by Tracy Grant
The clatter of wheels and the light seeping through the carriage curtains signaled that they were nearing London. Emily sat up. "Are we there?"
Caroline opened her eyes and smiled at her daughter. "Just a little bit longer."
Emily scrambled across the seat and peered between the curtains, then moved back to her mother. "Can we go to Sussex again sometime?"
"I expect so," Caroline said.
Emily looked across the carriage at Hawkins. "Will you and Elena come with us?"
Hawkins hesitated, painfully aware of the uncertainty of the future. "Perhaps," he said, looking apologetically at Caroline in case she saw this as unwarranted presumption.
Emily seemed content with his answer. "Maybe Adam can come too next time." She was silent for a moment. "Mama?"
"What is it, querida?"
"Could I have a puppy some time? Or a kitten? Like at Aunt Jane's?"
Caroline looked down at her daughter. Emily didn't ask for things very often, perhaps because she understood that there were so few things her mother could give her. But today Emily had been entranced by her cousins' pets. It seemed such a simple request. But it forced Caroline to confront all her uncertainty about where she and Emily would live and how and with whom. "When we have our own home," Caroline said.
Emily smiled and climbed onto her mother's lap. Caroline shifted her position, settling Emily against her shoulder. It had been good to see Jane and Will and the children again, good to see Emily getting acquainted with her cousins. But the visit had been disquieting. In the past Caroline had found the comforting chaos of Jane's house a welcome haven. Today it had made her think of all she was missing. She was glad Emily had cousins and an aunt and uncle, but she should also have a family of her own.
Caroline sighed and cradled Emily closer, recalling her exchange with Jane by the stream. Jane had guessed at Caroline's feelings for Adam, but there was much about the trouble between them that Jane did not know and that Caroline could not bring herself to mention. The wounds were still too raw.
Emily had fallen asleep again by the time they reached Red Lion Square. The lights were still on in the house. John, the Wellstones' manservant, said the family were waiting for them in the parlor, so after Caroline had tucked Emily into bed, the three adults made their way downstairs.
The stillness as they entered the parlor alerted Caroline to danger. It was the stillness of conversation broken off abruptly, of fear and discord and unresolved tension. A comforting fire blazed beneath the carved mantel, but the atmosphere in the room was chillier than the night air outside. The tea tray was still set out on a table in the middle of the room, but no one seemed interested in refreshments. Margaret was sitting in her customary chair, her back very straight, her eyes sharp with worry. Charles Wellstone sat beside her, his face intent, a line between his brows.
Only Adam looked relaxed. He was leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed, a faint smile on his face. Caroline's heartbeat quickened. Adam only looked that calm in the midst of a crisis.
"Good, I'm glad you're back," Margaret said, turning to the door. "I hope you found your sister and her family well, Caroline."
"Very well, thank you." Caroline looked from Margaret to Adam, for once not afraid to meet his gaze. "I think you'd best tell us what's happened."
"I think you'd best sit down first. Then Adam can tell you." Margaret regarded her nephew the way she had when he was a young boy trying to escape an unpleasant task.
Adam's smile deepened. "It was only to be expected. I should have guessed."
Charles Wellstone drew in his breath but said nothing. "Guessed what?" Hawkins demanded, settling himself on the sofa beside Elena.
"I called on Lord Castlereagh this morning," Adam said in a quiet voice that sent a prickle of alarm down Caroline's spine. "He had a small welcoming committee waiting. They wanted to ask me a few questions about our journey."
"What sort of questions?" Caroline asked, her nails digging into her palms.
Adam looked at her, the dark eyes she had seen blaze with passion and anger giving no sign of what lay between them. "Talbot Rawley may be a number of things, Caro, but he's been cleverer about this than I gave him credit for. He got our friend the thin man—by the way, his name is Limon—to write out a deposition claiming I'd consorted with the French in Salamanca. Which I had, of course."
Taut, stunned silence filled the parlor. A log crackled in the fireplace, sending forth a burst of acrid smoke. Caroline drew in her breath. Fear lanced through her. She looked at Adam, seeking some spark of warmth to sustain her, but his expression was as dispassionate as before. Even in her terror, she was alone.
