The Secret Love of a Gentleman

by Jane Lark

  A moment ago, as he’d made his way to the drawing room, a dozen topics to encourage her into talking had been spinning in his head. There were no words there at all now. He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. He was thirsty tonight.

  “I changed my mind,” she answered Drew, only looking at Drew.

  “Caroline,” Rob stated, as she walked nearer.

  She looked at him and dropped a very slight curtsy, then turned to walk beside her brother. There was not room for them to walk four astride, so Rob held back and Mary let go of Drew’s hand, then dropped back to walk beside Rob.

  How many times had Mary given up her husband for the comfort of his sister? It seemed an odd scenario. Surely Caroline could not enjoy such a life.

  When they reached the dining room, Drew pulled out a chair for Caroline. “Caro.”

  A footman pulled Mary’s chair out and Rob walked about the table to sit opposite Caroline, while Mary sat at the other end of the table to Drew. It was not like dining at John’s. Drew’s manor was small, and their dining table arranged for a small family, not a stately affair.

  Once seated, Rob leaned back to allow the footman to pour him a glass of white wine, and across the table, although he kept his gaze lowered, he could see Caroline’s slender fingers reaching for a small fork and spoon as she was served muscles in a cream sauce. Her hands shook.

  Rob lifted his glass of wine and took a sip as Mary and then Drew were served, and then he leant back as he was too, the glass still in his hand, his eyes turning to the footman.

  It was hard to avoid looking at Caroline, especially when he was so pleased she had come downstairs. Yet he did not wish to do anything that might upset her and dissuade her from coming down again.

  When the footman finished dishing up the mussels, Rob looked up. He caught Caroline watching him. She looked down at her meal, her cheeks colouring a little.

  Friends. He hoped they could achieve it. He thought it would be good for her, and it was a good foundation on which to build the hope of making her laugh and dance with him.

  His gaze followed her hand as she freed a mussel from its shell and lifted it to her mouth. Then his gaze ran from her wrist up to the hem of the short sleeve of her gown. She was so very slender, frail and vulnerable in appearance. Yet she’d borne beatings. Had she suffered broken bones? He would probably never know the answer.

  He looked at Drew. How much did Drew know?

  Drew spoke about where they would go tomorrow and who he would take Rob to meet.

  Rob looked at Mary. Did Caro confide in her?

  Caro looked up and met his gaze. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat once more, then took a sip of wine to clear it and smiled, trying to make his smile as warm and unthreatening as he could. Her lips lifted at the edges, and they seemed to lift a little more than they’d done yesterday.

  He looked at Drew and asked some questions about Drew’s tenants, suspecting that Drew was keener on showing off his son than he was on entertaining Rob. But Rob would not fault him for it. George was a sweet bundle of boyish energy whom Drew should be proud of.

  When Rob finished his mussels he left his cutlery resting on the rim of the bowl and looked over the table once more. Caroline had finished eating too.

  He tried to think of questions he might ask to draw her into the conversation, but his mind was blank.

  She leaned back to let a footman clear her place. Then on the next plate she was served fish terrine, chicken in aspic and sliced venison.

  He lifted his glass and took a sip of wine, as she did, and their gazes collided. He smiled. In the candlelight her eyes were more matt than they were in daylight, but there was still a warm glow in the colour about the wide onyx circles at their centre.

  She looked at Mary, her skin turning a deep red. “What will you do tomorrow, Mary?”

  “We could drive to Maidstone if you’d like, Caro, and visit some of the shops?”

  “That would be pleasant.”

  ~

  As Caro listened to Mary speak of the things she would buy tomorrow, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to slow the beat of her heart and loosen the vice tightening about her chest. She was too aware of Robbie, of the way his dark-blue eyes studied her. Yet he was sitting opposite, it was only natural for him to look at her, and she had watched him too. It had been mean to ask him not to stare.

