Corey McFadden (30 page)

“And how do you intend to pay for this, Caroline?” he asked, drawing deeply again from the snifter.

“I shall not pay for it, Julian. You will! I will sign a lease under your name and you will be honor-bound as my husband to accept it,” she announced, Victory Rampant.

“Ah, but I shall not, Caroline. As my wife you have no legal rights of your own to speak of, and I have already sent round communication to all of the London estate agents that I will not be held financially responsible for any leases you sign, before, or after, any wedding.” He finished off the snifter and turned to pour himself some more. “I think you’ll find, Caroline, that no one will accept your signature on a lease,” he remarked, his back to her.

“Then I’ll live with friends! I’ll live with Mama. But I will live in London, Julian. You’ll not see my face at that farmhouse you call a country estate!”

“I’m merely curious, you understand, but since you’ve brought it up, how would you be planning to live in London, Caroline? Will your dear Mama continue to support you?”

“You know perfectly well who will support me, Julian. The bills—and there will be a great many of them...” she paused and smiled again. “Very large bills, Julian, very large, will be sent to you in the country. You will have to pay them.” She was feeling confident enough to drape herself over one of the hideous little settees, and give him a spiteful smile.

“Ah, but you may not be aware, Caroline, that a husband has options where these matters are concerned. I have already written to my solicitor. All of the London merchants will be notified that they are not to extend you credit—that any credit they do extend to one Caroline Thorpe will not be honored with payment. It’s perfectly legal, if they have proper notice. Done all the time in the lower classes, I understand. You’ll find that all of the finer, and the less fine, establishments will close their doors to you. He smiled to himself and took another sip. He had no idea whether or not any of this was true, but it certainly had sounded right when he thought it up this afternoon. The house wasn’t on the market, either, come to that, but it certainly could be, and would be snapped up in a heartbeat. That much was true, at least.

“You would not dare to ruin our names with this sort of behavior,” she snarled, but she was sounding less sure of herself. 

“
Au contraire
, Caroline. If you succeed in foisting yourself off on me as wife, I shall take great pleasure in making you the butt of all japery in London. And in case you think I care what people think of my behavior in all this, allow me to assure you that it will not bother me in the slightest.”

He took another deep draught of the brandy and smiled at her. “I think you’ll find us Thorpes to be a frugal lot. I keep quite a tight rein on the finances. Everything has to be approved by me, down to the smallest purchase. Won’t tolerate a lot of frivolous spending. But not to despair, Caroline. You have an excellent wardrobe, I’ve noticed, and more than enough jewelry. Your clothing should last you, assuming you take care of it properly, for many years to come. And, of course, you won’t have much need of frippery in the country. No, plain and simple, that’s our country life. I’m looking forward to teaching you to milk the goats.”

She sat in dark silence, staring at nothing, ignoring him as if he were not there. He could almost see the thoughts chasing around in her head. Finally, she looked up at him. He almost stepped back, so potent was the loathing in her eyes.

“You think you have me trapped, don’t you, Julian?” she said slowly. She was trying to appear relaxed, but her hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists.

“I prefer not to think of it as ‘trapped,’ Caroline. Such an unpleasant concept, don’t you agree? For example, you, indeed, think you have trapped me into making a loveless marriage. You cannot sit there and look me in the face and tell me you and Edgar Randall didn’t set a vicious trap for me in Sydney Gardens the other night.” He had scored with that one. He could see the flare in her eyes. “So I prefer to think of this as my turn to exert a few reasonable conditions, as the head of the household. You wish to marry me? So you shall, but on my terms. We will live on my estates in the country, all the time. No London, no Bath, no visits to the Continent. I’m really a simple family man, Caroline, early to bed, early to rise. I enjoy riding around the estates, visiting my tenants. I shall expect you to accompany me, the way my mother always did my father. It’s charming, really, quite bucolic. Chucking babies under the chin, drinking stewed tea in dark kitchens, admiring pigs, urchins wiping their adorable little noses on your pants leg, or, in your case, your skirt. You’ll get used to it, you’ll see. Of course, you won’t be able to do that all the time. I don’t hold with breeding women gadding about the countryside on horseback. Too much danger of bleeding to death. And”—he smiled conspiratorially at her—“I won’t accept for a minute all this modest, missish nonsense about having only one child.” He took another deep swig. Perhaps he shouldn’t drink too much. He was beginning to enjoy himself too much. “No, indeed,” he went on, appreciating the look of horror that was dawning in her face, “I know my breeding stock when I look it over”—he allowed his eyes to rake her body, appraising, weighing, evaluating—“and you’re a fine brood mare, if I do say so. Wonderful teats, hips, and belly on you. You can grow a baby the size of a calf in there and pop it right out, one a year. Until your womb drops, of course. Messy and painful, that is, or so I understand, but happens to the best of them, unfortunately.”