"Hell," Hawkins said. "Bloody, bloody hell." He raked his hands through his hair. "Apologies, Mrs. Wellstone."
"It's all right, Hawkins," Margaret said. "That's exactly how I feel."
"Did you tell Castlereagh our suspicions about Talbot?" Caroline asked, looking at Adam.
"It hardly seemed the most opportune moment. Any accusations I make against Talbot now will sound like a desperate attempt to save my own skin. Which of course was exactly what Talbot intended."
Adam's gaze was composed and unwavering, as if he had shuttered all emotion away somewhere deep inside. When he was like this there was no getting through to him. Caroline felt a burst of rage. Adam, the father of her child, was in danger and she could do nothing, not even share the crisis with him. Then rage gave way to guilt. Adam would not be in this predicament had he not tried to help her.
Caroline leaned forward, determined to get Adam to admit he was as frightened as she was. "Treason. They've accused you of treason, Adam."
"They haven't officially accused me of anything." Adam picked up his cup from the table beside his chair and took a sip of tea.
Caroline had an impulse to pull the delicate cup from his hand and hurl it in the fireplace. "It's an accusation all the same."
"They haven't got a great deal of proof."
Charles, who had been staring at his hands, looked squarely at his nephew. "Convictions have been secured with less."
"Who else is on this committee?" Caroline clasped her hands and forced herself to sit back in her chair. There was a soft cushion behind her, but she felt anything but comfortable.
"Lord Palmerston. I think he's inclined to believe my side of the story." Adam carefully returned his cup to the table. "And Lord Granby. Talbot wrote to him and Granby went to Castlereagh."
Of course. It was only natural that Talbot would try to make use of his father's political influence. Caroline felt a faint stirring of hope. Perhaps she would be able to help after all.
"There's no denying this will make things more difficult," Adam continued in the same level voice. "Any investigating we do will have to remain unofficial. But it's not as if we've never worked in secrecy before, is it, Hawkins?"
"By God it's not." Hawkins's worried expression gave way to a grin. "If we can outwit the French army we can damn well outwit Whitehall."
"My sentiments exactly." Adam grinned back.
"What about the charges?" Caroline asked. "What are they going to do next?"
Adam turned to look at her. Caroline thought she caught a flicker of concern in his eyes, quickly masked. "They're going to talk to Talbot Rawley," he said, a rough note in his voice. "He's expected in England on leave soon."
Again, she should have expected it. Again she was taken aback. "Bringing more proof?" she asked, controlling a tremor of fear.
"I don't know." Adam leaned forward in his chair with sudden purpose. "I don't think Talbot will dare try here what he tried in the Peninsula," he said, holding her gaze with his own. "But as long as he's in the same country as you, I'm not taking any chances. No foolish risks, Caro. I want your word on it."
His composure was shaken. Caroline felt an absurd moment of triumph. "Of course not, Adam." She actually smiled. "I'll be every bit as careful as you are."
Caroline rapped on the roof to signal the hackney
driver to stop, then looked out the window at the long, columned facade of Granby House. The ranks of tall windows glittered like crystal in the late morning sunlight. Caroline paid the driver, climbed the two tiers of shallow stone steps, worn smooth by four successive generations of Rawleys, and rang for admitance. The pedimented door was opened by a tall young footman in a powdered wig and the blue-and-buff Granby livery. He looked at her in surprise. Eleven o'clock was early for a social call. The surprise deepened when she asked to see Lord Granby.
"Whom shall I say is calling, ma'am?"
Caroline smiled with determination. "His niece. Mrs. Rawley."
The footman's surprise gave way to confusion. He would know Caroline was not the wife of Jared's elder brother. Therefore there was only one person she could be. Jared's disgrace may have been hushed up, but evidently the servants knew enough to find his wife's sudden appearance disconcerting. "If you'll come this way, Mrs. Rawley," the footman said in a tone of neutral courtesy. "I will inquire if his lordship is at home."
