The Nuisance Wife

by Camille Oster

  Caius considered it. "We could spend the day yelling at each other."

  "She will if she wants to make a good impression on this man, hence would be on her best behavior. If you do wish to spend some time with her, this would be the perfect opportunity."

  That was true. A trip to Devon would keep them in close, cramped proximity for hours on end. It would give them the chance to talk, more than just yelling at each other. Although there could be that too. "She will perceive it as manipulative."

  "Yes, and how is that an issue? She is your wife. You can either let her take charge of this relationship, or you can do so. What is so horrible about you stacking things in your favor? And while you are there, Lord Sunderstone will probably expect her to act as a wife would."

  "I cannot ask her to do that." Octavia was implying that Lord Sunderstone would expect man and wife to share a room.

  "Brother, if you are to put this right, then you must be a little manipulative. Or you could be waiting a century for her to feel sorry enough for you to forgive you."

  Is that what it would take, her feeling sorry for him?

  "As they say," Mr. Jones cut in, "all is fair in love and war."

  Caius certainly knew all was fair in war, but was the same thing true now? Should he use this opportunity to get what he wanted? Which was what exactly?

  The answer wasn't hard to uncover—to get his wife back. Whatever affections she had for this Lord Fortescue, he needed to steal her away. Or else she might continue down a track that didn't serve his ends at all. Even if he’d said that he would accept whatever relationship she deemed suitable for them, it didn't mean he couldn’t influence it.

  And Octavia seemed to think that pity was the way to crack Eliza's heart. Not that there was anything particularly pitiful about him. Well, other than he’d destroyed his relationship with his wife based on the lies of a man he’d thought had been a friend. In certain light, that could be deemed as Shakespearean levels of tragedy.

  But then, he was responsible for not believing her, so how could he be pitied?

  Checking his fob watch, he saw it was time to leave. "I must go."

  "Are you sure you don't want to come?" he asked Octavia.

  "And watch you moon over your wife for days on end. No, thank you. Besides, I have my own battle to deal with."

  "This is not battle."

  "Yes, it is. And if you're not careful, it will be your blood on the ground."

  Shaking his head, Caius rose. He didn't entirely prescribe to Octavia's view of the world, or of relationships, but perhaps she was right in the sense that he and Eliza were at odds, and they had to find a way forward, either in the direction he wanted, or the one she wanted.

  It was time to leave and Caius made his way out to the carriage. A trunk had been loaded in the back and he felt a tinge of oddness thinking that Eliza's would join his. It seemed such a mundane thing, but Eliza's things hadn't joined his in a very long time.

  The driver had already been informed of the destination and made his way through the traffic leading to the Westminster Bridge. With each mile, the tension in him rose. Technically it wasn't far between their houses, but they were very different areas, and the streets became much harder to navigate as soon as they crossed the bridge, until they arrived at her small townhouse, in what was seemingly a respectable street for the neighborhood.

  As he opened the carriage door to step out, Eliza emerged from her door. "I hadn't realized this would be such an undertaking when I agreed." There was tartness in her voice. She wasn't pleased.

  "It is the only way, I'm afraid. Lord Sunderstone is off to France and you wouldn’t get a chance to see him again for quite some time. Besides, he would look more favorably on a proposition given to him in his own home than a presentation in some office."

  They stood facing each other for a moment, while the driver organized her things to join his. "Lady Warwick."

  Her jaw tightened in response. She didn't like being referred to either as a lady, or as his lady. Still, she had to know that the title would be expected during the visit.

  For a moment, it looked like she would refuse his hand to assist her as well, but she relented. Her hand was warm in his, slight and soft, unlike his rough and calloused ones. He assisted her, but he wanted to not let go once inside, but he did as he got in himself. Then they were on their way.

  It was a different atmosphere in the carriage with her presence. Both comforting and precarious. Her eyes watched out the window as the streets passed by. She said very little.

  How beautiful she was. The beauty that had so captivated him when he'd met her. He'd seen her and he'd known she would be meaningful to him. Then for many years he’d cursed that beauty.

  Chapter 26:

  SITTING WITH CAIUS LIKE this was uncomfortable and painful. But maybe this was her fault for being so ambitious. Still, a chance to reach all those children, the most needy children in the country was worth personal discomfort.

  And it wasn't as if she thought Caius was lying to her. He wasn't. It was just that words were easy. But equally, he didn't simply want a cordial relationship between them—he wanted reconciliation, even if he wouldn't blatantly say it.

  While she may have said all the things in her heart, as he'd suggested, she still couldn't let go of the feelings—the anger. As much as she wanted to rage, she’d said the things she thought about him and about the whole debacle that had been their marriage. Was their marriage. They were still married, unfortunately, and he saw no justifiable reason for that to change.

  Lady Warwick. She was now in a position to have to embrace the title. For the children. It was worth it for the children.

  In a way, her mind was exhausted, but she couldn't escape Caius in this small carriage. Even with her eyes closed, she felt his presence. And she couldn't let herself look at him, because so many emotions still lay just underneath the surface, threatening to emerge.

