Caroline and the Captain: A Regency Novella (3 page)

He walked to the stables.

The head groom, Bellows, came out as he approached. “Would you be wanting me to saddle a horse, milord?”

“No. I want to see the horses we have here.”  He went along the stalls, inspecting the dozen horses. Their soft eyes followed him as he patted each of their heads. He came to a seventeen hand chestnut stallion who snorted contempt at Nicholas’ attempt to get to know him.

“That’s Crown Ruler, the new stallion your brother bought at the Tattersall’s auction in London. A few days before he…”

“Is he skittish?” Nicholas asked wondering if the animal had caused the fall.

“Not bad. Your brother could ride him,” Bellows said. “Could ride anything, could his lordship.”

“You’re right. Strange business, Bellows. Any idea what happened?”

“Haven’t a clue, milord. Most extraordinary business.”

A howl sounded from within the stables.

“What on earth is that?”

“That’s Hugo, one of your brother’s hunting dogs. Misses him something terrible he does.”

Nicholas ducked inside and the black-and-white hound rushed to him. Nicholas squatted and rubbed the dog’s ears. “What’s up, fella?

The dog whined and licked his hand. “Like to come for a run? I will ride, Bellows. Saddle Crown Ruler.”

After Bellows saddled the stallion, Nicholas rode out over the estate with the hound at his heels. The horse was skittish, perhaps because it hadn’t been ridden for a while. But George would have managed the stallion in his sleep.

Nicholas rode for miles along the road through the fields. He visited two of his tenant farmers, and was unnerved by their poor circumstances. He made promises to them he was determined to keep. It sealed his fate. He must now marry an heiress and quickly, although it still did not sit well with him.

Riding back to the house, he planned to have Miss Mirrington show him the spot where George had fallen. He wanted to see her reaction. Did he distrust her? He wasn’t sure. But then, he wasn’t sure of anything. He would make up his mind about Miss Mirrington tomorrow.

When he dismounted at the stables, Hugo sat looking at him expectantly, his tail thumping the ground. “Heel, Hugo.” Nicholas snapped his fingers and the dog followed him to the house.

The following afternoon, Nicholas rode over to call on his neighbor. When he was shown into Sir Marcus’ library, he asked to see his daughter. “I thought you would come to see the sense of it, milord.” Looking pleased, he rang for a servant.

Miss Mirrington entered the room dressed in a morning gown printed with small blue flowers. The modest high ruffled neckline revealed little of her charms. Her only adornment, a small cross on a silver chain. She looked pale and composed. Her lack of enthusiasm at the sight of him made Nicholas uneasy.

Sir Marcus’ eyes twinkled. “My dear, Lord Debenham wishes a private word with you.”

Nicholas watched as several emotions crossed Miss Mirrington’s expressive face. None was reassuring. Apprehension seemed paramount. Well, that was to be expected wasn’t it?

“Take his lordship into the drawing room,” Sir Marcus said, as his wife entered and greeted Nicholas warmly.

“I prefer to walk in the garden.” Miss Mirrington firmed her lips showing surprising spirit.

Lady Mirrington looked as if she would argue, but nodded. “Take your maid, Caroline.”

Caroline fixed her mother with a speaking glance. “Sarah is busy sorting clothes.”

Well, what was this? Nicholas’ early fear that she was difficult resurfaced. While he admired spirit, he disliked inflexibility and stubbornness. He’d dealt with too much of that in the men under him in his regiment, but he could hardly employ those tactics here. He had no patience with obstinacy, if that was what this was. 

Lady Mirrington, obviously as pleased as her husband with events, protested mildly, then after a warning look from her spouse, gave in.

Nicholas followed Miss Mirrington out into the gardens wondering at the wisdom of walking outdoors. The spring weather was unpredictable, and heavy grey clouds hovered above them. It looked very much like it would rain.

Miss Mirrington led him along the parterre garden paths and through a stone arch onto the lawns of the park.

“Where might we be going?” he asked pleasantly, breaking an uneasy silence.

“I thought we’d visit the lake.”

“As you wish, but it does look like rain.”

“Nonsense. The wind will blow those clouds away.”

“I don’t believe there is much wind.”
Stubborn!
Nicholas walked with her across the grass, glancing at the still branches of the trees above them, where barely a leaf stirred. In fact, the moist air definitely heralded an imminent rain shower.

“It’s a long time since you’ve lived here.” Miss Mirrington’s delicate brows lowered in a frown. “You must be unfamiliar with the weather.”

