His Compromised Countess

by Hale Deborah

  ‘Caro?’ His whisper broke the intimate, fragile silence between them. ‘There’s something important I must ask you.’

  ‘What?’ Wary tension crept through her body. She knew by the sound of his voice that it could be nothing good.

  ‘I know you’ve told me before.’ His words gusted out like a sigh. ‘At least you tried to. But this time I am prepared to listen and believe what you say.’

  Could he mean…? She scarcely dared hope after his prolonged refusal to accept that she’d stopped short of committing that final betrayal. Somehow, he had grown to trust her. Even George Marlow’s letter and those disgusting caricatures had not been enough to destroy his newfound faith in her.

  Whether she deserved his trust, that question undermined Caroline’s fragile hope.

  ‘You never did take Astley as a lover, did you? Nor any other man? You have been faithful to me throughout our marriage?’

  For weeks now Caroline had longed to protest her innocence at every opportunity. But she knew she would only be wasting her breath and perhaps provoking Bennett to leave the island with her son. Now, when she’d least expected it, she had the chance to tell her husband what had really happened, secure in the knowledge that he would believe her.

  Caroline inhaled a deep breath to steady her. ‘I swear you are the only man I have ever…given myself to in this way.’

  That was all very well as far as it went, she realised, but it was only part of the truth. And perhaps not the most important part. ‘I see now that all my foolish flirting was nearly as much a betrayal of our marriage as outright adultery. Yet somehow I knew I could never be satisfied with the sort of attentions from another man that I only ever wanted from you.’

  At first her confession of both innocence and guilt met with nothing but bewildering silence from her husband.

  ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’ she prompted him when she could bear the suspense no longer.

  ‘Of course.’ He sounded vexed at being made to acknowledge it. ‘Deep down, I think I’ve known the truth all along. I refused to believe it because I wanted to punish you for that night at Almack’s. And because I knew it would change everything.’

  Muscles taut and unyielding, he pulled away from her and rose from the bed.

  As he slipped into his drawers and breeches, Caroline sat up, pulling the sheet under her arms to conceal her bare breasts. Suddenly, she felt acutely self-conscious of her naked body. ‘What do you mean, it changes everything?’

  Picking up her nightgown, which Parker had left folded over the headboard of the bed, Bennett handed it to her. ‘Surely you know I cannot seek a divorce now.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t you?’ Caroline pulled on her nightgown and huddled in the middle of the bed, hands clasped around her knees.

  Bennett retrieved more of his scattered clothes from the floor and put them back on. ‘I realise I have not behaved much like it of late, but I do possess some notion of honour. I can hardly seek a divorce on the grounds of adultery when I am satisfied you have committed no such act.’

  Pushing back her lank, damp hair, Caroline shuddered to think what a fright she must look. Had Bennett only taken her to bed out of pity? It was clear he regretted that ill-considered impulse, just as he regretted losing the opportunity to break free of the millstone that would pull him down to destruction.

  ‘You are too scrupulous.’ She could not force him to continue their marriage when he wanted and needed to be free. ‘You stood before a vicar and promised to love me when you did not. With the number of witnesses who saw Astley kiss me at Almack’s, you should have no difficulty obtaining a divorce without ever having to speak a single untrue word.’

  Something in what she said seemed to unsettle Bennett. Abruptly he stopped dressing. ‘What about you, Caro? You stood before that vicar and promised to love me. Did you only marry me in a final bid to win your father’s approval or was there more to it than that?’

  His probing gaze demanded the whole, unvarnished truth. That might only make him feel a greater obligation to stand by their feeble excuse for a marriage, no matter what it cost them. In the end, he would grow to hate her even more than he had before. The way she’d come to feel about him, Caroline could not bear that.

  ‘Yes!’ she snapped, frightened by her vulnerability. ‘Since you insist on knowing, I did fancy myself in love with you. What was worse, I persuaded myself you cared for me!’

