To Catch a Lady (22 page)

Stunned, Caro made her way to Amelia's room. “What a foolish woman I've been.” She scoffed as she closed the door behind her. “I thought he loved me. I should have known better.”

Indeed, she should have. Her life had never been a charmed one. Suitors hadn't lined up down the street for her, true enough, but this humiliation topped them all.

“Your Grace,” Meggie called from behind her.

“Yes?” Caro said after a moment, so deep in thought, she'd almost missed the young woman's tapping at the door.

“Mrs. Hardesty said you needed me to move your things in here.” She paused, and Caroline saw that she was gripping her apron. Then the girl's hands went to her mouth. “I'm so sorry.”

It was all Caro could do to blink back her tears. “His Grace and I are expecting a child and he's so restless at night that he's afraid he'll harm me or the child. I assure you, there's no reason to be concerned.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the maid said, sniffing and dabbing at her nose with her kerchief.

“You can help me get things settled later. I'm tired right now.”

“Of course.” Meggie curtsied. “Please don't be concerned, Your Grace. My mama was the same way. Said it takes every bit of a woman to carry a child.”

Absently, Caro listened to her maid prattle on and on. Anger, hurt, and dismay whirled within her. What was she to do? A wave of exhaustion washed over her, but it wasn't from her newly pregnant state—at least, not entirely. No, life had managed to smash her down once again.

“I think I'll go to bed now.”

“Of course, my lady. I'll get things ready.”

Good as her word, the maid soon had the bed turned down and had helped Caro into her nightdress, combed her hair, and made the last preparations for bed. Just as she finished, Caro heard a gentle tapping at the door.

“Come in,” she called.

It was Ash. “I see you're settling in.”

“Yes.” Caro glanced over at her maid, who was standing at attention next to the bedside table. “Uh, thank you, Meggie. That will be all for now.”

The maid hesitated, sending a guarded look to Ash. But then she nodded and curtsied low. “Of course, my lady, Your Grace.”

When she was gone, Ash cleared his throat. “After you left I gave it some thought, and I want to apologize. I never meant to displace you. It's a bit late now, but perhaps you should stay in the master bedroom. There are plenty of rooms in this old castle; I'm sure I can find one that will suit me.”

Caro forced a smile. “I'm sure you can. But it's no matter. I like this room. Being in here reminds me of your aunt, and her presence helps me feel closer to my own mother and my sister. This room will do nicely.”

She watched him nod and then start to turn away. At the last second he paused, as if remembering something important.

“Well, good night, then.” He walked up to her bed, and hesitating only a second, he bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. He lingered there for a moment, just an inch from her.

Caro couldn't help it. “Good night, Ash.”

He sighed and bowed his head. “Good night, Caroline.”

Ash thought about returning to his room, but paused outside of the door instead. Perhaps he should choose another place to sleep. Being in this room would only remind him of the days and nights he and Caroline had spent together. He simply could not bring himself to return there. Not yet.

So, turning, he walked toward the stairs. Since he would not have the warmth of his wife beside him this night, he would find his comfort where he could. Most likely at the bottom of a brandy bottle.

Taking the stairs two at a time, it wasn't long before he made it to the study. He was surprised to find his friend there as well.

“Duncan?”

The man who sat hunched over the desk lifted his head and, smiling, waved him in. “Ah, there you are. I'd wondered how things were going with you. You've been rather preoccupied lately.”

“Yes, I have.” Ash walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a glass and the bottle of brandy. He started to open it, but thought better of it.

“I approve.”

“What?” Ash turned to his friend. “What did you say?”

“I was referring to your deciding against drowning yourself in drink tonight. I'm thinking you and the duchess had words, maybe?”

“Words? You mean an argument?”

“What else? Occasionally, even those of us deeply in love must cross swords with our opponents.”

He scoffed. “How would you know? You're not even married.”

“Only a matter of time.” He lifted his glass. “Now, what's the problem?”

Ash took the seat across from him. “What makes you think there's a problem?”

Duncan leaned forward and eyed Ash narrowly. “I think there's a problem because you're here with me and not with your wife, you ass.”

“Oh. Well, there's not so much of a problem, really. It's simply the fate that we've been dealt. Caroline's pregnant.”

“Congratulations, old man! How wonderful for you both.” Duncan grinned from ear to ear.

“Thank you.”

“So what's got you so long in the face, old man?”

Ash sent him a sharp look. “Nothing. I'm fine. It's just that Caroline and I have decided to sleep apart until the child is born.”

