Elizabeth Mansfield (13 page)

“But what has Mr. Terence to do with it?”

“Mr. Terence?” Mickley scratched his head in confusion. “‘Oo might this Mr. Terence be?”

But the truth had already burst on Caro. “Oh, my
God,
”
she muttered, “it
can’t
be!” She stood stock-still for a moment, trying to grasp the implications of this shocking new thought. Then she whirled on Kit furiously. “It’s
you,
isn’t it?
You’re
the Vexatious Viscount!”

“Yes, I am. Kit Meredith of Crittenden.”

She stared up at him in horror. “There is no Mr. Terence at all, is there? It was all a ... a ...
lie?
”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,
again?”
She clenched her trembling fingers. “I am growing weary of your sorrys, Mr. Ter ... Your Lordship. Very weary.”

Kit could not bear to see her so distraught. “Please, Caro, don’t look at me so,” he said softly. “I came here today to tell you the truth.” He took a step closer to her and reached for her hand in a gesture he hoped would be soothing.

‘To tell me the truth? Oh, yes, very likely!” She snatched her hand away and turned her back on him. “All this time ...” she said, half to herself. “... to have lied to me all this time ...”

Aunt Letty hobbled up to her. “Caro, my love, don’t take on like this. He truly intended to tell you all.”

“Wait a moment!” Caro stared at Letty as new implications burst on her. “You
knew,
didn’t you? You knew all along!”

“Yes, of course I did,” Letty admitted. “How could I not? He’s my nephew, after all. I’d known him from birth.”

Caro put a trembling hand to her forehead. “And the
boys,
too. They’d met him before.” She peered at her brothers, white-lipped. “You’ve
all
been lying to me!”

Arthur sank down in his chair, shamed. But Gilbert, innocent of heart, met her horrified glare with stalwart courage. “It’s your own fault, you know, Caro. You were too stubborn to meet with him, even after we told you what a good sort he was.”

“Good sort? You can
still
call him a
good sort
?”
Chest heaving, eyes distraught, and cheeks flushed with fury, she wheeled back to Kit “I hope you’re satisfied,” she cried. “You’ve turned my brothers into liars, you’ve made it impossible for me to remain here with Aunt Letty, and you’ve made a ... a complete fool of me. It’s quite a d-day’s w-work!” And bursting into tears, she fled from the room.

Letty, with a little sob, sank down at the table and dropped her head in her arms. The boys looked at each other miserably. Mickley, goggle-eyed, peered from them to the butler, who seemed to have frozen in place, and then to Kit’s tight and tortured face. “Blimey,” he muttered, blinking in confusion, “did I say somethin’ wrong?”

SEVENTEEN

Caro, red-eyed and weary after a sleepless night, came down to breakfast, but only after she was sure the others had finished. She had no wish to face her brothers or Letty just yet. They had lied to her; it was a breach of loyalty and honor that was hard for her to forgive so soon.

She sat down at her usual place at the table and discovered a letter propped up against her teacup. She lifted it with trembling fingers and broke the seal, fully expecting that it was an apology from the unspeakable person whose repellent behavior had replayed in her mind all night. But it was not. It was from her aunt Martha.

She was aware of a sting of disappointment, but she immediately pushed the feeling aside. She didn’t really want to hear from Mr. Ter—Kit Meredith. She didn’t! If she never heard another word from him as long as she lived, that would suit her very well. With a firm reprimand to herself for her momentary weakness, she turned her attention to the letter.

My dearest girl,
Martha had written,
my sister has informed me of the troubles you’ve been enduring. You have my heartfelt sympathy. I understand that you are determined to change your situation, but before you do, I would like to offer some suggestions that may be of help. I would be greatly obliged, therefore, if you would call on me this afternoon at four. I remain, as always, your fond aunt, Martha Whitlow.

Caro peered at the letter in astonishment. How could Martha have already learned of yesterday’s contretemps? The clock had just a moment ago struck ten. Had Letty ordered her carriage at dawn? Or had she run to her sister yesterday, right after the scene had taken place, without even waiting for matters to cool a bit?

In any case, Caro could not see what suggestions Martha could make that would help her in this impossible situation. Martha would undoubtedly offer her a home, but she would not accept. She’d had enough of charity. This time she was determined that, somehow, she would find for herself and her brothers a place of their own. How could Martha possibly help her accomplish that? Nevertheless, she donned a bonnet and shawl and made her way to her aunt Martha’s at the appointed time. It would have been rude and ungrateful to do otherwise.

Kaynes, the butler, admitted her. She entered the hallway to find Martha already standing there waiting for her. “My poor dear,” Martha cooed as she kissed the girl’s cheek, “you have been ill-used. I must apologize for my sister’s part in your humiliation.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm,” Caro said, instinctively rushing to Letty’s defense. Letty was really a dear, and she’d always been very kind to Caro, too kind for Caro to listen to or to say anything detrimental about her. “It was her affection for her nephew that caused her to act as she did.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Martha readily agreed. “Letty can never see a fault in Kit Meredith. But, my love, let’s not speak of him. It’s you I wish to speak of.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Aunt Martha, but I don’t think—”

“Let’s not discuss matters here in the hallway,” Martha said, cutting her off. “Do go down the hall to the drawing room, my dear, and make yourself comfortable. I’ll follow in a moment.”

Caro did as she was bid. But as soon as she stepped over the threshold of the drawing room, she knew she’d made a mistake. She heard the door close behind her, and suddenly suspicious, she wheeled about to find Kit Meredith standing between her and the door.