“Julian, please...” Caroline said faintly. She sat back against the chair, eyes closed. She looked positively green around the gills.

“Of course, people aren’t like animals, fortunately for us men. We have to work at getting babies. Night after night—all that humping and pumping, no rest for the weary.” He paused and gave her a gleaming smile. “I’m sure your delicate sensibilities are shocked at all this, Caroline, but you’ll be pleased to know all this infernal delicacy and tiptoeing around disappears in the privacy of the marital bedroom. Why, we can say anything we please to one another. Very relaxing and great fun, really. No secrets, at all. Chamber pots, bleeding cycles, what-have-you. Have you ever heard a man break wind, Caroline? Most entertaining, I assure you. We have contests sometimes at White’s when we’re foxed. The staff has to air the place out by morning....”

“Julian, that’s enough!” Caroline lurched to her feet, literally shaking all over. “I will not be spoken to like this! You are beneath contempt!”

“Oh, sorry, Caroline, I get like this when I drink. I drink too much, have you noticed? Can’t control myself at all. But I have a damned fine time of it. Damned fine!” He raised the snifter and drained off the rest of it. He tossed the empty glass to the table. The delicate crystal shattered into a million pieces. “Hah, there’s another damned thing busted for your mama to pay for. Don’t blame little Harry for that one, Caroline.”

He turned and perused her carefully, looking her up and down, his eyes coming to rest on her own. He moved toward her slowly, not allowing his eyes to leave hers. Now there was more fear than rage mirrored in their depths. “I get quite randy when I drink, as well, Caroline,” he said, allowing his voice to sound husky, as if with desire. “Can’t get enough of it. Usually use whores for my pleasure, but it’ll be nice—cheaper—having a wife to service me whenever I want. And I want it often.” He gave her a slow, knowing smile and continued his advance. “Give us a little kiss, Caroline. I can teach you what to do. First, I stick my tongue in your mouth....”

With a shriek, she bolted, ripping at the door handles as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. The doors slammed shut behind her, rattling the bric-a-brac around the room. He could hear her footsteps pounding up the staircase. He stood for a moment and stared at the door, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He should, by rights, be utterly disgusted with himself. He wouldn’t dare talk to even one of London’s whores like that, much less to a delicate young lady of the
ton
. But Caroline deserved it, he had to admit. And he strongly suspected it had been a most profitable few minutes’ effort. She would cry off after this. She would have to….

Chapter Fourteen

“Oh, my dear Mrs. Carberry. You would not believe how distressed I am to be the butt of such a poor jest at my own expense. I ask you, what have I ever done to deserve this utter lack of respect from these young people? Why, I am the very soul of kindness to them, nothing less! Isn’t that true, Mr. Randall?”

“Oh, indeed it is, Lady Haverford, indeed it is.” Edgar refrained from rolling his eyes, but it was difficult. The woman had been nattering on in this vein for a good quarter hour. She’d collected quite a crowd of ladies by this time, all cluck, clucking and tsk, tsking. Every time a new lady arrived, Lady Haverford obligingly started her tale all over again from the beginning. It grew more elaborate with each telling, and with each telling, Dolly Haverford’s enjoyment grew as well. She loved being the center of attention.

They had arrived rather early at the Assembly Rooms this evening, and staked out a good position where they could see and be seen by all entering and leaving. Edgar had duly escorted her in her carriage. At least they had had time to work out some of the more difficult details of the tale on the way over. In the meanwhile, Edgar had managed to extricate himself as one of the villains of the piece. He was now a sad and unwilling dupe just like poor Dolly. He didn’t much fancy being a dupe, but it certainly beat being a villain.

