Seeking Scandal

by Nadine Millard

  Besides, she didn't care enough to ask…

  "Who was?" she asked quietly, wanting to kick herself.

  "Tom, of course."

  More silence.

  "Why?" She was an utter fool.

  "Because he fears he has upset you."

  Caroline laughed, though there was very little humour in it.

  "Why would he have upset me? By parading men in front of me so that I would marry and leave?"

  Rebecca grasped Caroline's hand.

  "It was I who told him to invite them, Caro. I made him do it."

  "Why?"

  "Because, because I thought it would make him jealous enough to act on his feelings for you. Or, if it didn't, I thought you might at least find someone you could like enough to marry."

  Rebecca swallowed, her eyes filling with distressed tears.

  "But all it's done is made you so miserable you're hiding away, and driven a wedge between the two of you. I'm sorry, Caro."

  "You have nothing to be sorry for. You might have asked him to invite unattached gentlemen, but this is Tom Crawdon we are speaking of. He would not have asked them here if he hadn't wanted to."

  Rebecca tried to interrupt but Caroline held up a hand.

  "Becca, I haven't made any secret of how I feel about him, at least not to you. But—" here she drew a deep breath, not wanting to utter the next words but having no choice— "but it is high time I faced up to the reality of my situation. I had thought that perhaps Tom and I were — well, that he was starting to — but, regardless, the reality is no matter how much I love him, it is not reciprocated. If it were, he never would have done this. So I shall suffer the blow and carry on. But not today." She felt the tears pool in her eyes and could not make any attempt to stem them. "Today I just need to be allowed to cry and to grieve. Then I shall put the mask back on and accept my fate."

  Rebecca leaned forward and brushed away Caroline's tears, failing to realise that she had her own coursing down her cheeks.

  "I am so very sorry, dearest. You deserve the greatest of loves."

  "I had it once, I think. That is why I wanted that week with Tom. I shall treasure the memories forever and they will help me to be content in life."

  Caroline was pleased to see that Rebecca seemed somewhat comforted by her words. She had obviously done a good job of convincing her sister that she would recover from this. Now, if only she could convince herself…

  The drawing room was stiflingly warm, or perhaps it just felt that way to Tom.

  What had possessed him to think he was cut out for hosting house parties? He was hating every moment of it. Although, to be fair that could be because he could barely stand half the people in the room.

  Hadley and his obnoxious sister had arrived along with their cousin some time ago and Tom was playing the dutiful host.

  Thank God for Aunt Catherine, he thought, who was acting beautifully as his hostess.

  Tom wished Caroline were here. Wished it with every fibre of his being.

  He had not seen her since yesterday afternoon and he was constantly torn between worry for her and a desire to burst into her bedchamber and demand that she allow him to speak to her.

  And he'd get away with it too, since Charles had disappeared suspiciously close to the same time that Charlotte had left the room.

  Tom did not even want to know what was going on between the two.

  Freddie had apparently become quite taken with Aunt Catherine for he seemed content to let his flirtatious daughter wander off alone whilst he remained here and conversed with the dowager.

  Edward had gone for a ride while Rebecca sat with her sister.

  He could go to her room. Rebecca would not be as horrified as some at the prospect and since she would remain in the room with them, he would be able to control himself. He thought.

  His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the screeching laugh of Theodora Hadley who was rather horrifyingly flirting with Lord Boxley in the corner.

  She was truly a sight to behold. Her rotund frame was mercilessly stuffed into a gown of eye-wateringly bright puce, which clashed spectacularly with her bright red hair.

  Theodora had always been something of an eccentric when it came to fashion and today was no exception. Society had long since gotten used to her penchant for bright colours and shunning the practice of pastels for debutantes.

  Tom rarely noticed such things but even he could not miss the turban style headpiece with the alarmingly big feather sticking out the top, a feather which wobbled furiously with each nod of her head.

  And when she laughed uproariously as she was wont to do, it actually hit her cousin in the face.

  His ears still ringing from Lady Theodora's assault, Tom glanced at the cousin, a Miss Darthsire, so Hadley had informed him. Come to stay with the family from her own family home in Bath.

  She was the exact opposite of Theodora — rail thin, mousy, bedecked in a beige gown that covered so much of her the collar was practically up to her mouth. She made no effort to converse save to answer the polite questions aimed specifically at her and she looked heartily disapproving of everything around her.

  There was no way in hell these two were going to serve as a distraction from Caroline, though Boxley seemed to be enjoying the attention.

  Rebecca entered at that moment and Lady Theodora almost fell over herself to greet her.

  She had always been a real social climber.

  "Your grace," she fawned in that ear-splitting squeak of hers, "how wonderful to see you and how beautiful you are. Oh, but where is your darling little boy? I long to see him."

  Rebecca, to her credit, only mildly flinched at the sheer volume of the speech being bellowed at her.

  She bid a polite hello to Hadley, Lady Theodora, and Miss Darthshire before answering. "Henry is with his aunt. Lady Caroline is still not feeling herself so she is taking a walk in the garden with the baby, hoping that some fresh air will be—"

  She cut off mid-sentence as all of their eyes turned to Tom who had leapt from his chair and practically run from the room at Rebecca's words.

