A Viscount of Mystery

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Certainly, she was not the innocent she had been when her father had passed. After bedding her the first time, he had known she was no longer a virgin the very moment he pushed himself inside of her. He had dallied with enough virgins to know the signs. But who had been her first lover? Had it been once or numerous times? He did not think she had been wed, else she would have refused his suit. There would have been a record of her divorce or a mention that she was a widow. So what was her relationship to this unknown man? Or had it been something darker, like the soiled doves that littered the city's many brothels?

  He did not know. But others did and that shamed him. Greatly.

  Not to mention that Nicholas had been right. Caroline did deserve protection. She was the daughter of a viscount. If Marcus did not wed her, another likely would. He despised the idea that it might be his old friend Candlewood. However, he had no doubt that if it came down to saving Caroline's reputation or allowing her to be cut by society, the duke would choose to save her. He might be heartless, but he was not cruel. Nicholas had made his intentions very clear to Marcus, which meant that he would follow through if necessary.

  It would not be. It was Marcus who loved Caroline, he who had bedded her without thought to the consequences. It was his heir that she might well already be carrying. A child that Marcus refused to allow Candlewood or anyone else to raise as their own, if such a thing came to pass. That was something he could not and would not allow. Not at all.

  Caroline deserved better from Marcus, better than he had been from the moment he had returned to London. And he would be better. Starting now.

  With a bellow, he called for Towson to rouse a groom and have his horse saddled. He was going out. Hopefully to win the heart of his future wife.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I do not love Caroline. I never have and I never will. She is a diversion. Nothing more.

  Even now, several hours later, the words still sliced through Caroline like a knife and she could not help but cry again, even though she had thought she was long since out of tears.

  She had not meant to eavesdrop on Marcus' conversation with Candlewood, but she had been unable to help herself. Her plan had been to go to Marcus and plead with him to hear her out, to give her another chance. After he had left her home, she had given the situation much thought and knew that she owed him the truth - the complete truth and not more of her lies of omission. Especially if she was carrying his child, which, she had come to suspect, she very well might be. It was far too soon to know, of course, but her feminine instincts told her that something had changed inside of her. She was not foolish enough to ignore that.

  She had not expected Towson to be so reluctant to admit her to Cheltenham House. Yes, the visit was highly improper, but she had reminded the butler that she and Marcus were betrothed and would marry in the very near future. It had not been enough to sway the old man and Caroline had been forced to resort to trickery - claiming she had seen a suspicious man lurking at the corner of the house and that she thought he might be looking to rob the place, thinking it mostly empty.

  There had been a man watching Cheltenham House from across the street. That much was true. And he had appeared more than a little shifty. However, Caroline also knew that other gossip columns employed all manner of people to ferret out the most salacious details possible about the lives of those in society. Often times, those people watched houses into the wee hours of the morning. Given that she and Marcus - the two most mysterious people of the ton - were now betrothed it was not beyond reason to think that someone might be spying on them.

  She needn't have mentioned the man to Towson certainly. He most likely meant no harm, just collecting gossip that he could later sell to the highest bidder. However she knew precisely what would happen when she did make a mention of him.

  As expected, Towson had quickly shuffled off through the house to rouse some footmen, as well as the stable hands and any other male in the household big and brawny enough to give chase and protect the house's lone occupant. Given the incident with Mark Overton a scant month or so ago within these very walls, there was legitimate cause for concern. It was believed that the long-dead music master who had attempted to seduce Amy as a child only had one brother, the afore mentioned Mr. Overton. He had been hell-bent on seeking revenge against the Cheltenhams for what he saw as their part in his brother's untimely death so long ago. What if everyone had been wrong? What if there was another brother who also wanted to harm the family?

  Caroline had not wanted to create such a fuss, but really, the man, whoever he was, did need to go away. And she did need to see Marcus. So in the ensuing confusion, after Towson had pulled her inside the entryway for what he insisted was her own safety, it had not taken much effort to slip away from the others and make her way to the library where she knew Marcus kept his office. She had no doubt that she would find him there brooding.

  She had not expected to find him with the Duke of Candlewood. Discussing her, no less. But she had and she had not liked what she had heard.

  I do not love Caroline. I never have and I never will.

  How could she have been so wrong? Marcus had not said that he loved her, but she had known in her heart that he did. Then again, when they had last spoken, he had hinted that his feelings for her might be changing. Was that not the very reason she had sought him out, to tell him the truth so that his love for her would not die? So that she could atone for her sins and attempt to convince him that she was still worthy of his affections?

  Now, she knew she was too late. Her silence, her fear, and her lack of trust had cost her the one thing she cared most about in the world - Marcus.

  So she had done the only thing she could think of. She had run. She had not even cried, so numb was she from the pronouncement.