  Her revelation rendered Bennett incapable of concealing his emotions for perhaps the first time in their marriage. As plain as anything, Caroline saw the pity she’d expected, as well as remorse, regret and a futile yearning for something that could never be.

  After a moment of stunned silence, he headed for the door. ‘I must go see how Wyn is getting along. I will take charge of him so Parker can come tend to you.’

  Without another word, he left the room as if making his escape from some terrible threat. With a sinking heart, Caroline watched him depart. She wondered if he regretted going to such perilous lengths to save her from drowning. His future would be far easier if he had not.

  Somehow, she must make him see that divorce was the least painful alternative available to them.

  He could not possibly divorce Caroline now. No matter how desperately she wanted him to.

  That thought ran through Bennett’s mind in a continuous, taunting refrain as he tried to keep his young son amused while Parker attended to his wife.

  Did she not understand? It was a matter of honour. He could not bring suit for damages against Fitz Astley when the worst his enemy had done was to arrange an incriminating ambush to steal a kiss from his wife. It was despicable conduct to be sure, but hardly illegal. The comparison Caroline had made to his insincere wedding vows was not valid in the least. By marrying her, he had never intended to do anyone harm. Quite the contrary.

  He might not have meant to harm Caroline by wedding her, his conscience reminded him, but he had just the same. After the first flush of infatuation had worn off, he’d made no effort to cultivate the kind of closeness that might have stood the test of time. He had never confided in her, never asked for her help, never tried to understand her. Looking back, Bennett wondered if perhaps he had been afraid to forge a deeper bond with his beautiful bride in case he might come to care for her more than he could afford.

  All the while, she had loved him in her way, yearning for the kind of affection he was not capable of giving her, even if he’d wanted to. When he thought of all the things he had never taken the time to find out about her and all the things he had neglected to disclose about himself, he wondered if she’d sometimes felt more like a mistress than a wife. Perhaps even less than a mistress.

  Bennett did not realise how deeply he’d fallen to brooding until Wyn looked up suddenly from the collection of seashells they had spread on the table. ‘Are you angry with Mama for falling in the water and making you fish her out?’

  The child’s question troubled him. Far too often when he was preoccupied, Wyn assumed he must be vexed about something. Had Caroline also misinterpreted his frequent silences as stern disapproval, especially after their son was born and she’d struggled with the demands of new motherhood?

  ‘Angry with your mama?’ Bennett shook his head as he reached to grasp the child’s hand. Thanks to Caroline’s tutelage he was becoming more comfortable conveying tender emotions with touch ‘Not at all. I was worried about her and afraid what might happen if I didn’t get her out. You probably felt that way, too, did you?’

  Wyn responded with a grave nod and squeezed his father’s hand.

  They sat in silence for a minute or two, then the child spoke again. ‘I’m glad you’re not angry with Mama. You have been getting on so well together. Do you not have those differences any more that made you shout at each other?’

  His son’s observation made Bennett think. ‘We still have plenty of differences. But we’ve come to see that the things we share are far more important. Besides, differences don
’t always have to cause problems.’

  Wyn’s features settled into a pensive frown as if he was trying to make sense of an idea it had taken Bennett decades to grasp. He was not certain he could explain it in terms a child might understand, but he sensed Wyn needed him to try.

  ‘You see these shells?’ He picked out two from among the small collection spread out on the table. ‘They’re quite different from one another, don’t you think?’

  Wyn nodded. ‘That one’s big and that one’s small. That one’s brown with spots and that one’s all white. That one is long and thin. That one is almost the shape of a lady’s fan.’

  ‘Excellent observations.’ Bennett offered his son a warm smile of approval and reassurance. ‘You’re very perceptive—that means you take notice of things other people might miss. It’s a fine quality to have.’

  More to himself than to the boy, he added, ‘You must get that from your mother, for my powers of perception are downright feeble.’

