My Darling Caroline

by Adele Ashworth

  Davis took a sip of tea, sitting back to regard her. “So how are you settlin’ in at Miramont, Lady Caroline?”

  She smiled to his dark, weathered face, but instead of answering his question, she asked another. “Where exactly are you from, Davis?”

  “Kentucky.”

  “Ken what?”

  He chuckled gruffly. “Kentucky. One of the United States of America. Born and raised there, before it was a state, of course.”

  “I see…” She casually took another bite of apple. “Have you ever been to New York?”

  He frowned in contemplation. “Well…I shipped out from there thirty-two years ago, but don’t remember much. Came here and the former countess offered me a good payin’ job, so I stayed. Taught his lordship all he knows.”

  Caroline looked at him stupidly. “All he knows about what?”

  That flustered him. “All he knows about horses.”

  “My husband is a horseman?”

  Davis laughed outright. “Ain’t love grand.”

  She felt her cheeks color.

  “What exactly do you know about your husband, Lady Caroline?” he asked seconds later.

  Warily, she replied, “Very little, really.”

  “Why don’t you ask ’im?”

  “Ask him?”

  Davis snickered. “Ask your husband about his past, his motives and ambitions. I think you’ll find it interestin’.”

  “So this is what I miss each morning.”

  Caroline abruptly turned to the door. Her husband stood casually against it, hair mussed, his wrinkled linen shirt half-tucked into extremely tight breeches. He was watching her as well, scrutinizing her strangely, making her pulse race.

  “You’re just in time for breakfast,” Nedda said in motherly sternness. “Come sit.”

  Caroline thought he might make excuses to escape either her or the unpalatable meal. But he surprised her by rubbing his eyes and slowly walking toward them, taking the seat to her right at the table.

  “Tea?” Caroline asked a bit too sweetly. The only time they spoke to each other was at meals, although until just now the only meal they had taken together was dinner each night. Conversation then left a lot to be desired, and she was, quite honestly, tired of the stupid game of avoidance they played with each other.

  “Tea would be wonderful,” he returned too politely.

  She gave him a long, level look. Then, with what could only be considered a sarcastic smile, she slowly rose from her chair and walked to the counter.

  “You look like you been tossed from hell to breakfast, my boy,” Davis said, amused.

  Brent leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t get to bed until nearly two, but I have things to take care of today. I’ll be seeing Vicar Drakemond this afternoon.”

  Both Nedda and Davis looked up sharply. Caroline placed his tea on the table and sat again.

  “Tomorrow,” he continued without interruption, “I’ll start looking for servants and taking care of personal business. I won’t be gone long.”

  “You’re leaving?” Caroline blurted.

  He turned to her and grinned. “Miss me, Caroline?”

  She huffed. The man must dramatically overestimate his importance in her life.

  Casually he took a sip of his tea and changed the subject. “So what have you been doing with your time?”

  She quickly glanced to her mug, tracing a pattern around the rim with her finger. “I’ve been working in the garden.”

  “Ahh…of course.”

  “A good job she’s done, too,” Davis added.

  Caroline beamed.

  “Really? Did you plant a flower for me, little one?”

  “No,” she said curtly.

  “It’s a good thing,” he replied softly, “because I’m quite sure it would wilt away and die.”

  Caroline shrugged lightly. “Only from lack of care.” She had meant it as a very dark joke, hoping he’d catch the meaning. And perhaps he did, for he was quiet for a moment, then his eyes narrowed.

  “Everything dies eventually, Caroline.”

  His voice was so low she barely heard the words. Leaning toward him, and with every ounce of determination she possessed, she placed her nose within inches of his.

  “Nothing in my care ever dies from neglect, husband,” she confided in a husky whisper. “My plants will be the loveliest you’ll ever see as they grow and become strong. Within weeks, every room at Miramont will be filled with God’s beautiful creations that I nurture and bring to life.”

