When Olive Kelsie learned that Caro and Ashley had gone off together in his curricle, she flew into a pucker. It was beyond her comprehension that Ashley could have any interest in her plain, hoydenish niece, but if that were the case it would ruin her carefully laid plans for both her son and daughter.
Her unease grew when she learned that Ashley had been closeted with Levisham prior to departing with Caro. Indeed, Olive had not been so alarmed since she had feared that Levisham, after his son’s death, meant to offer for Abigail Foster. The thought that he might do so and breed another son, thereby cutting her darling Tilford out of his rightful inheritance, had been enough to reduce Mrs. Kelsie’s iron constitution to palpitations.
Even though Miss Foster’s opposition to matrimony was well known, Mrs. Kelsie had long suspected that Abigail harbored a secret tendre for Levisham, which had been her real reason for rejecting her suitors.
Determined to have this dangerous threat removed, Olive had convinced Miss Foster’s self-important sister-in-law that she would never be mistress of her new home while Abigail continued to reside there.
When Caro and Ashley returned, Olive, grimly determined to end this latest threat to her ambitions, immediately launched a concerted campaign to point out all of “dearest Caroline’s” defects to Ashley. Olive did not overlook the smallest detail, from her niece’s flyaway hair and her brown complexion to her scrawny figure and the scuffed toes on her half boots.
But despite Olive’s best—and frequently repeated—efforts, her aspersions did not have their desired effect on Ashley, whom she was beginning to find quite as vexing and unmanageable as her brother-in-law. Worse, since Vinson had begun lavishing attention on Caro, the other gentlemen in the party paid much more attention to her, too. Only Sanley and Plymtree, still nursing their grudges against her, ignored her in favor of Mrs. Kelsie’s daughters.
On the night before the guests were to leave Bellhaven, Olive, seeking to display Grace and Jane to their best advantage, had them entertain the guests with a musical presentation. Both young ladies had pretty voices that won vigorous applause from their audience.
As they ended their performance, Olive insisted that Caro sing for their guests. The contrast between her niece, whom Olive knew could not sing a note, and her own daughters would “surely give the audience a disgust of her.
Caro, whose lack of musical talent was a source of great embarrassment to her, turned as white as Ashley’s stock. She tried to decline, but her aunt persisted. She was soon joined in her urgings by the polite, unsuspecting guests.
At last, seeing no hope of escape, Caro reluctantly stood before the guests, her knees shaking so that she wondered whether they would continue to support her through the humiliating ordeal ahead of her.
The faces before her seemed to be receding in a black haze of panic, and Caro longed for Providence to send a bolt from above to strike her dead before she had to open her mouth.
But Providence did not hear her silent plea.
Suddenly Ashley was at her side, towering above her. “I have been seized by an irresistible urge to sing, too,” he said loudly. “Pray, Lady Caro, be so kind as to let me join you in a duet.”
“Of course,” she stammered.
With an understanding squeeze, he took her icy hand in his warm one, smiled encouragingly at her, and said under his breath so that only she could hear, “Sing softly, elfin, and I will carry you.”
She obeyed and he proceeded to drown her sour notes with his fine baritone. Slowly, the shaking in her knees subsided, and her hand, still held firmly in his comforting clasp, warmed. Blessed Providence had sent her a far happier alternative to a bolt of lightning.
When they finished, the applause for them was as warm as it had been for her cousins. Never had Caro felt such overwhelming gratitude to anyone as she did at that moment to Ashley.
He led her to a small settee, just large enough for the two of them. As Caro sat down, she saw that her aunt was looking as though she had just swallowed a toad.
Glancing up at Ashley’s smiling face, Caro thought with aching heart what a very, very lucky woman Lady Roxley was.
Chapter 11
Ashley, wandering in Bellhaven’s park, chose a path that meandered through a wood into a green glade brightened by colorful clumps of goldenrod, purple knapweed, and ox-eye daisies. He scarcely noticed the beauty about him or the yellow brimstone butterfly that fluttered in front of him, for he was contemplating the negative answer that he must soon give Levisham.