“I doubt it has changed dramatically in the last decade,” Nicholas said mildly. Yes, she was stubborn as that mule they’d had in Spain. But he couldn’t slap this young lady’s behind, however much he’d like to.

When they reached the lake, their conversation didn’t improve. In fact, she barely spoke.

With a glance at the overcast sky, Nicholas stood with her on the bank before an expanse of rippling grey water, observing the water birds swimming and diving into the murky depths. The breeze smelled of mud and rotting vegetation. Why were they here? If they were to tackle this apparently thorny subject, they could have done it in relative comfort in the drawing room.

Nicholas grew annoyed. Something must be done to stir this difficult lady into revealing more of herself. He cleared his throat.

Without warning, the skies opened. In a few minutes, they’d be drenched to the skin.

“Come this way,” Miss Mirrington called, a blurred figure in the misty rain, running ahead of him. Farther along the shore, a marble columned gazebo offered some shelter. She was quite fleet of foot, picking up her skirts and showing a good deal of slim calf, her bonnet dangling by its ribbon. Wishing himself elsewhere, Nicholas loped along beside her.

They ducked into the shelter of the arched roof, and stood gazing at each other. Nicholas took out his handkerchief and offered the cambric square to her.

She declined his offer with a shake of her head, pushing back a wet lock of hair and settling her bonnet on her head, the soggy daisies adorning it now drooping sadly.

Nicholas wiped the rain from his face, congratulating himself on his remarkable restraint in resisting the temptation to say he told her so. He should be angered by this ridiculous display of bad manners, but was distracted by the thin muslin of her gown clinging to her body, exposing the jutting shape of her full breasts. His gaze roamed to where the damp dress pressed against her slim thighs outlining an enticing curve at the base of her stomach. His body tightened and he looked away disconcerted. With all that had happened, he hadn’t even thought about sex for far too long.

“You’ll catch cold.” Unsettled by his inappropriate thoughts, he shrugged out of his coat and placed it around her shoulders, wondering if she’d reject this gesture also.

“Thank you.” She was so slender she almost wrapped his coat around herself twice. He regretted losing that beguiling view.

“I suppose you know why I’ve come,” he said, determined to get to the point before they both came down with pneumonia.

Her damp, dark-blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face, and a pair of intelligent grey eyes studied him. “Father did mention it.”

“Then we should talk about it, don’t you think?”

“I expect so,” she said without a shred of enthusiasm.

“First, there is something I need to ask you,” Nicholas said.

“And there is something I need to tell you,” she countered in a firm tone.

Nicholas bowed. “Ladies first.”

“No, it might be better if you go first,” she said.

Cold and uncomfortable, he was quickly losing patience. He ran his hands through his wet hair, pushing it back off his face and sending a shaft of cold water sliding down his neck. “Did you love my brother?”

Her eyes widened. “Love? No, not in the way you mean. I was very fond of him. He was my best friend.”

“He was that kind of man wasn’t he?” Nicholas smiled. A rush of affection was followed swiftly by deep grief.

“Yes, he was gentle,” she said quietly observing him. “I understand why you loved him.”

“Now your question.” Nicholas expected it to be something about the terms of the marriage, whether they would spend each Season in London, that sort of thing.

“I want you to know something about me, before you ask for my hand. But I have to swear you to secrecy, my lord.”

Such drama, could he live with it? At twenty perhaps, but not now at nine-and-twenty. “You have my promise.”

Surprised, he watched as her eyes darkened. She took a moment, obviously struggling with framing the words.

“I am not a maiden, my lord.”

The air left Nicholas’ lungs with a whoosh. He almost staggered back. It was the last thing he’d expected from this precise, prickly miss. “Not . . .”

“Should we marry; you would not be the first.” Her lips trembled.

Not surprising that she was distressed. It had hit him like a punch to the jaw. “Was it, George?” he asked in dismay. It seemed the prospect of them marrying was quashed. He could not follow George into the matrimonial bed.

“No!” She shook her head. “George would never have…. I don’t intend to go into the details.
Ever.
Only to say it was years ago. You shall have to accept that it is so, and if you can’t…well.” She shrugged her shoulders and moved to lean against a marble column and stare across the rain-beaten water.

He knew her to be three-and-twenty. When had some bounder taken her maidenhead? Did the affair occur in London? Some rake she had a crush on? It happened. Chaperones sometimes failed in their duty. But why tell him of it? Her honesty was breathtaking. Or was it a ploy to discourage his suit? Might there be another man she hoped to marry? Someone unsuitable to her father?