  “Including our children?”

  She sat back abruptly, her eyes widening as he turned her serious, passionate words to something intimate.

  “My plants are my children,” she bravely retorted.

  He grinned devilishly. “But I guarantee that our son will be much more fun to create.”

  Her heart raced, but she refused to back down from his insolent male innuendos. “How would you know, husband? Have you created a son from another entanglement?”

  Nedda drew a sharp breath.

  Davis chuckled. “This oughta be grand.”

  Caroline kept her eyes locked with her husband’s, waiting for his rebuttal.

  Finally Brent laughed softly. “An entanglement, Caroline? Is that what you’d call our relationship?”

  She fidgeted. “One could call a marriage of convenience an entanglement, I suppose.”

  He spoke again cheerfully. “Then I’m quite certain I have no child from a former entanglement, Caroline.”

  “Breakfast?” Nedda interrupted sweetly, placing a plate of mush and burned bread before each of them.

  Brent stared at his food. They needed a cook right away.

  They all sat together to eat, and he found it amusing to note that when his mother was alive, they would never have taken meals with any of the help. Doing such a thing was unthinkable in their station. And yet the war had humbled him, for when he was at battle he found himself eating with men from all walks of life. When one fought side by side with another, some things just truly didn’t seem to matter, which was exactly how it was in his massive, empty home. With only the four of them, it seemed rather stupid for him and Caroline to eat separately—and if they weren’t sitting here, they’d be sitting on the floor.

  It didn’t seem to bother Caroline either, which surprised him. If he’d married any other woman of quality, he felt certain she would have fainted at the thought of eating what was supposed to be breakfast at a small wooden table with the housekeeper and the man who took care of the horses. In many different ways, he was slowly finding, she was refreshingly unique.

  Ignoring her for the last week had been unbelievably difficult. He’d tried to escape her presence by working, riding, poring over his books, repairing some of the damage to his property, and still he couldn’t free himself of his frustration.

  He had a wife. He had a wife who desired him physically but wouldn’t allow herself to be touched. He was now convinced that a former lover had given her a bad time of things in bed, which would explain her reluctance, even fear of what was to prove to be the only truly enjoyable aspect of married life. Because of his newfound understanding, Brent admonished himself to take things slowly, for Caroline was bright enough to understand his motives if he pushed too quickly or too hard.

  He also now knew, after considerable thought on the matter, that this was probably the reason her father had wanted her out of his house. Naturally, as a man in exemplary social standing, having a ruined daughter unmarried and living in his home could blacken his name almost overnight if it became known. And what if she took another lover? Society would cut him to pieces.

  But with her at Miramont, under his husbandly influence, that would never happen again. He wouldn’t allow it, and he’d made that perfectly clear to Caroline. He would be the only man in her bed from now on, and if the gods were smiling, it would happen soon.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching her toy with her food. She wa
s once again clothed in the dowdy gown she wore the day they’d met, but now he saw her differently. Although she had a smudge of mud across her cheek and her dark, thick hair tied into the tightest knot he had ever seen at the base of her neck, she looked incredibly appealing. Her gown made her that way, he reasoned, for although it was exceptionally ugly in color and style, with its high neckline and long sleeves, it molded tightly to her bosom and waist, outlining her lovely, sexy, untouchable shape…

  Brent suddenly attacked his food. “I’ll be leaving at sunup tomorrow,” he said coolly between bites. “I should be home within the week, but I’d like you to sleep in the house, Davis. I don’t want the women alone.”

  Davis nodded.

  “And Caroline,” he said after taking a swallow of tea, “I have work to do now but I’d like us to talk before I leave.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he stood abruptly, walked with dishes in hand to the sink, then turned to her.

  “From now on you’ll wear your hair down around the house,” he ordered casually. “No wife of mine will look frumpy at twenty-five years of age.”

  “Frumpy!”

  Davis snickered.

  Nedda smiled.