  Rebecca sat down by the dowager and the two ladies shared a smile.

  "He is becoming entirely too obvious," said the dowager with a smile.

  "I'm glad of it," answered Rebecca, eyes still trained on the door, "one of them has to be."

  Caroline breathed in Henry's baby scent as she kissed his curls and pointed out the various flowers they walked by.

  He was heavy but she had chosen to carry him outside, craving his innocent nearness.

  "Why can't all men be as uncomplicated as you?" she whispered to her gurgling nephew.

  Henry smiled at her then smacked her round the chin with his chubby hand.

  "It seems you're learning to be a Crawdon man already," she said wryly, "trick me with your smiles then hurt me."

  "Is that really what you think?"

  Caroline whipped round at the sound of Tom's voice behind her. Her heart hammered from the fright. How had he managed to sneak up on her on a gravel footpath for goodness sake?

  "What do you mean?" she asked now, trying her hardest to remain coolly civil.

  She had opened herself up to Tom, completely and utterly, and had ended up heartbroken and embarrassed that he had seen the real her. So she was desperately trying to put back together the pieces of the old Caroline — the one who was polite but never friendly, calm and never open.

  Tom's eyes narrowed as she spoke, as though he was trying to work out what she was thinking.

  Well, he would have a tough job because half the time she had no idea herself.

  "You think I tricked you then hurt you?"

  "I know you tricked me," she answered, her emotions bubbling to the surface, unaware of the icy fire that danced in her eyes. "And yes, you hurt me."

  "Caroline," he took a step toward her and she immediately stepped back, which was ridiculous, she could acknowledge. What was he going to do when she was holding the baby,
after all?

  He stopped his advance and sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

  He looks tired, thought Caroline then berated herself for noticing and for caring.

  And to be fair, she had seen her reflection earlier when she had finally consented to get dressed and take some air, and her complexion was pale and drawn.

  Though she had dressed with care, she still did not feel terribly attractive and she suddenly wished she had taken more care with her appearance. Her morning dress was pretty enough, a white muslin with a thin, sky blue stripe. Sally had pressed her blue pelisse to put over it. Caroline had barely noticed.

  "I'm sorry," he said now, bringing her wandering thoughts back to him. "Those gentlemen — Rebecca said I should invite them to, to—"

  He stopped and bowed his head, then cast his eyes to Heaven as if praying for words.

  "When I agreed to have them here, I wasn't happy about it. In truth, I was damned miserable about it. But I did it because I know that you have to marry and I did not want—"

  "Please don't," she said hoarsely, her voice cracking with pain.

  He was going to try to break it to her gently, tell her yet again that he had no plans to marry. Had he noticed how much she loved him? Did it scare or worry him?

  The thought that he knew, and that it bothered him or worse, made him pity her, was too much to bear. And she couldn't stand here and listen to him saying the words aloud.

  She walked toward him and held Henry out to him, relieved that his arms automatically came out to take the baby.

  "Please take him back to his mama. I fear my headache is returning. I need to rest."

  Turning, she fled toward the house, hearing him call her but she did not stop.

  I cannot keep thinking about him, she told herself sternly, and I cannot allow myself to dwell on how good he looks with a babe in his arms.

  Caroline had no wish to return to locking herself away and so she turned toward the library guessing, and as it turned out correctly, that it would be empty at this time of day.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she sat and enjoyed the quiet. But it did not last long. The sound of giggles from outside the door drew her attention.

  "You are truly wicked, my lord." The voice was undoubtedly that of Charlotte Noble.

  Oh God, thought Caroline, please don't let her be talking to—

  "Charles," the voice gasped now in mock outrage. Caroline would strangle him.

  "Suppose we are seen?"

  Caroline did not hear Charles' response, assuming that he whispered it.

  But Charlotte's answering giggle sounded entirely too provocative to Caroline's ears.

  She truly did not need to imagine what her own brother was up to; it turned her stomach.

  Thankfully, they moved off down the corridor. For one horrifying moment, she thought they intended to come in here — and that was a spectacle she could go her whole life without seeing.

  Still, it reminded her that no place was safe from prying eyes except her bedchamber, so with reluctance, she stood to leave.

  Only to have her way blocked by Tom.

  "We need to talk."

  "Where is Henry?" she asked in alarm.

  Tom rolled his eyes, which immediately rankled, and answered deadpan, "I left him in the garden of course."

  Caroline arched a brow, not deigning his sarcasm worthy of a reply.

  Eventually, he sighed and answered, "He's with Rebecca, just as you requested before running away."

  "I did not run away," she answered hotly.

  "Oh, no?" his eyebrow rose. She hated that eyebrow.

  "I told you, I have a headache."

  "No, what you have is a desire to avoid me. Why?"

  "Why?" she screeched in disbelief. "You truly do not know? Perhaps I do not appreciate you lining up potential husbands for me, especially after we've—" she felt her cheeks heat and cut off abruptly, unable to talk about their kisses for fear of bursting into tears. Or begging him for more.

