Desiring Lady Caro (26 page)

He left the door open and motioned the cleric to sit. “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, sir. May I know your name?”

“Indeed, I am the Right Reverend Hubert Weston. I have had some acquaintance with your brother.” John frowned, and Weston hurried to say, “I’ve been given to understand you are a much different sort of gentleman than he was.”

“I would hope.” John tried to keep from scowling. “If I were of the same ilk, you’d refuse to perform the ceremony. There will be nothing harum-scarum about this marriage. I’ve already drawn up the settlements.”

When Horatia entered the room, he went to her and took her hand. “My love, this is Mr. Weston, who will be able to perform the wedding ceremony.”

Thankfully, she beamed. “How wonderful. What do we need to do?”

The only difficulty was John wanted to wait until the next morning and Horatia wanted to be married that afternoon. The contretemps was solved by Mr. Weston.

“My lord, my lady, this afternoon would suit me better. I am to leave to-morrow after luncheon. I do hope you understand.”

“Perfectly,” she replied and smiled at John. “You see, my love, we cannot wait.”

John glanced up at the ceiling. “Very well, we shall have Smyth and La Valle sort it all out. Mr. Weston, I hope you will be able to join us for a small celebration after the wedding.”

He bowed. “I would be delighted, my lord.”

“Right, then,” Horatia said and walked to the door to call their servants. When Smyth and La Valle arrived, she glanced at Weston. “In two hours?”

“Yes, my lady, if you wish.”

Horatia nodded briskly at La Valle. “Have Risher attend me in my chamber and gather everyone else. I would like to marry on the terrace.”

La Valle bowed. “My lady. Everything will be ready.”

Horatia felt like a giddy girl again. She was getting married and this time to someone she was in love with. Nothing could be better. If only she could wrap her arms around him and kiss him. Unfortunately, the vicar was still in the room. Instead she took John’s hand. “I shall see you soon.”

He raised her fingers to his lips, and the tingles ran through her. His gaze, warm with desire, was enough.

“Mr. Weston. Thank you.”

It was all she could do to walk sedately up the stairs. Risher was there when Horatia arrived. “The wedding is in two hours. Find something appropriate.”

John sent the settlement agreement he’d drawn up. Horatia read the document carefully. He had been adamant that none of her money would go to the property his father and brother had so badly dissipated. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. If she’d had any doubts at all, the agreement banished them.

Two hours later, she was dressed in a Pomona-green silk day gown. One of the servants’ children brought flowers for her hair, and she wore a long strand of perfectly matched pearls looped twice around her neck. Risher and La Valle accompanied her down the stairs and out onto the terrace, where all the others were gathered. It was good to be married among the people who had become her family.
If only Huntley and Caro were here
.

John looked particularly handsome in a dark blue jacket of Bath coating, and breeches.

“Right,” Mr. Weston said, “I see we are all present. Shall we begin?”

For the second time, and hopefully the last, Horatia said her vows. This time, rather than staring at the floor, she gazed into her soon-to-be-husband’s eyes. When it was John’s turn, his gaze captured hers. In all her life, she’d never felt so loved.

Not many minutes later, it was over, and she was now the Countess of Devon. Horatia wondered how that fact alone would change her life. She’d left England after a different sort of hasty marriage and under a cloud. She’d spent years re-building her reputation, and now she would return with a husband who was determined to repair his family’s name.

John handed her a glass of champagne. “To us, my lady.”

“To us, my lord.” Tears misted her vision, but she would not cry.

She had never been happier. They had a lot of work to do, and possibly a baby on the way, and finally, finally, her life had meaning again.

 

Huntley handed Caro down in the yard of the Hôtel de l’Europe on the edge of Strasbourg’s old town.

“I refuse,” Caro announced, “to travel another foot until I’ve had at least two days to walk around.”

Hoping to mollify her, he agreed. “I think we all need a pause in our journey. Will a full day suit you? We’re only three more days from Nancy.”

“Very well, one day.” She glanced up at him and heaved a sigh. “I am so tired of this constant traveling.”

“I know, my love. Yet the roads aren’t good enough to allow us to go faster. You’d be bounced to death.” He wanted so badly to tell her he loved her, but the last time he’d approached the subject of the permanency of their marriage, she’d looked afraid. Though lately, he was almost positive she loved him as well. Perhaps now she’d tell him how she felt.

“I know you’re right.” She shook her head. “I feel like I’ve been jostled to death already.”

