Caroline and the Captain: A Regency Novella (4 page)

She walked with the earl through the park, reliving the touch of his mouth on hers. His kiss had been surprisingly gentle. With them both chilled in their damp clothes, and the hard marble surface of the gazebo floor the only option for a seduction, she’d felt relatively safe, and that had stemmed her panic. She’d had to gamble on him being a gentleman when she brought him here, for she couldn’t have broached this subject in the house. She was still surprised that he’d accepted so readily. There was no sign of disgust or disappointment in his brown eyes. But when the time came, would his disillusionment turn him against her? Men were so different to women. So much more passionate and proprietorial.

Rain drops trickled onto her hat from the branches overhead, but at least it had stopped raining. He must think her strange at best and a fool at worst. Now that the earl seemed determined to marry her, she would have to deal with each situation as it arose. His large masculine presence hindered her attempts to think things through, and she’d become muddled. Fear still gripped her ribcage in a vice at what lay ahead after they married. Whatever way she decided to avoid the marriage bed, she must be convincing to hold him off. He was cleverer than George and would be more demanding. She sighed, hating the secrecy. If only it was George she was marrying.

Nicholas walked beside her with a determined stride. So far, he’d proved to be reasonable, not like she’d expected at all. He was a soldier, however, used to giving orders, and his emphatic refusal of her request to wait a year proved that. She would have to start thinking of a plan soon, and a good one.

Obviously, she couldn’t hold him off forever, but she feared she would
never
be able to stand the act. The very thought of it made her stomach roil. She cast him a sidelong glance as he strolled beside her, his long legs taking one step to her two. She could hardly believe he was George’s brother, he seemed so unlike him. George had appeared reassuringly indifferent to the duties of the marriage bed, whereas Nicholas was a man made for sex; it was evident in every move of his strongly muscled body, his startlingly warm gaze, and his kiss.

They walked up through the orchard. Her fingers trembled when she plucked an apple blossom from a branch as they passed. She held it to her nose, and breathed in the delicate perfume as an idea came to her.

He gazed at her approvingly. “Your fresh beauty eclipses that flower.”

Did he think her beautiful? “How poetical, Lord Debenham.”

“I’ve read the poets,” Nicholas said. “But I don’t pretend to be one.”

“Why did you choose the army, after studying mathematics at Oxford?”

“A second son has to find his way in the world. There was nothing here for me.”

“But you might have been an academic, gone into the church, or chosen politics like your father.”

“I’m a man who prefers to be active,” he said a heated look in his eye.

Caroline threw the blossom away. “We’d better hurry; I don’t like the look of that sky.”

“You’re now willing to admit it might rain?” he asked with a crooked grin.

She must have appeared overbearing, and wrong, as it turned out. Chewing her bottom lip, she managed to halt the laugh tickling her throat. “I’d best return your coat.”

“You may keep it until we are inside,” he said. A gallant gesture for he must be chilly. His buff waistcoat was spotted with raindrops and his white linen shirt clung to his broad chest and defined the muscles of his upper arms.

Dropping her gaze Caroline pulled the coat closer. “Your cravat appears to be ruined. I am sorry.”

“It’s of no importance.” He smiled. “I did plan to become an architect when I left university. My father didn’t like the idea, he wanted me to become a politician. After we argued, I decided on a whim to join the army.”

“Did you come to regret it?”

“No. I liked army life. But architecture holds no interest for me now, and politics does.” He gave a rueful smile. “I was a hot head when I was young.”

She gazed at him carefully. “But you don’t have a bad temper now?”

He narrowed his eyes, but could not hide the flash of humor. “Appalling, I’m afraid. I fear I shall beat my wife every Sunday.”

She gave a tremulous smile.

He laughed and took her arm. “I am joking Caroline, I’m the mildest of fellows.”

She could only hope he was.

They entered the house and delivered their news to her delighted parents. During afternoon tea, her parents discussed the wedding. A notice was to appear in the Morning Post. Events rushed to a conclusion over which Caroline had no control. She accepted it with a nervous quiver of excitement and a good deal of trepidation.

In the weeks that followed, Caroline’s elated mother took her on endless shopping trips to London. A renowned couturier made her wedding dress and trousseau. Finely stitched undergarments and nightgowns designed to delight the most demanding husband. And she didn’t enjoy a minute of it.

“I wish you were happier about this wedding, my dear,” her mother said as they emerged from the milliners.

“Oh Mama, I am merely a little nervous,” she said. She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I am so grateful to you and Father. You have been so generous.”