Most of the guests had already departed from Bellhaven; the others would be gone by the time Ashley returned to the house. He was impatient to return to London to begin his search for the one-eared man that Mercer Corte had seen with Henry. But Ashley would be the last to leave Bellhaven because he had been procrastinating about rejecting the marquess’s offer of Caro’s hand.
The viscount’s brows knitted in an unhappy frown. Although he liked Caro, she was clearly not the wife for him. He needed a cool, sophisticated lady of the first respectability, preferably a beauty, but if not that, at least a woman of great decorum who would serve as his charming chatelaine. It was what his father expected of him.
No, Ashley could not marry her.
The heat that had broken for a few days had returned with a vengeance. Ashley, feeling quite wilted from it, was irresistibly drawn toward the soothing sound of rushing water. It came from a stream that twisted sharply through this remote corner of the park, its water shaded from the merciless sun by a leafy green parasol of graceful willow branches.
When he reached the bank, he discovered that he was not alone. A slim, little figure that he recognized instantly as Caro was gliding expertly through the water. From the pile of clothing lying on a flat rock at the water’s edge, he suspected that she must be wearing nothing more than her shift.
Far more unsettling to Ashley was the sight of another figure partially concealed in the stripling birches and tall plants that grew in profusion along the water. Tilford Kelsie was watching Caro so intently that he had not noticed the newcomer. The cruelly lecherous look on Tilford’s face both shocked and revolted Ashley.
The viscount glanced again at Caro, who was cutting cleanly through the water with deft strokes. Silently, taking care to make no noise, he circled behind Caro’s cousin. The sight of an empty claret bottle lying at Tilford’s feet disgusted Ashley. He caught the shorter man from behind, jerked him around, and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat.
Tilford’s breath reeked of wine, and his eyes bulged with fear as he saw the lethal look on Vinson’s face. In a low, menacing voice, Ashley told him, “Get out of here immediately or I shall give you a beating that you will never forget. Then I shall go to the marquess.”
The fear on Tilford’s face told Ashley that he was a coward as well as a drunk. “I’ll go,” he whimpered.
“Don’t stop until you reach the house,” Ashley ordered, releasing him.
Tilford stumbled clumsily away, trampling viciously underfoot the teasel’s and the comfrey’s delicate clusters of flowers.
“Who’s there?” Caro’s frightened voice called from the water.
Ashley turned and strode down to the water’s edge. As he emerged from the screen of greenery, the alarm on her face, all that was visible above the water’s surface, gave way to what appeared to be chagrin, and she cried in a mortified tone, “Oh, Ashley, why must you always come upon me at the most awkward moments?”
“Why must you always put yourself in awkward situations?” he snapped, venting his anger at Tilford on her. “Are you lost to all sense of propriety?”
He saw in her big gray eyes the same flash of pain that he had seen when he had been so shocked upon learning her identity. This time, however, there was no brave little smile. Instead, she asked in a small, perplexed voice, “What has put you in such a tweak, Ashley? It is not like you.”
No, it was not like him, but he had no intention of standing on a riverbank and explaining
some unpleasant facts of life to this naive infant. “Never mind,” he said curtly. “I’ll escort you back to the house.”
“But I cannot go now,” she protested.
“Why not?”
A red flush of embarrassment spread over her face. “I am wearing only my shift, and I ... I planned to dry myself in the sun. It is so remote here; I don’t see how you found it. No one ever comes here.”
No one except her lecherous cousin. Angrily, Ashley’s fingers went to his elegantly tied neckcloth and unwound the length of muslin. He dropped it on the rock beside her clothes. “Here, use this to dry yourself. I will go back up on the bank and turn my back until you are dressed.”
“Thank you, but I prefer to remain here,” she said politely.
“Caro,” he said in a furious voice, “I am not leaving without you. Do not strain my patience.”
She regarded him with puzzled, hurt eyes. “I do not understand why you are in such a pelter.”