  After all, he’d failed to notice any of the signs that might have indicated Caroline was once in love with him. Or had he deliberately ignored them, wary of anything that might make him care about her?

  His praise provoked a proud smile that lit up Wyn’s small face. It was Caroline’s smile, Bennett realised with a pang. And his son’s eyes were the identical shade of blue-green to hers.

  ‘Even though these shells are so different,’ Bennett returned to the point he was trying to make, ‘you liked them both enough to pick them up.’

  ‘Yes.’ A glint of understanding quickened in those familiar, beloved eyes.

  ‘Both those shells provided protection for the creatures that once lived inside them.’ That notion made Bennett realise something else.

  He and Caroline had both been hurt in the past—both had covered their vulnerable hearts with protective shells. Because those coverings had taken such different forms, neither had recognised the other’s for what it was. When Caroline had dared to advance a soft feeler toward him, it had stubbed painfully against his hard, spiky carapace. No wonder she’d retreated deeper into her colourful, luminous bubble.

  Was it too late to coax her back out and find the courage to emerge from his shell to give her the kind of love she needed and deserved? He feared so. But for their son’s sake and Caroline’s, and perhaps most of all for his own, Bennett knew he must try.

  Once Parker had washed the salt water from her hair and combed it out to dry, Caroline had returned downstairs to be with her son. Since this might be the last evening she would spend with him in quite some time, she had not wanted to miss a moment of it. Not long after she joined Wyn and Bennett in the parlour, her husband excused himself and headed upstairs. After the past few weeks of pleasant companionship, his sudden reluctance to be in the same room with her made it clear that he believed bedding her had been a mistake.

  Though her body still tingled with an echo of delight whenever she recalled the thrilling ways he had kissed and touched her, Caroline could not disagree. His ardent attentions had woken feelings within her that threatened to grow hungry and demanding, tempting her to cling to her marriage no matter what it cost Bennett or their son.

  ‘Look, Mama.’ Wyn glowed with pride as he showed her a basket brimming with seashells. ‘Papa helped me clean the sand out of them. He says when we get back to London he is going to have a box made for me with a little nook to hold each shell. It will have a glass top so I can look at them and hinges so I can open it to add new ones.’

  ‘Fancy that.’ Caroline wrapped her arm around her son’s shoulder, surprised to discover how much taller he’d grown during the past few weeks. Their time on the island had done him so much good. The child positively glowed with renewed health and happiness. ‘Your papa has such clever ideas, doesn’t he?’

  Wyn nodded. ‘Papa says he’s not per-cep-tive, but I think he is.’

  Caroline marvelled at her young son’s proper use of such a big word, proud yet dismayed by further evidence of how quickly he was growing up. The urge to cling to him was growing stronger than her good intentions.

  ‘Your papa has a great many fine qualities,’ she assured their son.

  Bennett was clever and honourable, persistent and compassionate. He’d been trying very hard to be a more attentive, affectionate father. But she had to agree he was not the most perceptive of men. Only now had he realised how much she’d once yearned for him.

  ‘Papa is good at explaining things.’ Wyn began to pick through the shells in his basket. ‘He told me it doesn’t hurt to have differences, like these shells. They aren’t all alike, but each one has something special about it.’

  ‘He said that?’ She picked up a shell that must once have held some sort of sea snail. The opening gradually spiralled inwards, deeper and deeper.

  Wyn nodded. ‘Papa said that’s why you two are getting on so much better.’

  ‘Perhaps it is.’ Caroline turned the shell over in her hand, admiring its natural elegance of form.

  She and Bennett were very different in the way they’d responded to past hurts. She’d become like a crab—scuttling here and there, seizing what she wanted in her relentless claws and clinging to it at all costs. By contrast, Bennett had retreated into his thick shell like a solitary oyster. Chafed by the grit of past pain, he had slowly transformed it into the priceless pearl of compassion for others.