Maufe came out to announce their chambers had been arranged and led them in. Rather than take her hand, Huntley put his arm around her. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had a bath.”

She leaned closer to him. “I’m sorry I’m being pettish.”

Perhaps if he found some chocolate for her she’d feel better. “You have a right to be.”

“May we take a short walk before dinner? I know it’s late.”

“If you wish.” He brought one of her hands up to kiss it. “I’d like one as well.”

While Caro washed the dust of travel off, he found Maufe. “Ask the landlord if there is some sort of café with chocolate desserts.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The sun hung on the horizon, streaking the clouds with pink against the deepening blue sky as they strolled down to the canal surrounding Strasbourg. Seeing another couple walking arm in arm, Huntley placed his around Caro.

She smiled at him, her earlier tension gone from her lovely face. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“Yes, it’s a good place to stop for a pause. I’ll be very happy to arrive in Nancy. I know it’s not the end of our journey, but we will all be together again. I’m worried about Horatia.”

Caro’s voice was soft. “You worry about everyone you care for. It is your nature.”

He raised a brow. He’d always thought of his father as the one who fretted about his family. Yet now that Huntley had a wife . . . “I suppose it is. I’ve never thought about it before.”

She turned them up a street leading back to the hotel. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Since we want to try the local dishes, the chef suggested
choucroute garnie.
Ham, sausage, and sauerkraut.”

“It sounds interesting. That is the one thing I have enjoyed, tasting all the different dishes.”

Shortly after they’d returned to the private parlor at the hotel and begun dinner, Maufe came in with a small box. It wasn’t large enough to hold even a piece of torte. Huntley took the package. “What is it?”

Maufe grinned. “Something very special.”

After dinner, Huntley ordered champagne and set the box before Caro. While he filled their glasses, she opened it. Several round chocolate disks were wrapped in tissue paper. He’d never seen anything like it before.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Chocolate, though I’ve never seen it in that form before.”

Caro picked one up and took a bite. “Mmm. Heavenly.”

He looked at the card inside the box. “Debauve and Gallais. Chocolate
pistoles
.” He took one from the box and tasted. “Whoever brings these to England will make a fortune.”

Caro took a second one. “I agree. We should visit their shop before we leave.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Knowing you, you’ll buy out their whole stock.”

Smiling, Caro nodded. It seemed to take so little to make her happy. God, how he loved her. Just the thought she might still be thinking about leaving him drove him mad.

That night in bed, he noticed her breasts were a little larger and there was a hint of a soft swell to her stomach. He was glad she’d finally recovered from her illness and gained some weight. She gave a high, breathy sigh as he caressed her. Once they arrived in Nancy and he’d assured himself his aunt was well, he’d have a serious discussion with Caro. He’d tell her how much he loved her and pray she could love him in return, after which they’d have to thrash out where to live until they returned to England. Huntley needed to know if the blackguard who raped her was the reason she did not wish to go back home. If so, he’d find a way to remove what frightened her.

She rolled over and frowned sleepily. “Why did you stop?”

Smiling, he stroked her again. “I got distracted. I’m happy you are completely well again.”

A small line appeared between her brows. “I still feel fatigued though.”

He kissed her neck and took one tightly budded nipple in his mouth. “How tired are you?”

“Mmm, not that tired.”

Huntley kissed her lips, then licked and kissed his way down over her stomach until he reached the nest of soft, light wheaten curls between her legs. He stroked her center with his tongue and she arched up, urging him on. When he circled her small pearl and sucked, she cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Soon she was thrashing wildly and sobbing his name.

“Are you ready, my love?”

“Yes, yes, please. Gervais, now!”

He entered her slowly, making every stroke, every touch drive her higher. His, she was his, and if she had any thoughts of leaving him, she’d have to reconsider because he would not let her go.

Caro encouraged Gervais’s thrusts. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and the feel of his curls abrading her bosom was more intense. Wrapping her legs around him, she tried to make him hurry, but he’d not be rushed. Flames coursed through her, driving her into a frenzy. Why was he taking so long?

He held her close and filled her like he never had before, as if to show her she was his. If he only knew she already belonged to him, body, soul, and heart. She cried out, and he took her mouth, ripping away her wits. The fire between them burned brighter, and just when she couldn’t stand the tension anymore, he shuddered and pumped deeper. Light exploded around her as she came around him harder than she ever had before.

Their hearts beat together as he lay on top of her, kissed her lips and neck, and nipped her ear.

“My wife,” he whispered fiercely.