  Instead, she shook her head and brushed past him. This time she was running away and she did not care.

  Reaching the bedchamber, Caroline slammed the door and then leaned against it in relief. She was not strong enough to have that conversation with him.

  Moving to the middle of the room, she gave a scream of fright as the door burst open and in he marched. To her bedroom.

  "What in God's name are you doing?" she spluttered in shock. "Get out of here at once."

  "No," he answered, his voice quiet but hard.

  She would have thought him calm if it were not for the vein throbbing at his temple, and for the obvious clenching of his jaw.

  "What do you mean, no?" she gasped in outrage.

  "I mean I am not moving until we talk about this."

  And just like that, the last shred of her control slipped.

  "What exactly would you like to talk about? The way you have brought men here to marry me so that you could be rid of me once and for all? The way you lied to me? Told me that you cared for me? Kissed me? While all the time you were planning to fob me off on one of your odious friends."

  Her breath was heaving by the time she finished her rant.

  And she hated herself for how much she wanted him to grab her in his arms and tell her that she was mistaken, that he wanted to marry her himself.

  For a moment he did not react. Did not move. Did not even blink. And then, suddenly, as if her own anger had awakened his, he began to yell just as loudly as she had.

  "Forgive me, my lady, but were you not the one who used me? You told me that you only wanted a week or so with me. You told me that you still intended to marry a title. How dare you stand there and accuse me of trickery and deceit. I'm the one who was fooled, Caroline. You fooled me two years ago and, idiot that I am, I almost fell for it again."

  Caroline was shocked at his words, devastated as pain lanced through her. No, no, no. Didn't he understand she had only said those things to save her pride? He had said he would never marry.

  "Tom—"

  "Don't interrupt," he commanded and she stopped because he had never spoken to her that way and it surprised her into silence.

  Tom advanced toward her.

  "For two years I suffered sleepless nights and drunken depression. Torn between begging you to reconsider and trying to forget you in every way imaginable, most too scandalous for your innocent ears," he said disdainfully.

  "Finally, finally I was able to function without needing you so desperately it felt as though my heart were being torn into a million pieces and what happens? You swoop in and get right under my skin again."

  Caroline wanted him to stop; she was shaking under the force of his anger, his pain. She wanted to fix it but she did not know how.

  "Tom, please—"

  "Do you think it was easy for me?" he continued, seemingly oblivious to the tears which now trailed down her cheeks. "Do you think I relished the idea of being your plaything for a couple of weeks until someone better came along?"

  "You could have said no," she choked out.

  It wasn't what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she had only said it wasn't permanent because she had been so sure he did not want that. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't the only one suffering, but the words stuck in her throat.

  He laughed harshly now, his face twisted by pain and anger.

  "Do you know nothing?" he asked harshly. "I couldn't have said no, not even if my life depended on it. Because, damned fool that I am, I cannot refuse you anything you ask of me. Not even when it almost kills me to do it."

  He turned and left. And she let him go.

  Then she staggered to her bed and cried. Sobbed as though she was utterly broken. And so she was.

  Perhaps she would not always feel like her heart was ripping in two.

  Perhaps one day she would smile, instead of trying to. Laugh instead of pretending to. Experience joy with her whole heart, instead of with the sh
attered remnants of what her heart used to be.

  But right now? Right now it felt like she would never smile or laugh again.

  As for feeling joy? How could she, when he'd made her love him so much, she felt like she couldn't even breathe without him?

  And he was walking away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS passed by mercifully uneventfully.

  Caroline found the company of Lady Theodora and Miss Darthshire a little difficult on her ears and her intellect but it was far better than spending it with Charles, for example, who was so blindingly obvious in what he was up to with Miss Noble that Caroline fully expected Fred Noble to shoot him one of these days.

  The Lords Boxley and Deverill had been irritatingly attentive to her so she had taken to organise so many activities for the ladies that her head fairly spun and her feet ached.

  None of them were enjoying the constant stream of activities but Theodora was far too excited about the prospect of being close friends with the mighty Carringtons, and even better, the Duchess of Hartridge, that she never dared complain, not even once. And Rebecca and the dowager were always sure to greet each new activity with enthusiasm.

  It served its purpose. For Caroline only had to see Tom at mealtimes and since the hierarchy dictated that they would never be seated together, the meals were not a big problem.

  Yes, her heart still hurt every time he so much as entered a room, but barring the very shortest conversations for the sake of image, she could avoid him and thus avoid bursting into tears at every available opportunity.

  The evenings after dinner were trickier and Caroline found herself having to listen to a lot more of Hadley's tedious conversation than she would have liked.

  She had sung herself hoarse the night before and even Caroline had had enough of Theodora Hadley's wailing assault on her ears. No, the ladies could not play and sing every night.

  There was always a game of cards to play, of course, and she suddenly became an avid player.

  Rebecca had urged her to give Boxley and Deverill a chance but honestly, she would rather listen to Hadley's wittering about Tattersall's and horseflesh than tolerate Deverill's self-inflated ego or Boxley's frankly lecherous conversation.