0373298811 (R)

by Ann Lethbridge

  Blade toasted with his glass in response. The fact that he didn’t feel the slightest bit smug was neither here nor there. His duty was done. He took a healthy swallow of some of the best brandy it had ever been his privilege to imbibe. ‘I’ll be getting back to my stewarding in Yorkshire on the morrow.’

  Tonbridge gave him an odd look. ‘It won’t be necessary. Merry and I will be returning there next week, now that Stantford is on the mend.’

  In other words, his services were no longer needed. ‘I’ll let Ned know.’ The man would be disappointed to leave his fair Beth behind. ‘Unless you have a position for him? He’s a good man with a horse and you haven’t yet replaced your coachman.’ A bit of a comedown for a man of Ned’s talents, but at least he would be able to stay near his sweetheart. Blade certainly didn’t have any work for him. Or much in the way of funds to pay him.

  ‘He could take your old position, I suppose,’ Tonbridge mused. ‘In a more limited capacity, though. Merry will expect him to marry the lady in charge. Less gossip that way.’

  ‘Beth will be in charge at the house?’

  Tonbridge inclined his head.

  The duke-to-be didn’t miss a trick and the idea he proposed cheered Blade. Somewhat. At least it relieved him of his obligation to Ned and he knew it would please the man no end. ‘An excellent solution.’

  ‘I am glad you think so. So what will you do now?’

  His only thought had been to leave London, given that the Season was in full swing. The bastard son of an earl was always at a loose end in polite society, unless he had an interest in cutting a swathe through the new crop of bored matrons and widows in need of comfort. The thought made him feel tired. He certainly did not want to be around to congratulate Caro on her conquests or for any other reason for which a woman received congratulations, like engagements and forthcoming weddings. ‘Perhaps I shall go to France for a while. See Paris as she is meant to be seen. Sample more good brandy.’ He raised his glass a fraction. ‘There are other armies in Europe in need of soldiers.’

  Tonbridge’s lips tightened. ‘What about the offer to serve as land steward on your father’s estate in Kent?’

  ‘Heard about that, did you?’

  ‘From your brother Victor.’ The legitimate brother and heir moved in the same circles as Tonbridge. Belonged to the same clubs. Gossip had never been Blade’s friend.

  The brief interview with his father on the subject of his resigned commission had made him feel like an ungrateful bastard. To say the subsequent offer of employment had come as a shock was putting it mildly.

  He shook his head. ‘It holds no appeal.’ Or rather, it was too close to the temptation of Caro Falkner. Perhaps France was also too close. India might be better.

  ‘I don’t see myself as a farmer,’ he said. ‘Nor do I wish to become his dependent.’ He still owed his father the cost of his commission.

  Tonbridge raised a brow. ‘I rather thought you would be relieving him of a worry and thus putting him in your debt.’

  Blade cracked a laugh that sounded false to his ears. ‘Relieving him of the worry of how to support me, you mean.’ Or the guilt that he’d ever been born.

  ‘Something of the sort.’ Tonbridge refilled their glasses. He sipped reflectively for a moment. ‘I apologise for this next, Blade, but I am required to ask, because my countess will take me to task if I do not. What of Mrs Falkner?’

  He froze. It was the last thing he had expected to be questioned on. The recollection of her at the ball whirling around in several lordlings’ arms had his hand tightening around his glass. ‘I am not sure what you mean. The gossip was scotched.’ Barely, after that waltz. ‘The lady successfully launched, as you so recently pointed out, and the matter is satisfactorily resolved.’

  ‘You are satisfied?’

  ‘Of course,’ he lied. Knowing his early departure from that long-ago assembly because of his adolescent hurt feelings had allowed Carothers a free rein with Caro burned a hole in his chest. As did the knowledge of how more recently he had taken advantage of her loneliness.

  Except he could not stop thinking about his time with her, over and over. They were memories that would keep haunting him for the rest of his life.

  ‘I presume the fact that she is right now upstairs taking tea with my wife is of no interest to you?’

