“What can be that important?” Levisham demanded harshly.
For a moment Ashley considered telling him about Henry and the threat he might pose to Caro but decided against it. What point was there in burdening a dying man with yet another worry? “It is a personal matter.”
Levisham’s hand raised from the coverlet in an indifferent gesture. “Then depart when you wish, but leave Caro with me. You will have your mistress to occupy you in London.”
Ashley’s frown deepened. “There will be gossip.”
“Once it is known that Caro remained here because I am dying, it will be seen as the dutiful thing to do.”
“She may stay,” Ashley agreed with a rueful little smile. It would do him no good to tell her that she could not remain with her father. He knew his future bride well enough to be certain that nothing would pry Caro from her father’s side now.
When the door closed behind Ashley, Levisham sat up abruptly, the weakness he had exhibited in the viscount’s presence gone.
The marquess was not dying yet. But with his heart as bad as it was, his pretense could become a reality at any moment, and he had to get Caro safely married before that happened. It had been clear that Vinson intended to reject the offer of her hand, and Levisham had hit on a fake deathbed scene as the most expedient way of obtaining both Caro’s and Ashley’s agreement to the marriage. His daughter would be stubborn, too, but he would enlist Dr. Baxter’s aid in bringing her around.
Not that he was happy about her marrying Vinson. He silently cursed a cruel fate that forced him to make Caro marry a man whose chief requirement in a wife was that she not object to his mistress.
When he was with Caro, Ashley gave every indication of being both fond and protective of her. He had moved swiftly the previous night to save her from Olive’s attempt to humiliate her. Yet now, he was subjecting her to another kind of humiliation by requiring that she promise him she would not object to his mistress. As Vinson himself had said when the marquess had proposed the match, “Caro deserves better than a husband who loves his mistress.”
Levisham had seen the way that Caro looked at Ashley. Although she might not realize it yet, her heart was engaged by the handsome viscount.
Which made it all the more painful to her father that he must insist that she give Ashley the demeaning promise he wanted. The marquess had been so outraged by the viscount’s demand that he, in turn, had used the fiction that he was on his deathbed to induce Ashley to let Caro remain at Bellhaven. What need had Vinson for her in London when all he wanted was to rush back there to his mistress as quickly as possible after his wedding? No, he did not deserve Caro.
Levisham’s head fell back wearily against the pillows.
Poor Caro. It would be easy for Vinson to make her adore him. But would he return her affection? Or did he love Lady Roxley too much to ever be weaned from her?
Chapter 13
Caro paced the hail outside her father’s bedchamber, anxiously waiting for Ashley to emerge. It was a measure of how much she had come to care for the viscount that, despite her overwhelming concern for her father, her hurt and bafflement over why Ashley had been so angry at her this morning still gnawed at her.
When at last he came into the hall, he looked at her gravely, a peculiar expression that she could not fathom in his green eyes. But all he said to her was, “You may go in now.” His voice, too, sounded odd.
She rushed into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight of her father lying weakly against the white linen of the bed pillows, looking wretchedly unhappy.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Papa?” she cried.
He regarded her even more gravely than Ashley had in the hall. It was as though he were trying to decide how to tell her something of the utmost importance. At last, he said weakly, “Yes, my pet, there is one thing you could do that would relieve my mind and make me feel ever so much better.”
“Tell me, and I’ll do it,” she cried eagerly.
He seemed reluctant to answer her. Caro, anxious to do anything she could that might ease him, pressed, “What is it that you wish, Papa?”
“For you to marry.”
She disbelieved her ears. “Surely,” she exclaimed, “you are joking, Papa.” But even as she spoke, Caro knew from his somber expression that he was not. “You know I do not want that,” she said reproachfully. “I wish to devote myself to you.”
“That is very noble, my pet, but it is time that we faced the truth. I am not likely to live very much longer, and—”
“Don’t say that!” she cried, throwing her arms about him as though to ward off death itself. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the thought of losing him.
He held her to him, stroking her hair and trying to comfort her as she sobbed out her grief. Her father had always been the foundation of her world, and she was certain that it would collapse if he died. Indeed, she could not imagine her life without him. She would have no one.
When Caro at last regained some semblance of composure, he told her bluntly, “It is not for me that you should be weeping but for yourself if I should die before you are married and settled.”
Caro, who had never before considered what would happen to her in that event, looked at him uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean?”
“You will become your cousin Tilford’s ward because he will be the head of the family and your only living male relative. There is no one else.”
Caro, remembering with revulsion the incident in the stables, was terrified at the thought of living beneath her cousin’s roof without her father to protect her.
“His mother will rule him and Bellhaven,” the marquess continued. “Your life with that pair would be exceedingly miserable.” Her father stroked her hair, which hung loose about her shoulders, still damp from her swim. “Eventually they would force you to marry Tilford.”
“Oh, no!” Caro cried in horror, the sickening memory of her cousin’s brutal advance engulfing her. To be his wife, to be continually subjected to such treatment was more than she could bear to contemplate. “I would rather be dead!” she cried passionately.