  Initially, she had only thought to go away for a short time so that she might find a way to move on without Marcus, perhaps back to Dunlin Castle until she knew for certain whether or not she was with child. To that end, she had contacted her father's man of affairs who now managed things for her as well. Mr. Davidson was a competent man, a barrister by profession, who was discreet and did not ask questions he did not want to know the answers to. She had informed him that she needed to make an emergency visit to her cousin Norbert and that she needed some funds. It was a matter of some urgency, she had assured him. Nothing untoward, of course, but a family matter that could not be delayed.

  She could tell from the look in the man's eyes that he knew she was lying, but he did not question her further. Instead, he told her that she should prepare to depart and that he would make certain an appropriate amount of funds would be delivered to her door within the hour. He also said that he would see about closing up Turner-Carson House for the season if she wished, which she did. He did not once remark upon how irregular her request was. After all, like much of London it now seemed, this man knew her secrets as well. Or, at the very least, the ones he needed to know.

  Then he was gone and Caroline was alone with only a house full of servants. It was then and only then, when she had ordered Glenna to pack a valise, that Caroline had crept into her morning room, locked the door behind her, and wept.

  Now, here in her small room at The Stuck Pig, a rather dingy little inn on the outskirts of London, did she allow the tears to fall once more. She prayed that no one heard her. If they did, there would be questions she did not want to answer, or at least more than there had already been.

  Caroline had hoped to make it farther than this wretched inn tonight, but both time and weather had not been on her side. It was already well after sunset when she had departed and rain had begun to fall again shortly after her departure, leaving the Great North Road a mucky, muddy mess. Further travel was impossible and she did not wish to overtax, or worse injure, her mare. That would not do at all.

  To make matters worse, once the truth of the situation had become clear to Glenna, who had only begrudgingly accompanied her mistress on horseback rather than
in a proper carriage, the maid had quickly disappeared the moment they had turned into the Stuck Pig's yard. Glenna had argued with Caroline the entire length of the journey, saying that she knew very well that Caroline had lied to her, not to mention the rest of the staff, and was not going to visit Norbert. She had also reminded Caroline of the potential consequences of her actions. Once Caroline's absence was noticed, Glenna reminded her mistress harshly, it would reflect badly on Marcus as well.

  Society would know Caroline had cried off rather than wed a man that many people felt was already unmarriageable due to his physical condition. He would be...well...likely not disgraced, Glenna had said rather tartly, but certainly injured socially. It also went without saying that Caroline would never be able to return to London. Who would accept her, after all?

  It was at that point that Caroline had snapped and reminded the maid of her place. That had only seemed to enrage Glenna, who had never been particularly good at taking direction to begin with, further. In fact, there were times that Caroline wasn't even certain why she had hired the woman. Then she remembered. If not for Glenna, Caroline would likely be dead.

  So she had allowed the woman to continue to argue and rail, sitting atop her horse in silence, knowing that she deserved all of those hateful words and more. It was the least she deserved.

  For a moment, Caroline considered sending Glenna back to town and risking the scandal that the loud maid might bring down on her head. She was not so far outside of London that she was unrecognizable, unfortunately. There were plenty of men who had business in the north and traveled the road at all times of the year, especially now when some had already began to depart town for the country.

  Caroline was also far too close to places where she might be seen and recognized. Fairhaven, one of Enwright's properties, was close by. While she knew that the duke was not presently in residence there, she had visited Fairhaven a time or two over the years, mostly for the lavish masquerades that the duke had hosted just before all of society departed town for the summer. One of the year 'round staff members might see her and recognize her. If that happened, there would be little she could do or say to keep herself from complete and utter ruin. Women of good breeding did not travel alone. They should not even be traveling with just a maid, really. Now, Caroline did not have even that much protection.

  Unable to travel further, Caroline had no choice but to take one of the last rooms available, a cramped affair that offered little in the way of comforts, and asked that a tray be brought to her room. The proprietor, who probably thought her a mistress or a doxy given that she was now traveling alone, had not argued. Though he had given her a sidelong glance, as if wondering when or if, she might be willing to share her favors.

  The very thought made her ill, but she had endured worse, and she had no intention of giving the proprietor what he so clearly desired unless she was forced. Then, she knew from experience, there was little she could to do protect herself.

  Now, several hours later, she sat on the tiny bed, praying that she was secure enough for the night and wishing that she was back in Marcus' bed, feeling his strong arms around her and relishing the powerful desires of his body as he thrust deeply inside of her, taking her to new heights of passion and pleasure. She had been granted her fondest wish for one perfect night, and she had been foolish enough to throw it away.

  A sharp knock on Caroline's door brought her to her feet, knowing that it was probably Glenna. The maid had likely rethought her decision to skulk off into the night, especially given her fear of the dark. And highwaymen. Glenna was terrified of highwaymen.

  Swinging open the door, Caroline spoke before she looked up. "Glenna if you have come to apologize then you are..." Her eyes flew wide when she saw the person standing on the other side of the door. "Not Glenna," she finished lamely.

  "No, I am not."

  There, in all of his murderous fury, was Marcus.