  "How is your sister?" she asked, as a means to distract from her own thoughts.

  "Well. I saw her this morning. She is set on dressing down some man who has upset her."

  "I expect she would be good at that." Eliza knew what it felt like enduring Octavia's displeasure. The woman had a means of making one feel like an offending worm. Judging by how harshly Octavia had reacted during the scandal, she would hardly be pleased by Caius' decision not to go ahead with the divorce, or did she also think that vows should be kept even if a total hash had been made of the relationship. "Poor man." Silence descended again. Conversation was so awkward between them. "Your family must be glad you are back."

  "They are." Although with his brother it was debatable. There was a competitiveness between them that they’d never been able to overcome. Octavia was the peacemaker in the family, and if she married, she might take her mediation skills as such with her. "Families come with their own strains."

  "Better than being without."

  "I concur with your sentiment. One should never truly give up on family." A stain colored her cheeks, because she understood the reference. And she was getting tired of reminder them both that he had given up on them as family. "But being in the Orient had its benefits."

  "Such as?" she asked, unable to stop herself being drawn into the conversation. Caius looked pleased with her engagement in the conversation.

  "The Eastern cultures are very different. Fascinating in some respect. History weighs heavily on their thinking. Sometimes in our own, I wonder if we consider it enough."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. In my experience, we often seem to make the same mistake over again. Stay anywhere long enough and you will see people repeat things that never worked well for them."

  "Like us?"

  "Well, as I recall, we worked supremely well together, before the mistake that I refuse to make again."

  A frown drew her brow together. "You believe we can rekindle," she said.

  "I do believe we can. I even believe we should. If we wil
l is another thing altogether. The fundamentals of our relationship are still there, are they not? We had a good marriage, we worked well together. The distance between us is not related to us being unsuitable at the most basic level."

  "That does not mean we should be together."

  "You mean that you should not forgive me."

  "It's not that simple," she said in a stronger tone. He was trying her temper, because he was forcing her to talk about things she didn't want to talk about, maybe even to think about.

  "Nothing ever is. It is just that in my time away from here, I have learned what is worth fighting for."

  She bit her lips together and her eyes returned to the window. On some level, she didn't agree. Perhaps because she was still so angry with him, and he was oversimplifying everything that had happened..

  "So who is this woman you are living with?" he asked

  "Teresa, and her children. You met one of them, if you recall."

  "Honestly, I was so irrational, I don't really recall much."

  Her attention came back to him, and his eyes seemed to draw her back. "Well, you terrified the child."

  "Honestly, I gave myself pause too. I don't normally react that way. Your actions, real or perceived, have a way of… piercing."

  "Well, I found Teresa huddling in the street with her children. She’d fled her husband, and I’d been discarded by mine. As it happened, I was huddling slightly less than she, so I invited her to stay. It turned out to suit both of us. I asked her to come work in the business, and largely we run it together. We share an understanding in that regard."

  "How so?"

  "That women should support one another, particularly when no one else can be depended on. Also perhaps in the firm belief that we should invest in our children, no matter what their background. It is unjust that we ignore some children in our society."

  "A noble cause. Then I am glad I can assist you with it."

  "But also to serve your own purposes."

  He smiled. "It truly is the only way to see Lord Sunderstone, but I will not pretend I am displeased. It gives us the opportunity to get to know each other again, the people we are now."

  The conversation drifted and he let it fall silent.

  "It has been a while since I've left London," she finally said. "Certainly not by carriage."

  "Because of the location of Lord Sunderstone's estate, the rail lines are inconvenient. But I understand there are plans to build rail out that way."

  "It is transforming the country," Eliza said. "It truly is transforming the means and ease of travel."

  "Quite a few things have changed. You notice after returning from a long absence."

  They chatted amiably about things that had changed. Eliza wasn't relishing the conversation, but she participated, and he even made her smile on a few occasions. It was much easier to discuss things that didn't specifically pertain to either of them.

  With weariness, she wondered if they would slip into easy conversation again. Perhaps this was a part of his plan, or on the other side, it was easier to talk of rail developments than about them.

  Then the conversation died for a while and Eliza sat with her eyes closed. It wasn't a nap as such, but more a rest. It was something she liked to do when she traveled. It also gave her a way to escape his scrutiny, and provided a means for their conversation not to become too easy.

  “I believe there is an inn not too far ahead.” Both of them would benefit from stretching their legs a bit, and a moment away from such nearness.

  In all honestly, Eliza wasn’t sure how she felt about a visit to a country house. They were designed for intimate groups of friends, wiling away hours in each other's company. Social gatherings had been very low on her priority for years, and she hadn't missed them a bit. Now she found them uncomfortable and awkward. Also she wondered if her complete focus on business these years had made her unsuited to such activities. But she had to traverse this unpleasantness to achieve her goal.