“And George knew about this?”

“He did. He didn’t care.”

“No” he said heavily. “I doubt George would.”

“Your brother vowed never to speak of it again.” Her voice throbbed a little.

He was well within his rights to give up his suit, and maybe he should for both their sakes. If that was what she wanted. Cry off with some excuse. Without thinking, Nicholas took her by the shoulders, finding them slender under his hands. “I don’t care either,” he found himself saying. He actually didn’t, although he was damned curious about the blighter who’d made her so unhappy. For unhappy she undoubtedly was, it was evident in every line of her body as she stood there, rather courageously, he thought, awaiting his condemnation.

Large grey eyes widened in disbelief. “You don’t?”

He searched her pretty eyes for a sign of disappointment, but found only concern and shame in her searching gaze.

“No.” Deflowering a virgin had never appealed to him. “We need never mention it again.”

“There’s one other thing.” She sounded desperate. What would she throw at him next? Was she still pining for her lover? He held up a finger to stop her.

“I expect my wife to be faithful.”

A pink flush colored her cheeks. “But of course. George agreed that our marriage would not be consummated for at least a year. I would have the same promise from you.”

Good old George, Nicholas thought with amusement.

“No, Miss Mirrington.” His brother may have been able to live with a pretty girl under his roof and not make love to her. He was made of a weaker resolve. In fact, he suffered a sudden wish to bite that full bottom lip of hers. “You’ll get no such assurance from me.”

Her brows flew up with alarm. “You won’t?”

“I require an heir. Don’t you want children?”

She grasped her hands together. “Surely there’s plenty of time for that. It’s just that I would need that year to get to know you.”

“Nonsense,” he said softly. He stepped closer and held her resolute chin in the heel of his hand. “Sharing a bed is the most effective way.” He rubbed a thumb over that rosy lip he wished to kiss. She really was the most extraordinary girl. She would have been closely watched all her life. How had it happened?

“Did this occur in London, during the Season, Miss Millington?”

She dropped her gaze. “No.”

Did she really know what losing one’s virginity was all about? Or was she just being theatrical. But he had made his decision and was keen to move forward. “Now that we’ve got those troubling issues out of the way,” he said briskly, “what say you, Miss Mirrington. Will you marry me?”

The guarded look remained, but she nodded, a slight flush on her pale cheeks.

“Yes, my lord. I will marry you.”

Nicholas wondered why she’d given in without fighting for her independence, which was what he assumed she really wanted. He suspected she liked a good fight. A sudden suspicion that she would adopt another delaying tactic, gave him pause. He took the jeweler’s box from his pocket. The Debenham rose-cut diamond sparkled in its intricate setting. Taking her hand, he slipped the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit. He didn’t miss how her fingers trembled in his.

“It’s lovely.” She held her hand up to the light.

“I thought George would have given this to you,” he said, wondering if she knew it had been sold.

“He wanted to sell the diamonds. He needed to make an urgent payment to someone. He said it was a matter of life and death.”

“Life and death?” A cold breeze blew across his damp back and chilled him to the bone. He managed to smile. “George’s language tended to be a bit overblown at times.”

When Nicholas drew her toward him, she stiffened under his hands. “I just want to kiss you. A mere formality,” he said huskily. She looked like a young fawn that might bolt at any moment. What had happened to her? He would learn of it given time. But not now. Now he wanted to enjoy the sweetness of her mouth, and see how her slim body fitted against his.

Nicholas lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, learning the shape of her lips and the feel of her in his arms. When her full lips quivered, he drew away, resisting the urge to push into the sweet cavern of her mouth. Despite what she’d told him, she kissed like a green girl. Intrigued, he offered her his arm.

“It’s stopped raining. Let’s go and tell your parents, shall we?”

“Very well.”

She was hardly an eager bride. She looked more like she was going to a funeral rather than an engagement celebration. He was wondering why he’d committed himself, he could have looked further afield for a wife, but when the clouds drifted away and the azure sky turned her eyes bluer, he wanted to kiss her again. He was after all by nature an optimist. He just wished she hadn’t held herself stiffly apart from him. What
was
he getting himself into?

♥♥♥

Caroline had no option but to agree. She knew her father too well. If he should learn that she’d refused the earl because she demanded a year before the marriage was consummated, he would dismiss it out of hand as hysterical nonsense.