“We only have one daughter. And for a while I feared we wouldn’t have grandchildren.”

Poor Mama, she was still so sad. It filled her with guilt. Caroline wasn’t sure she would have children. Or whether it was even possible. “Not everyone can, Mama.”

“Oh, dear, don’t even say that.” Mama laughed. “What nonsense. A strong young woman like you. Of course, you will. And they will be fine looking children.” She cast Caroline a doubtful glance. “Your betrothed is a very handsome man. And interesting I find.” She raised her brows. “Surely you think so?”

“Yes, I suppose he is,” Caroline said. A little too much so. The way he looked at her last night after dinner when they’d played whist in the drawing room, as if he wanted to undress her, made her study her cards for too long in nervous embarrassment. All her plans to keep him at bay became less effective each time she saw him. And he’d invited them to dine on Saturday evening at Debenham Park, where she suspected he would attempt to see her alone.

“You look very pretty, my dear,” her father said as they traveled to Debenham Park. “Your fiancée is hardly getting a bad bargain with you.”

Caroline wished he hadn’t reminded her of why Nicholas was marrying her. She smoothed the skirts of her embroidered white muslin, and patted her hair elaborately curled and dressed with a circlet of violets as the carriage drew up outside the house. The old building looked like a fairytale with the warm glow of candlelight spilling out from the windows.

Dressed in a dark blue wool tailcoat with a blue plush velvet collar, a grey-and-white embroidered waistcoat and grey pantaloons, his cravat expertly tied, he seemed to have changed from the soldier she’d first met. He looked every inch the elegant and sophisticated earl as he came to greet them. 

Nicholas had spared nothing to entertain them royally. They dined beneath the heavily beamed ceiling, in the dining room where a handsome crystal chandelier threw golden light over the polished table and oak paneled walls.  Kettle and Horace served a tasty dinner of cauliflower soup, baked and stuffed salmon, jugged hare, roast lamb and a variety of vegetables. Her father remarked on the superb quality of the wines brought up from the cellar. The conversation was lively. They discussed Prinny’s extravagant domestic expenditure which had been brought to light in Parliament, and his infatuation with the Stuarts. The Prince of Wales planned to erect a monument designed by Canova in Rome in memory of the exiled Stuarts, for which the Whigs were up in arms.

Syllabub and nuts were served for the dessert course.

“You have an excellent cook,” Father said, putting down his spoon with a satisfied sigh.

After dinner, Caroline rose with her mother and left the room to take coffee in the drawing room leaving the earl and her father to drink port and discuss the changes to taxes and government bills.

“It’s a charming old house,” Mama said, seated on the sofa. She picked up the Spode bone china teacup from which the rich aroma of coffee wafted, and gazed around the room. “But my goodness, you will be busy restoring it to its former grandeur.”

Caroline knew her mother would not miss the faded damask drapes nor the worn arms on the sofa. “I will enjoy it.” She could say that honestly. She was keen to make changes. She just wished she was as keen to embrace the other demands marriage would make on her.

♥♥♥

Nicholas strolled into the drawing room with Sir Marcus at his elbow. The ladies sat on the sofa before the fireplace, where a wood fire crackled in the hearth. He could see where Caroline got her looks. Lady Mirringham was an attractive woman in her green silk, a feathered headdress adorning her fair curls. She had the same delicate appearance, which could be deceiving. He imagined she was just as determined as her daughter when the need arose. Neither she nor her husband had been taken into Caroline’s confidence about this business which occurred some years ago. If some rake had ravaged her, Caroline was extraordinarily brave to have kept it to herself. His curiosity as to what had happened to her returned full force as she smiled up at him. He would find out, and was determined that the fellow, no matter the extent of his seduction, would not get away with it. He curled his fingers into his palms at the thought. Perhaps then, his marriage had a reasonable chance of success.

As Sir Marcus settled by the fire with his brandy, Nicholas turned to Caroline. “Have you seen the portrait gallery?”

“No, George never showed me much of the house.”

“You must view my ancestors and see what a fine lot they are. You can hardly take me and my family on trust.”

Sir Marcus and his wife laughed.

“Yes. Do go and view them Caroline,” Sir Marcus said.

As Caroline failed to express any eagerness at the proposal, and was obviously wrestling with a polite refusal, Nicholas held out his arm. “May I escort you?”

She rose silently and he tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow. They strolled from the room. “Do you have any ancestors you’d rather not mention?” he asked politely.

He was glad to see her lips twitch. “One or two.”

“We can’t claim blue beard, but there’s a baron who couldn’t explain the disappearance of two of his wives.”

