by Robyn DeHart
He made no comment. He didn’t have any real interest in things that weren’t monetary. But he could protest the board position, insist he have it so Caroline might then return to the country where she belonged. Then again, that wasn’t fair to her. What he should do was demand she be reintroduced into Society and find herself a husband. He knew, though, that Caroline would never agree to that. He’d tried once and the conversation had not gone well. Perhaps, however, there could be another reason for her to return to Society.
“She has her first board meeting today. I’ve already sent notice to the rest of the board members to welcome her in my stead,” his mother said.
“Indeed.” He downed his second cup of coffee. “Mother, you know what Caroline needs to do is find a suitable husband and get married. She needs someone to take care of her, provide for her. Certainly she wants to have her own family, since she obviously cares a great deal for children. And time is not so much on her side.”
“I will not insist she marry someone she does not wish to marry.”
And he knew she meant that. If Millicent Grisham, Duchess of Chanceworth, could start a charity that made it possible for women to not have to marry men they didn’t want to marry, she would do it. She’d been miserable in her own marriage and never wanted another woman to be put in a similar situation.
“You know I love you and Justin, and I wouldn’t change my past simply because of you boys,” she said. “But no woman should have to endure that kind of life. That being said, I do think Caroline would be happier if she found a worthy partner.”
“She will not agree to such a thing, though. But being out in Society would give her the most access to eligible men,” Roe said.
His mother was quiet for a moment. She tapped her finger on her lip, something she did when she was formulating an idea. She used to do it when he was a boy and she was trying to think of a new game for him to play in order to avoid one of his father’s particularly foul moods. When she hit on an idea she’d give him one of her impish smiles. And there it was.
“Well, you know that being on the board of the orphanage is such an important duty and she’ll need better contacts, especially if she is to help raise any necessary funds,” his mother said.
He bent and kissed his mother’s cheek. “You’re brilliant, you know that.” Then he left her alone in the dining room.
He suspected the feelings Caroline had claimed to have for him at one time were long gone. She’d been but a girl at the time and had fancied him merely because she saw him as her savior. If she knew the truth about Christopher’s death, however, she would likely never forgive him.
Having her leave had been the easiest way to handle his growing desire for her and the temptation she presented, but that wasn’t an option this time. He certainly couldn’t marry her. She deserved better.
Until she had found her place in Society, learned more of their ways, he’d make certain no one took advantage of her. He’d go to that board meeting today and claim his own position on the board.
…
Caroline poked the key in the hole at the front door. Her hands shook and her nerves threatened to evacuate what little food she’d eaten for breakfast. She took a slow, steady breath. You can do this. With a click, the lock unfastened and she opened the door. It had been closed since Mrs. Murdock had died three weeks ago. Her family had already come and retrieved her belongings, so all that remained was the furniture and fastenings that Caroline’s family had left. She had not been in the house since Christopher’s death, when she’d been sent to live with Roe.
It was decided at the time to lease the house and wait until Caroline was of age and married before determining what to do with it. She’d been of age for six years, but Mrs. Murdock had been a good lessee, paying on time, and not causing trouble. Caroline had only corresponded with the woman by letter; she’d never actually met her or seen the house while the woman had resided in it. The Murdock family had told her that their matriarch had a penchant for stray dogs and had taken many of them into her home. Her son had said that there was some damage done by the large canines, but Caroline had no notion of the extent of the damage. Her heart thundered as she turned opened the front door.
When she stepped inside, the stale odor of stillness and stuffy air assaulted her. The wood paneling that lined the entryway was dull and scratched as if it had not been polished in quite a long time. She could see some small chips and holes in the floor and the baseboards, with obvious chew marks.
She walked into the first room, noticing the wallpaper her mother had put up one summer had faded and torn, peeling off the wall. Every room was in worse condition that the last, and the sight of them nearly brought her to tears. But she refused to cry. Yes, the house was in disrepair, but it was still in good enough shape.
With enough money she could make the house shine as it once had. She would have to speak to some architects, but she felt she had saved enough to get much of the work accomplished, or, at the very least, started. She could ask Roe to loan her the difference and slowly pay him back. Unfortunately, she had no real way to make any income, especially since he was doing everything he could to ensure she didn’t go back to Rodale’s to play.
She supposed she could go to another gaming hell, but she was no fool. Roe was right—her disguise might work for a time, but she’d be putting much at risk to go elsewhere. She was too practical for that. There had to be other ways to develop an income. Perhaps she needed to discuss with Roe ways to invest and create more interest for her to live on. Of course she had studied the stocks so much while in Dorset, it had become one of her favorite pastimes. It would be nice to have access to her funds in a way that she could invest in the stocks she followed.
In the meantime, she had the orphanage to work with. She knew Millie loved that board position and it meant everything that she gave it to Caroline. To assist with fellow orphans would go a long way in making her feel as if she’d done something worthwhile with her life. There had to be a reason why she was the only one in her family that was left. Perhaps this was it.