“I cannot say that I blame you,” her father said softly, still stroking her hair. “We must foreclose the possibility of such a marriage.”
“How?” Caro asked desperately. She would do anything to escape from Tilford.
“By your marrying someone else before I die. I have found a man who understands your situation and has agreed to marry you in exchange for an assurance from you.”
Her head jerked up, and she gaped at him. “Who?”
“Lord Vinson.”
Her father’s face receded in a blur. The sudden flash of happiness that Caro had felt initially at the thought of marrying Ashley quickly vanished as she remembered Lady Roxley. “But, Papa, he cannot want to marry me,” she protested. “He ... he has a lady to whom he is much attached.”
“No, he does not want to marry you any more than you do him, but he is willing to do so,” her father said bluntly.
“Why?” Caro asked. All of her cousins’ oft-repeated assurances that no man would wed her except for her fortune returned to haunt her. “For my money?”
“No, he is not a fortune hunter!” Levisham exclaimed. “Rest easy on that score. His inheritance will be as large as yours.”
“Then why is he willing to marry me, if not for money?”
The marquess sighed. “Vinson must marry—his father insists on it—and the lady you mentioned is already wed to another. He needs a wife to give him an heir, and you need a husband to save you from your aunt and Tilford. So, what could be better than that you marry each other?”
No wonder Ashley had looked at her so strangely in the hall. “I cannot conceive why he should agree to marry me when so many far lovelier women yearn to be his wife,” she observed with characteristic honesty.
“He wants a wife who will not object to his relationship with Lady Roxley,” Levisham replied. “You told me that the only marriage
you would consider was one like Lady Fraser’s, and so I have arranged precisely what you wanted.”
Or what Caro had thought she wanted before she had seen Emily and Mercer together, had seen how it could be between a man and woman who truly loved each other. And before she had met Ashley and discovered that her heart was not immune to a man. But he would never love her the way Mercer loved Emily. Beautiful Lady Roxley held his heart captive.
“You should be delighted that I have persuaded Vinson to save you from your aunt and cousin,” Levisham was saying.
Yes, she supposed that she should be, but she was not. Caro wondered what her father had had to do to win the viscount’s acquiescence. Was that why Ashley had been so angry with her this morning? “What persuasion did you have to employ?”
“Vinson’s principal requirement in a wife is that she not interfere with him and his other connection. I assured him that you would never object or even take the least notice of that.”
Caro’s heart felt as though it were sinking into nether regions from which it would never escape. Her mutinous emotions must have reflected on her face because her father cried in sudden agitation, “You must never, under any circumstance, vex Vinson about Lady Roxley. Swear to me, Caro, that you will not. It is crucial. I think he is inclined to be fond of you, but nothing would sink his affection more quickly.”
Fearing that such perturbation was very bad for her father, Caro tried to calm him by saying, “I swear, Papa. Only, please, do not fret yourself.”
His head sank back on the pillows. “When you see Vinson, you must give him your solemn word on that score.”
Caro struggled to hide the shame that his request caused her. What if she refused? Would Ashley refuse to marry her, thereby consigning her to Tilford?
“Promise me that you will give Vinson your oath when you see him,” her father insisted.
“Yes, Papa,” she agreed reluctantly, afraid of the effect it would have upon him if she did not.
“Don’t look so unhappy, my pet,” her father pleaded. “Vinson is a man of superior manners and understanding. I am certain that he will treat you always with the utmost kindness and consideration if you do not plague him about his other interest. I own I do not believe that I could find a better man for you. You will not be mistreated like Clara Potter or Mrs. Burke or Amelia Coleberd.”
No, Caro realized sadly, she had no fear that Ashley would abuse her—he was too decent for that—only that he would ignore her. She could not be optimistic about her future with a man who would marry her only because she would not object to his continuing affair with his true love.
“If you strive to be the kind of wife Vinson wants, my pet, he might in time come to love you,” Levisham said musingly, surveying her so critically that she wished she had taken the time to fasten up her long hair, still hanging loose about her shoulders. “How untidy you look. You must take far greater pains with your appearance when you are Lady Vinson. You must learn to look and act like a lady. No longer can you indulge in hoydenish scraps or behavior that would embarrass your husband.”
“Yes, Papa,” Caro said dully. He sounded like Aunt Olive. She would try very hard to be the kind of wife Vinson wanted, but she was pessimistic about her success in this endeavor.
“Vinson has agreed that you can be married tonight.”
“Tonight! Oh, no, Papa! I cannot, I will not leave you when you are so ill!”
“You will not have to. Vinson is amenable to your remaining here when he returns to London.”
And to Lady Roxley, Caro thought bleakly, sorely wounded that he would be willing to leave his new bride so quickly.
A knock on the door signaled the arrival of Dr. Baxter, a graying, middle-aged man of considerable erudition beyond medicine. He had been one of her father’s few intimates during his reclusive years at Bellhaven.
