She thought of her family's plans for her, and of the hope in her father's eyes as he dismissed any notion of her being anything less than a countess, a duchess, a marchioness, anything other than a woman happily in love.
Could she really do it? Could she disappoint her family? She who had never, ever put a foot wrong? Who did not know how to be anything other than the perfect lady, the perfect daughter.
How was she to face her parents, the ton, after doing anything other than what was expected of her?
Heaven help her, she was too weak, too concerned with the opinions of others; she knew that. She could not break the habit of a lifetime no matter how much her heart cried out for it.
Taking a steadying breath, she dredged up every ounce of that iron self-control that had earned her the title of Ice Queen amongst the crueller villagers back home and schooled her features to an emotionless mask.
"Tom, I have never asked for your love. Never sought it."
She saw the exact moment that her words registered. His face disclosed first his shock, next his anger and worst of all, his despair.
"That does not mean that I did not give it. Caroline, please — I know you must feel something for me."
He gripped her shoulders, his hands biting painfully into her flesh.
Caroline could feel tears pool in her eyes and willed herself not to cry again. This was too difficult. She needed to get rid of him before she gave way, before she changed her mind.
But she could not stand the look on his face. The doubt and sadness.
So she smiled weakly, it was the best she could do.
"I do, Tom."
"Then marry me, dammit."
"I cannot."
"Why the hell not?"
It struck Tom at that moment that he was probably the only love-struck potential groom in the history of society to shout and swear at his potential wife. But he cared not. He was scared. Terrified, in fact. Although he had always known he was not good enough for her, he had been convinced that she loved him enough to flout the rules.
He should have known better. She was the very epitome of the rules. And being a slave to propriety, she was about to ruin all his chances of happiness.
Caroline bit her lip in a valiant effort to stay composed. She knew she was about to throw away her only chance of real happiness. She could very well go on to marry a peer and live in the style that her parents expected, nay demanded for her. But her heart would be forever torn from her chest.
Her next words were designed to hurt and anger him enough that he would leave without a fight. She would not be strong enough to say 'no' if he should fight for her.
And she was far from strong enough to live with the disappointment of her parents and society. She was weak. So weak, in fact, that she didn't deserve him.
"I am the daughter of an earl," she began in a flat, emotionless tone. She removed his coat that smelled so like him it hurt to let it go, and held it out for him to take. "It behooves me to marry someone within my circle, someone my father considers an equal."
She almost wept as his face took on the expression of someone who had been utterly crushed. As soon as he turned his back, her own face, she knew, would look the same.
"You cannot mean that. Caroline, I love you. Does that not mean anything to you?"
Caroline weakened a little.
"It does," she whispered and her voice cracked alarmingly. Her control was slipping. "Just not enough."
He stared at her for what seemed like an age.
And then, she felt it. The moment he broke away from her. The moment that her arrow hit home. The atmosphere changed between them and all at once he was a stranger. And she, the worst sort of snob.
"Then this is it."
Suddenly panicked at the thought that she would never see him again, selfishly wanting to still be able to look on his face, she answered, "Not really. We shall see each other at the wedding."
Tom grimaced as he took a step away from her.
"I think not."
"You will not miss it, surely."
"You think I would stay? That I would want to be around you and the family so desperate for you to have a title over love?"
He shook his head and turned away. Before taking his leave altogether, he turned back.
"I envy Edward. It seems he took care to fall in love with the sister who possessed a spine."
Then he strode off, returning to the ballroom, no doubt taking his leave for good.
Caroline felt the huge, gaping hole in her chest where her heart had once resided. She wanted to throw herself to her knees and sob for her lost love, for Tom's hurt, for her own damnable weakness and inability to fight for what she wanted.
But she would not. A lady did not show vulgar displays of emotion. She had let him go because she was not willing to give up the person she was. So she wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders. Then she made her way back into the ballroom, determined to start the future she had mapped out for herself. And if it felt right now as if she had mapped her own path to Hades, well, that was a decision she must live with.
CHAPTER ONE
Two Years Later
CAROLINE CARRINGTON BREATHED deeply as she once again took in the sights of London's busy streets. Her heart fluttered as it remembered the sounds, the smells, the buildings surrounding her.
She could not believe that she was finally back here, ready once again to embark on a Season. This Season, however, held far more import than her first, two years ago. For this time, Caroline would not leave without a husband or, at the very least, a fiancé.
Her ice-blue gaze took in the enormity of the house before her. Edward, Duke of Hartridge and her brother-in-law of almost two years, obviously did not believe in doing things by halves. The splendour of the house took Caroline's breath away, and she had been living amongst splendour her whole life.
As she stepped out of the carriage the huge black door opened and a little army of footmen began to descend on the coach assisting with bags and giving the coachmen instructions for where to stable the horses.
Caroline's excitement mounted as she climbed the steps and entered the spacious entrance hall of Rebecca and Edward's London home.
