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“I am not the fainting sort,” she retorted, sucking in a deep breath. “Finish it then.”
He nodded and made another stitch and she hissed, a tear escaping her eye.
“Finish telling me the tale,” he urged trying to distract her, but she could not think. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned.
“You thought it was just an accident with the hay carts.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I thought it mere accident. But you shall see as I go that it began to make more sense with time.”
She told of the ruse to save Marilee, their capture and arrival at the brothel. She told everything that she knew about the London whorehouse and its Madam Mildred. She explained the threats and her coming to work in his home. She told him of the horrible things that happened to the women who came and went. She felt tears begin to flow as she spoke of her fears, her worry that she could not trust a single soul or that she might never see her father again when they had parted on such bad terms. She told him of finding her first letter in her bed, a clear message.
She gave a small cry as he knotted off the final stitch and snipped the thread. “All done,” he said, and she sighed with relief as he held a cool cloth against her leg. Still the throbbing pain was still acute.
“So, you tried again,” he filled in the next part for her, “with a letter, except that you weren’t sure if you could trust me. This is, after all, my house and my staff. My responsibility.”
She nodded. “I am so very sorry about that part.”
He did not reply but seemed lost in his own thoughts. He went back to work bathing her wound with cool water.
“Why did you befriend me, if you could not trust me?” he said
She hesitated. “It all began as a way to escape your brother,” she hung her head as she realized just how terrible it sounded aloud. “I know that the pair of you did not get on and you had said that I could use the room. It was the only place that he would not search me out. I didn’t mean to befriend you. That just… happened.”
He inhaled one long breath. “My brother has a,” he pondered his choice of words, “reputation with maids. With women in general. Did he ever…?”
She shook her head. “He was forward, and far too willing with his touches, but he never harmed me.”
“He is not used to being told no,” he grumbled. “Father spoiled him.”
“I do not disagree with you.”
He looked up at her with horror. “If he had known you were a lady…” his voice trailed off.
“He ought not to have treated me any different whether lady or maid,” she remarked. “You never took advantage.” The unspoken words hung between them. Lord Robert had not done as his brother, although he had had several opportunities.
He bowed his head, thankful for the respect that had laced her words. “Lydia always said that it was because I wasn’t romantic enough.”
Caroline scoffed. “Lady Lydia wouldn’t know romance if it kicked her in the teeth.” They were both surprised at her defensive remark and he paused in his nursing her leg, both realizing the compromising situation they were in, but he did not remove the cool cloth. She stared into his dark unfathomable eyes, and he into hers.
Caroline had felt romance quite literally rolling off of the duke on several occasions. It was only that he held himself back unless he was certain. If he ever gave himself over to those urges, then good luck to whatever woman was fortunate enough to stand in their wake. Caroline felt her cheeks redden at the thought and pressed onward before he could notice.
“There is something that you should know,” she confessed in the hope of turning her mind from such thoughts. She told him of what she had witnessed between his brother and his betrothed. She prepared herself for the crush of the blow, for the anger that might come her way for having borne the bad news but he only nodded once more.
“I had my suspicions.” He revealed that although he had often wondered if Lydia preferred his brother, it had never made sense to him that she would make the trade official. “She always seemed to want the title more than anything else.”
Caroline’s mouth dropped open in understanding. Of course, Lord Edward would have known that his lover wanted to be a duchess more than anything. He would have murdered his entire family to secure the title for them both. “She would have had the title,” Caroline admitted.
“I suppose they could have carried on an affair,” he agreed without comprehension of her true meaning. “Although I doubt Ed would have played seconds for long.”
“He wouldn’t have played seconds at all,” she murmured.
Lord Robert looked up at Caroline with an expression that tried to wrest every meaning from her words. “What are you saying?”
Caroline looked into the face of this man who was so trusting, who gave trust where it was not warranted. How could she tell him his brother betrayed him? How could she not? Her voice dropped to a whisper as if that would soften the blow. “I’m saying that Lord Edward is behind it all. I didn’t know until tonight, but now there can be no doubt. It was his men who did this,” she gestured at her leg. “He was going to have me killed when he found out who I was and how much I knew. I only barely escaped.”
He closed his eyes in pain, but he nodded. “Go on,” he said. He went back to gently bathing her wound although Caroline thought that all of the blood was washed away by now. Still the cool water was soothing, as was his touch.
And so the last of the story came forth. Caroline tied up all of the loose ends. She told the harrowing tale of her evening. She repeated every word that she could remember and listed all of the names and misdeeds that she could provide. She told of her escape, her trek across the snow-covered streets, and every bit of her agony until she had arrived upon his doorstep bloodied and frozen to the core.
