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A false, or true if it so happened, claim of her cycle would buy them another week. Beyond that, they did not know. All the vials and cycles in the world could do nothing to keep her husband from her bedchamber indefinitely. It was a fool’s hope that they could procure the proof that was being used to blackmail her father and claim the marriage unofficial in such a short time, but it was the only plan they had. Marilee would be her witness and perhaps, with some stroke of luck, this could be undone.
If they failed in their mission, Caroline knew that it would be impossible to delay the act forever, but she would buy as much time as she could even if it meant stooping to deception. After that, she could only pray that she was quickly fertile so that he would leave her be for months on end. The last thing that she wanted was for him to make a continual effort. After all, all he really wanted was another heir. Caroline would pray for a son. She would produce the child and wash her hands of the duke.
She doubted that he would allow her much influence over the child as it would be his intention to form his son in his own image. Being an only child, Caroline had always wanted a family to love. Although she had resigned herself to spinsterhood, a part of her always wished for children. Now that wish was dashed. With Caroline actively undoing the duke’s efforts, she was very likely to be separated from her own offspring. Such thoughts were against everything she had been taught it meant to be a wife or mother. She did not care; she could not care; she loathed her husband.
The duke waiteduntil the second day to speak to her. The first she had spent with her nose resolutely buried in her book while he slept noisily with his head thrown back and mouth hanging wide open. Drool collected in the corner of his mouth. Caroline turned to stare out the window. Marriage, it seemed, was exhausting. Marilee had rubbed her fingers together, miming pinching some of the poisonous crystals into his open maw, but the light in her eyes revealed that she was only teasing. There would certainly be questions if the duke should fall ill or even die in the company of his new wife, and even her melancholia could not make her consider such a heinous act.
Caroline shook her head and returned to her pages. Thank the Lord she would still have Marilee, she thought. The truth was, that no matter the dire nature of their situation neither woman would ever stoop to harm the man. True, Miss Caroline was willing to ingest a small amount of the poison herself, less than even a physician might prescribe, but causing herself temporary discomfort was a means worth the end. She was not harming anyone but herself. Luckily, she did not try because presently her nemesis awoke.
“That’s a prime bit of blood you have out there,” he said with a jerk of his chin to the wall at her back. Tied behind the carriage was Bella, who made a nickering fuss every few miles as if keenly aware of her lady’s displeasure. “I know just the stud to pair her with to the result of invaluable offspring.”
“Is that all you think about?” Caroline snapped.
“Making the most of my… assets?” he asked with humor, “or… procreation?”
“Both,” she replied, refusing to allow the blush he had assumed would rise to her feminine cheeks. She wasn’t missish to be shocked by the topic. Her father’s stallion had covered the mares at the barony, and although she was not supposed to know about such things, Father was not terribly attentive and she was always curious. As long as she could relegate the thought to Bella and some unnamed stallion, she could keep her composure. She looked out of the window, pointedly ignoring the duke. A lady was only like to blush when such things were said in intimacy, and she refused to think on it. The duke may be attempting to flirt with her although she was nothing but revolted.
“They are one and the same,” he drawled. His eyes upon her breasts told Caroline that they were no longer talking about horses.
“You still have a son,” she spat as she pulled her pelisse closed. “A grown son.” Her disbelief that he would so easily disregard his own blood was evident. Marilee’s breath grew deathly still at Miss Caroline’s side and her eyes flicked back and forth between the pair as they faced off. She wondered what his son would think of her and his father’s attempt to replace him. Of course, that was not how the succession worked. The eldest living son would inherit the dukedom. She said as much.
“My preferred heir is dead,” he said with cold calculation. “I have a spare who is neither settled nor adept at managing all that my position requires. He may inherit the dukedom, but he will not inherit the coin, nor any of the unentailed properties. He is a spendthrift.”
“One might say that the fault lies on your shoulders for not preparing both equally,” she jabbed.
“I had no need to prepare Edward. With Robert at the helm, it would have been a considerable waste of effort to even bother. The other was raised to want for nothing, to take his leisure and hold his place.” She expected his sneer to hold malice but instead found that he was enjoying their spat. The lust in his rheumy eyes nearly made her change the topic, but she needed him to continue. If she were heading straight toward this family with all their foibles, then she needed to know the powers at play and where she, or her future children, might fit into them. “Robert was infallible,” he continued, “primed for his role… until he abandoned it.”
“Death is not abandonment,” she hissed with shock at the father’s unfeeling revelation.
“Edward should have gone to war, not Robert,” the duke grunted.
She wondered idly if Robert had gone to war to escape his despicable father.
“Maybe then Edward would have learned a thing or two. Even as marquess, Robert had all the makings of a duke. He was driven, organized, efficient, respected by our tenants and prudent in his companionships. I like to think he was a fine model of his father,” he boasted and it was all that she could do not to cringe at the thought that there had once been two men as beastly as he. “Edward is none of those things. Charming, yes, but not a leader with any foresight.” He waved a hand in the air as if the younger of his two sons was nothing more than a social entertainment. “My son,” she realized he was referring to the elder again, “was engaged to be wed to the most beautiful lady of her season, a true diamond of the first water. What a grand Duchess she would have been. But, no. Five years!” He shouted so suddenly that both Caroline and Marilee jumped. “Five years he had been gone and she waiting. Do you know how many heirs I could have had by now if he had stayed?”
More than ever, she thought this Robert had gone to war to escape his father’s clutches. If only she could be so lucky.
“If you want to be cross with anyone for your situation,” he said, “let it be Robert. He volunteered. I did not have to lose my son to the wretched French! If he had done his duty to his family instead of gallivanting off to become an admiral and fulfill some duty to the crown that was completely unnecessary then I might not have had to call on your father’s shame. I might have done so just for the pleasure of it, true, but, blast it, Robert has left me in the lurch yet again.”
“Edward might still produce an heir,” she said softly. “Perhaps a grandson will be more to your liking.” She suspected that his sons were somewhere around her own age. They could not be more than five or ten years her elder. Certainly, if the duke still thought himself spry enough to produce offspring, then his son should be more than capable.
“Have you ever heard the phrase, faber est suae quisque fortunae?” he asked, suddenly lost in introspection.
She thought for a minute, the Latin rusted in her mind. “It means something like, every man is the maker of his own fortune.”
“A bluestocking!” he mused. “What have I married?”
She wanted to offer a retort that he could take her back, but of course, he could not. The words were spoken. She was married now.
“My education did not lack,” she stated in a flat tone.
“These words I live by,” he revealed. “It is the reason for all of my successes. I do not leave it to others to act. I can hope Edward produces a viable heir. Yet, what if I live out my years trusting that he will do so and he produces only daughters,” he scoffed, “or, worse yet, a son, like himself, with no ambition and only debauchery?”
She gaped at him. He did not see taking a woman young enough to be his daughter as debauchery. She supposed he was not the only duke that felt this way. A shiver went up her spine.
“Now you see,” he laughed, thinking she agreed when the reality was that she was dumbfounded by his sheer obsession. “I must take precautions to ensure my bloodline. Take them into my own hands so that there can be no doubt.”
“And what might Edward think of this?” she asked. “What might he say that you plan to usurp his inheritance? Furthermore, how is he not to think of me as anything less than an enemy? A child of mine would be a threat to his future.”
