Mistress by Marriage (27 page)

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Authors: Maggie Robinson

Tags: #Historical romance, #Fiction

BOOK: Mistress by Marriage
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“Indeed. If our security is breached, I shall ensure with my dying breath that you are safe. If you feel my fists are inadequate, I shall position myself at the front door with a truncheon. But you will not leave the premises, Lady Christie. Lord Christie would have my hide if I enabled you into danger.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! My husband could be lying in a pool of blood right this minute and that revolting viscount heading for France!”
“Doubtful. Lord Christie seems eminently qualified to deal with the task at hand. Would you care for a cup of tea, Lady Christie?”
“I don’t want any bloody tea! I’ve already been Pope’s prisoner once today. I won’t be yours.” Caroline raced to the front door. It was, as she requested, locked.
Putney came up silently behind her. “Perhaps a sherry then. Something to calm your nerves.”
Caroline felt her heart go black. “Give me the keys, Putney. If you don’t, I’ll find that truncheon.”
“Now, my lady. You’ll thank me in the end. And don’t get any ideas about going upstairs and climbing out the balcony window. Miss Serena told me all about
that
.”
She had been too good for too long—except for the interlude with Edward, when objects came so easily to hand and were tossed with smashing satisfaction at the walls. At him. Caroline picked up a particularly ugly vase. Serena would be grateful it was gone.
Putney looked at the fragments at his feet. “Tsk, tsk. Lord Buckley gave that to her, you know. There is plain white ironstone in the kitchen which has much less sentimental value. Shall we go belowstairs?”
Caroline admitted defeat. She was behaving like the spoiled child Edward accused her of being. But if she never heard him accuse her again, she’d simply die. She burst into tears.
Putney placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “There, there. It will be all right. We’ll give Lord Christie a quarter of an hour, how’s that? If we’ve no news by then, I’ll go round personally and find out what’s what.”
“I—I’ll go with you,” Caroline sniveled.
“We’ll see.” Putney went to the drinks cupboard and poured her some sherry. “Oloroso. Excellent, as I understand.”
Caroline took a small sip. She had never been much for drinking spirits—at least that was one fault she did not possess. Oh, a glass or two of champagne with Edward when she was nervous or love-flushed. A drop of brandy when she had a cold. But she’d seen firsthand what alcohol had done to those she loved, and would never follow them to their graves in that manner. She smoothed her wrinkled gray skirt, imagining she must look like she’d been run over by a dray cart.
Love Lane
, as she recalled. She’d once wished such a denouement for Edward, but now she prayed with every ragged breath that he would be safe.
So she could send him on his way again.
The brass clock on Serena’s mantel ticked along. Putney puttered about the room, trying to appear is if he wasn’t trapping her within. Just when she thought she’d go completely mad, the knocker sounded on the front door.
Caroline raced to it, leaving the elderly butler far behind.
“Don’t open it yet!” he huffed. “Look out the sidelight to make sure it’s Lord Christie.”
Edward’s tall form was visible through the wavery glass. Caroline threw open the door and screamed.
“Shh, Caro. It’s not my blood. Everything is all right, I swear.”
Caroline reached for Edward’s ruined cravat, which was spattered with bright crimson droplets. His coat was torn, and he’d made an attempt to wipe more blood from his left cheek, streaking it from beneath one eye to his shadowed jaw. “D-did you kill him?”
“Just planted him a facer. Or several. I suppose I broke his nose, but he was no beauty to begin with anyway. Caro, come inside and sit down. I must talk to you.”
She looked out to the empty street. A few leaves fluttered across the sidewalk. “Where is he?”
“You’re safe. He’s on his way home to pack, and then he’s taking a little trip.”
Caroline’s panic reemerged. “You just let him go? What if he comes back?”
Edward took her by the elbow and drew her into the hall. “He won’t. I promise. Let’s go into the parlor.”
Putney hovered, but one look from Edward sent him scurrying elsewhere.
Trembling, Caroline sat back on the ruby velvet sofa. “You’ve terrified Putney. He was very kind to me.”