“But, Dolly, I thought you said at the time that Caroline was all mussed about, and Julian Thorpe had his arms around her,” argued a tenacious newcomer to the scene. Edgar felt sorry for the poor orchestra players who were playing their hearts out in the small musicians’ balcony, to no effect. The room grew more and more crowded with each passing moment. There were, as far as Edgar knew, no competing fancy private entertainments scheduled this evening, which would mean the large rooms would be fair to bursting at the seams in an hour or so.

“Oh, good heavens, nothing so naughty as that, Miss Worth. Caroline’s attire was quite perfectly intact, such as it was, of course. You know my opinion of how these young girls today go about with entirely too much bosom....”

“But, Dolly, I know you said you saw Julian with his arms about her. I distinctly remember because it made me feel quite faint.”

“Miss Worth, you feel faint at the suggestion of rain coming,” Dolly said dryly, clearly unwilling to give up the center of attention, not to mention control of the story. “I did, indeed, see Julian put his arms about Caroline, and, of course, I said so. But you will recall I said that he did so after Mr. Randall and I, and, of course, her mother, Bettina Quinn, had arrived on the scene. Apparently they deliberately waited until we arrived to stage this little scene. Why, the very idea that I should be the butt of this wicked little joke....” and she was off again, full circle. Lady Haverford had great stamina, Edgar had to give her credit for that.

“But why on earth, would they do such a thing?” Mrs. Blanchard mused. “Caroline Quinn, I grant you, is a headstrong girl, but such a poor hoax makes no sense at all. Why, she has most of the
ton
toasting her upcoming nuptials, I declare. And Julian Thorpe seems a levelheaded sort. I can’t see why they would put themselves in such a silly, not to mention dangerous, position.”

“Exactly, Henrietta! Precisely why I did not wish to believe it myself,” Dolly Haverford crowed, as if she had been waiting for this very point to be raised. Edgar had been waiting for it, as well, but with far more trepidation than Dolly seemed to feel. It was, of course, the absurd part of the tale.

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret....” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. All dozen or so ladies leaned in toward her. From the musicians’ balcony, it must have looked like a flower closing up at dusk.

“It seems Caroline has her heart quite set on young Rokeby—you remember—they were all but declared last year when his stable burned down, and he had to leave suddenly. But you all know Bettina. It seems she favors young Thorpe—saw him as a bird in the hand, don’t you know. Julian and Caroline found that quite amusing, as they have been friends since childhood, and want nothing to do with each other in that regard.”

Edgar did so wish she’d stick to the script. One could get in trouble with this freewheeling invention.

“But, apparently Bettina has been relentless in her attempts to throw them together, nauseatingly so. So, they decided to teach her a lesson. Threw themselves together right in front of her. Although I must say, I do not see why I had to be the butt....”

And she was off again. Actually, the story had gotten pretty good at that. Most of the ladies were nodding, thin-lipped, quite ready to condemn an entire generation for dreadful judgment and antics unworthy of the better bred. Miss Worth still looked a bit confused, however. Perhaps he might have a go at her, himself, later this evening, to make sure she climbed into the lifeboat with everyone else.

“Bettina must have been beside herself,” one of the old biddies, Mrs. Carberry, he thought, offered helpfully.

“Oh, indeed. Why we nearly had to carry her out of the maze, prostrate.”

“Oh, that’s right, Lady Haverford, didn’t you say the country cousin had fainted in the maze? Was she a part of the scheme, or a dupe?”

“Oh, a dupe, no doubt, Mrs. Carberry. She was quite insensible for a few minutes. In fact, that’s when I should have realized something was up. Recall that I said at the time that Julian went immediately to the cousin when she fainted. He was most attentive to her. I suspect he had not realized she would be lured into the maze as well. I believe he’s quite smitten with the cousin, you know, certainly not Caroline.”

“I suspect Caroline’s hand in that part,” Edgar found himself offering. “She’s been quite jealous over all the attention Miss Elspeth Quinn has garnered this Season. Personally—” He leaned in and lowered his voice to make sure they would all pay rapt attention, and he was not disappointed. “I think Caroline had Elspeth imported from the country to make herself look young and fresh by comparison. I think she has been greatly annoyed that the ploy had quite the opposite effect.” He observed the group, weighing their reaction to this bit of salacious
on dit.
As he hoped, he saw heads nodding and lips thinning. Caroline deserved their censure for more than they knew, and Elspeth deserved their alliance.