and focused on the words. ‘Do you know I pressed Caroline to tell you how she felt? I was sure if she just admitted it to you it would be enough to make you realise you two were meant to be together.’
‘You told her to do that?’ It didn’t make sense. Milton had been courting her himself.
‘She’s a good woman, Heydon, she deserves to be happy. And whereas she would have been content with me, she could have been blissfully happy with you. I thought she deserved that.’
For a long moment both men were silent, then James scraped a hand through his hair.
‘Hell,’ he muttered, more to himself than Milton. ‘What have I done?’
Of course he loved her. He knew her better than he knew himself, knew every quirk and foible, and he loved every last little bit of her.
‘It might not be too late,’ Milton said quietly.
‘I’ve broken her heart.’ It hurt to remember the shattered look in her eyes when he hadn’t been able to tell her he loved her.
‘She’ll forgive you.’
James wasn’t so sure. She’d given him so many opportunities to prove himself, to tell her that he loved her, and over and over again he’d failed. All because he’d been too blind to see that he might not have felt that thunderbolt of love his parents always described, but it was love all the same. A love that had built with time, a love that had started as affection and blossomed into so much more.
‘I believe Caroline is attending a fundraiser for The Charitable Foundation for the Orphans of London at Filsbury House,’ Milton said with a half-smile. ‘If you hurry you’ll catch her on the way out.’
James stood, crossing to his friend and pulling him from the chair before embracing him in a hug.
‘I won’t forget this. You’re a good man, Milton.’
‘So people keep telling me.’
‘Please excuse me. I have a proposal to make.’ James strode from the room, stopping only to ask his footman to fetch his coat and gloves and prepare the carriage. Within five minutes he was hurrying towards Filsbury House. Today was the day he would propose to the woman he loved and finally she would say yes.
* * *
‘Really we should be doing more for these poor orphans. They have nothing and no one in the whole world and we’re sitting in our grand houses eating expensive food and wearing expensive clothes.’ Lady Whittaker’s voice was high pitched and nasal and Caroline was trying her hardest to block it out.
It was dangerous to let her mind wander at the moment—even a week after the Wellingtons’ house party her emotions were still raw and too close to the surface. Two days ago she’d found herself with tears streaming down her cheeks as she took Bertie for a walk in Hyde Park and yesterday she’d had to excuse herself from a dinner party after failing to focus on any of the small talk around her.
‘The Charitable Foundation for the Orphans of London would be happy to accept donations large and small, but larger would be better.’
Miss Preston slipped into the free seat to Caroline’s left, looking pretty in a pale pink dress. For a moment she was silent, seemingly intent on what her mother was saying, but then she moved a fraction closer to Caroline, angling her body so no one else would be able to hear their conv
ersation.
‘I hear commiserations are in order. You had the interest of two of the most eligible bachelors of the Season and yet still managed to end up alone.’ Miss Preston’s eye were sparkling with the intrigue. ‘Whatever did you do in Suffolk to drive them away?’
Caroline did her best to ignore the young woman’s words, reminding herself that Miss Preston was unpleasant and unkind and had approached her solely with the aim of making her feel bad.
‘I do feel sorry for you,’ Miss Preston continued with a sympathetic smile that had a mocking quality to it. ‘If we’re all being honest, everyone knows it was your last chance. Twenty-four and unmarried, that’s hardly likely to change now.’
‘How are your marriage prospects looking, Miss Preston?’ Caroline knew that she shouldn’t engage with the spiteful young woman, but was unable to hold herself back. She always had been too impulsive, too quick to let her emotions flare, but Miss Preston had been riling her for weeks now and she just wanted to be left alone.
The smile on the young debutante’s face faltered for a moment before she recovered her composure completely. Miss Preston was the daughter of a baron, pretty and well connected and no doubt she had a sizeable dowry, but despite all that she still hadn’t been whisked to the altar. Perhaps the eligible gentlemen weren’t as shallow or unseeing as Caroline had assumed.
‘I hear the Duke has left for Italy again. It’s a shame he feels he has to go so far away.’
Italy. Caroline tried not to let the anguish she felt at that particular bit of news show. It shouldn’t surprise her, not really. James loved Italy, loved travelling. It would be the logical place for him to go while everything settled and he worked out what he was going to do next.
‘He does enjoy travelling,’ she said mildly, trying not to picture his face, his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he saw her for the first time after coming home from a trip away. That would never happen again, things would never be easy between them. If he ever came back.
‘But so soon after he returned after his last trip? The gossips are not being kind about his reasons for fleeing.’