“I’ll make it up to him later.” Edward went to the drinks table, poured himself a brandy and downed it in one swallow. Caroline’s sherry glass was still nearly full, but she had no desire for it. Her hands shook too much to hold it.
Edward had an odd smile on his face. “Pope and I had a little chat. It seems he blames you for his current predicament. Once you exposed him in that book of yours—what was its name?”
“
The Vicious Viscount.
”
“Very apt. He has been unable to bed any woman successfully since its publication. His wife left him, you know. High class courtesans will have nothing to do with him, and rightly so. They know his reputation after reading your book.
Everyone
in the ton does, it seems. No one wants to take a beating for Randolph Pope’s pleasure no matter how large his purse. He was forced to resort to common streetwalkers, where he failed to perform despite repeated use of the rod on those poor souls. Not only that, he picked up a rather unpleasant affliction. You’ve made his life quite miserable, Caro.”
“Good.”
“Now who is the vicious one?”
She had no remorse. She had tended to Lizzie’s back. “Wh-what was he planning to do to me?”
“Nothing half so sinister as we might have expected. He was going to hold you for ransom, a rather modest one when all is said and done. He wanted me to pay for his treatment at an Austrian spa for gentlemen he’d heard about. It seems he’s spent what’s left of his fortune on quack remedies for impotence. No doubt there are just as many quacks in Austria, but at least he’ll be on the Continent and not in Mayfair. I’ve readily agreed to provide him with the blunt. With any luck, he’ll fall off an alp and that will be the end of him.”
“
The Count’s Courtesan
.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. What happens when he is cured and comes home?”
“Should the cure prove efficacious, I expect he’ll be too busy being his old self to worry about us. But he’s not a well man, Caro. The years of debauchery have taken their toll. You overpowered him rather easily, did you not?”
Caroline thought about it. She hadn’t seen Pope fall backward, just heard the spectacular results. He had looked quite gray-faced and grim once she’d got her hood off. For a few seconds she’d thought he was dead. Maybe it
was
close to his appointment with the devil.
“You told me you spoke with him before, and yet he still tried to harm me.”
“Yes, I spoke with him. When I confronted him this summer, he of course denied making any threats against you. Dressed me down for sending Mulgrew and his men to warn him off. Swore it must be Douglass who was to blame for anything Rossiter heard. But it was Douglass who wrote to me telling me Pope was becoming increasingly unhinged. I told you that at Bradlaw House last night. And still you ran away.”
Caroline felt a twinge of shame. “I’m sorry, Edward. I wasn’t thinking about Pope.”
“When I discovered your room was empty late this morning I thought Pope had taken you. I’ve never known such despair. But then I found the bedsheets strung together. I realized you were up to your old tricks. And I was angry, so angry I had to talk myself out of giving you a spanking when I met you on the steps.”
He had kissed her instead, quite memorably. “A spanking? Surely I’m too old for that.”
“I wonder. Someone should have raised their hand to you long ago. You’ve run wild all your life.”
He didn’t know the half of it. And wouldn’t.
“But,” he continued, “I’m willing to overlook your impulsivity. I put a great deal of pressure on you at Bradlaw House. No wonder you wanted to teach me a lesson. This time we’ll just sit down like two normal people and—”
“What do you mean ‘this time’?”
“We keep starting off on the wrong foot. I’d like to pretend the past six years never happened, but I’m a realist. I was even ready to let you go after last night, Caro. I told you so. I heard all your ‘lasts,’ every one of them. There was no need for you to climb out windows and frighten farmers. Mr. Mitchell sends his regards, by the way.”
Yes, she had been adamant about leaving. But it was she who was not ready to let him go, which was why she ran away.
“Yes, you’d convinced me. Utterly. I spent all night working on another list and was prepared to send you home in comfort. I even let you sleep in, figuring you were exhausted from our last night together. Every time I said the words ‘last night’ in my head, Caro, I felt as if I were stabbed—by a fork. But then, I finally went into your room, and you were gone. The window blew shut in the rainstorm, you see. I didn’t see the sheets at first. I thought you’d been abducted, and I realized I could
not
let you go when I found you.” He reached to cup her cheek. “If we can simply forgive each other for the past, we should be able to make our marriage work.”
