To Catch a Lady (25 page)

“It was she who left me.”

There, he'd said it. Once and for all, he spoke the truth, and the pain of it at that moment was no less than it had been the morning he'd returned home to find her gone.

To his surprise, his aunt scoffed. “You would fault the girl for returning to her sick mother's bedside?”

Ash narrowed his gaze. “What are you talking about? I knew nothing of this.”

“She told me she left you a note.”

“There was no note.”

“Then—it isn't your fault?”

For some reason, her words sounded more like an accusation than a question. He chose his words carefully. “I know that she's not fully to blame, but neither am I. It's just an unfortunate situation.”

“Unfortunate situation?”

It was Caroline, standing at the door, pale and shaking.

“Caroline?” He stood, but the room threatened to tip over. Holding on to the tea table for support, he steadied himself.

“Hello, Ash,” Caro said, her voice quiet. He could feel her pain from where she stood.

Seconds passed before he could speak again. All he could think of was his short weeks with Caroline, making love to her by the lake, spending the long nights together wrapped in each other's arms. He found it odd that pain and emotion had so quickly shot an arrow straight through his heart.

“Your son is in the nursery,” she said. Then, without saying another word, she turned and walked away.

After months of living alone, of carrying the burden of their child by herself, Caro thought she had no more tears left in her. And yet, like a silly, simpering fool, here she sat, sobbing once again.

A quiet knock sounded at her door and she nodded to Meggie.

“Come in,” Caro said, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. She swallowed and straightened her spine.

It was Ash.

God, she thought. He looked like the devil, haggard and unshaven. She saw the dark circles under his eyes and the firm, thin line of his mouth. Yes, he'd suffered as well. She couldn't say she was happy about it, but it did tend to lessen her own pain a tiny bit.

“Hello, Caroline,” he said.

“Ash.”

Caro wanted to shake her fist and rail at him. And yet, when that first word escaped her, she suddenly found herself with no words at all.

“I saw our son. He's a handsome lad.”

Swallowing, Caro nodded. “I think so as well.”

Still standing in the doorway, he remained silent, glancing around the room. The tension between them was tight, and Caro felt the weight of it pressing against her.

“Won't you come in?” she asked when he didn't speak further.

“I don't think that's appropriate, with all that's happened. I wanted to congratulate you and let you know that I've contacted the solicitor. The funds will be released to you as outlined in our agreement.”

“Oh.” Any hope she had of reconciliation disappeared at that moment.

“You and your family will never want for anything.”

She wished she could tell him that the only thing she really wanted was him. But she could tell by his manner that that would never be.

“It's what you promised me the night we were married. I never expected anything different,” she said, her throat dry and tight with emotion.

“I did.” He took a deep breath. “I'm leaving tonight for Slyddon. If there's anything you require of me from this point on, you need only send word.”

Caro nodded. That was it then. They were finished. There simply was no more to be said between them.

Two solitary people, thrown together in strange circumstances.

And now that time had passed.

“Good-bye, Ash.”

He nodded and, without speaking further, turned and walked way.

The trip back to Slyddon Castle had gone smoothly enough. Ash arrived in the middle of the night, rousing his staff, and then went straight to his study and locked himself in. He didn't feel like enduring anyone's company, save the bottle of brandy he knew was there waiting for him.

“You're leaving? Tonight?” his aunt had said, when he'd announced his plans.

She ran after him as he headed toward the stables.

“It's for the best.”

“I swear, I would slap some sense in you if I thought it would do any good,” she said.

He smiled then. “Young Beatrice already delivered a decisive blow.” He gave her a tired smile. “Unfortunately, it was a futile act. Just know that I will come if you ever need me. You or the child, that is.”

She crossed her arms. “But not the mother?”

He turned to face her then. “Never doubt that Caroline is the stronger of the two of us. Had she been the one to hit me, I doubt I would have gotten up so easily.” He embraced his aunt.

“In my opinion, Beatrice didn't hit you hard enough.”

Ash rubbed his chin and sighed. “Who knows? Perhaps one day, she'll get another chance.”

