Cheryl Holt (41 page)

“Have you spoken with Father?” He sustained another wave of fervent sentiment that had him desperately longing to share Edward’s paternal title.

“Until I’m blue in the face,” Charles responded. “I’ve begged and pleaded for him to intervene somehow with Lord Marbleton, but he said to just ‘let it go.’ ”

“Easy for him to be unconcerned,” James muttered, loving the opportunity to take his brother’s part against their father, “when he’s not the one who’s losing Caroline.”

“Exactly,” Charles concurred. “He’s marrying again, and she’s presumably his long-lost love, so I can’t believe that he thinks I should blithely walk away from Caroline without a fight. He’s certainly getting everything he’s ever desired.” At the offhand mention of Angela, Charles blushed.

“You haven’t met my mother yet, have you?”

“No,” Charles said, shaking his head.

“Don’t listen to any of the gossip. She’s quite something, and I expect . . .”—James was abruptly frantic for Charles to like Angela—“I expect you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“I saw her on the stage that one night at the Chelsey,” Charles acknowledged. “She has a certain flair, doesn’t she?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“ ’Tis easy to grasp why Father would . . . well . . .” He blushed again.

“He claims he never got over her. Even after all these years.”

“You’ve discussed his feelings about her?”

Charles was jealous! He was clearly bothered that James and Edward enjoyed the type of relationship where they
were comfortable reviewing such private matters. James had never considered that his connection with Edward was different, or deeper, than the one he had with his legitimate children. The realization swirled through his chest, mixing ferociously with all the other careening emotions, until he began to feel dizzy.

“They’re very much in love,” he inevitably said, prompting dispassion into his voice. “When you see them together, ’tis so evident.”

“You’ve been with them when they’re together?” Charles inquired plaintively. “At home, he just made an imperial pronouncement of his intentions, but then, my sisters went off on a tirade. They’ve created such a harangue that now he won’t discuss his plans with any of us.”

“That definitely sounds like Edward.” James was eminently intrigued to behold his father from Charles’s point of view.

“I wish I could have met your mother that night at the theater,” Charles offered. “And you, too, but the encounter was so wretchedly strange.”

“Caroline was there,” James reminded him, unable to fathom how he’d ended up as the defender of Edward’s behavior. “And Abby. Father couldn’t have introduced us then—even if he’d wanted to.”

“I could tell that he’d upset you. At times, I don’t understand why he acts as he does. I’ve been dying to meet you forever.”

“Really?” James preened like a wee child who’d been handed a favorite treat. “I’ve asked before, as well, but Edward always refused. He felt that Michael and I would be a bad influence on you.”

“Did he actually say as much?”

Charles was incensed, and James flushed as a surge of fondness swelled his heart till it no longer fit properly between his ribs. “Not in so many words, but he’s never quite grasped what to do with the two of us.”

“Is Michael here?” Charles glanced around expectantly,
as though hoping Michael would materialize. “I should like to meet him, too.”

“No. At the news of our parents’ pending marriage, he left Town in a fit of pique.”

“Would that I could have joined him!” Charles grumbled so sorrowfully that James chuckled.

He walked to the sideboard and refilled his libation, filled one for Charles, too, and at the offer, Charles accepted, and the two brothers sipped companionably. They smiled at one another, a lifting of the lips that was almost identical, and James grew wistful. He was so delighted that Charles had come, so thrilled that he’d brought his problems here, and he couldn’t help but lament over the lost association that had been formerly denied to them.

They smiled again, the pangs of this novel friendship cutting like shards of broken glass. As easy as that, James recognized that his bond with Charles was permanent, solid, and true, a familial loyalty that was indestructible, and he was now duty-bound to protect him, to keep him safe and happy. “So, lad,” he nudged, “if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

“I’d marry Caroline immediately,” Charles declared, without having to ponder his answer.

“You’d dare defy them all? You love her that much?” There hadn’t really been a need to inquire. The depth of the boy’s admiration was shining through, plainly visible.

“Without a doubt,” Charles beamed. “You don’t know what she’s like.”