She had spent two whole years away from the hustle and bustle of London and although she had only spent one brief Season here, it had been the happiest time of her life. Her smile faded and her heart contracted painfully at the memory of her loss as her mind once again conjured up the image of Tom Crawdon walking away from her.
Caroline was surprised and a little worried that the memory still had the power to affect her so. But she had promised herself she would put the heartache behind her and do her best to find a suitable match, appease her parents, and start to live her life. Her father was growing weaker, and the weaker his body got, the stronger his demands for Caroline to marry became. In fact, he was so adamant that she marry he had given her one chance, one Season to find a suitable match. If she didn't, he would do it for her.
And she knew whom he had in mind. Lord Doncastle, a significantly older earl who lived on a crumbling old estate in Cork, miles from her family seat, her friends, and anyone she knew. Caroline had met the earl only a handful of times when he had travelled to Offaly to visit her father. He was boring, arrogant, and entirely inappropriate whenever he had the opportunity. She shivered in disgust as she thought of him. She would not marry him. She could not! So she was determined to find a husband for herself this Season — at the end of this Season to be specific. For her plans were twofold. Yes, she would hunt down a suitably staid and titled gentleman. But first…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the butler.
"My lady," the tall and rather stiff butler greeted her with a deep bow. His grey hair indicated an advanced age but his face seemed relatively line free. Probably because he'd never expressed an emotion in his life, she thought wickedly. "My name is Jenson. Please do let me know if you require any assistance during your st
ay. If you will follow me, I shall direct you to the drawing room to await—"
Jenson's ever so proper speech was cut short by an unholy screech from the top of the stairs as Rebecca came into view and saw her older sister.
"Caro!" she yelled, loudly enough to make Caroline wince. Jenson remained impressively unaffected. He was obviously used to the mistress of the house by now.
Caroline's face split into a wide grin as she watched her sister race down the stairs and skid to a halt in front of her.
"Oh it is so good to see you," said Rebecca breathlessly.
Caroline pulled her younger sister into a tight hug and said, "And you, dearest."
Rebecca pulled back slightly and looked at Caroline in shock. Caroline did not blame her. She had never been one for public displays of emotion. In truth, she was rather surprised at herself. When had she last hugged anyone so enthusiastically? Had she ever hugged anyone so enthusiastically? But the fact that a hug should cause such a reaction made her feel strangely sad.
Caroline wasn't sure what had come over her. But it had been so long since she'd seen her sister, almost six months. Edward and Rebecca's first born, Henry, was just about to have his first birthday. Rebecca looked as deliriously happy as the last time they'd met, at Ranford Hall for Christmas. And now Caroline felt suddenly overwhelmed by those terribly unladylike things, emotions.
Rebecca recovered soon enough and gave Caroline a huge grin as she linked their arms and set off, not to the drawing room as Caroline expected, but to the stairs.
"Jenson, have Lady Caroline's things brought up to her room please," she called over her shoulder as they made their way up the grand staircase. "I shall show you where to freshen up shortly," Rebecca chattered, "but first you simply must see Henry before he goes down for his afternoon nap. You will not believe your eyes when you see how big he's gotten. And he is so like his father, truly a mirror image…"
Caroline smiled with pleasure as her sister rambled on proudly about the young marquess. Then laughed a little at the thought that she was outranked by her one-year-old nephew, she being a mere daughter of an earl.
When had her thoughts become so fanciful? Probably around the time she had decided to finally take her life into her own hands. The thought caused her skin to prickle in a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
Caroline allowed Rebecca's conversation to wash over her as she thought of her plan. She must inform Rebecca immediately of her intentions. She was, after all, to stay here for the duration since her brother Charles had chosen to forego the Season in order to learn the family business, and she would therefore be unable to stay at the Ranford townhouse.
Besides, nobody could scheme better than Rebecca Carrington! Or rather, the Duchess of Hartridge, as she was now known. If anyone knew how to be scandalous without creating her own ruination, it was Rebecca. And Caroline would make sure she made full use of her sister's talents before this Season was through.
"Caroline, are you even listening?" Rebecca scolded good-naturedly, bringing Caroline's mind back to the present.
"I am sorry, I was wool-gathering," responded Caroline apologetically.
"No apology necessary, I know the journey is tiring. I shall leave you to rest. You can see Henry later if you wish."
"Oh no," answered Caroline immediately, "I cannot wait to see my darling nephew again. I shall nap when he does," she quipped.
They arrived at the nursery door and Rebecca swept in and scooped Henry from the nursemaid.
Caroline felt her heart squeeze as she looked at her adorable baby nephew. His face broke into a wide grin at the sight of his mama and his chubby hands grasped Rebecca's face before he leaned in and planted a loud kiss on her cheek.
"Oh, what a clever boy you are!" crooned Rebecca before turning to Caroline, her face a picture of maternal pride.
Caroline rushed forward and grabbed Henry from Rebecca's arms, spinning him round to his obvious delight.
"Oh, you beautiful boy, how big you have gotten!" she said as she settled him against her shoulder. She had to agree with Rebecca, he was the very image of his father but his big brown eyes definitely came from his mother.