Caro held on to him with as much strength as she could, and whispered back, “My husband.”

She thought then that he’d tell her he loved her, but the next sound she heard was his soft snoring. A tear slipped down the side of her face. She refused to let him go. When they got to Nancy, Godmamma would help her.

She and Huntley slept late the next morning. Though they made love again, neither of them brought up what had happened the night before. It was as if it were a raw wound that could not be touched.

As they explored the city, her nerves tightened. “I’ll be happy to get to Nancy.”

He glanced at her. “As will I.”

Oh God, did he plan to leave her there? Andrew had told her he loved her, and he left. Gervais hadn’t even promised that.

When they left the next morning, the tension was still thick between them, and Caro didn’t know how to change it.

Their little group arrived in Nancy mid-afternoon of the third day to find the hotel strangely deserted.

Huntley jumped down from the coach. “Stay here. I’ll see what is going on.”

She nodded. It was almost a relief to be alone for a little while.

He strode back, his face all hard angles and grim, holding a letter. “We are instructed to go to Dijon. It’s another four and a half days.”

Despite trying not to, Caro burst into tears. She was so tired of traveling. Come to think of it, she was just tired lately.

She quickly found herself in his arms, and he was kissing her. “I know, my love, this is disappointing. They have no other guests. We can spend the night here, or go on. The landlord knows of a hotel he can recommend a few hours away.”

When she lifted her head, his damp cravat fixed her attention. “Oh, Gervais, I’ve ruined your neckcloth.”

He chuckled and held her tighter. “I’ll tell Maufe to procure an oilcloth for the next time. What do you wish to do?”

She took a breath. “Go on. I just want to get there.”

“Very well,” Huntley said, “I’ll tell the others.”

Once they were back on the road, the enormity of what this could mean hit Caro. Was Godmamma all right? “Gervais, who sent the missive? Is Godmamma ill or injured?”

He shook his head. “She sent it but gave no reason for the change in plans.” He took Caro’s hand. “I share your concerns and want to arrive there as soon as we are able.”

“Don’t worry about jolting me around, then. It is more important to reach Dijon.”

He nodded. “Raphael and Collins know.”

She held on to Huntley’s hand and worried about what disaster could have struck her godmother.

F
our days later, and only ten miles or so from Dijon, Caro pressed her hand to her mouth, and Huntley knew she was going to cast up her accounts. He banged on the roof. “Stop the coach. Now.”

He bundled her out and held her as she bent over and lost her lunch. Her forehead was cold and clammy. She shivered in his arms. His poor love. He prayed her illness wasn’t serious but braced himself if it was. “We must find an inn.” Drawing out a flask with brandy, he held it to her lips. “Drink some of this. It should settle you.”

Obediently, she tilted back her head and then sputtered. “Oh, that’s horrible.”

Maufe came running up. “What is it, my lord?”

“Her ladyship’s not well. Go on ahead and find us someplace she can rest. We’ll try to finish the trip to Dijon in the morning.”

“Yes, my lord. Straight-away.”

After Maufe jumped up beside Collins and they left, Huntley picked his wife up. Maneuvering his way into the coach, he sat down with her on his lap. “We’ll wait here for a few minutes.”

Caro nodded. “I do not know what happened. It was so sudden.”

“Nor do I.” Unlike before when she was sick, the pulse in her wrist was strong. “If it occurs again, I’ll call in a doctor.”

Tears started in her eyes. “Oh, Gervais, I so hope I’m not going to be ill again.”

He dabbed her eyes with his handkerchief. “I’m here for you. Just rest against me, my love.”

He cradled her in his arms. Everything had been going so well. What had happened? About a half hour later, the sound of hooves beating a tattoo on the road roused him from thought. Caro was sleeping. He heard Collins hail them. “My lord. We’ve found a place not far from here.”

“Let’s go then.” Huntley hoped the movement of the carriage didn’t set her off again.

In the few minutes it took to arrive, the color had drained from her face. “It won’t be long now. Try to hold on.”

She nodded, but it was a close call. The minute he lifted her from the coach, she bent over again.

Caro wiped her mouth with the handkerchief he handed her. “Whatever this is, I hope I do not have it for long.”

He picked her up again. “I’m calling a doctor.” Catching sight of Maufe, he asked, “Where are our chambers?”

Maufe ran ahead of him. “Chamber, my lord. The inn is very small and not someplace we want to remain for a long time.”

“Have them send a message to the nearest doctor.”

Maufe opened the door to a small room at the back of the inn.