  Friends. He had proposed this morning. Friends! And she had said that would be nice. But she’d never had a friend. Mary, perhaps, was the closest person to such a thing, but Mary was Drew’s confidante and Caro had deliberately avoided interfering too deeply in their closeness.

  Caro thought of Albert and heard Robbie’s words. Do you think it might be possible that by the end of the summer we will be friends, Caroline?

  Even from the beginning, when Albert may have adored her and admired her, he’d never treated her as an equal. He would never have considered a woman his friend.

  She looked at Robbie and he smiled as he leant back to let a footman serve him. His smiles were swift, open and warm. There was no malice or artifice in him. He was a kind man. Thoughtful.

  Friends. The idea appealed to her, and terrified her. She could not have seen it as a possibility if he’d asked in the company of his extended family. But here… She could imagine they might achieve it when it was the four of them. He was likeable.

  He lifted his wine glass. She could see how gently his fingers gripped the stem, as they’d touched her twice. She could not see his hands about a woman’s throat. They were hands designed for creativity, writing, art or music, or honest labour.

  He was different from his cousins and his younger brother, not brash and assertive, simply confident. Drew at his age had been an inferno of aggressive, defensive anger, fighting against the world. But Robbie seemed to sit back and watch it.

  She tried to imagine Albert at Robbie’s age. Albert had been handsome, but not in the way Robbie was. Robbie had a masculine beauty, not simply a handsome face. The women in his family had a beauty that was breathtaking, and in Robbie it was striking, he had elements of his father’s angled features, marked with the Pembrokes’ large eyes and full lips.

  He spoke to her brother, joining in a conversation Drew and Mary were having about George.

  Robbie laughed as Drew admitted that he intended to pamper George in everything. It was a deep, low sound.

  He glanced at her, as if he knew she’d been watching him, and smiled again, even more warmly.

  His dark-blue eyes glittered in the candlelight.

  She smiled again too, weakly, then looked at Mary and tried to join the conversation, her heart thumping steadily. She was not wholly comfortable, yet she did not feel the onset of panic.

  Chapter 8

  The day had indeed been pleasurable, using the word Caroline had applied to her anticipated trip into town. Rob liked Drew’s company, and he was actually impressed with the way Drew handled himself among his tenants. He’d earned their respect in the years since he’d taken over this property. People looked up to him because they liked him, not simply because he was the landowner, and they sought his opinion on subjects that four years ago Rob doubted Drew could have even discussed.

  Then, of course, everyone they’d met on their circuit had enthused over George, and the boy had lapped up all the attention with his usual gusto.

  But as Mary had predicted, George had become tired. He’d been complaining for the last hour and asking to go home, and now he was stretched sideways across Drew’s saddle, one of his arms draped about Drew’s hip, where he’d been holding his father before he’d fallen asleep with Drew’s forearm as his pillow.

  George’s other hand was at his mouth, and his thumb hung at the corner of his lips, where he’d been sucking on it.

  It meant their return ride was restricted to the pace of a walk as Drew cradled George on one arm and tried not to dislodge him with the rock of the horse.

  They were still
about twenty minutes away from the house when Rob heard the sound of a single horse cantering along the dry mud track and the creak of a vehicle. Gripping the pommel of his saddle, Rob turned to look back, steering his animal off the track and out of its path. He recognised the trap, even though it was a distance away. It was the vehicle Drew had bought for Mary to drive when she wished to go out alone. He saw the two women.

  Mary wore a wide-brimmed straw bonnet and she was clothed in pink, while Caroline was wearing pale-lemon yellow, with an ivory shawl and parasol. The pair of them made a tableau from a ladies’ magazine.

  “Mary.” Rob stated, looking back at Drew, knowing that Drew would not have been able to look with George sprawled across his thighs. “You’re in for it now. She said you’d wear George out.”

  Drew laughed, but he pulled his horse to a halt as the trap approached.