“Really? Why ever for?”

Ash sighed. Didn't the man know anything about this birthing business? “Because we don't want to do anything that might injure the child. Haven't you heard stories of babies being stillborn because their parents were too, um, amorous?”

Duncan shook his head. “And Caroline accepted this?”

Ash sighed. “She didn't utter a single objection.”

“Really.”

“As I've told you before, she's a very intelligent and rational woman. I doubt that there are a great many of her gender who'd be so quick to see reason.”

“It could be you're right about that. Well, then, it looks as if we gents have you back among our number.”

“I suppose so.”

Ash crossed his arms and did his best to ignore the throbbing ache that had enveloped him since he'd made his decision. Would it ever get better? he wondered.”

Keeping his distance from Caroline now that they had truly found each other was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever do. But he would do it, no matter what. He would do it for Caroline.

He would do it for their child.

There simply was no other choice.

Caro did her best to stay brave in front of Ash. Before she'd known what sort of man he was, she would have raged at him. She would have argued and fought him at every turn.

But now, it was as if the spark had gone out of her. To her surprise, she wasn't angry at him, or even at herself. There was a gaping wound in her heart, and the pain was unbearable.

Closing her eyes, in her mind she saw her mother. It was years ago, before her mother had fallen, before life had taken Caro down a narrow path of loneliness and self-denial.

“But Mother, what shall I do?” She had been faced with a choice between telling the truth about her grandmother's broken vase, or denying that she'd run through the room and, bumping the corner of the shelf, sent it crashing to the floor.

“You will be a good and noble girl, Caro. You will tell the truth and you will accept what fate gives you in return. That's the honorable thing to do.”

At that moment Caro knew, and perhaps had always known, exactly what she must do. She must accept what life had given her and do the honorable thing. For her husband.

And, more importantly, for his child.

There simply was no other choice.

Late the next morning, Caro made her way to the dining room. Ash was seated at the head of the table, his friend beside him. The two weren't speaking but studying different maps.

“Here it is,” Duncan said. “That small pond at the south of the forest I told you of. I've heard it's a great place for fishing. Horace said that the fish were fairly jumping out of the water onto the lines. We definitely should go there at the earliest opportunity. I've a new bamboo that I'm dying to try out.”

“I used to have one, but—well, it's no matter, now…”

Caro coughed, suddenly uncomfortable at the memory of their day spent fishing.

Ash's eyes shot up to her. “Oh. Good morning, Caroline.”

“Good morning, husband.” Caro did her best to keep up appearances. She'd awoken out of a sound sleep that morning with a severe bout of nausea. Certain that Ash was watching her, and not wanting to give him cause for concern, she bravely stepped up to the sideboard.

Oddly enough, just seeing the food set out before her, she had the most unexpected reaction. She was absolutely famished.

The men watched in silence as she heaped her plate full with two poached eggs, two biscuits, and a large slice of ham. Then, pouring a cup of steaming tea, she took her seat on Ash's left side.

Once she'd swallowed down a few bites, she realized that the men were watching her intently.

“Excuse me, Ash, ma'am.” Duncan carefully set down his teacup. “I need to make sure the groom has everything ready for our trip.”

As Duncan made his exit, Caro looked at her husband. “Trip?”

“We're leaving for the village to pick up some supplies. I've been preoccupied of late, and I've put my duties off far too long.”

“Your duties? But you're the duke. Surely you can send someone else?”

He shrugged. “I should, but we live rather simply out here. I don't mind doing it. I'll be home in a couple of days.”

“Oh, of course.”

Though he said nothing more, Caro knew the truth. Even though she was married, she would be alone.

Very well, she thought. She'd spent her entire life practically alone, without a lover, without a husband.

She could do so again.

Besides which, things would be better once they'd returned to London. After all, his estate was large enough that they could live in peace and never cross paths. And that was just fine with her.

She glanced up to see Ash staring at her. He wasn't really staring—gazing, perhaps. It was as if he was trying to remember something important, and judging by the distant expression he wore, it had completely escaped him.

Caro found she no longer had an appetite. But she knew the baby would need her strength now more than anything, so she picked up her fork and resumed eating.

When she said nothing further, Ash took one last drink from his teacup, set it down quietly, and then cleared his throat.

“I want to thank you.”

She glanced up at him, mouth still full of egg. She promptly swallowed. “For what?”

“For being so understanding. About things, I mean.”