The answer to that, he realized with sudden clarity, was far more complicated than she could have imagined. He had been resolved to reject her father’s proposition, but how could he live with himself if he damned the poor child to that wretched Tilford? This quandary sorely ruffled his temper, and again he vented it on Caro. “If you do not come out of the water,” he snapped at her, “I shall be obliged to come in and fetch you. Pray do not make me do that.”
She did not, and a short time later they were returning to the house, her wet shift wrapped in his equally wet neckcloth. He was thankful that the guests would be gone by the time they reached the house. Otherwise his missing neckcloth and Caro’s bedraggled appearance would have given rise to considerable gossip.
He studied her pixyish face. Although he had no wish to marry her, at least life with her would not be boring. But he did not love her. And, dammit, she deserved a man who would love her as she ought to be loved, who would cherish her as the only woman in his life. Ashley could not do that.
The memory of the brutish, lustful look on Tilford’s face as he watched Caro swimming rose up to haunt Ashley. She already found the idea of lovemaking repulsive. Her drunken cousin would confirm to her that her fear had been well founded. And her aunt would rule as mistress in Tilford’s house. Ashley knew exactly what sort of treatment poor Caro would receive at Olive’s hands.
This succession of unhappy thoughts left Vinson scowling and silent as they walked back to the house. In deference to his black mood, Caro grew very quiet, too.
As they neared the house, Ashley’s valet hurried toward them. When the sharp-eyed Swope failed to notice that his master’s neckcloth, upon which he had lavished so much attention that morning, was missing, Ashley knew that something had to be dreadfully wrong.
Chapter 12
Swope immediately confirmed his employer’s dark surmise. The marquess had been taken ill and wished to see him immediately.
“What is wrong with Papa?” Caro cried in alarm.
Swope looked uncomfortable. “I cannot say except that the doctor has been sent for,” he replied evasively.
Despite her tan, Caro suddenly looked very pale. She started for the house at a run.
Ashley, certain that his valet knew more than he had been willing to tell Caro, paused to ask again the nature of the marquess’s illness.
Glancing around to make certain that Caro was out of earshot, Swope said, “I was told it is his heart. He was stricken with excruciating chest pains shortly after a, er, rather violent dustup with Mrs. Kelsie.”
“What was that about? Don’t tell me you couldn’t say, because I know that you can.” Swope, who loved gossip, could be counted on to pluck every tidbit to be had from the servants’ grapevine.
“Her son stole a bottle of the marquess’s claret. Also, Mrs. Kelsie apparently attempted to humiliate Lady Caroline last night. His lordship was heard to tell Mrs. Kelsie to get out and never set foot on Bellhaven soil again while he was alive. A good deal of commotion ensued.”
Ashley could well imagine that it had. “How bad is the marquess’s attack?”
Swope frowned. “I heard he might turn his spoon to the wall.”
“Good God!” Ashley exclaimed. Looking toward the house, he saw that Caro was nearly there. He ran after her, following her inside and up the stairs to her father’s bedchamber. When she tried to enter, Levisham’s valet barred her way, saying that his lordship had been emphatic about wishing to see Lord Vinson before anyone else.
The viscount knew that the marquess wanted an answer about whether he would marry Caro. Until a short time ago, Ashley had intended to refuse. But the lascivious look on Tilford’s face as he watched his unsuspecting cousin swimming had undermined Ashley’s resolve.
When Ashley went in, Levisham was lying against the pillows. He attempted to raise his head, but it fell back weakly.
“Thank God, they have found you,” he said, desperation in his rasping voice. “I fear that I am dying ... I must have your answer now...”
With a sinking heart, Ashley realized what that answer must be. His conscience would not permit him to abandon Caro to Tilford’s untender mercies.
The marquess paused as though trying to marshal his strength to go on. “I promise you that Caro will meet your principal requirement for a wife. She will never plague you about Lady Roxley.”
“I do not believe that your daughter will be happy about such a marriage,” Ashley said sharply, thinking again that Caro deserved so much better.
“It is the very kind of marriage that she wants.”