Caro was sent from the room while the doctor examined her father. She hovered outside, her thoughts in an upheaval, her pride in shreds. What irony! She had been offered the kind of marriage that she had professed to want to the only man that she had the slightest interest in wedding, and she was miserably unhappy.
When the doctor emerged from her father’s room, he warned her that she must spare him as much anxiety as possible. “Agitation is very bad for him. I will not mince words with you, Lady Caroline. I fear that his incessant worrying about what will happen to you when he dies is having the unfortunate effect of hastening that day. He just told me that you have received a very flattering offer, and it is my frank opinion that if your father were to see you settled, it might be the best medicine that he could be given.”
Hearing that, no daughter who loved her father as much as Caro did could think of refusing the “very flattering offer.” With a breaking heart, Caro resigned herself to a lifetime of unhappiness with a man who would never love her.
Chapter 14
Taking leave of Dr. Baxter, Caro would have fled to her room to indulge in a bout of weeping, but she was denied this melancholy release by the appearance of a servant with word that Lord Vinson awaited her in the morning room.
Slowly she descended the stairs, feeling years older than she had when this day had begun.
As she entered the morning room, her wayward heart leaped at the sight of her future husband, who looked so very handsome in a green double-breasted coat that accentuated the emerald of his eyes. His face was grave, as it had been when she had last seen him in the hallway. She stopped inside the door, suddenly feeling awkward, shy, and uncertain with him.
He came toward her, a strained little smile on his lips that she did not find reassuring. His green eyes were serious, almost somber, as they regarded her. Did they reflect his displeasure at the thought of marrying such a plain creature as herself? Mindful of the gratitude she owed him for rescuing her from Tilford, she said a little stiffly, “It was very kind of you to agree to marry me.” Her candor would not permit her to stop there. “Although I own I cannot understand why you did.”
“I could not let you fall into Tilford’s hands,” he said quietly. His answer made her feel worse. Her voice cracked a little as she said, “That is excessively kind of you, but I cannot see what you gain from your kindness.”
He gently took her small hands, oddly cold for so hot a day, into his own warm ones. His touch made her heart beat so hard against her ribs that she was certain he must be able to hear it.
“What I gain, elfin, is a wife.”
“But not one you could want, for I am not a lady or a great beauty, or even pretty. Surely you could find a more suitable bride.”
Alarm flashed in his eyes, and his hands released hers abruptly. “If you are trying to tell me that you do not wish to marry me, elfin, you need only say so. My agreement to this match is conditioned upon it being acceptable to you. Is it?”
“Yes,” she admitted, wishing it were half so acceptable to him as it was to her.
Ashley was frowning. “I am persuaded it is not. You look ready to cry.”
“My father is dying. Is that not reason enough to want to cry?” she asked, resorting to half-truth to pacify him.
His frown deepened. “You know that I have an...” Words suddenly seemed to foil the usually urbane viscount, and he looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“An agreeable connection,” Caro supplied helpfully.
“Does that distress you?” he asked anxiously, searching her face with concerned eyes.
Fear and pride warred with candor, and for once the latter lost. With heroic effort, Caro managed an indifferent shrug, determined that Ashley should never know the truth. “You are free to do as you please. I told you once that the only marriage I would consider is one like Lady Fraser’s, and now I shall have it. I give you my solemn word that I shall not interfere, and I would never—”
“Yes, I know, you would never break your word,” Ashley said impatiently. “But are you certain that—”
“Very certain,” she cried emphatically, eager to put an e
nd to this painful discussion.
Apparently this convinced him, for, taking her hands in his again, he squeezed them. “I give my word to you as I did to your father, elfin, that I shall take very good care of you.” Seeing her expression of disbelief, he demanded, “Why do you look at me like that?”
She said slowly, “I have seen how husbands in loveless marriages treat their wives.”
“My God, elfin, you cannot think that I would abuse you!”
“But you do not love me.”
“No,” he admitted.
Caro felt as though her heart had been stabbed with a very long knife.
“Nor do you love me, elfin, but I think we can deal very well together.” He gave her hands another comforting squeeze. “I know how distasteful marriage is to you, but I promise I shall be an easy husband, and you will never suffer ill treatment at my hands. You will be far happier with me than with Tilford.”
Caro, swallowing hard, forced a smile to her unwilling lips.
“Now, I fear,” Ashley said with a teasing gleam in his eye, “I am expected to drop to bended knee and formally beseech you for your hand, but I am persuaded that you would find me quite ridiculous. And I dare not kiss you, for you have told me how repulsive that would be.”
Had Caro’s sensibilities not been so overset, she would have comprehended that he was quizzing her. But taking his words seriously, she was deeply wounded, thinking them further confirmation that he had no romantic interest in her. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she stammered that his superior understanding gratified her.
She did not understand why her reply brought such a frown to his face or why he took his leave of her rather abruptly.
Caro and Ashley were married that evening at Levisham’s bedside with only Reverend Laken and Dr. Baxter present. Not surprising under the circumstances, the ceremony was brief and somber with none of the joy usually attendant upon such occasions.
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