Though his words stung, she quickly put down the myriad of emotions spinning in her gut.

“How else would I be?” Then, realizing the sharpness of her tone, she shook her head. When she spoke, she used a softer, kinder tone. “I think it's most admirable of you to put the well-being of our child above everything else. Really, I do.”

“Good. Well, then—I'll see you when I get back.”

“Of course. Good-bye.” She cast her eyes down to her plate, not daring to look up at him as he left the room.

But he hovered for a moment, looking a bit flummoxed. That was when she realized it.

Giving him her sweetest smile, she leaned forward and tipped her chin up, waiting for a kiss.

He paused, and she could feel the heat of his longing. No easy feat, because she pretty much felt the same way about him.

Then, instead of kissing her on the mouth, the way she'd prayed he would, he darted forward and placed a chaste peck on her cheek.

When she opened her eyes, it was to see him practically running out of the room.

Once he was gone, she put down her fork and sat back in the chair. Anger washed through her.

How dare he be so agreeable? Even though she knew, deep inside, that he was the picture of a perfect husband, she dearly wished that the other man, the man who'd verbally sparred with her at every turn, would come back. A part of her wanted to give him a good swift kick in his pants.

Pregnant or not, she was sure she could lift her foot that high.

Just wait until this child was born. She'd wrestle every noble thought the man ever had.

One kiss at a time. See if she didn't.

She heard the front door close. Rising from her chair, she ran out of the dining room and down the hall to the foyer. Going to the front door, she threw it open in time to see Ash's carriage, with the cart behind it, pulling out of the drive.

Her first instinct was to run after him, call him a coward, and demand he come back and face her. But it turned out that she was as much of a coward as he was, because she remained, standing in the doorway, until he was gone from sight.

That was it. She was to spend the next few days alone.

“Oh, there you are,” Meggie said from the behind her.

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry, but this came for you this morning. I didn't want to wake you…” The girl had a hopeful look on her face.

Caro took the envelope from her maid and, pulling out a letter, quickly read its contents.

“Oh, no!”

“Your Grace? What is it? What's wrong?”

Caro stood stunned. “It's my mother. She's very ill. I must return home right away.”

“But your husband has just left.”

“If we go now, chances are we can catch up with him—”

Meggie headed toward the door.

Caro stopped her. “No, wait. He has to take care of business. I wouldn't want to interrupt him. Do you think one of the other gentlemen here would be so kind as to get me back to London?”

“Well, Lord Higgins is planning to leave for London this morning. Perhaps he'll take you.”

“Pack our things, and I'll go speak to him right away.”

Half an hour later Caro and Meggie were boarding the gentleman's barouche, and the note explaining Caro's departure was on the table in the foyer. Considering her mother's dire circumstances, surely Ash would understand.

“Thank you again, Lord Higgins. I don't know what I would do without your kindness.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace. It will be my pleasure to enjoy your company on the trip back to town. I'm so sorry that your mother has taken ill. I hope she recovers quickly.”

“As do I, sir.”

“Ah, Duchess, your mother must be a fine woman to have such a caring child. You do her great honor.”

“You are too kind.” She gazed back at the lodge, and a pang of regret washed through her. While she didn't care for life so far away from her home, she was certain that a huge part of her heart would always remain at Slyddon.

She was so worried about her mother, she didn't realize that Hamlet the goat—so named by Mrs. Hughes—had managed to wander into the house while they were loading up the carriage.

If she'd but taken one last look at the castle as they pulled out of the drive, she might have seen the beast, standing in the doorway, eating the very letter she'd written to her husband.

As it was, all she could do was try to remain calm, and pray that her mother would somehow be alive when she made it to London.

Ash arrived home a full two days later, wagons laden with supplies, his spirits far better than when he'd left. In fact, all he'd thought about the last few days was how he and Caroline must work together to keep her from getting too excited. They were relatively intelligent people. Surely they could be together without his acting like a randy young man.

There simply was no reason to think otherwise.

Leaving the unpacking to his staff, Ash made his way into the lodge, and after making a tour of the first floor, he bounded up the stairs to the bedrooms. When he didn't find Caroline in her room, or in any of the others, he returned downstairs where he saw Mrs. Hardesty in the sitting room, running her white glove atop the fireplace mantel.

“Good afternoon,” the duke said. “Do you know where the duchess is? I've scouted out the place and I can't seem to find her anywhere.”