  Lately he’d begun to emerge from that shell, to show their son more overt affection and even to confide in her. But after bedding her, Bennett seemed poised to retreat back into himself once again, as if seeking refuge from some threat. Was that how he viewed the things she’d told him? When he had fled her bedchamber so abruptly, it was clear he resisted acknowledging her fidelity and the love she’d once felt for him.

  Bennett had wed her in the throes of blind infatuation and perhaps out of a sense of obligation to her father. Too late, he’d come to his senses and realised she was not the kind of woman he wanted and needed. Now, just when he’d glimpsed an opportunity to be free of her, he found himself honour bound to maintain their irreparably damaged marriage.

  As if summoned by Caroline’s thoughts, her husband’s firm footsteps sounded on the stairs. An instant later, he strode into the parlour. His mouth was set in a determined line, but his eyes held an uneasy look. ‘Wyn, how would you like to go treasure-hunting with me tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Where, Papa?’ The child thrust his basket of shells into Caroline’s hands and bolted towards his father. ‘What sort of treasure?’

  ‘I’m not certain what we’ll find, but these islands were the haunt of pirates and smugglers in the past.’ Bennett leaned down to gather the child in a fleeting but fond embrace.

  Caroline could tell such gestures of affection still did not come easily for him, but he was becoming a little less self-conscious each time. That was one result of this whole sordid mess from which she could take comfort. It had made Bennett see the kind of warm, loving relationship their son needed.

  ‘Look what I found behind one of the drawers in the old wardrobe.’ He produced a rolled-up piece of paper that Caroline suspected had been fabricated for Wyn’s amusement.

  She wondered how long Bennett had also been planning this surprise treasure hunt. It was the sort of whimsical adventure she might have contrived if she’d thought of it. The whole thing seemed rather out of character for her solemn, practical husband, but she approved his willingness to try something different for the sake of their son.

  Wyn’s eyes widened as he unrolled the paper and looked it over. ‘Do we have to wait until tomorrow, Papa? Can’t we start now? Please!’

  Not long ago Caroline would have been inclined to give in, but Bennett had made her see there was more to being a parent than treats and indulgence. ‘The treasure will keep for one more night, dearest. It’s almost your bedtime. Treasure hunters need a good night’s sleep to keep their wits about them.’

  Her husband looked at her in a way that made Caroline catc
h her breath. She told herself it was only gratitude for supporting his decision.

  ‘I’ll be too excited to sleep,’ Wyn protested.

  ‘Good things are worth waiting for, dearest.’

  For a moment the child pouted over not getting his way. But when his parents stood firm, he seemed to accept the inevitable. ‘Will you tell me a story at bedtime?’

  ‘Of course, if you want me to.’

  ‘About pirates?’

  ‘I’m afraid that might give you bad dreams.’ Searching for an alternative, Caroline recalled how intrigued Wyn had been by the notion that these islands might be the last remnant of drowned Lyonesse. ‘What about a tale of King Arthur’s knights?’

  Too late she recalled how many of those stories glorified courtly love, a fancy name for adultery. When she’d been a girl on the cusp of womanhood, her heart had thrilled to those tales of fair ladies who’d risked everything for the chance of love. She’d pictured herself as Guinevere, Isolde or Ygraine, swept off her feet by a dashing hero. How could a man like Bennett Maitland have hoped to live up to that romantic ideal?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Later, as Bennett listened to his wife tell Wyn the story of Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady, he was surprised and dismayed to discover how much the ancient legend related to their situation.

  In her most dramatic tone, Caroline spun the tale for their enthralled little son. ‘Once she had forced him to wed her, the hideous creature told Sir Gawain she was a fair damsel who had been placed under a terrible enchantment. By marrying her, he had broken half the curse. She could be beautiful by day so that all the world would honour and envy him for possessing so fine a wife. But alone with him at night she would be monstrous ugly. Or she could be repulsive by day and beautiful by night so that he alone could admire and love her.’