  He shot to his feet. ‘This is why you asked me to come by this evening? Some sort of ambush you have concocted between you? And I thought you a friend.’

  Charlie’s expression darkened and he looked down his lordly nose. ‘I’ll forgive you that, Blade, but only because you are acting like a dolt. For heaven’s sake, the woman is breaking her heart wanting to know what she did to drive you away.’

  ‘What she did?’

  ‘You have to talk to her, Blade. Face to face. Explain yourself.’ He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘stubborn idiot’.

  His heart began to race. ‘I can’t give her what she is entitled to. Her or her son.’ What had been taken from her by another thoughtless male. The respectability she craved.

  ‘Entitled? Or what she wants? Because what she seems to want—which personally I cannot understand—is you.’

  Something inside him shifted. No one that he could ever remember truly wanted him. His mother certainly hadn’t. His very existence had been an unpleasant shock to his father. He’d learned to accept that as his due. But Caro—whom all those years ago he’d let down so badly because he’d known what Carothers was like— ‘Taking tea, you say?’

  ‘A three-handkerchief tea by the time I left,’ Tonbridge said, looking disgruntled.

  She was crying? Over him? The idea pained him. Badly. ‘Perhaps we do need to clear the air.’ He’d honestly thought she would be glad to see him gone. She as well as the Thorntons. It seemed she needed convincing.

  ‘Wait here while I scout the terrain.’ Tonbridge sauntered from the room.

  Tonbridge, ever the careful soldier. It was what had made him such a good commanding officer. He had a brain and he cared about his men.

  Damn it all, Caro was here? Blade paced from one end of the room to the other, rehearsing what he should say. The list of advantages now open to her and Tommy. His lack of prospects. Although there was the estate in Kent, where he wasn’t well known. He’d been there once or twice as a boy. It was part of the settlements for the countess’s children. He’d loved the place because it was nowhere near as grand as the earl’s other holdings. How could he ask Caro to bury herself in the country when she had such dazzling prospects before her?

  No. He would not allow her to sacrifice herself in that way. Thornton had made it quite clear Blade’s antecedents and youthful peccadilloes would reflect badly on Caro as well as the name of Carothers. A name Tommy would adopt as his own if the Thorntons had their way.

  At a sound, he glanced up, expecting to see Charlie come to escort him up, but it was Caro entering in a swish of silks. She looked lovely. She’d always looked lovely to him, but now, fashionably dressed, her bronze-coloured gown cut seductively low, her hair in the latest style, she was magnificent and utterly calm. Perhaps it was Tonbridge who had needed the handkerchiefs.

  ‘Mrs Falkner,’ he said, trying to keep his tone teasingly light. ‘First you waltz with me and now you meet me unchaperoned—have you no sense at all of self-preservation?’

  ‘Mr Read.’ She glided deeper into the room. ‘I heard you were thinking of going away. To France. Is it true?’

  ‘I did not realise my business was of such concern to the world, but, yes.’

  She stared at the carpet as if gathering her thoughts, then lifted her gaze to his face. Her skin was luminous in the light of the candles, paler than usual. ‘There is something I wanted to tell you. Something I think you should know.’

  He close
d his eyes briefly at the stab of pain, before forcing a smile. ‘You have an offer of marriage. I wish you well and you have no need for concern with regard to my discretion.’

  She drew in a breath, as if he had shocked her. ‘No. That is, yes, I have had an offer, but that is not what I wanted to say.’ She hesitated, and despite the pain behind his breastbone at her news, he couldn’t help drinking in her beauty, memorising each delicate curve, the line of her neck, the turn of her elbow.

  Her voice trembled as she spoke. ‘Blade, I want you to know that I love you.’

  Everything inside of him stilled. His heart felt suddenly too large for his chest. Too big to allow breath into his lungs. He loved her, too. But... ‘You are a lovely generous woman. You deserve far more than I could ever provide.’

  ‘You already gave me so much.’

  ‘You are not saying you are...?’ He glanced down at her stomach. ‘You did not conceive?’

  She swallowed, her eyes sad. ‘I have not.’