“I don’t want to be forgiven, and I don’t want this marriage to work, Edward! How many times must I belabor the point? We are not suited. You think I should be
spanked
, for heaven’s sake! I’m much more than a spoiled child. I am a woman who knows her own mind, and I know that I don’t want to be married. To you, or anyone else.”
“Balderdash. You write romance novels. Of course you believe in marriage.”
“They are made-up stories, Edward, written out of boredom and for coin. Not everyone deserves a happy ending.”
His gaze was steady. “You think so little of me to deny me happiness?”
“It’s not—oh, please, Edward, I’ve had a rotten day. I walked miles and got soaked and rode in a vegetable cart! I’m worn out from travel and attempted kidnapping. I-I
smell
. Just leave me alone and we can discuss my philosophy of life another day.”
“No. I want to know why you don’t think you deserve a happy ending.”
“It was just a figure of speech. I meant not everyone
gets
a happy ending. Life is frequently unjust. Lovely people have dreadful things happen to them. You lost Alice too soon, for example. My brother died.” Her throat constricted. She was so tired she didn’t have the strength to battle back the tears.
“I want you to tell me, Caro. It’s time.”
She wiped her cheeks. “You won’t understand.”
“Try me,” he said softly.
Chapter 23
 
Celestine had committed an unconscionable crime. No one must ever know her secret. No one.
—Secrets and Seduction
 
S
he told him it was impossible for her to think with him so close to her on the couch. She limped over to the window, and he felt some guilt for continuing to press her. But the air was suddenly charged between them, the truth floating just beyond his fingertips. The red maple tree in front of Number Six was a blaze of glory, almost as glorious as the river of tangled red hair falling down her back. He’d not been able to manage it at all playing lady’s maid at Bradlaw House, though it had been most enjoyable trying. He wanted to gather her in his lap, brush her hair, soothe her, make love to her. Instead he counted the clicks and whirs of the mantel clock.
She was silent for the longest time. He had almost given up waiting when she began, her voice raspy. “I will tell you everything. And then you will see why this is pointless. You will hate me.”
“I will not.”
She gave him a lopsided smile. “We shall see. I won’t go back to the very beginning. Needless to say, you are right. My childhood was as naughty as you imagine. My father didn’t concern himself with me much, so I can’t remember ever getting spanked. I’ll start with Andrew, shall I? That was when my life got interesting.”
Her tone was so bitter Edward nearly asked her to stop the forced confession. But she rushed ahead. “Andrew came to live with us when I was seventeen. He was so beautiful I could not help but be dazzled. He seduced me. No, that’s not right. We seduced each other. He’d had—he’d had a truly terrible life. His guardian found him on the streets of Edinburgh and made him his catamite. Andrew was only seven years old.”
Edward was appalled. No one, not even his rival Andrew Rossiter, deserved such a fate. “That’s indefensible.”
“Yes. Andrew thought that was all there was to life. It was all he was used to, all he expected. He took up with my brother when they were at school. They were—they were lovers.”
“I went to public school. That’s not as unusual as you might think.”
“I know that now. Some men do not like women. My brother was one of them. He was
nothing
like Andrew’s guardian. He would never have harmed a child.”
“No. Most men of that persuasion would not. They are simply seeking affection like the rest of us, although they can be hung for it. That guardian was a predator of the worst kind.”
“He was. I’m glad he’s dead.” She traced a circular pattern on the glass. “When I found out about Andrew and Nicky, I was devastated. I thought Andrew loved
me.”
“He did. He told me so.”
And I saw it with my own eyes. Twice. Once, five years ago in my wife’s bedroom.
It wasn’t Caroline who had convinced him she was unfaithful. It was the look on Andrew Rossiter’s face. Edward had seen a man deeply in love who was determined to have what he wanted. Needed. By any means necessary, such as blackmail. And then weeks ago, when Andrew came to warn him, there really had been no doubt he still had strong feelings for Caroline’s welfare.