Caroline stepped over the threshold into the rectangular hall, her half-boots echoing on the stone and marble floor. She had forgot how vast the hall was and how high the ornate coffered ceiling soared. The whole of her cottage in Acquera could easily be tucked into a corner and would scarcely reach half way to the first floor gallery.
Caroline paused for a moment, recalling her first visit to Granby House as a bride of eighteen. It had been night then and the hall had been brilliantly lit by wax tapers in the wrought-gold chandelier. She had stood where she stood now, watching the light play off the plaster garlands and classical friezes, the marble-topped tables and velvet-covered chairs, and thought that this was the summit of her ambition.
How long had it been before she realized what a mistake she had made, Caroline wondered, following the footman toward a doorway flanked by Ionic pilasters. Had she known it even then, even as she tried to convince herself Jared was the man she loved and pretend Adam only intruded on her thoughts because they had been friends for so long? She had turned her back on Adam to become a Rawley. And now it was the Rawleys who threatened Adam and she must use whatever influence she had with the family to protect him.
The footman left her in an antechamber hung with blue daask. Too nervous to sit, Caroline paced the length of the room. Her hands were clammy beneath her gloves. Granby might refuse to see her. He had always treated her kindly, but she had not known him well. And while Granby had a strong sense of family, Jared had embroiled the family in a scandal and embezzled money from Granby's son. Jared's father had refused to have anything to do with him. Why should she expect better from his uncle?
At last the footman returned, his manner thawed considerably. Lord Granby would see her. Relief coursed through her, followed by a fresh attack of nerves. The footman led her back to the hall, through another doorway, and into a corridor in a region of the house where she had never been. Here he opened one of the highly polished doors and announced her name.
Caroline stepped into a room paneled in rich, dark wood, as elegant as the rest of the house but quieter somehow, less obtrusive. Gold-embossed books lined the walls. The smell of fresh ink and pipe tobacco hung in the air. A writing desk stood near the fireplace and behind it sat Jared's uncle, Arthur Rawley, Fourth Earl Granby.
"Caroline." There was a discreetly muffled thud as Granby pushed his chair back against the thick pile of the Aubusson carpet. He got to his feet and came toward her, both hands extended. "My dear, I'm so very glad to see you." Startled and relieved, Caroline gave him her hands. Though he was a man of moderate height, Granby carried himself with a quiet assurance that made him seem taller. As always, it was his eyes she noticed first. Dark and penetrating, they missed little and held an unshakable air of command.
"I hope you'll forgive me for receiving you so informally," he said, taking her hands in a strong, reassuring clasp. "I must confess to a craven wish to avoid the drawing room stairs. I'm not as young as I used to be."
Caroline smiled, realizing his words had been a calculated attempt to put her at ease. Granby was a skillful politician. He had been a power in the House of Lords for years, and though he had only once held a Cabinet post, his influence within his party was extensive.
Granby guided her toward a wing chair upholstered in a brown velvet which echoed the subdued colors in the carpet, then took a chair nearby. "Talbot wrote to me about Jared," he said when they were both seated. "I'm sorrier than I can say."
"War does these things to people," Caroline said, grateful for his obvious concern.
"So it does." Granby hesitated. "I wrote to my brother, of course. It's going to be a great blow for him. Have you written as well?"
Caroline felt something harden within her. "I sent a letter off yesterday."
Granby studied her for a moment. He had the Rawley face, long, thin, and finely boned, stamped with the power of the family. "You may find this difficult to believe, Caroline, but I think Hugo has spent most of the last five years regretting his words to Jared."
"He might have written to Jared."
Granby gave a wry smile. "So he might. But I fear we Rawley men have the devil of a time admitting we've been mistaken." He leaned back in his chair. "It was a terrible business and even more terrible that you had the misfortune to be caught up in it. Talbot says you had a hard time getting out of Spain."
It was the opening Caroline had been waiting for. She fixed Granby with a level gaze. "Adam Durward saved my life. And my child's."