“No.” But he knew Abby intimately, and if Caroline had half of Abby’s charm, Charles would never get over her. James couldn’t bear to have Charles suffering through the agony that he himself was enduring.

“I wish I could introduce the two of you,” Charles said, “so you’d understand.”

James
understood
perfectly. Better than Charles could ever guess.

Slowly, a strategy began to emerge. It was scandalous, dangerous, bold, and if it succeeded, numerous parties
would be perpetually affronted. Not that James cared. His only concern was for Charles. Aiding him seemed as natural as all the occasions he’d shouldered Michael’s burdens over the years. Plus, he was determined to make whatever small amends he could so that at least one person would be content in the end.

“I suspect there’s a method for you to win Caroline,” he judiciously pronounced, “but you must carefully consider your resolve. This will affect her more than you. Are you confident that she returns your emotions?”

“Positive. She and I have . . .”

Looking abashed, he didn’t complete his sentence, causing James to ponder how well his little brother actually knew Caroline Weston. Perhaps he’d be doing everyone a favor by seeing them united.

“Have you . . .?” he posed delicately.

“Never! She’s a lady!” Charles asserted, then he backed off as he remembered James’s comportment toward Abby and what had incited him to call in the first place. “Sorry . . . I’m not suggesting that . . .”

“ ’Tis all right,” James stated, waving away Charles’s discomfiture. “I’m not the best role model in these cases.”

“I just meant that she and I have sneaked off alone a few times. But I’d always intended to wait for our wedding night.”

James nodded, deeming the boy a martyr or a fool, relieved that he’d grown up differently. “Your life will be completely altered, and there’ll be no going back. Not for you. Or for Caroline.”

“I’ll do anything to make her mine!” Charles vowed.

James accepted the gravity of Charles’s pledge. He’d have done the same for Abby—had she ever given the slightest indication that she’d wanted him to. “We’ll have to proceed with haste. Tonight. With her betrothal so close, we can’t tarry till tomorrow. If you’re certain . . .”

“I am.”

James stepped into the hallway and summoned one of his assistants. They whispered confidentially, the man left,
then returned several minutes later, and the whispering continued as Charles watched all with avid curiosity.

“Excellent,” James eventually said. “Send Mary up to me, would you?”

The man went to fetch her.

“Mary?” Charles queried.

“She works for me, usually as a housemaid, but as with all my employees, she’s extremely versatile.” He donned his cloak.

“Where are we off to?”

“Lord Marbleton and his family are attending a soiree at the home of the Earl of Rosewood. ’Tis Caroline’s first outing in several weeks.” He rested a comforting hand on Charles’s arm. “The Westons want her to be seen in public with her new fiancé—a sort of public preview for tomorrow’s announcement.”

Appalled, Charles asked, “Does Caroline realize what they’re up to?”

“That . . . I don’t know. But I gather she’d rather be somewhere else. Let’s go find out for sure, shall we?”

Caroline Weston looked from one end of the grand ballroom to the other. She’d been hoping to meet Charles in the crush of people, but so far she hadn’t seen him anywhere. If she hadn’t been able to get close enough to speak with him personally, she’d thought to send a message through one of their mutual friends, but she’d had no luck. Charles had obviously decided not to attend.

Even if she’d stumbled upon him, she doubted if she’d have been able to chat. All evening, Margaret had lurked by her side as though she were being kept on a leash. Jerald had been hovering, too, but thankfully, he’d finally trotted off, but not before advising her that he was going in search of a young man to whom he wanted her introduced.

Jerald could show up with one of the princes, the royal swain down on bended knee and proposing marriage, and she wouldn’t give the highborn suitor a second glance. She just wanted to talk to Charles! Heaven only knew what story he’d been fed by her brother, and she wasn’t about to have him assuming that she’d changed her mind. Far from it.

She wasn’t exactly sure what had happened that day in Jerald’s library when Edward had come to call, along with his illegitimate son, James. But it didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. There had been a shouting match, and Abigail had been sent away in the dead of night, never to be heard from again. Then, as though Caroline had been the one to cause all the trouble, she’d been confined to her rooms, and Charles banished from the house.

