Mistress by Marriage (9 page)

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Authors: Maggie Robinson

Tags: #Historical romance, #Fiction

BOOK: Mistress by Marriage
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“Hell and damnation!” Edward tossed the missive into the farthest corner of his study and set his eyeglasses on their tray. According to a friend in high places who knew the secret machinations of their monarch, it seemed he would be condemned to stay in town all summer to haggle over the marital situation of his king and his unlucky wife. A Bill of Pain and Penalties was being prepared, a completely apt name as far as Edward was concerned. There would be untold pain and penalties for him. He could, of course, send the children to the country for their planned holiday with his sister, but he was doomed to sit in the heat and misery to discuss the cold and miserable state of George IV’s marriage. Queen Caroline was already parading all over London, and every peer, bishop, and judge would be required to attend the trial, which could go on indefinitely. Interminably.
Odd that two Carolines were the key to his discomfort. In the few days he’d returned to Caro’s bed, he had been unable to wean himself from wanting her with an intensity that was somewhat frightening. He’d looked forward to escaping to Christie Park to contemplate his newly single state. Now his days would be tied up in the stuffy confines of an annex to the House of Lords, and his nights—
Caro would know his plans had changed. The whole of England was privy to the Queen Consort’s and George’s difficulty, and this latest step of the king’s to remove the boil that was his wife from his backside was sure to attract the interest of all his subjects. Everyone knew they had been mismatched and unfaithful to each other for years, yet even after the ‘Delicate Investigation’ fourteen years ago, George had been unsuccessful in untethering himself from his German cousin.
A new movement was afoot to be rid of Caroline of Brunswick once and for all. When she returned from abroad, the fragile deal that had been forged splintered apart. Edward supposed he should consider himself lucky. His Caroline had never been quite as indiscreet—nor as demanding—as George’s unwanted wife.
Would Caro still expect him to provide her with a new schedule once she learned he wasn’t going to leave for the country after all? Could he even stick to a schedule, when every conscious minute of the day included thoughts of her? Resuming his marital rights had only reminded him how empty and dull his life had been without Caro in it. He had been well and truly hoisted on his own petard.
How ironic that all his future days were to be tied up in the dissolution of a marriage not his own. What it would do to advance his own plight he had no idea. If the government was to rehash the scandal about Queen Caroline and her Italian secretary for the foreseeable future—shades of Mary Queen of Scots!—there might not be opportunity to shoehorn in his own petition.
Edward let out an uncharacteristic growl. It was followed some seconds later by a gentle knock on his study door.
He was not in the mood to deal with anything but his own self-pity. “Go away!”
“It’s only me, Papa. I promise I won’t bother you long.”
Damn. Only Little Alice, as if there were anything
only
about her. Edward pinched the space between his brows. At the rate all this was going, he’d wear his skin away. “Come in, then.”
His daughter peeked around the door. Two dark braids framed her long face, the childish hairstyle at odds with her great height. “Are you angry about something, Papa?”
“Nothing you’ve done.” He’d never liked either of the damn Georges, not that he’d utter such treason. A Christie would never be such a cretin. “Come in, sit. Li—Allie, what may I do for you this fine day?”
“It’s raining again, Papa.”
“I meant—it’s just a turn of phrase, Allie. It’s not necessary for the sun to be shining to be considered a fine day.”
His daughter looked on solemnly, no doubt thinking he certainly
was
a cretin. “I should like to make an appointment with you to discuss a very serious matter.”
“Good heavens. If it’s so serious, we must deal with it now.” He ignored the shooting pain that pierced his skull. His daughter needed him, and he could not fail her.
“I know you’ve said eavesdroppers get just what they deserve.” She twisted her slender fingers, embarrassed.
“I eavesdropped—quite by accident—and overheard Neddie and Jack talk about something disgusting.”
Oh, God. Surely she wasn’t going to ask about the birds and the bees. Beth or her governess should have that subject in hand, should they not? He kept his mouth firmly closed, but nodded.
“I just can’t believe it,” she continued. “A Christie wouldn’t do such a thing, bring such shame upon the family.”
Ah. Ned must have bragged about his drunken, debauched night, rubbing Jack’s nose in the fact that he breached Jane Street’s defenses. “Young men are often very foolish, Allie, most especially your elder brother. You must pay no mind to what they do or say.”
“You’re not young, Papa, you’re old!”
The pain cleaved his head in two. “I beg your pardon?”
“Neddie said you’re going to divorce Caroline. We’ll be in all the newspapers. And I’ll never get married, not that anyone will ever want me anyway.”
There were simply too many ideas to respond to, but he seized upon the one that gave him the most concern. “Allie! You’re not to say such things. You are a lovely girl and will grow into a lovely woman.”
“Pooh. You have to say that. You’re my father. But don’t change the subject. What about Caroline?”
“You are too young to understand. You never liked her anyway. I should think you’d be delighted that I’m seeking to formally end my ties with her.”
“ ‘What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.’ It’s in the Bible, you know.” Her lips pursed primly.
“A great many things are in the Bible. There is, as I recall, an entire passage dedicated as to how a father can sell his daughter into slavery,” he teased.
“That has to do with a betrothal contract, I believe.”
Maybe Allie could become an Anglican nun.
He cleared his throat. “I am aware this is indeed a serious matter. It is not a decision I’ve come to lightly. Caroline and I have been separated for five years. She—I—we made a mistake after too brief an acquaintance, which is why it is so important to not jump into things. When it comes time, I will not expect you to marry at the end of your first season. You should be courted long enough so you are comfortable with your intended. Know his character, his tastes and opinions.”
“Just as he should know mine.”
“Why, yes. Of course. I knew your mother very well before we were married. We were ideally suited.”
“Do you still love her? Is that why you and Caroline couldn’t stay married? I know I should hate to live in another woman’s shadow with another woman’s children.”
Edward was amazed at his daughter’s conclusion, but oddly enough, Caroline had never once complained about her role as stepmother. “Of course I still love your mother, and always shall. But you children were not in any way to blame for what went wrong with my marriage to Caroline,” he said firmly.
“I was horrid to her.” There was some regret in her voice.
“You were just a little girl. You weren’t used to having a mother at all. You had run quite wild. My fault. I had hoped my second marriage would settle the family. It proved to do just the opposite.”
Allie’s dark brows scrunched. “I do not see why we cannot just go on as we are. You are too old to marry again, and you already have an heir. Although”—she sniffed in disdain—“he is a grave disappointment at present. But there is always Jack, should something, God forbid, befall your firstborn. Jack’s much less of a loose screw. If you go through with this divorce, you will ruin our lives. We’ll be shunned. Snubbed. Cut by everyone who counts.”
Edward bit back his irritation. His daughter was out-Christie-ing him, reminding him of all his earlier reservations, and sanctimonious as only a child could be. Life was complicated. And he most certainly was
not
too old for anything and longed to tell her so. But that was hardly a fit subject to discuss with one’s precocious thirteen-year-old daughter.
“My mind is made up, Allie. Caroline is in agreement as well. Imagine for a moment how this state of limbo has affected her. She might prefer to live quietly in the country, perhaps even get married again. She is not nearly so old as I, you know,” he added, slightly sarcastic.
“Then buy her a house in the country! Let her live at Christie Park, for that matter. The house is so huge you never need see her.”
Caroline under the same roof—disastrous. As if he could confine her to a wing like some mad aunt. “You do have an answer for everything. I expect Miss Linnet is very pleased with your schoolwork.”
“She thinks I am a dunce. Don’t try to change the subject, Papa.” She looked at him earnestly with her mother’s large brown eyes, her lower lip quivering. “If you proceed along this course, I shall not be responsible for what I do.”
He nearly smiled. “Alice Elizabeth Christie, are you threatening me? Since we’re tossing the Bible about, what about this? ‘Honor thy father and thy mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.’”
“I won’t want my days prolonged if you divorce Caroline! I shall run away!”
All traces of his good humor disappeared. Edward rose like an Old Testament figure, towering over his daughter in somewhat righteous wrath. “Go to your room. You’re too young to have sufficient understanding of this matter, and I refuse to discuss it with you any further. I believe I know what’s best for this family, and you will abide by my judgment.”
“Very well, Papa. ‘All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.’ Some of us are dustier than others,” she said cryptically. “Don’t say I didn’t give you warning.” She flounced out of the room, pigtails flying.
Really! The impudence! Perhaps it was time to put his foot down and send her to some girls’ school in Bath where she could bedevil complete strangers.
Well, he’d heard from two of his children. Neddie was all for the divorce, assuming he could weasel out of his betrothal. Allie seemed very much opposed, more on social than Biblical grounds. Jack might understand, but somehow Edward was not eager to ask him at the moment.
He sat back down and put on his spectacles. Opening up his appointment book, he noted there were six hours until he found relief in Caroline’s arms. That simply wouldn’t do. Caroline might view his early arrival more favorably if he arrived early with some token—some jewelry, for example. Caroline had a weakness for jewelry. Like a redheaded magpie, she was very fond of shiny things. He would stop at Garrard’s on the way.
Maybe he should get Allie something there too, for the crime of banishing her to her room. It was clear she was growing up, whether he liked it or not.
Chapter 8
 