Now he sat alone, his head resting on his arms, just minutes from oblivion. Sleep would finally come, once he had beaten down his emotions, one glass of brandy at a time.

Early the next morning, Ash awoke to someone pounding on his study door.

“Yes?” he called out, his voice coarse and his throat raw.

“It's Duncan, you fool. Unlock this door, man. We need to talk.”

“Go away.” He laid his head back down. “I'm not up to callers today.”

“You blasted wretch, just let me in.”

Ash knew it was pointless to argue. His friend would not leave until he gave in.

“All right, what's so urgent?” Ash asked when he opened the door.

Duncan stood there for a moment, staring and mouth agape. “Good lord, man, you look like hell.”

Ash smiled. “Always so direct. What is it you want?”

Duncan crossed his arms. “Haven't you noticed? The last renovations are finished. Everything is finally ready for your family.”

Ash felt the sharp blade of pain slice him again. A dozen men with hammers pounding on his skull could have hurt no worse. “That's good. I trust all the workers have been paid?”

“To the last one.”

“Good.” Ash took a deep breath. “I want to thank you, Duncan. You've been a better friend than I deserve.”

“Ash, old man, that's a bit much, even for you.” Duncan smiled.

“I'm not finished. I need you to send missives to all of the guests and inform them that Slyddon Castle will no longer be open for business.”

Duncan looked at him, stunned. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I'm going to put Slyddon up for sale in a few months. It's best if I keep it closed for the time being.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

Stumbling back, Duncan nodded. “I'll start writing immediately.”

“Oh, and can I ask one more favor?”

“Yes?”

“Dismiss the house staff for me. I'm not up to it, but I'd like you to write them all letters of recommendation. And the hounds—” Ash was barely able to get the words out. “Please take them with you. I know you'll take good care of them.”

“I will. But I must say, I don't understand any of this. Still, you've given me much over the years. It's the least I can do.”

Smiling sadly, Ash nodded. “Thank you, my friend.”

Weeks passed and Caro marveled at the incredible growth of her son. Her own recovery went a bit slower than she'd hoped, but by the time the first days of spring came, she was able once again to go on short trips.

She, her mother, her sister, and Amelia were all enjoying their afternoon tea when the butler announced a visitor.

“Who is it, Jeffries?” Amelia asked, as she finished the last of her cup.

“It is His Grace's valet, Mr. Weatherby.”

Caro set her cup down. “Is Ash with him?” Suddenly, excitement stirred within her.

“No, Your Grace, I'm sorry.” The butler turned to Amelia. “Should I show him in?”

“Of course,” Amelia said. “I'm anxious to hear news of my nephew, since he's not answered any of my letters these past weeks.”

Five minutes later the tall, imposing figure of her nephew's valet appeared. Wearing a simple brown coat and trousers, his riding habit in perfect condition, one wouldn't have known that he'd even been outside, let alone made the trip back to London.

“Mr. Weatherby, how good to see you again. What news do you bring from the duke?” Amelia asked, the urgency in her voice almost palpable.

“Your Graces,” he said, bowing to them both. “Please forgive my sudden appearance at your door. I would have sent word of my coming, but His Grace has forbidden that I even leave Slyddon, under threat of dismissal.”

“Oh dear,” Amelia said, pulling her kerchief from her sleeve. “I fear the worst.”

“Wait, Amelia, let him tell us everything first.” Caroline motioned for the valet to take a seat. “Go on, sir. Say what you must.”

Nodding again, Weatherby took the offered seat and began his story.

“When His Grace arrived back from London, he immediately dismissed the house staff. Then he sent his hunting associates away. Overnight, Slyddon Castle went from a full and thriving lodge to an empty shell. While you were expecting, Your Grace, he actually commissioned men to come and remodel the castle, but since his return, he has virtually shut himself off from everyone. Now he has let the place fall into such disrepair, it's worse than it ever was.”

“Oh, no.” Caro's heart sank at the thought of the lodge in such a state. Though she had much preferred London, the castle still held a place in her heart.

Amelia placed her hand on Caro's and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Perhaps we can talk him into coming back to town, dear. If his infatuation with that pile of stones has faded, it cannot be all bad, can it?”