  “Whoa,” Mary called to slow her horse. Obviously she’d recognised them from a distance too. She stared at Drew as she slowed the trap to a halt.

  Drew looked downward and gave Mary a devil-may-care smile, which dared her to challenge him if she wished to.

  “He is exhausted,” she said, her gaze shifting to George.

  “He is asleep,” Drew answered. “Because he had a wonderful time and needed to rest.”

  Mary clucked her tongue and made a face at Drew. She knew her husband well. There was no point challenging Drew, she would not win the argument.

  “He did have a wonderful time,” Rob assured her, “Everyone made a fuss over him and he spent his first hour laughing his head off with glee at the opportunity of such a long ride, and he has been given a dozen biscuits.”

  Mary frowned at him, reprimanding him for siding with Drew.

  “Don’t turn your wrath on me,” Rob stated jokingly, “I am not to blame. But George did enjoy it.”

  “Will you hand George to me, Drew? At least then we can get him home sooner, and securely.” Caroline stood. Of course she must know Drew best of all.

  Drew smiled at her, let go of his reins and lifted George, then leaned over. Caro put down her parasol to receive the sleeping child.

  Yellow suited her colouring. It gave her freshness and made her look younger. She sat, as though George was heavier than she’d expected, and settled him across her lap, cradling his head on her arm.

  When she’d been married she must have had to organise a huge household, the size of John’s probably. The other day Rob had sensed wounded pride within her distress. When she’d left her husband, she’d also left the position of marchioness, with respect and finery to the style that Katherine had, to then become a penniless dependent of her brother. It must have tilted her world upside down.

  Another hard, sudden feeling gripped at his gut as Mary pulled away and he watched Caroline. It was pity.

  What she’d left behind was another signal of how much she’d suffered. It would have taken a lot to make her choose to leave that life.

  But he was certain that Caroline would abhor pity. Perhaps that was a part of her discomfort, that she must be reliant on others, and therefore be in need of pity. Perhaps she was embarrassed by her reliance on Drew as much as by her husband.

  The pity in his gut swelled to admiration in his chest as Drew turned his horse off the track and kicked his heels, rising into a canter. Rob followed, racing the trap back to the house.

  The first night he’d met Drew, Rob’s family had applauded Drew when he’d entered the room, out of respect because he’d helped Caroline escape her marriage. They should have applauded Caroline because she had survived years of cruelty and then had the courage to leave Kilbride.

  When they reached the house Rob dismounted and handed the reins of his horse over to a groom, then waited for the trap beside Drew. It was a few yards away.

  A groom came to hold the horse’s head as the trap pulled up. Drew lifted his hands up to take George from Caroline.

  Another groom helped Mary down. Rob stepped forward, offering his hand to Caroline, forgetting entirely that she’d never taken anyone but Drew’s hand in all the years he’d known her. But he could not retract the offer, that would look crass, and so his gloved hand hovered in the air a foot away from where she stood in the trap.

  Drew’s arms were full, the grooms were not near her, she accepted Rob’s hand, or rejected it and climbed down unaided; those were her choices.

  She looked at him, her eyes gilded gold in the sunlight.

  “Caroline.” He bowed his head, slightly.

  She took a breath, which lifted her bosom. Then her fingers gripped his. They’d been trembling, but her firm hold denied it as she stepped down.

  She immediately let go, when her feet touched the ground. But it was another step they’d taken towards friendship.

  He turned to see Drew and Mary walking towards the house. They had not even noticed. He glanced at Caroline. “If you like, we could walk about the side of the house across the lawn and go in through the French doors of the morning room, to stretch our legs a little. Drew and Mary will be going up to the nursery anyway. Then we can call for tea.”

  She looked at him, challenge bright in her eyes, but he guessed the challenge was to herself. “Yes, if you wish.” She was being brave today.

  He turned and began walking. She fell into stride beside him.

  He clasped his hands behind his back, refusing the instinct to offer her his arm.