“She might think so in the abstract, but I am persuaded that faced with the reality of it, she will not like it at all.”
“But she will,” Levisham grimaced as though torn by pain. “She is still more child than woman, and she has some silly prejudices about men and marriage that must be dispelled. What is required is a husband who treats her with patience and gentleness and forbearance.” Again the marquess’s face contorted with pain. It was a long moment before he continued in a weak, halting voice. “Meanwhile, you will have your mistress ... All that I ask on that score is that ... you do not ignore Caro ... nor mortify her with too flagrantly open a liaison.”
“If you believe that I would treat my wife so callously, you should not be proposing to give your daughter to me,” Ashley said. “Nor will I wed a woman against her will. If Caro objects to this arrangement, I cannot marry her.”
“If she does not object ... you will wed her?”
“Only if she assures me that she wishes this arrangement,” Ashley emphasized.
Levisham’s eyes glittered angrily, clearly taking silent umbrage at Vinson’s insistence that Caro freely agree to their union.
Given her distaste for marriage, she would not like it, but she likely would agree to it, finding him preferable to her drunken cousin. Nevertheless, Ashley wanted to be certain that was the case. But why should her father be upset that the viscount wanted Caro’s assurance that she would not find marriage to him repugnant? Had she already told her father that she would?
Startled and a little uneasy about Levisham’s odd reaction, Ashley said sharply, “I reiterate that if she objects to—”
“I swear to you that she will not,” her father said coldly. “Not to marrying you or to your relationship with Lady Roxley.”
“With all due respect, my lord, it is her oath, not yours, that I wish to hear,” Ashley said grimly. “And I must hear it from her own lips. I insist on being private with her, just the two of us.”
“That is not necessary,” Levisham replied in furious accents.
“I insist on it!”
“Very well, then, you shall have her word,” the marquess responded, clearly outraged.
Ashley stared at the marquess, baffled by his anger. Levisham closed his eyes wearily. “You will be married tonight.”
“But that is impossible,” Ashley protested. “We shall have to obtain a special license.”
“I have already done so. All t
hat remains to be done is for the minister to be summoned.”
More than a little exasperated at Levisham’s presumption, Ashley said firmly, “I must notify my parents. I do not wish to be married without them here.”
“By that time, I most likely will be dead. Do not deny me my last wish—to see my daughter safely married. Furthermore, if you insist on waiting for them to arrive, you may not be married at all. Count on my evil sister-in-law to find a way of preventing it once I am dead. You must marry immediately.”
“Yes,” Ashley said, thinking that perhaps haste was preferable from his own point of view, too. His father would not approve of Caro as a future countess of Bourn. Much as Vinson hated to be married without his parents present, it would be easier to have the deed done before his father could kick up a storm over his choice of bride. It would mean, however, that Ashley must postpone his return to London and his search for the truth about William’s death. He could not like that, but there was no helping it.
“Very well, we’ll wed tonight,” he capitulated, “but only if Caro assures me privately that this arrangement meets her approval.”
Once again anger flashed in Levisham’s eyes. Seeking to soothe him, Ashley said, “I promise that I shall take very good care of your daughter.” And he would. Now that he had agreed to the match, he was feeling much better about it. He could not have lived with himself had Caro fallen into Tilford’s hands. She would be far happier as Ashley’s wife. He would make certain of that. He was determined to be the patient, forbearing husband that Levisham wanted for his daughter.
The marquess said, “I ask one small favor of you.”
“Certainly, you have but to name it,” Ashley replied. “Let Caro remain here with me. I have no one else. I do not want to die alone.”
The viscount frowned. He did not want to deny a dying man’s request, but Levisham could linger for weeks, and Ashley must return to London to search for the one-eared man. It was even more important that he find him now that he was marrying. If Henry had murdered William in order to inherit the earldom, everyone who stood in his way was in danger, especially Caro, who, should she become pregnant, would give birth to a new impediment. “I have important business to attend to. I cannot remain at Bellhaven above a few days.”
Lady Caro Page 9