Caro swallowed. She knew that neither the condition of the castle nor his dismissal of the staff was the worst of it. “No, I must hear it all. Please, sir, you've told us all about Slyddon. What of my husband?”

“Oh, Your Grace, that is the worst of it all. He's sick, ma'am. Terribly sick. He won't eat or drink, except for that wretched brandy. And he stays in his study most of the time.”

“But he loves to hunt and fish. At least he has the hounds for company. I'm sure Wellington and Nelson are at his side this very minute.”

“Not any longer. He gave them to Lord Applegate. He's pushed everyone away. I'm afraid if something isn't done, we'll lose him, Your Grace. His health is failing each day.”

Caro's heart plummeted. How could this have happened? He was killing himself without so much as loading the pistol.

“But why?” Amelia asked, tears falling down her cheeks. “Why would Ash do this? Doesn't he know that he has a family who loves him?”

Caro shook her head. “He's doing it this way because of us. He's giving up.”

“Oh, no. I think it's my fault,” Bea said, in a rush of tears.

“Your fault? Oh, Bea, of course it's not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is I.”

“You're wrong,” Bea said, sniffing. “I hit him. When he came the night that Stephen was born. I hit him so hard he fell back and struck his head. He thinks you hate him, Caro.”

“Of course he doesn't.” Caro looked away for a moment and took a deep breath. “He left here because I didn't stop him from leaving.”

“Caroline!” Amelia said, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I'm sorry. I was furious when he pushed me away and moved me out of his room. Him and that silly contract of his. I was so angry, and hurt. And then, the night when Stephen was born and he came to see me that last time—well, I didn't ask him to stay. I didn't beg him to stay.”

Amelia waved her hand. “You're both wrong. I saw him leave. He was going no matter what. It's what his parents did long ago that has him so determined. Stupid fools.”

“What?” Caro asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Has he never told you about his parents?”

She shook her head. “Just that they died when he was a boy. What about them?”

Over the next few minutes, Caro listened as Amelia told them of her family's tragedy: that Ash's parents had quarreled, that his mother had subsequently died in a fall, that Ash's father was grieving so that he took his own life, and that Ash had always blamed himself for his parents' deaths.

“I tell you, they did that boy no good turn, behaving that way. He was a long time healing from the wounds they caused by their foolish actions. Or at least I thought he'd healed.”

Caro sank back in her seat. Why hadn't he told her?

Amelia must have read her thoughts. “He likely said nothing because, after all these years, he's still ashamed. He has this odd idea that he'll repeat the sins of his parents. All this time, no one's ever been able to convince him otherwise.”

“Well, then. It's time that woodenheaded fool was set aright.”

“What do you mean to do?” Amelia asked.

“What I should have done from the beginning. I'm going to make him listen to reason. And if that won't work, I shall beat some sense into him.”

Amelia shook her head. “Wait—it's going to take a mighty strong walking stick to make any difference. Take his uncle's.”

“Right.” Caro turned to Mr. Weatherby. “Sir, I know you've come an awfully long way, but would you be so kind as to accompany me back to the lodge tonight?”

“I would be honored to, Your Grace.”

“Good.” She turned to Amelia, “I hate to ask, but…”

“Nonsense, Bea and I will see to young Stephen. You go and rescue my nephew.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait,” Bea said, holding up her hand. “I can send a note to Michael—uh, the Earl of Bladen.”

“Who?”

Amelia waved her hand. “Michael. He's one of Ashton's oldest friends. I fear he's gone early to his country estate, but we can send for him, as well. It certainly couldn't hurt, I suppose.”

“Beatrice, just how well do you know Lord Michael?” Caro asked.

“Oh, we've been exchanging letters. He thinks my ideas are bubbleheaded and I think he's a complete ninny. I mean to best him one of these days. When society grants proper respect and treatment for women, he'll be forced to accede to my beliefs.”

“Yes…um. Never mind that. I would appreciate his assistance. And there was one other fellow who might help us, I think. I'll give you his name as well, Mr. Weatherby. You can contact him once we are back at Slyddon.”