  He didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. For he would have married her had it been the case. ‘I am not what you need. Not what Tommy needs. I told you I have no interest in marriage.’ She flinched and he wanted to strike out. Most likely at himself. ‘Caro, you will find someone else upon whom to shower your affections. I do not believe in what the poets call...love.’ He forced the word out.

  ‘Why not?’

  Blast the woman. When had she become so deuced persistent? Since always. He smiled wryly to himself. It was one of the things he liked about her. What on earth could he say in answer to such a question? ‘I find the whole concept strange. I am not sure I could ever confine myself to only one woman.’ Though of course he had and would likely continue to do so for some time to come.

  Her eyes glittered. With anger? Tears? Her self-containment didn’t allow him to be sure. ‘Blade, I love you. I promise I would never abandon you.’

  The words tore a hole in his heart. What on earth could have made her pick on the one thing he feared in the deepest reaches of his soul? The one thing he barely admitted to himself. How could she even make such a promise? Circumstances changed. People changed.

  ‘Caro,’ he whispered. His arms longed to embrace her. His fingers itched to ease the tightness of his collar almost as much as they itched to furrow through the careful ordering of her locks so he could see them in disarray about her shoulders one last time. He held himself under rigid control. He forced what he hoped was a smile. ‘I really am sorry.’

  After a long considering look, she inclined her head. ‘You will come and say goodbye to Tommy.’

  He wanted to howl. And he wanted to strangle Tonbridge. But a soldier knew when he had been given an ultimatum. ‘I will.’

  She turned and left. He gave her a moment to go up the stairs and departed before his so-called friend could arrive with more stories of handkerchiefs.

  * * *

  ‘I don’t like London,’ Tommy said, banging his one good heel against the leg of the breakfast-room chair.

  ‘Please do not kick the chair, Thomas. This is our home,’ Caro said quietly. He was trying to be good, but his changed circumstances, the restrictions, were difficult for him to accept. ‘Please eat the rest of your eggs. Would you like a slice of toast?’

  ‘Only if it has strawberry jam,’ he said crossly.

  ‘We only have marmalade at the moment. Orange jam. You know you love oranges.’

  ‘I want strawberry jam.’

  Tommy was never grouchy. ‘Is your leg paining you, darling?’

  ‘No.’

  Grandpa Thornton lowered his paper and revealed equally lowered bushy grey brows. ‘Perhaps it would be better if he took breakfast in the nursery.’

  He was already taking luncheon, afternoon tea and dinner in the nursery. It was a long time since the Thorntons had lived with small children, and to hear them tell of it, their children had lived most of their lives in the care of others. From this happy state of affairs they’d developed the notion that boys aged eight were perfect little gentlemen when in the company of adults.

  Tommy cast her a look. Daring her to agree. He’d already threatened to run away again.

  ‘The sooner you finish eating everything on your plate, the sooner we will be on our way to the park.’ Every morning after breakfast they visited the ducks in Green Park. Children needed routine.

  Lady Thornton glanced up from one of her many pieces of correspondence with a frown. ‘Is it right to reward—?’ She stopped, clearly realising her words were not being well received. ‘I beg pardon, Caroline. I am sure you know what is best.’

  She was right. Granting him a treat was bribery in a way, but Tommy was spending far too much time in the nursery when boys of his age needed to be outside. She would be glad when they returned to Thornton Manor with its extensive grounds where a young lad could breathe.

  * * *

  Tommy finished his breakfast in short order and it wasn’t too long until they were off in the open carriage. Linny had complained of female pains and had begged off the outing. Caro had no doubt her pangs were genuine. The poor girl had looked so dreadful, Caro had sent her back to bed with a tisane and a hot water bottle. So they were accompanied by one of the Thorntons’ rather stuck-up footmen.

  On arrival at the park, it took a moment or two for Caro to organise the footman and the blanket and Tommy’s ball. When she turned around to take Tommy’s hand, he was already entering the park, hopping along on his crutches, no doubt heading straight for the pond.