  Her heart leapt at the sight of him, and she willed it to be still. He might be here for nothing more than another opportunity to lecture her or perhaps drag her back to London. Well she would not go quietly. Then she remembered her vow to herself - to tell him the truth. Her stomach squirmed at the notion but then she remembered that there was more at stake than her own pride.

  "Would you like to come in or would you prefer to shout at me from the hallway?" She could not resist baiting him a bit, uncertain as to what his present mood was like. Other than angry.

  Without replying, he pushed his way inside and then turned to glare at her again. "You ran away. What in the bloody hell is wrong with you? Do you know what kind of disaster you court?"

  "Why should you care?" she bit out, trying to calm herself so that the might speak.

  He ran a hand through his hair, clearly attempting to reign in his emotions as well. "Because you are to be my wife, the mother of my children. Is there some reason I should wish you to be derided and cut by society?"

  "No." She had to give him that much at least. Still, she was more than a little peeved, despite her best intentions. "But you do not care for me, so what does it matter? I can bear your children in the country just as easily as I can in town. In fact..."

  She never had the chance to finish. Instead, Marcus reached out and grasped Caroline by the shoulders. "What kind of foolish talk is that? Of course I care for you! If I didn't, why would I be here, worrying from the moment Glenna showed up at my door to tell me of your foolish escapade?"

  "Glenna? She came to you?" That was not what Caroline had expected.

  "She did." He crossed his arms over his massive chest, one she did her best not to stare at. "She told me that you were running away to some castle in the north, nattering on about something you had overheard. She begged me to come after you. Now I can see the reason for her concern."

  Caroline cast about for something to say, her emotions running wild inside of her. This conversation was not at all proceeding how she had imagined it. In fact, she had thought to simply pen a letter and be done with things. She had not expected to be forced to confront a very angry Marcus in the flesh.

  "I...well...that is..." Still unable to think of a convincing lie, she simply shrugged. She had promised herself she would tell Marcus the truth. No time like the present to begin, she supposed. "I came to Cheltenham House this evening. I heard you speaking with Candlewood. I wanted to speak to you, tell you the truth of my past if you would but only give me a chance." She twisted her hands. "I hated how we left things between us, you believing the worst of me. I did not want that."

  Marcus could only imagine what she had overheard. He had told the duke he did not love Caroline. That part, clearly, she had heard. She had obviously not remained long enough to hear the rest. Bloody hell. Well, that was why he was here. To change things, let her know how he felt.

  "I could never believe the worst of you, Caro. I know I spoke harshly earlier, implied that I could not forgive..." At that, Marcus sensed a presence behind him and turned around slowly. There, in the doorway, was a man that Nicholas had sworn was long gone. It was Ezekiel McTavish and, though looking quite a bit worse for the wear, did not appear to be on a ship bound for America.

  "You should believe the worst of her, you know." McTavish looked angry and Marcus suspected he had good reason. His left eye was swollen shut and the right an angry red mess. There were numerous gashes on his forehead, all crusted shut with blood. Bruises bloomed in vivid color over just about every inch of exposed skin. One arm hung uselessly at his side and his pants were torn, indicating he had been in a horrid fight. Enwright and Candlewood, Marcus assumed. "She's nothing but a whore. And a bad one at that."

  "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," Marcus snarled, his temper flaring quickly. No matter what Caroline had done, he would not allow her to be treated as if she was a common trollop. No matter that he himself had treated her little better over the last few days. "Or do you think me too infirm to do the job?"

  "I've seen ye lookin' a lot worse,
if that's what ye be askin' me," McTavish snapped. "Seems I should'a dun what I set out ta do way back. Should have bled your body dry and then seen about getting somefin fer me troubles." Then he cast a dark look at Caroline. " 'Cept that troublesome witch wouldn'a allow it."

  For her part, Caroline was trembling and her usually pale skin was so white that it was almost translucent. She looked sick and fearful, no longer the overly confident woman that Marcus adored. In that moment, she was trapped in her past, one that McTavish clearly knew far too much about.

  Marcus had no idea what the man was babbling about, nor how Caroline had intervened in something that McTavish had meant to do, obviously to Marcus himself, but he did not care. The man was not off to America and thus needed to be dealt with. Now. Marcus was also beginning to think that the sins of Caroline's past did not matter. Whatever they were, she had suffered greatly. Until that moment, he had not appreciated what it must have been like for her, especially if she had been forced to deal with men of McTavish's ilk. It was little wonder she trusted anyone at all.

  Slowly, Marcus advanced upon McTavish, making a great show of placing his cane to the side, showing the other man that he did not need the support to carry out whatever vengeance he had planned. Except that Marcus did and McTavish seemed to realize it. Injured as he was, the beaten man still managed to strike out at Marcus, bringing his heavily booted foot in contact with the point just above Marcus' ankle where the damaged muscles had been patched back together. How the man knew that specific spot was a mystery, but somehow, he had found the correct location.

  Unable to keep his balance, Marcus fell to the floor in a heap, mortified when Caroline rushed to his aid, covering his body with hers. Pain shot through his leg, but he did his best to push himself up. He had to protect Caroline.