  It was not only Caro who felt awkward; he felt awkward too. He was not overly used to spending time with women outside of his family. Again, women were Harry’s forte, not his. There were many years to be lived before the time came for him to think about a wife, and he was not interested in mistresses, or casual liaisons. He was happy as he was. And unlike his peers in the family he believed in morality.

  Rob had seen how the whores his brother and his cousins favoured lived. He pitied them. He had no desire to lie with them, and if he held a seat in the House of Commons then he would be speaking out for the safety of those women. His brother and cousins used the brothels, but there were many women on the streets who were only there because they needed food. It was not right.

  But if Caroline were to be a friend, he supposed he ought to treat her as he would his friends—he would not offer his arm to a male friend.

  A humorous sound escaped his throat.

  She glanced at him, but said nothing as they walked on, side by side, in steady strides, she gripping the handle of her open parasol, while his hands were held together behind his back.

  He ought to say something. “Did you enjoy your day?”

  “Very much.” There was a slight quiver in her voice.

  “You know, Caroline.” Rob glanced sideways at her as they walked around the corner of the house on to the lawn. “I respect you immensely.”

  She did nothing to acknowledge his comment.

  He liked her hair. It was in a loose knot and a whole swathe of it had been left to fall and curl across her shoulder and over her bosom.

  “I was thinking, after we saw you in the trap, how much you must have had when you were with the Marquis of Kilbride. It only really occurred to me today what a big step it must have been for you to leave.” Perhaps it was not the best of topics to choose, and yet he did not wish to walk in silence and this was what was on his mind. “You gave up a life like Kate’s… ”

  He stopped walking as they neared the open French doors of the morning room. He wished to complete this conversation.

  She stopped too, and her hazel eyes widened as they became darker in the shadow of the parasol.

  “I want you to know, I admire your courage. To experience such things and then to walk away and leave that life behind.” She’d been wrong. She was brave, braver than anyone else he knew.

  Her skin pinked across her cheeks, then tears made her eyes appear fluid. “Excuse me…” She turned and then was gone again, his phantom, hurrying towards the house, her fingers clutching her dress to lift the hem.

  “Yo
u are a damned idiot, Rob,” he said aloud, as he followed.

  He did not see her in the house, and she was not in the drawing room. He ordered the tea and then went to his room to change out of his riding clothes. She was not downstairs when he returned, nor was she there for dinner.

  After dinner, when Mary went up to the nursery to kiss the children goodnight, Rob walked out into the garden with Drew, to drink their port, so Drew might have a cigar.

  Rob grasped at their privacy. “I was thinking today about Caroline’s marriage. It is no wonder really that her nerves affect her as they do. I mean I know what she went through. I read the details in the paper.”

  Drew blew smoke up into the cooler night air, then looked at Rob. “You do not know the details. Even I do not. You read the story, which merely scratched at the surface. But for God’s sake do not tell her you read anything. I never told her what was printed in the papers. She did not have sight of them at the time. It would have hurt her and she’d been hurt enough, and she would be cut by you speaking of it. She is a private person.”

  So Rob had noticed. His hand lifted and ran through his hair, then fell.

  He was not proud of the conversation he’d started this afternoon. But oddly, the thought made him understand a little more of Caroline. Perhaps her air of wounded pride was not because she had been prideful, but because she was without pride. Perhaps she did not feel proud of her past or herself and that was why embarrassment left her tongue-tied.

  “I shall not speak of it,” he confirmed to Drew.

  He wished, more than anything, to make Caroline feel at ease.

  Chapter 9

  Caro walked into the nursery after breakfast, knowing that Drew and Mary had gone out for a ride. She’d assumed Robbie had gone too, but he was lying on the floor beside George raining an army of lead soldiers with imaginary cannon fire.

  I respect you immensely. Those had been the words he’d used yesterday. Respect… When she’d spent the past years feeling shame; feeling like a leech.