Viewing the dingy chamber with disapproval, Huntley asked, “Is this the largest one they have?”

“Yes, my lord. It has a small room with a bed through this door.”

Though the bed in his room looked barely large enough for two, he supposed it was better than the alternative of traveling onward. “It will have to do. Have Nugent attend me.”

Nugent appeared as he was trying to remove Caro’s pelisse. “If you hold her, my lord, I’ll get that.”

“Thank you.”

His wife’s face was so pale, and she looked as if she was going to be sick again. “I need a basin.”

Maufe shoved it in front of Caro before she threw up again. This time there was nothing left. He and Nugent got his wife into the bed a few minutes before Mrs. Collins entered accompanied by an old woman.

Huntley frowned. “Who are you?”

Her dialect was so strong he had trouble understanding her. Though he was sure he’d heard “healer.” Well, she looked clean enough. “No doctor here, then?”

The woman shook her head and asked a question.

“I don’t understand her.” He called to Maufe standing in the corridor. “Get the landlady.”

While they waited, the woman pointed to Caro. He nodded. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to allow her to examine his wife. Soon the woman smiled and made a motion with her hand indicating a large belly. “
Enceinte
.”

With child? His child
. Something must be wrong. His mother was as healthy as a horse when she was breeding. “Why is she so ill?”

The landlady appeared. “Many women are ill during the early months.
Milord
.”

Her French was much easier to understand. “How long before she is well?”

The women shrugged and the healer answered, “Maybe only a week, maybe four.”

Four weeks?
They were not remaining here four weeks, not even one. He needed to get Caro to Dijon, to his aunt, and a doctor. He glanced at Nugent, Mrs. Collins, and the two Frenchwomen speaking. “What did you say?”

“She says,” Mrs. Collins replied, indicating the healer, “that you should not share a bed with your wife. The motion can make her even more unwell.”

Glancing down at Caro, now sleeping peacefully, he growled, “I need a walk.”

He left the room. Not sleep with her? Were they mad? But if it would cause her to feel even worse, then maybe he should sleep elsewhere. He strode around the village, and when he made his way back to their chambers he was told that Caro had eaten some broth and drank a tisane made with ginger.

“She’s resting again, my lord,” Nugent said. “Your dinner is about to be served.”

After dinner, he was again distracted from seeing his wife, this time by a problem with one of the horses. When he finally made it to their chambers, she was sleeping again. Huntley sat in a chair beside her and held her hand. Finally, he sought the bed in the small room.

He awoke tired, his back hurt, and his mood was foul.

He missed his wife. Yet buoyed by the thought of a child, Huntley approached the door to their chamber and heard Caro cry, “No, I don’t want him.”

He felt ill, as if someone had punched him in the stomach. She didn’t want him? Why? His mind turned to some of their earlier conversations. The heir, she said she owed him an heir. That was the reason she never said she loved him. She enjoyed being with him but never intended to have her affections engaged. He called for Maufe, and when he’d dressed, left the inn. His throat tightened. If that was how she felt, he’d stay away from her until she asked for him.

Caro woke up feeling worse than the night before. Even with the window open, the inn smelled of cabbage and fried foods. Nugent offered to have Dalle, whose French was passable, find a doctor. “No, I don’t want him and I don’t want that either.” She made a face at the bowl containing the thin gruel. “I want his lordship.”

Nugent left the room and came back a few moments later, her expression grim. “He’s gone out, my lady.”

That was it. He didn’t love her. He just wanted a child, and now that she was breeding, he had no more time for her. Caro burst into tears.

Nugent patted her hand. “I’ll tell his lordship you want him, as soon as he returns.”

“No.” She wouldn’t beg him to be with her. “He knows the way to this chamber.”

Her spirits sank lower as the day went on and Gervais didn’t come to her. By the time Nugent blew out her candle, Caro was the most miserable woman alive. Even the news that they were leaving in the morning failed to rouse her. Her life couldn’t possibly get any worse.

The next day, she smiled at Gervais when he helped her into the coach, but instead of getting in next to her, Nugent climbed in. Caro bit her lips and stared out the opposite window.

He closed the door. “If you need me, I shall be on horseback.”

She’d had a salty broth and tea made of ginger that morning. With any luck at all, she’d be able to keep it down. Whatever the case, she refused to be ill in front of him. He wouldn’t care how she felt. She hastily wiped her tears away.

The trip to Dijon passed without too much of a problem. The times she’d felt nauseous, she chewed the dry bread the innkeeper had given her and sipped ginger tea.