For weeks, Caroline had been aware that Abigail was carrying on an affair, but Caroline had suspected that she was trysting with Edward. To learn that it had been the dangerous, impudent rogue of a son, instead! My, but she
didn’t think Abigail had had it in her to do something so rash.

Caroline had only observed James Stevens on two brief occasions, but that was plenty of opportunity to judge how handsome he was. Not nearly as attractive as Charles, of course, yet dashing in his own fashion. His features were more bold, his shape more broad, and there was a hazardous air about his person that would make any female of good sense shy away.

While her upbringing had been extremely sheltered, she’d still managed to glean some of the gossip about James, plus Charles had fed her various interesting tidbits. By most accounts, his older half-brother was a scoundrel, a villain of dubious integrity and reputation. Charles had heard all the stories, but tended not to believe them, relying on his father’s opinion, instead, which was that James was a tough, fair, and honorable individual, who’d been hardened by life experiences.

Despite Caroline’s innocent rearing, she hadn’t needed anyone to tell her that James had a definite way with the ladies. That night in the theater lobby, every woman in the place had surreptitiously watched him. How Abigail had crossed paths with such a man, how she’d gotten close enough to begin a liaison, or how she’d found the courage to proceed, were questions Caroline was dying to have answered, but she had no idea when Abigail’s disgrace would end so that her sister could confess all the juicy details.

Jerald refused to discuss her, as did Margaret, and no one would explain what the future held. All Caroline knew with any certainty was that Abigail was gone, Charles had been turned away, and Caroline ended up spending hundreds of deplorable, solitary hours in Jerald’s stifling Town house.

A serving maid who was passing by bumped her slightly, the move precariously tipping the glasses on the woman’s tray. Lest the entire mess topple and send wet spray across the floor, Caroline leaned to the side, reached
out a steadying hand, and she was surprised to the core when the servant spoke softly to her.

“Charles and James Stevens are outside and request that you join them.”

“What?” Caroline gasped on a rush of air.

“Not so loudly,” the woman prudently chided. “Will you accompany me?”

“Absolutely!” Caroline verbalized quietly, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Ask me the direction to the ladies’ retiring room.”

Caroline turned to Margaret and made her delicate entreaty, then mentioned agreeably, “This maid can show me the way.”

“Don’t dawdle!” Margaret insisted. “And meet me back here in the corner the instant you return.”

“Where else would I go?” she asked sweetly, then hurried away while struggling to appear casual.

With the maid leading, they strolled through the crowd and toward the entryway. Once there, they climbed the stairs, passed through a long hall, and the numbers thinned until they no longer encountered any other guests. The maid deposited her tray on a table, and they increased their pace, finally descending another set of stairs, this one narrow and quiet.

“What’s happening?” Caroline implored as they started down.

“Mr. Stevens will explain,” the maid replied enigmatically.

Moments later, the maid opened a back door, and Caroline stepped out into the fresh night air. “Follow me,” the woman said, and Caroline obediently accompanied her. Whirling at the furtive circumstances, her heart pounded with trepidation.

They walked through the garden, fortunately managing to elude anyone Caroline knew. Toward the far wall, the maid paused.

“James?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“I’m here, Mary.”

James Stevens emerged from behind a hedge. He seemed taller than Caroline recalled. Dressed all in black, from his shirt to his boots, and half hidden by the shadows, he looked positively sinister.

“Hello, Lady Caroline,” he said politely, bowing in acknowledgment.

“Mr. Stevens,” she responded carefully. She wasn’t afraid, but on guard, and hoping that Charles’s descriptions about his brother’s character were accurate. “Is Charles here?” she queried anxiously.

“In the alley. In my coach.” Gently but firmly, he counseled, “I apologize for the drama to which we’ve subjected you, but I must warn you of some disturbing news that we have recently discovered.”

“What is it?”

“Your brother, Jerald, intends to accept a marriage contract on your behalf this evening, with the proposal and announcement tomorrow.”