She stepped into what had been the formal parlor. Tears stung her eyes as she looked around. The furnishings were the same, though now old, faded, and worn. What had been her mother’s favorite settee was in tatters, the springs exposed where the upholstery had torn. She ran her hand over the carved wood, remembering the day her mother had brought it home. She’d been so proud; they’d all been. Her dad’s baronage had been granted by the queen, and it was so new for all of them. They’d been accepted warmly by a few of the titled families on the street, even though others never considered her father as anything more than a wealthy merchant.
Caroline looked around at the shell of the house that had once been her home, the home where her parents had lived together as a loving couple. The home where she and Christopher used to run up and down the stairs, chasing one another, him wanting to put ink in her hair and her wanting him to teach her how to shoot.
She’d be a fool if she didn’t admit that moving back here, with all the memories, would be so difficult. It would bring back all of the pain and grief she’d experienced when each member of her family had died. But moving back here was her only choice, and she had the opportunity to do something wonderful, to transform all those feelings of sorrow into something more meaningful. She could bring hope and laughter back to this house.
Living in Roe’s house, even if it was a country estate he never visited, felt as if she were waiting for a love that would never come. Waiting for him to notice her. She couldn’t do that anymore. She wouldn’t do that anymore. Even if one day Roe did love her, it wouldn’t last forever. Hadn’t she learned that again and again?
That kind of love—the romantic fantasy of love—it didn’t last. It burned hot, bright, and fast. When it burned out, it left you scarred and raw. She would never again get close enough to let that kind of love burn her a second time.
Tomorrow, she would come back, make a list of all of
the things that needed repaired, and have an architect give her estimates on what said repairs would cost. At the moment, however, she was almost late for the board meeting.
As she walked through the front door, she nearly slammed it in the face of a man standing on her front stoop. She started, kept her hand on the door. “May I help you with something?”
“Miss Jellico?” the man asked. He stood about her height, perhaps a bit shorter, but he was older by at least a decade, possibly two. “I’m Peter Murdock, Mrs. Murdock’s son.”
“Oh yes, of course. My apologies. Did you leave something here you need to retrieve?”
“Not precisely. I’m afraid we’re going to need to make good on that lease. We’ll need to retain the house for the designated length of time.”
“What? But we agreed—”
“Yes, well, things change. And a legal document is binding. It would seem that I will need to move into this address myself.”
This couldn’t be happening. They’d agreed. She took a deep breath. There was no need to panic. She probably had a way out of this; she merely had to speak to a solicitor. “Mr. Murdock, I’m afraid I can’t discuss this at the moment, I’m late for a meeting. And I’ve already scheduled repairs for the house, so you’ll have to wait until those are completed.” Perhaps that would provide her enough time to figure out how to get rid of the Murdocks for good.
…
Caroline stood on Dover Street, looking up at the building that took up nearly a block of space. It was four stories high and constructed of white limestone. A small staircase led up to a shiny black door. To the right of the door was a small carved sign that read “Dover Street Girl’s Asylum.” Caroline tapped the knocker into the door.
“I’m here for the board meeting,” she said when a woman answered.
The woman curtsied and stood aside. Caroline stepped into the asylum and was immediately struck by the stringent smell of lemon, indicating the building was clean. That was good; she’d hate to think the girls who resided here lived in filth.
“I’m Mrs. Hancock,” the woman said as she led her down the corridor. “I’m the housekeeper here at Dover House, and anything else they need me to be.”
“Caroline Jellico,” Caroline said, her voice coming out thinner than usual. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m new to the board. Do you live here with the girls?”
“Oh yes, ma’am.” The woman’s shoes clicked against the wood floor as they walked. “The meeting is right over here.” She opened the door and allowed her entrance. “It hasn’t yet begun, though I believe everyone else is already here. All except Mr. Lamb, and he’ll be along directly.”
Caroline gingerly entered the sizable room. It could have been a dining room in a standard home, but hopefully, they had a much larger dining hall where the girls would gather for meals. This room had a smaller table, one that would seat probably twelve guests. The other people in the room milled about, speaking quietly to one another. Two men stood by the windows, dressed in gentlemen’s finest, right down to their expertly tied cravats.
Two elderly women stood by the tea service stirring their cups and eyeing the other woman in the room. Their object of interest was tall and younger than the other women, but obviously older than Caroline. She was startlingly pretty, with striking red hair and a curvaceous body she was comfortable showing off. Her cobalt blue dress molded to her, and all at once, Caroline felt quite aware of the plainness of her own dress. She was dressed in a practical manner, but her simple calico muslin felt drab and childlike. The contrast gave her pause, but she didn’t have time to fret for too long about it. The two elderly women approached her, teacups in hand.
“You must be Miss Jellico,” one of them said. “Duchess Chanceworth sent you, I believe. I am Lady Winguard, but you may call me Hildy.” She smiled pleasantly.
Caroline liked her immediately. She could not say the same for the other woman, who was eyeing her suspiciously. She introduced herself as Lady Greene. “Is there a reason why Millicent could no longer attend board meetings?” she asked, her voice sharp and unwelcoming.
“She has other charities she wanted to devote her attention to and thought that I might be of use here,” Caroline said, not missing a beat. She had dealt with women like this before. She didn’t like it, but she managed to maintain her wits about her.