“Well, he loved Nicky too, in his way. He tried to explain it, but I wouldn’t listen. I felt used. Disgusted. I confronted my brother. I said some horrible, hurtful things. I threw things at him. Hit him, too. Nicky never said a word. Not one. Then he went to his room and shot himself.” Her voice cracked completely.
Edward bounded up from the distant couch to hold her. She made no protest as he tucked her hair behind her ears and smoothed the tears from her cheeks. “That’s awful, Caro. But it wasn’t your fault.”
“Oh, wasn’t it? He didn’t die, Edward. He lived a week until Andrew and I killed him.” She broke away.
“No. I don’t believe you.”
“The doctor said he’d never get better. The bullet could not be removed. He was—they call it a vegetative state, Edward. He couldn’t see or hear or think. He lay in bed like he was in his coffin already, not moving. Andrew and I talked about it, then Andrew put him out of his misery.”
That was also not as unusual as she might think. “That was a kindness, Caro. Surely you see that.”
“Kindness!” she cried. “We killed him! Our selfishness destroyed him!”
“He destroyed himself, Caro. It was his choice to put a bullet in his brain. It was he who was selfish to hurt the two people he left behind.”
She shook her head. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.” She turned her gaze back to the empty street.
Edward took her hand in his. “I understand this,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me what you think you’ve done in the past, or what you’ll do in the future. I can’t change the fact you loved the wrong man first. But you love me now. I know you do.”
Her gray eyes silvered with tears. “I destroy every man I love. I kill them off, even in my books. Look at Nicky. Andrew has been lost for years because of me. You deserve someone better. Like Alice, who’ll be quiet and proper.”
No wonder she had been so determined to be wild and provoking. She didn’t
want
their marriage to work, not really. To her mind she had found the deadest bore of a man to marry—a Christie carrying on the conventional Christie traditions—someone who would never stir the confusing, guilty jumble of feelings she had for Andrew and her brother. And they might have had such a marriage, one of polite strangers, if sensual sparks had not ignited between them. Edward once resented her for her incendiary effect on him and had become colder. Perversely, his coldness had only made her hotter, ever more desperate to drive him away.
They were a pair of idiots. If only they had been truthful with each other from the start. But it was never too late to tell the truth.
A feeling of blessed relief nearly overwhelmed him as his words tumbled out. “I didn’t have the same feelings toward Alice as I have for you. There. It feels good to say it. I mean no disrespect toward Alice—she will always be a part of me. She was my youth, as Andrew was yours. She gave me my children and was a wonderful wife and mother, but she wasn’t Caroline Parker. I can’t live without you, Caro. I don’t want to. I’ve tried, and it hasn’t worked.”
She snatched her hand away. “You can’t live with me either!”
Edward took it back and pressed it firmly between both palms. “Well, that’s because you didn’t read my list.”
“I read it!”
“Was there anything on it so impossible?”
“N-no.”
He felt her working her hand out of his grasp. “I’m not going to let you go, you know. Even if you haul off and kick me as you’re wont to do. I must have you teach those tricks to Allie.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m not fit to raise a little girl.”
“She’s not so little. Tops you by at least half a foot, I think.”
“Edward! You know what I mean. How can you even think of letting me near your children?”
He swept her up and down. “True. You are far too great a temptation to the boys. It wouldn’t do to have them fall half in love with their stepmother. You’ll have to wear one of those lacy caps to cover your hair and practice a stern expression. There’s not a doubt in my mind they will do something to deserve your disapproval in short order. Cambridge seems a hotbed of depravity, very different from my day.”
“Be serious. I’ve just told you terrible things. And I wrote all those horrible books and consorted with courtesans. You cannot possibly want me back in your life.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because—because you’re
Edward Christie
!”
“And who is he?” Edward asked quietly.
“He’s—you’re—oh, this is impossible. Go away.”
“You just don’t listen.” He put his arm around her and brought her back to the red velvet couch. “But I have the rest of my life to convince you and I’m not going to give up. You’ve had a very hard day. I think you’re too tired to run away again. So, here is your choice. You may stay here in Serena’s house for the night, or come back with me to my town house. I’m not expected back so soon, and I daresay things will not be as comfortable as they might be. Most of the staff is on holiday.”