For a moment she felt a surge of gladness, as she had in the morning when She discovered the letter. But the feeling was short-lived and immediately turned to absolute fury when she realized that he and Martha must have joined forces to trap her in this way. Her anger rendered her almost speechless. “You ... you despicable
b-blackguard!”
she sputtered when she recovered her voice. “You’ve tricked me again!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, nevertheless keeping his back against the door.

“Another of your sorrys! If that were true, if you were
truly
sorry, you wouldn’t have done this.”

“You’re right. I’m not sorry.” He seemed infuriatingly cheerful. “This was a necessary trick. You left me no alternative.”

“If you don’t let me out of this room,” she said through clenched teeth, “I shall scream and make a dreadful scene.”

“Scream away. Kaynes has orders not to hear.”

She glared at him in frustration. “Hang it, have you no conscience? No ethics? No honor?”

“As a matter of fact, ma’am, I’ve been giving that question a great deal of thought,” he said, “and I’ve decided that I have. I admit that my lying about my identity made me feel quite like a rotter, but—”

“There are no buts. You
are
a rotter.”

“No, I’m not. After thinking over the matter dispassionately—something I should have done from the first—I realized that I am all but guiltless. Everything I’ve done has been with the best of intentions. My dishonesty and vacillation are more your fault than mine. Your own brother, Gil, put it best. He said that I’m a good sort, but that you are too stubborn to accept the truth of that.”

“Hah! The judgment of a twelve-year-old!”

“A twelve-year-old with an open mind. A mind free of prejudice and ... and infatuation.”

She blinked. “Infatuation?”

“Yes, ma’am.
You
were blinded by prejudice and
I
by infatuation.”

Caro felt her heart flutter. Was he saying he’d been infatuated with her? What did he mean by the word? That he cared for her? Or that he’d been only momentarily attracted and was now over it? It was most likely the latter. The term itself implied a temporary feeling. Suddenly she was overcome with shame. Why should she even
care
what the deuced fellow felt? Not only was he a liar, but his having kissed her so rudely the other night proved him to be a libertine. Why should she even be bothering her head about a liar and a libertine?

She wanted to stamp her foot in exasperation at herself, at him, and at everyone who’d been trying so hard to thrust him at her. To be forced to remain in this room alone with him was infuriating. She lifted her fists and began beating at his chest. “Dash it all, let me
out
of here!” she cried, her voice a strident rasp. “I won’t be coerced—”

He caught her wrists and held them in a tight grasp. “Confound you, Caro, take a damper! Will-you, nill-you, you’ll hear me out. I won’t permit you to leave this room until you do.”

She wrenched herself loose. Rubbing her wrists, she turned her back on him. “It seems I have no choice.”

“I only want to discuss your legacy,” he pointed out, “nothing more.”

“I have no legacy,” she retorted impatiently. “How many times do I have to hear that I do?”

“Just this last time. After you hear me out, I shall follow whatever instructions you give me, no matter how much I may dislike them. Does that meet with your approval?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so.” She turned slowly and faced him. “Very well, then, say what you have to say. I’m listening.”

“Thank you. Will you please sit down? I’d rather not present my case while standing here on guard duty.”

She went to the sofa and sat down stiffly. He followed and took a chair facing her. “Now, then, ma’am, here is the situation. Mr. Halford, whom I believe you know and respect, has set aside a sum of money he believes my uncle intended for you to have. He and I and everyone else in the family believe the amount to be just. If you agree to accept it, my mission will have been accomplished, and this interview can end.”

“My dear Lord Crittenden,” she said with icy formality, “is it not true that there is nothing written in the late Lord Crittenden’s will to that effect?”
 

“Yes, but—”

“Then it was
you,
not Uncle Clement, who authorized the bequest?”
 

“That is only a technicality—”

“From your point of view, perhaps. From mine, it is an act of charity from you—someone who owes me nothing.”

“Rubbish! Can’t you be sensible, Caro? This is not charity on my part but a simple acknowledgment of what is fair!”

“Are we going to argue the point all day? It is my long-considered decision not to accept this so-called legacy. It was to avoid this very argument that I repeatedly refused to see you when you so repeatedly called at Mortimer Street.”

“But—”

“Blast it, man, did you not say a moment ago that you’d follow my instructions? Well, I’m instructing you to accept my decision to refuse the money. Now have done.”

Kit sighed. “Very well, ma’am. Now it seems
I
am the one who has no choice. I surrender. I have no more ammunition for this battle. Besides, I’ve spent too many weeks on this affair. It’s time I got back to the Grange.”

“Go, then. I certainly won’t stop you.”

“Not quite yet, ma’am, not quite yet. There’s one more suggestion I must make. It concerns your brothers.”

“My brothers?”

“They have legacies, too. Quite separate from yours.”

“Separate legacies? I had not heard—”

“Frankly, it’s a new strategy. I couldn’t come here today without having one last ace up my sleeve.”

“I don’t see why you believe that ‘ace’ will make a difference.”

“Don’t you? Consider, ma’am, the full implication. It’s one thing to refuse for yourself. But would it be fair to refuse for them? Why not let them decide for themselves whether or not to accept their own legacies?”

This was a poser. Caro blinked at him, arrested. “I don’t know.. It was a clever ruse to divide the legacy. I hadn’t thought ...”

“Think about it, then. It would be a bit arrogant of you, wouldn’t it, to decide for them?”

“Perhaps it would.” She got up and began to pace. “They are not of age, you know,” she suggested, throwing a glance at him.

“There is no stipulation that they be of age to accept a bequest.”

“I thought that’s what you’d say.” She continued to pace for a moment before turning back to face him again. “You’re assuming, my lord, that if you asked them directly, they would accept.”

“I make no such assumption. They would certainly refuse if they thought you’d disapprove. They care too much for you to go against your wishes.”

“But if it were not for me, they would take what you offered, is that what you believe?”