Finally the coach pulled into an inn. Gervais pulled open the door, then handed her down. The first person she saw was Horatia. “Godmamma!”

She folded Caro into an embrace. The tears she’d held back escaped, and she hugged her godmother back. “Godmamma, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Caro, my love,” Horatia said, handing Caro a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “Huntley tells me you are unwell. Let’s get you to your chamber.”

She nodded. “I’m so ill.”

A tall, rangy man with sandy hair accompanied them into the inn.

Caro frowned. “Who is that?”

“John. I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, you need to have a bath and rest.”

Caro allowed herself to be ushered up the stairs and into a large, airy bedchamber. A bathtub stood by the fireplace, which had already been lit. “Thank you. I’ll feel better shortly.”

Horatia gave her a wry smile. “You won’t. Your mother was always ill when she was breeding.”

Taking a chair, Caro nodded. “I’d forgotten.”

Her godmother’s sharp eyes studied her. “If you want to discuss it, I’m just down the corridor.”

After her bath, Caro sat staring out the window, waiting for her husband. The door opened part way then stopped.

“John,” Gervais said from the corridor, “I’ll meet you downstairs to discuss what we should do.”

He’d made love to her, but he didn’t love her. Caro’s heart cracked. She couldn’t go on like this. What a fool she’d been, thinking she could live with him, love him, and not care if he returned her love.
Idiot, if you hadn’t fallen in love with him it wouldn’t matter
. Yet she had, and more than anything, she wanted him to love her in return. And now instead of comforting her, he was down with John, planning the next part of their journey, and he hadn’t even included her.

Caro’s stomach churned and she dashed for the basin. What’s more, he’d left her at the other inn when she was sick. Gervais really didn’t care about her at all. He just wanted his heir. If only she had somewhere to go, she’d leave. After rinsing her mouth and taking a piece of the candied ginger she’d been given, she sat on the bed.

Gervais strode in. Fine lines of concern creased his brow, but it wasn’t for her.

“Are you feeling better?”

“No.” She blinked back the tears that pricked her lids. If only he loved her, everything would be all right again.

Much to her dismay, instead of taking her in his arms, Gervais paced the room. His face showed no emotion and his voice was flat, as if her being ill was business to resolve. “Horatia has sent for a doctor. We’ll see what can be done.”

Caro wanted to yell and scream. She wanted him to hold her, but it would never happen again. Her heart sank. She couldn’t live with him like this. She wrapped herself in what was left of her dignity. “I think it’s best if we separate.”

He stopped moving, his face darkened in anger. “
What?
”

She firmed her chin. “This, our marriage, isn’t working.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s working or not,” he bellowed so loudly she winced. “
You
are mine. The child is mine, and you’re not going anyplace. Is that clear,
my lady
?” He turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

Caro fell back on the bed and wept. Steps echoed in the corridor, and she hastily wiped her cheeks before the door opened again.

“Caro, my love.” Horatia hurried toward Caro and wrapped her arms around her. “I heard Huntley. Tell me what is wrong. What has happened between you?”

“I love him, and he doesn’t love me. All he wants is his heir. I thought I could live with him even if he just liked me, but I cannot.”

Horatia stroked her hair and made shushing noises. “There, there, my dear. I’m sure you are mistaken. I think he’s very much in love with you.”

“But he’s never said it, and now all he cares about is the baby.”

“Sometimes men can be very foolish. Wash your face and go take a turn in the garden out back. Let me see what I can do to help straighten this all out.”

Nothing would help. Still, Caro nodded and rose to splash her face. “You’re right. Maybe the fresh air will make me feel better.”

After giving her a kiss on the cheek, Horatia left the room and hurried down the corridor into her own chamber. “Risher, I need to see Nugent and Maufe.”

“What is it, my lady?”

“I’ll explain it all when they get here.” She paced until Risher returned with the other two. She thought briefly about telling John her idea, but he’d be on Huntley’s side. Really, how could someone of her blood be so stupid? A soft knock came at the door. “Come.”

“My lady, you wished to see us?” Maufe asked.

“Yes, I would not involve you, but your master and mistress need our help.”

Nugent’s lips formed a thin line. “We heard the shouting.”

Closing her eyes, Horatia shook her head. “The entire hotel no doubt heard him. Maufe, I want you to find out who from the hotel is leaving in the next hour or so and at what time. Several minutes before the departure, find Lord Huntley and ask if he’s seen Nugent or her ladyship.”