"Ah." Granby's eyes told her he had been expecting something like this all along. "Then on that score I have nothing but gratitude and admiration for him."
For some reason these mild words made Caroline's spirits plummet. "But it doesn't alter your suspicions."
"I have no suspicions, Caroline. Like my colleagues, I am merely investigating the facts."
"Lord Granby—" Caroline broke off as the footman reentered the room bearing a tray with a silver coffee service. She had forgot that refreshments were an essential part of social calls in London. Her stomach knotted with tension and frustration, she sat in silence while the footman arranged the things on a nearby table.
"Thank you, Timothy, that will be all." Granby nodded dismissal at the footman. "Please go on, my dear," he said, pouing coffee into two gold-rimmed cups. "You were talking about Durward."
Caroline accepted a cup and drew a steadying breath. She couldn't mention her suspicions of Talbot. Granby was a fair man, but she could hardly expect him to believe unsubstantiated accusations against his son. "I know what Talbot wrote to you about Adam," she said. "Talbot must be mistaken or this man Limon is deceiving him. Surely my word counts for something. I was with Adam in Salamanca. I know he did nothing treasonous." She sipped the coffee, though her nerves were tightly strung enough as it was. "Is that so hard to believe?"
Granby's expression was impassive. "I certainly believe you saw Durward do nothing treasonous."
Caroline set her cup down so abruptly the coffee splashed into the saucer, scalding her fingers. "Adam Durward could never betray his country."
"Never?" Granby gave a faint smile. "Never is a great word, Caroline. Who knows what may drive any of us to betrayal?"
Caroline thought of other betrayals and clasped her hands, which had begun to tremble. "It's true that Adam made a friend of Colonel Lescaut. Adam's the sort who thinks it's safest to make a friend of your enemy. If he were a spy, don't you think he'd have made some attempt to conceal that friendship from me?"
"Perhaps. Though a clever man might make no attempt to conceal it. No." Granby put up a hand to stop Caroline as she began to protest. She was suddenly reminded that this was a man who easily held the floor in the House of Lords. "I'm not a fool, Caroline," he said. "I know Durward was your childhood friend. I know you would go to great lengths to protect him. I also know that he is a brave man who has served his country well in the past. And though Talbot is my son and I love him dearly, I know he can be re
ckless and impulsive and jump to conclusions. I won't do anything foolish. I suggest you advise Durward not to either."
Some of the tension left Caroline's body. If it was not everything she would have liked Granby to say, it was more than she had had any right to expect. "Thank you," she said with heartfelt sincerity.
"It's a sad day when one has to thank a man for being fair." Granby settled back in his chair and sipped his coffee. "I understand your feelings about my brother, Caroline, but you mustn't forget that we're your family. Your daughter's family. I believe you have no other relations in London?"
Caroline picked up her cup again, made uncomfortable by Granby's referring to Emily as part of the Rawley family. "Not immediate family," she said.
"I thought not. This is a monstrous house, you know. Far too big for me and Edward and his family. I would be very happy if you and—Emily, isn't it?—made Granby House your home for as long as you find convenient."
Caroline was surprised and touched. "Thank you," she said. "But we're comfortable where we are at present." She hesitated, then lifted her chin and added, "We're staying with Mr. Durward's aunt."
"I see." Granby smiled. "Very well, I won't press you. But you must know that you are always free to come to us. I trust you will allow me to arrange for you to speak with the family solicitor. You will want to learn the state of Jared's affairs."
This at least was something Caroline could accept. She thanked him again. Granby waved her words aside, asked some more questions about Emily, and reiterated his offer of help should she need it. "You must call again," he said when she rose to go. "Dolly will want to see you. I'd send for her now, but she's gone out for an early ride."
Caroline smiled. Eleven o'clock was indeed early for Granby's daughter-in-law Dolly, who frequently did not rise before noon. In the old days, Dolly had been one of Caroline's best friends. But though Dolly had written to Caroline after the scandal, the strained relationship between their husbands had made Caroline hesitate to call on her for assistance. "Give Dolly my love," she told Granby. "And Edward as well," she added after a moment.