“Oh, Your Grace.” She curtsied. “She left right after you did. Said something about going back to town. Needed to see her mother, I think. Mrs. Hughes said so. And Mrs. Hughes has left for the week, Your Grace. Remember, she's visiting her sister in Dover?”

“My wife went to London?”

Then it dawned on him. Of course, she'd honored her word. She'd done as their marriage contract had demanded. She'd gotten pregnant.

Ash searched his memory. He had told her that once she was with child, she could live in the city and her life would again be her own.

He couldn't believe that after their time together she would leave him like this. His first inclination was to run to the stables, saddle the fastest horse, and make a mad dash after her.

But then, what would he do when he reached London? Call her out? Accuse her of abandoning him? Legally, she was certainly within her rights to live apart from him. It was written in the terms of their marriage contract, after all.

Furious at himself for being such a fool, he cursed under his breath and left the room and the startled housekeeper.

Duncan met him at the door as he was headed out. “Have you spoken to your wife yet?”

Ash ground his jaw. “Caroline's gone.”

“Gone? Where to?”

“London. It seems since she has fulfilled her obligation, she felt the need to go back now.”

“You're going after her, aren't you?”

“No.”

“But, Ash, surely you don't think she means to give you the cut outright?”

“I don't give a damn what she means to do. She's gone, and as long as a healthy child is born, she can live wherever she pleases. It makes no difference to me.”

With that he left his friend standing in the hall and went directly to the study, slamming the door behind him. He promptly penned a letter to his aunt, giving her instructions for managing his wife's accounts.

He heard the door creak open slowly

“What are you doing?” Duncan asked, poking his head in but stopping there. Clearly he wasn't sure what Ash might do if interrupted in his current state.

“Settling things.” Ash glanced up. “I distinctly remember closing that door.”

Duncan ignored him. “If you're angry with her, for God's sake, go talk to her.”

Ash spun around to face him. “This isn't your concern. My wife and I have made arrangements and she's only adhering to her part of the contract. As am I.”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Duncan turned on his heel and left the study without another word.

Ash set down his quill, the fight suddenly gone out of him. He didn't know exactly why he was angry. Wasn't this what he'd wanted from the start? A marriage that wasn't a marriage? A wife who provided him an heir and then removed herself from his presence at the earliest possible moment?

Perhaps it was the excruciating pain and disappointment he'd felt when he'd learned of her absence. Or maybe it was the fact that she hadn't even said good-bye.

No matter. She was gone, and he would continue. Except he wasn't sure how he would do that without her.

And that was the crux of it all.

It wasn't as if he'd had an unbearable childhood or intolerable years at school. Even his army life hadn't been lacking. In fact, his life up to the day he'd met Caroline had been damn near perfect.

But his time spent with Caroline had been different, exciting, amazing. It had been a reality he'd never even known existed. And, greedy bastard that he was, he wanted it back again. Desperately.

While he was lost in thought he heard the door creak open.

“Duncan,” he said, after taking a deep breath, “I apologize for being so cross with you earlier. You've done nothing to deserve my anger. I just don't know how I could have been such a fool. I dare say none of us can ever hope to really understand what goes on in a woman's heart.”

He would have gone on, rambling about his misconceptions of love and marriage. But his friend's silence was deafening. Best to face it head-on, he thought, and, turning, he saw that he was indeed not alone. Mrs. Hardesty stood at the door.

“Your Grace, were you talking to Hamlet?”

Ash turned to see that the goat was randomly pulling texts off of the lower shelf and methodically eating the tender parchments within the leather-bound tomes.

“See here, you wretched beast. Stop that.” Ash reached down and started to tug the now soggy lump of leather and paper from the goat's mouth.

“BAAAAAA!” the goat brayed, snorting and kicking as he struggled to hold on to his booty.

Ash got down on his knees in order to gain leverage, intent on wrestling the book from the indignant animal. Just then, Ash saw something peculiar across the room. In the farthest corner, tucked behind the row of shelves, was a heap of periodicals, news sheets, and shorn book pages, tucked neatly into a pile three feet high.

“What in blazes is this?”

The housekeeper inched closer, careful not to disturb the snarling goat. “Looks like a nest to me,” she said.

“It does. Where does all of this come from?”

“I imagine Prince Hamlet goes about the place, picking up an odd piece here and there. He's quite a thief, you know. If you set down so much as a receipt, he'll snatch it up. And what he doesn't eat, he usually leaves for someone else to clean up, the devil.”