“With pay.”
“Why, yes. Of course.”
“That’s an Edward Christie thing to do. Not many men in your position are so kind to their servants. Even your offer is an Edward Christie thing—you gave me a choice to stay here where Mr. Putney and Serena’s staff can take care of me, or I can go with you to an empty house. You didn’t have to tell me that.”
Edward was puzzled. “But it is the truth.”
“Yes. In all the years I’ve known you, Edward, you’ve always been truthful. Too truthful sometimes. Except for the time you plotted and pretended to be a wicked kidnapper. I made you turn against your nature. You didn’t do the right thing, the sensible thing.”
“It seemed right and sensible at the time. Felt good, too, except when you unmanned me in the carriage. I got you into my clutches, didn’t I?”
“You did. But why?”
“I told you at Bradlaw House. You were unreachable any other way.”
“No, Edward. I know why you kidnapped me. Why do you
want
me? I’ve done nothing but make us both unhappy.”
“You’re right.” Despair washed over her face at his words. “You just said I always tell the truth. It is a fact that when we lived together, you did everything possible to poke and pick at me. Being with you was unsettling, like snuggling with a rabid hedgehog.” He was gratified to see her lips twist for a second. “You incited the children to riot—”
“I just wanted them to have some fun,” Caroline interrupted.
“Well, yes, that’s one way of looking at it. But Christies believe fun is overrated. Didn’t you hear? Ah, I believe you
did
hear. You thought marriage to me would be most unexceptional, like sailing on a smooth, glassy sea, the wind barely moderate. Bland as blancmange. Dull as ditchwater. Absolutely no fun at all.”
“You were the first man to propose,” Caroline said tartly.
“Yes. It seemed the prudent, practical thing to do to ask a woman I’d known four days to marry me. That, my dear, was not at all Christie-like. In fact, that was the beginning of your corruption of me.”
“I suppose I forced you to think with Little Edward.”
“I hope you don’t think of him as
little
. He would find that most offensive.”
“Stop trying to charm me! It’s not like you! You’re supposed to be all stiff and grumpy.”
“I can attest to the stiffness. A minute in your presence and I am granite. I can demonstrate if you wish.”
“I do not wish! Edward, I realize that physically we are compatible—more than compatible. But sex is simply not enough to build a marriage on.”
“I agree. That’s why I made up the list.”
Caroline groaned. But she didn’t rise and flee upstairs, or ring for Putney, or look to throw any of Serena’s rather hideous bric-a-brac. Edward felt hopeful for the first time in days. Their past was spread out before them like a torn and tattered blanket. They could mend it if they tried.
“Caroline, you asked me why I wanted you. I can tell you honestly that I don’t know. You’re not convenient. I can’t control you, or myself when I’m around you. You cut up my peace. You make me ache. I have every expectation that all my hair will turn gray or even fall out if you come back to me.”
Caroline bit her lip to prevent her smile. “Edward, I have given you the opportunity to make a pretty romantic speech. Is this your best effort? Pain and baldness?”
“I am not a romantic, Caro. I am a Christie, and as such I’m not used to declaring my affections. Perhaps I need lessons. But I have feelings for you, and you alone, as impossible and obstinate as you are. I would not kidnap any other woman.”
“That’s something, I suppose. It would be a chore to keep finding other women trussed up in your carriage or your bed.”
“You will be the only one trussed up in my bed—if you wish it.”
“I do.” She sighed. “But I don’t deserve you.”
“Rubbish. Caroline, the past is the past. Every bit of it. Every mistake you’ve ever made—every mistake
I
have made—cannot be undone. But we would not be who we are without them. I expect we will make more mistakes in the future. It won’t be so awful if we make them together.”
She shook her head. “Christies don’t make mistakes.”
Ah! He had her now. “Then we are in agreement.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything!”
“Oh, but you have. Christies don’t make mistakes. I am a Christie. I want you. Therefore, it is not a mistake to want you, because Christies don’t make mistakes. You can’t argue with that. It’s logic.”

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