“I should think we have most tasks covered,” Lady Greene said.
“Pish posh,” Hildy said, popping Lady Greene on the arm. “There is always plenty of work to be done. And we could certainly stand to have some young influences here. I would wager Miss Jellico here has plenty of splendid ideas.” She winked at her.
Caroline supposed she did have a few ideas, but she wanted to settle in first, figure out precisely how the orphanage was run before sharing any of them.
The buxom beauty approached. “Fresh blood,” she said with a smile. “Belinda Smith, Lady Fairfax.” She extended her hand to Caroline.
“Caroline Jellico. A pleasure to meet you.” She wasn’t too certain what to make of Lady Fairfax, but she seemed friendly enough.
“Indeed. We should be starting soon.”
The door opened and a man walked in holding a stack of papers to his chest. A pair of spectacles balanced on his long, straight nose. Instantly, Caroline recognized him. She’d seen him—no, she’d played him—at Rodale’s. She looked down at the floor, feeling exposed. Deep breaths. There was no reason to assume he’d recognize her. She might be wearing a simple gown, but she looked very much a woman at the moment, not at all resembling Mr. Grey. She’d played there for two months without anyone realizing she was a woman. The only reason Roe had discovered her identity was because she’d been foolish enough to play him at his own house. Granted, he’d recognized she was a woman before that, but Roe was far more observant than most.
“Mr. Lamb,” Belinda said, walking over to the man. She ran her hand down his arm and he dropped several pieces of parchment.
“Ah, my Lady Fairfax, looking as lovely as ever,” he said with a toothy grin. He bent to retrieve his papers. His small, watery eyes looked her up and down. He did nothing to hide his admiration of her. Then he caught sight of Caroline. He walked straight towards her. “Miss Jellico. Duchess Chanceworth speaks quite highly of you. I suspect you will bring much to our small group. If you should need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask me directly.” He gave her a smile, but it offered no reassurance, instead making her feel uncomfortable. “Now then, shall we begin?” He stepped over to the chairs and sat in the largest and plushest of the mix.
The rest of them took seats and Caroline found herself between an empty chair and Lady Winguard. Mr. Lamb discussed the need for new beds on the third floor and said they’d had six new girls added to the orphanage in the last two weeks alone.
The door opened and in walked Roe. Caroline almost stood, concerned something had happened to Millie. Mr. Lamb nearly swallowed his own tongue. He stopped talking, came to his feet. He straightened the hem of his coat. “Your Grace, I…to what do we owe this visit?”
“Is it not the right of the largest benefactor to stop into the board meetings once in a while?” Roe asked.
Caroline couldn’t explain Roe’s presence.
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Lamb said. “I thought that your family’s position had been passed to Miss Jellico.” He motioned toward Caroline.
“I believe there is room for both of us on this board.” Roe’s brows rose slowly.
Caroline wanted to throttle him. No, there wasn’t room for the both of them. His blasted broad shoulders seemed to take up the entire doorway as it was, and suddenly the air felt thin.
“You wish to serve as well. That is to say, yes, welcome. Please here, take my chair,” Mr. Lamb said, flustered by the appearance of the duke.
“That is not necessary,” Roe said, surveying the room. His eyes lit on her.
Caroline rolled her eyes heavenward.
“What a wonderful day
for the children here at Dover House,” Mr. Lamb said. “I’d wager we’re the only orphanage in London with such an attentive board.”
Roe sidled over and then lowered himself into the empty chair next to her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked between her teeth.
“I like to know what my money is paying for. Also, I believe when a family member vacates a board position it falls to another family member.”
His words were a slap in her face. It was a cold reminder of the fact that she was truly alone in the world. She had no family. She clenched her teeth.
“You intend to steal this board position from me?” she asked.
He leaned toward her, his head almost touching hers. “No, nothing quite so dramatic. I merely intend to assist.”
“Out of the goodness of your heart, no doubt.”
“Precisely,” he said with a tilt of his head. “That is my reputation, the duke with the good heart.”
“Funny, I haven’t heard any such thing said about you.”
He chuckled, but said nothing else.
Mr. Lamb continued on about all the funds they would need for this change, that new fabric for the girls to sew into their winter dresses, and wage monies to pay for a second housekeeper. The two older ladies made suggestions for how to generate new benefactors for the orphanage.
“Perhaps His Grace would host a ball to raise funds,” Lady Fairfax said.
The two older ladies clapped with glee. “What a spectacular idea,” Lady Winguard said.
All eyes turned to Roe, and Caroline found it immeasurably appealing to have him put on the spot in such a way.
“I shall see what can be done,” he said with a curt nod.
“Now then, Miss Jellico, being new to the board we shall need to find something for you to do, some way for you to contribute,” Mr. Lamb said. “I’m certain we can think of something appropriate.”
Caroline didn’t like the man. It wasn’t so much anything he did or said, but there was a feeling and he made her feel quite uneasy. The way his pointed teeth gleamed when he smiled sent a shiver up her arm. “Very good, sir.”
