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The baron pulled back, holding Caroline away from him with both hands and scanning her visage.
“It’s only a gunshot,” she said with a grimace.
“A what?” the baron gasped. Caroline explained her injury and in the barest of terms credited the duke for her repair. The baron slapped the duke on the back once more, nearly causing him to pitch forward. “So long as she is home. I have you to thank for that.”
Lord Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and Caroline had to suppress her laughter. She knew exactly what he was thinking. It would take the pair days to get the tale out with the chaotic manner in which her father was behaving. She could not even find it within herself to be bothered. He was elated. He was pleased to see her. She had hoped, had prayed, but had prepared herself for the same steely reserve with which she had been handled for ages past.
“Caroline,” her father turned to her once more and pierced her with a determined stare. “I am so sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head.
“It does matter,” the baron replied. “If you don’t want to marry, I shall abide by your wishes. I swear it. You never have to marry again. I swear it now. You can grow old with me in Northwickshire and I’ll never say a word otherwise.”
Caroline felt the duke’s gaze upon her but she fought the urge to glance up at him. The gesture would be far too telling and she was afraid of what she might see written on Lord Robert’s face. He had kissed her with abandon, yes, but he had never claimed to love her. He had never spoken of marriage or anything of the sort. Hadn’t she learned from the example of Lord Edward that lust meant little more than nothing to a gentleman?
“Papa,” she led her father to the settee so that she might get some reprieve. “We have much to say and you must allow us out with it.” She glanced up at the duke and bade him to begin. It was her tale, but she had already told it twice and she was weary. He would be able to craft a concise version that would allow her father all of the necessary details without any of the frills.
The duke took up his posting opposite the father and daughter and began to speak in his deep, soothing voice.
Caroline had fallen asleep sometime in the middle of the tale, but the men had continued on for hours talking and planning without her. She had been brought a tonic for her pain and the concoction had lulled her into a deep slumber that she had not even realized had been sorely needed. The duke must have carried her unconscious form up to her bed for when she woke the following morning, she was still in her servants’ clothes but tucked into the delicate pink blankets of her own four-poster bed.
It was strange to find herself in this room so many years later. So many eager conversations with her mother had been shared well after her father had thought that she had gone to sleep. Caroline had dreamed of a different future in this room. She had dreamed of things that she had long tucked away and told herself that she no longer yearned for—things like a husband or children of her own. She would have thought that after her frightening exposure to the outside world these past weeks she would be hesitant to want any attachments. She had not thought she wanted children. She had no experience with children, being an only child herself. And yet, she found that there was a kernel of want that had grown within her. A light in her darkness.
She dared to face the thought for the first time. Only a short while ago she had been married with the promise of children and she had dreaded the prospect. What had changed?
The duke had altered her outlook, she realized. Robert.
His father had been odious. She had rebelled against the idea of subjecting herself to that life, of bringing a child around a man who might only craft him into a tool to be used. How his eldest son had survived such an upbringing only spoke further to his character, to the strength of his own person and will.
She realized that Lord Robert had proven to her time and again that he was a kind and compassionate man. He would protect and defend his family without resorting to cruelty. He was smart and driven in his goals but not manipulative or scheming. He had treated Caroline like a person of value even when he had thought her nothing, but a servant. He had respected her words and opinions; saw more in her than what most gentlemen allowed for in the capabilities of women. He would be a good husband, she had realized, and perhaps an even better father. In his singular person, he had the capacity to undo generations of terrible habits. His time away from his family had taught him that, she realized. He had rather faced the horrors of warfare than the hate and anger of his own father and brother. He must have stayed away after recognizing the poison that seemed to leach from their every word and action; figuratively and then in reality.
Caroline moved carefully about the room with a secret smile upon her face. The duke had kissed her, and with such passion! That had to be a good sign.
She realized that the gowns that hung in the wardrobe were from when she had possessed a much smaller frame, before her womanly form had filled in. She crossed the hall to her mother’s dressing room and was unsurprised that it remained untouched, like a memorial that her father had kept to the memory. She ran her fingers over the horsehair brush with the jeweled handle. A small bottle of perfume sat beside its cap as if it had only been used a moment before. Caroline squeezed the bulb and directed the spray at her throat. A deep inhale and the distinctive scent of her mother surrounded her.
She opened the wardrobe and found the gowns that she had once run awestruck fingers over. Her mother had been a woman of definitive taste. She had been known as one of the most remarkably dressed women in London in her time. The gowns, although outdated, were still so elegant in their making and style that they would never go out of fashion. Caroline chose a dark green brocade with gleaming silver snowflakes stitched into the fabric. It was perfect for the season. Now that she had regained her freedom, she was determined to decorate every inch of her father’s home. They had not made the effort in years but no more. She would celebrate.
Perhaps she might even convince the duke to outfit his home as well, Caroline mused. The gentleman could use a spot of cheer in his life. She would surround him with it she promised herself.
Since her father had only brought the barest of staff, Caroline pinned her own hair back in a simple knot at her nape. She checked her features in the mirror, pinching her cheeks for a spot of color, and made her slow passage down the stairs. Her leg still ached but she could bear it.
She had expected to find the gentlemen in the parlor but was dismayed to learn that they had gone out. She might have overslept, but she had not thought that reason enough to have left her alone in the townhouse. The butler, a middle-aged man who she had recognized but had been obliged to ask his name, had informed her that they had gone out on important business.
“I will have one of the maids come sit with you when they return from the market,” Belton had promised.
Caroline wondered where the men could have gone off too. She worried that they would make an attempt to confront Lord Edward without the officers of the law and be overwhelmed or worse by his cronies.
No, she told herself with a firm shake of her head, the duke would never take such a risk. She had to trust that he would think well before he made a move. He was not a man of haste. His experience with battle would have taught him that there was a time to hold and a time to strike.
Caroline would have liked a cup of tea to settle her nerves but both maids had gone out and the housekeeper was upstairs fussing over the fact that Caroline had been sleeping in a room that had not been prepared to be occupied. Caroline had not cared if the linens were fresh. The fact that they had been maintaining her room at all these past years had been shocking enough. Perhaps her father had harbored the secret hope that she would have chosen to join him in London on one of his visits.
Caroline felt a surge of remorse at the thought. She had loathed her father for pulling away after her mother’s death. Caroline wondered if she had done the same in some way. Perhaps she had stopped giving him chances to prove that he still cared. Perhaps she had walled herself off from any connection so that she might not suffer the same pain of loss ever again. She had felt so much anger whenever he had struggled to look upon her that if he had tried to show affection, would she have been receptive?
No, she realized. She had steeled herself in return. She had been so guarded against her father’s withdrawal that she had closed herself off to him, and the world around her. She had loved him just as she had loved her mother and some part of her must have thought that the loss of her only remaining parent would have been unbearable. She had fortified her heart against all hurts. Only Marilee had managed to slip through her defenses.
She prayed that her maid could be found. Marilee had to survive the ordeal. Caroline would not consider any alternative.
CHAPTER26