  Caroline’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I cannot fathom why it matters to you how I wear my hair.” She slowly stood to match the level of his gaze. “I prefer it this way because if it is not pulled tightly from my face, it gets into my eyes.”

  “I betcha Nedda could find a ribbon or two to hold it back,” Davis offered with a wide grin.

  She stared hard at him. “What on earth would you know about hair ribbons—”

  “I have several I’d be happy to give you, Lady Caroline,” Nedda cut in sweetly.

  She sighed, exasperated. “Thank you, but it’s my hair, and I like it just fine the way it is.”

  “I do not,” Brent articulated slowly, looking directly into her eyes, “and I’m your husband and the master of the house.”

  “Oh, you’re the master of—”

  “You do have pretty hair, Lady Caroline,” Davis interjected smoothly. “It’s a shame you wrap it all up like that.”

  Brent could see her anger building. In some odd, probably not too honorable way, he enjoyed unnerving her. It was a marvelous game.

  “I suppose you’ll tell me next I should garden in something more feminine, maybe pearls and silk evening wear?”

  He almost laughed, thinking that nothing at all could be more feminine than the garment she wore clinging to every curve of her body. She glared at him, her expression fuming, cheeks bright and pink. It took everything in him to keep his features neutral, for she looked positively adorable when she was mad at him.

  “I cannot afford pearls and silk evening wear, I’m afraid,” he countered indifferently. His eyes lingered momentarily on her figure, then he gestured toward her gown with his hands. “You do have more than one of those, do you not?”

  She pulled back from the suggestiveness of his stare, boldly lifted her skirts, and turned her back to him.

  “I have plenty,” she called over her shoulder as she walked to the door. Looking to their housekeeper, she smiled faintly. “Breakfast was quite…Thank you for breakfast, Nedda.” With that, she marched out into the open air.

  Davis chuckled. Nedda grinned. Brent ignored them both and strode to the door through which he’d entered earlier.

  “I’m going riding,” he said wearily as he turned and left the room.

  “I thought he intended to work,” Nedda remarked nonchalantly.

  Davis beamed. “My boy is smitten.”

  “Indeed he is,” Nedda agreed, “and so is she.”

  “You think so?”

  She nodded, then leaned toward him to say impishly, “And I’m going to enjoy every single minute of watching them fight it.”

  Davis laughed and raised his cup in a mock toast. “And so the fun begins.”

  Chapter 4

  He couldn’t believe he was actually going to do it. He was an earl, properly raised, more educated than most, and never in his life had he felt so uncomfortable about making a request. No other man alive would even consider what he was about to ask of his new wife.

  Brent sat at his desk, arms resting on each side of his ledger as he slowly thumbed through the pages, waiting for Caroline, who had said she’d meet him shortly. It had taken him several days of work to understand clearly what Reggie had done with the money and wealth he’d had before leaving for the Continent. After working through the numbers several times, he wanted to be sure of what he’d found.

  “I’m sorry I took so long but I needed to…um…find a hair ribbon.”

  At the sound of her deep, sultry voice, he quickly raised his eyes to the doorway. Caroline stood against it, wearing a silk lime-green day gown with a low rounded neckline, which more than adequately revealed her abundant cleavage. Her dark hair was loosely tied at her nape while soft curls framed her cheeks, now flushed and dewy soft from the warmth of a bath. It stirred his blood to see her so, for every time he looked at her she was lovelier than the last. And seemingly further out of reach.

  He quickly looked back to his ledger. “You’ll wear your hair like that from this moment on.”

  “So you’ve demanded,” she said rather loudly, slowly moving toward him. After a long, still moment, she asked sheepishly, “Do you think you could tell me what happened here, Brent?”

  He glanced at her, puzzled.

  She looked around and opened her arms wide. “I mean Miramont. What happened?”

  He drew a full breath and sat back heavily in his chair. “I thought Davis or Nedda would have told you.”