He blinked curiously at her a couple of times before clearly deciding that she would do as a comfortable spot to stay and settling his head on her shoulder.
Caroline inhaled sharply at the deep pang of — well, she didn't quite know what to call it — shot through her. Longing, she supposed? Envy? How she would love a child of her own. The thought took her surprise. It seemed her thoughts were doing a lot of that lately. Caroline had never considered herself the maternal type.
Caroline had known, of course, that she would need to provide an heir for her husband, whomever that may be. But she'd always thought of children in an abstract way. Another task to be completed in the quest to be the perfect society wife. But now, holding her nephew who was snuggled so securely into her, inhaling his sweet baby scent and stroking the riot of jet black curls, she felt quite desperately that she wanted this for herself.
She experienced emotions that she rarely allowed herself to feel well up inside her. Perhaps she was just more tired than she'd thought.
It wasn't long before Henry gave in to tiredness, and was soon sleeping peacefully in the arms of his aunt. Reluctant to let him go, Caroline settled herself into one of the nursery chairs and rocked him gently before her own fatigue began to get the better of her.
The handover from Caroline to Rebecca was done with military precision. Swift changeovers and no noise. Henry stirred a little as he was placed in his cot, but soon settled and the sisters tiptoed quietly from the room.
They wandered down the corridor to Caroline's room so that she could freshen up and wash the carriage dust from her face and hands. Caroline's abigail, Sally, entered the room not long after Caroline and helped her change into a freshly pressed afternoon dress.
Rebecca had offered Caroline the chance to rest first before taking tea and catching up properly, but Caroline was anxious to talk to her sister about her plans for the Season so they agreed to meet in Rebecca's drawing room in thirty minutes.
Caroline entered the room and found Rebecca waiting with the tea things. The room was quite small, but was very beautiful and very feminine. It had been decorated in a pale lemon with accents of floral prints dotted around in the curtains and some of the cushions on the plush sofas.
"Rebecca, this is lovely," said Caroline in admiration as she took in her surroundings then sat by her sister and took the proffered cup.
"Isn't it? It had been the most jarring shade of red when I moved in. I really wanted somewhere that was just my own. Edward told me to take it in hand, and so I did."
Rebecca sighed contentedly then turned her attention back to Caroline.
"Now—" she started gazing shrewdly at Caroline's face— "I have seen that there is something on your mind from the second you arrived. Pray, what is it?"
"Whatever do you mean?" started Caroline innocently.
"You've either done something wrong or you're about to," said Rebecca frankly. "I know because I am extremely familiar with that expression, though I admit I never thought I'd see you wearing it."
Caroline smiled. "Someone needed to take over as Queen of Scandal since you married and settled down to wedded bliss," she quipped.
"I am glad you at least acknowledge the change in me. Everyone else refuses to."
Caroline laughed. "Rebecca, I jest. I know as well as anyone that you haven't changed a jot. Why, did you not write to me only last month about the unfortunate incident with Lady Carlton's French windows?"
"I told you that was not my fault," Rebecca objected hotly. "Who knew the blasted things were so fragile?"
"I believe most people are aware of the fragility of glass," answered Caroline.
Rebecca huffed. "Are we to speak of Maria Carlton's overrated windows, or whatever it is on your mind?"
They had wandered off topic, Caroline thought. But then, they
had a lot to catch up on.
She took a deep breath. This was it.
"Alright. The truth is, I need your help."
"Of course," Rebecca replied immediately. "With what?"
"As you know, Father has demanded I be either married or engaged by the end of the Season."
"Ridiculous, but yes. I am aware."
"And do you also know that he has decided I will marry Lord Doncastle if I can't find a groom myself?"
Rebecca stared at Caroline in horror.
"Lord Doncastle?" she gasped. "Is he even still alive?"
"As to that, I cannot be sure," answered Caroline dryly. "But he is titled and widowed and that is all that interests Papa."
"But this is outrageous," spluttered Rebecca. "We cannot allow this to happen. The very thought turns my stomach."
"Believe me, I have no intentions of marrying Lord Doncastle."
"So that is what you need my help for. To find you a husband?"
"Not exactly," began Caroline a little hesitantly. She wasn't quite sure how to phrase her request. "I do not wish to sound in any way conceited, but I am not overly concerned about finding a husband."
Here, Caroline blushed a little and continued, "I do not mean that I should have men begging to marry me," she explained hastily, "It is just that, well, my dowry is quite sizeable and—"
"And you are beautiful, kind, clever, and everything else a lady should be," interrupted Rebecca. "Do not worry about sounding immodest, dear sister. You are the least conceited person I know. You are, if anything, completely unaware of what a prize you are."
Caroline blushed at the compliment. But she soldiered on, unwilling to be distracted now that she'd built up the courage to talk to Rebecca about her plan.
"Yes, well thank you. But as I said, I am not concerned about finding a husband. Especially in three months."
Seeking Scandal Page 2