Her eyes widened, as they climbed the staircase together.

“My goodness. Did he murder them?”

“It was thought they ran away and left him.”

“Did they leave with another man?”

“I don’t believe so, but it’s said that the baron became quite odd when there was a full moon. Danced around naked and performed all sorts of strange rituals.”

When she abruptly stopped to gaze up into his face, he couldn’t hide his laughter.

Caroline grinned back at him. “You are a dreadful tease.”

“I look forward to the day when our portrait joins these, and our children’s,” he said, as they approached the long gallery.

She dropped her hand from his arm. Her eyes looked so stricken he was rendered silent. He stood aside for her to enter, fighting not to question her further. Now was not the time. Patience, he urged himself, while fully aware that quality was sadly lacking in him.  He was more at home giving orders and expecting them to be carried out. Returning to society was testing him more than he’d ever imagined.

Caroline moved silently along the gilt-framed paintings, like a general inspecting his troops. He refused to be the first to comment, merely waiting for her. She paused before Elizabeth, the Countess of Debenham in the early 1700s, who held her son, Edward, in her lap, and then continued on. They reached the end of the gallery and she turned to smile at him. “They are most impressive. Thank you for allowing me to view them.” She moved toward the door.

Nicholas’ patience, or the lack of it, made him walk after her and grab her by the arm, swinging her around to face him. “What is the matter?”

Her eyes were huge, grey-violet pools and her cheeks flamed pink. But she frowned and pulled out of his grasp. “What if I cannot give you an heir?”

Startled, he dropped his hand from her arm. “Is there a medical reason why you cannot?”

“No…I…”

He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, studying her. “I think you owe me more than that, Caroline.”

“It’s just a fear I have. You are marrying me to secure Debenham Park for generations to come, and for that you require an heir. I cannot guarantee I’ll be able to provide you with one. Are you sure you want to take a chance on me?”

He gazed into her pretty face, her smooth brow creased with worry. She’d again offered him means to end this engagement. He might have taken it, if he wasn’t so damned attracted to her.  He was ready to try for an heir right here and now. “What woman can ever guarantee that?”

“I suppose none, really. Then you have made up your mind?”

“Of course I have, dammit, Caroline. What a question to ask when they’re calling the bans in Debenham church tomorrow. Is it your wish to end our engagement? You can, I assure you. You don’t appear to find the prospect of marrying me at all pleasing.”

She flushed, the warmth spreading from the creamy skin of her décolletage over her throat. “This has nothing to do with you.”

He pushed away from the wall and held her in place, his hands on her shoulders as she tried to leave the room and end the conversation. “It has everything to do with me. And you.” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, then lifted her chin with a finger. “A man and a woman marry with a view to having children. No one knows what the future holds, but one at least begins with that hope. Is that not right?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then if you don’t have a physical reason to consider it unlikely, I shall continue to hope.”

She licked her full bottom lip and nodded.

He averted his gaze from her inviting mouth. Did he really want a reluctant bride? Something within him stopped him giving up on her. He wasn’t a man who gave up easily, but that wasn’t all of it. She reminded him of an injured fawn he’d brought home as a boy. Despite George’s derision, he’d fed and cared for the animal until it recovered. Then he’d released it into the woods. Was he mad? She was hardly like that fawn; she could exercise her free will if she chose. And she was dashed strong-minded too. Perhaps he should let her go.

“Unless, you wish to call a halt to this wedding. If so, do it now, Caroline, let’s not carry this any further.” His thumb stroked her chin. “What say you?” he asked softening his tone.

“I would prefer we continue as planned.”

He sighed, wondering why she did prefer it. “Very well. With a bit of effort on both sides, I believe we can turn this into a good marriage.” If not a blissful one, he thought.

Her doubtful gaze met his. “I want that, too, especially for you, Lord Debenham.”

Wasn’t it what she wished for herself? He didn’t understand her at all. A tryst with some rake that went too far in some moonlit garden, could not have produced this level of anxiety. He’d bet quite a few debutantes weren’t maidens at the altar and the groom never the wiser. “Want it for yourself, too, sweetheart.” He stroked her neck. He couldn’t resist lowering his mouth to hers. But the moment he took her sweet lips, she stilled in his arms. He could feel her pulse beating madly in her throat beneath his fingers. With a sigh, he stepped away and offered her his arm. “Shall we go down?”

She smiled tremulously at him. “I did like your ancestors, Nicholas. Especially the one with the black-and-white spaniel. He reminded me of you and Hugo.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m flattered. He was a soldier too. A brave one by all accounts.”