  She shrugged. “They’ve told me nothing.”

  He kept his eyes locked with hers, his features neutral. “I left for the Continent several months ago to do some work for the Crown, leaving Miramont in the care of my cousin, Reginald Kent. I had every intention of returning last spring, but without warning I was forced to stay in France. When I returned last month, I discovered that my cousin had sold everything I owned, without my knowledge or approval, to pay his gambling debts.”

  “Why were you in France?” she mildly asked.

  Almost impatiently, he replied, “I was with the Duke of Wellington fighting Napoleon Bonaparte at Waterloo.”

  Caroline’s eyes opened wide with surprise. He’d said the words so matter-of-factly, with so little feeling, that if she hadn’t been watching she would have missed how his expression betrayed his composure. It had changed just enough for her to notice the slightest trace of well-hidden pain, and he tightened his jaw to keep that emotion in check.

  Now she understood why he’d appeared so thin and haunted when they’d first met, his underlying anger, why his manner was so direct. Her new husband had been at war, and she could think of nothing to say in response to his statement.

  Quickly he straightened and stood, lowering his gaze to his desk, once again casual, composed. “I need you to look at this.”

  “Of course,” she murmured without thinking, slowly walking to stand beside him.

  “I’d like you to glance over these numbers to see if I’ve made any mistakes in my calculations, Caroline.”

  She blinked quickly several times. “I beg your pardon?”

  He smiled faintly. “I’d appreciate a level head other than my own to check these figures once more, since I need to know the exact status of my accounts before I leave. Not only do we need servants, but I’d like to start refurnishing Miramont as well.”

  She was stunned. “You—you’re asking me to look through your finances?”

  He lowered his voice and leaned very close to her. “Technically I suppose they’re your finances, too.”

  Caroline absolutely could not believe that he was asking this of her, and were it not for the fact that he was practically thrusting the ledger into her hands, she would have never believed his request.

  “Are you sure?” She glanced to his face, now only inches from hers,
hoping to God he wasn’t toying with her, for a joke like this would crush her spirit.

  He stepped aside and ushered her to his desk.

  “Go ahead, Caroline,” he insisted, gently pushing her into his chair. He took a pen from the inkwell, placed it in her hands, then swiftly moved to take the seat across from her to watch through narrowed eyes.

  Suddenly Caroline knew this was a huge, complicated, chance-of-a-lifetime test of her abilities, and strangely, she wanted to impress. Slowly she lowered her eyes to the paper in front of her.

  Brent observed her closely as she hesitantly started to work. She turned the pages quickly, moving through the ledger with such incredible speed that for a while he was convinced she wasn’t taking him seriously. But as he watched her chew her bottom lip, her face contorting with furious thinking, he realized this was something she actually enjoyed doing, and she hadn’t used the pen even once. She was calculating mathematical equations and multiplying several large numbers using nothing but her mind. It was truly unbelievable.

  Finally she looked up, eyes sparkling. “You’ve made a ghastly mistake, Brent,” she whispered. Then she started to giggle.

  That irritated him. “If it’s such a ghastly mistake, why are you laughing?”

  She sobered a little. “Look what you’ve done here.”

  She motioned for him to move closer, and he slowly stood and walked around to her side of the desk.

  “See right here? You multiplied by three instead of three hundred. You didn’t carry your zeros, silly man.” She met his eyes, her lips curled up in delight. “I think we have quite a bit more money than you first thought.”

  He looked at her sharply. “You discovered this using only your head?”

  The smile died on her face. “It just comes naturally to me,” she said cautiously.

  He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “It has never come naturally to me. I don’t trust bailiffs, and taking care of the books has always been my least favorite chore. From this moment on, I’d like you to see to it. Naturally, I’ll need to continue dealing with my banker regarding payments made on my accounts, but I’d like you to keep track of the money. You’ve a marvelous talent, Caroline. It should be used.”