  She picked up her skirts and ran after him, leaving the footman to fend for himself.

  ‘Tommy, wait,’ she called out.

  ‘Stop, Thomas.’ A male voice of authority. Not her footman.

  Tommy halted immediately, then changed direction, heading for two men on horseback. ‘Mr Read,’ he yelled, stopping to wave a crutch. How had he got so nimble on those things? They should be slowing him down.

  Caro dropped to a walk. This was a meeting she had been dreading, but she had not expected it to happen here. She had thought he would send round a note asking for permission to call on her and Tommy, giving her time to compose herself. She pulled together the shreds of her dignity, going first hot, then cold at the memory of the way she had thrown herself at him a few nights before.

  Blade jumped down before Tommy was anywhere close to his horse, tucked him under one arm and spun him around in mid-air. Tommy squealed with delight.

  The other man also jumped down, taking both horses’ reins, and while he was just as tall as Blade, his features were more refined and his eyes were dark and his hair sable. Blade’s half-brother, Victor, she remembered. Blade swung Tommy to sit on his shoulders.

  She smiled at both men. What else could she do? ‘Thank you. Once more you have rescued my runaway son.’

  ‘Look at me, Mama. I’m riding a horse.’

  Blade made suitable clip-clopping noises.

  ‘Well met, Mrs Falkner,’ his brother said. He flashed her a charming smile. ‘Duvane, at your service. We met at the Tonbridges’ ball. May I say what a pleasure it is to meet you again.’

  The man had charm to spare.

  Blade glared at him.

  Caro dipped a curtsy. ‘Of course I remember. Tommy and I were on our way to visit the ducks. I must thank you for your intervention. I and my entourage only turned our backs for a second.’ She looked up at Tommy high above her head, his crutches tucked beneath Blade’s arm. ‘You really should not run off like that, Thomas. London is so very much bigger than Skepton. I would not want you to get lost.’ Again.

  ‘Apologise to your mama, lad. It is what a gentleman must do when he is in the wrong,’ Blade said.

  Some gentlemen apologised when they were in the wrong. Others left.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ Tommy
said and he sounded genuinely remorseful.

  She nodded her acceptance.

  He clutched at Blade’s hair. ‘Why don’t you ever come and see us any more, Mr Read?’ His feet drummed a rhythm on Blade’s chest. ‘Don’t you want to be my papa?’

  Caro nearly fainted in mortification. ‘Tommy, Mr Read is a friend. He has been busy...’ She gestured vaguely to signify all sorts of important things.

  Blade’s expression shuttered. She could only be glad that Tommy could not see it from his perch. ‘I am here now,’ he finally said.

  ‘Yes,’ Tommy replied, apparently satisfied.

  The three of them strolled side by side towards the pond, Blade carrying Tommy and holding her arm with Lord Duvane on her other side leading both horses.

  ‘I am trying to dissuade my brother from leaving us again so soon,’ Lord Duvane said, clearly looking for a topic of conversation to fill the awful awkwardness. ‘His sisters have seen little of him these past many years.’

  His brother, too, if the regret in his voice was anything to go on. ‘Mr Read is not an easy man to persuade,’ she said, hoping she sounded more teasing than petulant.

  Blade cast her a look she could not interpret, but said nothing, for they had arrived at the lake and Tommy was struggling to dismount.

  The footman rushed forward with the bread they had brought and handed it over. Trying to balance on crutches and throw the bread proved to be a frustrating exercise. The ducks who had rushed to greet them, quacking and splashing, were less than pleased to find that their treats ended up in the mud on the bank.

  Caro went to lift him.

  ‘Allow me,’ Lord Duvane said. He looked at his brother. ‘Leave me to deal with this little chap and take the lady for a stroll, brother dear.’ He smiled at Caro. ‘Perhaps you will have better luck than I.’

  Blade shot him a glare. His brother winked at Caro and to hide his smile he picked up Tommy, balanced him on his hip and headed down the bank. ‘Come on, lad. I’ll hold you and you throw. You’ll discover the advantages of growing as tall as me.’