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No, she hadn’t needed to marry him. If there’d been a lover, surely she would have wed the other man instead. Unless, of course, the cad was already married, in which case marriage would give her the freedom for an affair. Fear of the wedding night, indeed! He never should have waited to enter her rooms.
He’d start were they’d left off.
“All your animals are here, Caroline.” Ah, that got her. Frozen as still as when he’d first found her surrounded by shards of broken vase. “Every last one of your wounded, limping, hungry mongrels, as well as a three-legged cat, a mischievous fox the gamekeeper wants to shoot, and a number of nags so old, they’d starve out to pasture. Digger, the head groomsman, hired a new stable boy whose sole job is to hand-feed them gruel three times a day.” She was definitely paying attention now. “And what else?” He lounged back as if he had all the time in the world, eyeing his runaway bride, her eyes wide, wary. Resting his wrist on his raised knee, he idly tapped his fingers, drawing out the moment, giving her time to respond. She didn’t. He pretended to search his memory. “Ah, yes!” He held up a finger, making his point. His wayward bride blinked. “Mustn’t forget the talking bird, which, undoubtedly, once belonged to a sailor.” She gasped. “I tried to banish it to the servants’ area. Cook is still blushing and Mrs. Beechum, whom you will find as accommodating as any housekeeper, finally sent it to the stables in a desperate attempt to protect the young maids from its verbiage.”
He’d done quite a bit for this young woman. The problem was, she obviously had no notion he’d done anything at all. The whole enterprise of taking on her collection of useless pets, which her uncle had suggested, was to be a surprise. At first it had seemed perfectly reasonable. What problem could a few comforting pets pose? Only there were far more than a few, and none of them were in any way comfortable. He’d regretted taking them on more than once.
“Where did you think they’d gotten off to?” he asked his silent bride. “Or had you not even noticed their absence?”
Wide green eyes met his, shifted aside, returned. She opened her delectable mouth, then shut it again, rather mulishly, and looked away, toward his home… their home. Concocting a story, no doubt, though it was too late for that.
Why hadn’t he immediately recognised her when they’d stared at each other upstairs? Certainly, as a missish young lady, she’d never looked at him directly before, and the candlelight of the bedroom had offered only faint illumination to war against the shadow of her hat. No doubt the dimness had darkened those eyes, green as spring moss, or he’d have known them. Recognised the shape, wide, slanting down ever so gently on the outside, with long, thick, straight lashes. He’d spent the first half of this night imagining desire in those eyes. Now he would always be watching for lies. Her gaze veered toward George, who was now crouched down on the far side of the lawn, his dogs restless at his feet, waiting for some signal or word from Summerton. Lights were being lit across the Hall, figures outlined in the windows, looking out. Curious servants. He’d have to concoct a story of his own.
This wasn’t the place for a confrontation.
“Come on.” He rose and held out his hand to help her up.
Baver, her Lord Drool, had already lost interest in the reunion, drawn off by some elusive scent, as hounds were wont to do. “Let’s get you inside and find out what this is all about.”
George rose as they did. “Shall I go for help, m’lord?” he called out.
“No,” Summerton called back. “It’s the lad who used to care for Lady Caroline’s animals. I’ll take him up to see Her Grace.”
Ah, if looks could skewer, he’d be pierced. Docile, he’d thought. He’d been wrong.
“Right oh, we certainly could use some help with those good-for-nothing critters,” George groused. “If you have need of me, I’m near to hand,” he promised and turned back for the kennels.
“They’re not good for nothing,” Caroline snipped, quiet but firm. She knew how to leash that temper. “They are as important as he is, as anyone is.”
“She speaks,” he pressed, wondering what would make the sparks fly.
“Of course I speak.” She gave a haughty lift of her chin. “You’ve heard me before.”
“Never like this,” he said.
Of course she’d spoken, and he’d listened. Indeed, given his aversion to caustic, harsh voices and high-pitched screeches, his bride’s voice had been one of many deciding factors. Caroline could lull a man to sleep with her soft deep intonations. Innocently seductive.
“I do have opinions,” she informed him. “When I’m allowed to.”
Before he could react, she pulled away and strode back toward the Hall.
When I’m allowed to.
God save him, his new Duchess was no easy, malleable miss. He had troubles enough without having to deal with her. Worse yet, the delectable swing of her backside in trousers inspired a hedonistic lust, far too raw for seducing any bride, let alone a reluctant one.
Good Lord, he’d married the wrong heiress.
Chapter Two ~ Diversions
Back stiff and straight, Caroline Mary Howlett — Caro to family and friends — led the way back to the Hall. A diversion, that was all.
She would not crumble. She was made of sturdier stuff. Compliance was her best tactic for now, so she looked forward and marched, even as her mind raced for an escape. Jeremy was out there, somewhere on the periphery of the woods, but she’d not turn to see if he still waited. That would only give him away. The Hall loomed ahead, a massive structure with more wings than a flock of birds. Where, exactly, did the duke want her to go? She hesitated.
“Around the back,” Summerton said from behind her, like she was some prisoner. Which she was. Damn the man. Damn his voice rippling through her, like a cat’s purr. She scrunched her shoulders, and pressed her lips tight, protection against the seduction of his voice. “There’s a pathway, closer to the Hall, that leads to the back entrance.” He moved up beside her.
“I’d like to go to the stables first.”
To see her precious pets. That was the crux of the whole thing. She could hardly believe they were alive, here. What would happen to them now, when she left? Would he return them to her uncle? She shivered at the thought. He startled her again, breaking into her thoughts with a voice as rich and dark as chocolate without any sweetening.