  For a moment, she studied Caius as he wasn’t looking at her when she opened her eyes. His face had changed a little, become broader. His time away had changed him, had changed his demeanor. There was a heaviness in him, which was probably a good part due to his guilt and unhappiness of the state of things. But she had a feeling it was more than that, more than them. He’d had experiences that had changed him too, had been to war, had seen things that the man she had known hadn’t.

  But then she had changed too, and she prided herself on that as opposed to being devastated by her reduced circumstances, she had flourished. She felt as if she had done well for herself. She was proud of her achievements without him, and she now knew she could handle anything that was thrown at her.

  Now she had to deal with him and she was curious to see how she would do so.

  He would push and she would push back. Still, she remembered the time where there had been no pushing between them, when they’d come together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Memories she didn’t want encroaching now. They didn’t suit her purposes.

  Quickly, she closed her eyes so he would not catch her studying him.

  Chapter 27:

  THE GENTLE KNOCK ON the roof drew Eliza out of her half slumber. Caius wanted to stop. Opening her eyes, she tried to orient herself for a moment.

  "We're approaching the inn. I thought we could both use some refreshment."

  "Right," she said and straightened in her seat, trying to rid herself of her sleepiness. The hoof falls, the gentle swaying of the carriage, it had all been quite lulling, and she’d likely be fully asleep soon if they weren't stopping.

  The carriage pulled to a stop outside the inn. A brick building with flowers planted under the windows. It looked respectable enough.

  Caius stepped down onto the gravel and turned to assist her. In some ways, she wanted to refuse his help, but it would stir more attention than it was worth. Even if they were strangers, he was bound to assist her. Perhaps it was that she didn't like touching him. He wore no gloves, but she did, and she was grateful for it. Because in her gut, she knew he would take as much as she was prepared to give.

  The inn was quiet, but they weren't the only people there as they walked in. There were tables of different sizes, some were occupied, while others weren't. The dark wood contrasted with white walls.

  The proprietor approached, wearing a clean apron, which was comforting to see.

  "Are you hungry?" Caius asked, as they searched for a suitable seat, taking one over in the corner by the window.

  "The Mrs. has just pulled out some scones from the oven,” the man said jovially. “They do smell lovely if I say so myself," he finished and Eliza's mouth watered even thinking about fresh scones coming out of the oven.

  "With some tea, please," she added.

  "And I will come peruse your selection of tipple."

  "This way," the man said, leading him to the serving bar, where a couple of men stood, quietly partaking in their ales.

  Caius was searching for whiskey, a habit he seemed not to have lost. An interest she didn't understand, but she supposed she appreciated his consistency with it.

  Before long, he returned with a glass of golden liquid. "Anything interesting?"

  "He had an Irish I've never tried," he said when he sat down. "I do like the Irish."

  "I think you like all of them."

  "They all have different features. This one is a little sharper. Another few years and it would settle down nicely. Not that it's bad."

  "You should build your own cellar and wait for them to age."

  "Yes, but unfortunately my uncle's cellar is full of wine."

  Throughout the time she'd known him, he'd never been as enthusiastic about wine as he was about whiskey, or anything else for that matter. "Throw a house party and they'll drink your wine cellar dry."

  "Ugh, I'd have to have people over."

  "You used to be quite enthusiastic about house parties."

  "Once upon a tim
e. It has been a long time since I’ve attended country parties. Much less hosted any. Honestly I think I’m more wary of this house party than you are."

  Eliza hadn’t been aware her wariness was quite so noticeable. He’d obviously observed it, or the assumption was not peculiar under the circumstances.

  The proprietor returned with a tray carrying a teapot and a basket of scones, a small pot of jam and a portion of butter. It smelled lovely, bringing back childhood memories. Why had it been so long since she'd eaten a scone? Because it had been a while since she'd had lazy days indulging in treats.

  With the knife she cut one in half and smeared on butter, which melted with the warmth. Like this, she actually preferred them savory, so she forwent the jam and stuck with butter. They tasted lovely.

  Caius watched her and she blushed. "Would you like one?"

  "I might. In a moment."

  "Don't take too long, or they will cool."

  With a smile, he raised his glass to his lips and sipped.

  "Will you not miss your commission?"

  "No," he said without doubt. "Maybe. I don't know yet. Some parts perhaps, others not at all. I won't miss any of it sufficiently that I would wish to undo coming back. I have seen some amazing things, and I have seen things I wish I hadn't."

  His expression told her he was earnest. A part of her felt she should be responsible, but she refused. She hadn't done anything to cause him to take the commission.

  "So now you are to settle down and be a gentleman farmer?"

  "In essence."

  "What if it doesn't suit you?"

  "Then I will not fare well. One must find ways of making it suit. Could you imagine no way of living if you didn't have your business?"

  "We would be substantially worse off if we didn't."

  "You would be intent on refusing my assistance, then?"

  This was not the conversation she wished to have. "Your assistance, over the years, has been very helpful."

  "It was also spiteful."

  "I never saw it that way."

  "I could have afforded to keep you better."