Violet would tell the truth at last, though no one, least of all Sir Rupert, would believe her.
—Ravishing Revenge
 
E
dward was snoring gently beside her. Caroline supposed she should wake him so he could go home to his family in time to have breakfast with them, but she didn’t. She rather jealously put a protective hand on his muscled chest, the better to examine the pearl and diamond ring he’d placed upon her finger when he arrived yesterday afternoon. She had not been at all ready for him. Caroline had been ink-smudged, wearing her oldest daygown—it was not one of her naughty new red dresses—her hair a veritable nest, but he had swept her into his arms and covered her with hungry kisses. Kisses that flashed across her skin like lightning. Kisses that made her knees buckle and her womb ache. Kisses that made her forget everything, including why she hated him.
The ring was very pretty, the kind of gift a man gave his wife, not his mistress. A pearl was a symbol of purity, but Caroline was most assuredly not pure. However, the halo of diamonds surrounding it glittered in the early morning sunlight, adding a touch of refreshing wickedness set in gold. The pearl was Caroline’s June birthstone, although Edward certainly never wished her a happy birthday on June 14, if he even remembered. Celebration was to be avoided entirely. Caroline’s birthday was irretrievably bound with the date she lost Edward’s trust for good.
In sleep he appeared trusting, as innocent as his son Neddie—now called Ned, all grown up. Caroline wondered what Jack and Allie looked like. Five years was an eternity in a child’s life. She might not recognize either of them, although they were destined to be tall and loose-limbed, the Christie countenance. But judging from Ned, the Christie composure might not have taken root quite yet.
She had tried her best with the children. The boys mainly ignored her but Allie viewed her as an interloper, although the girl had no memory of her mother. Caroline sympathized. Her own mother had died when she was born, and her father had never been up to the task of raising three children alone. Her childhood was so free of restrictions and restraint it had been hard to find her footing. In the end, she slipped and tumbled onto Jane Street.
Edward had not given her a reason for his sudden appearance yesterday, but if Garrett was right with the latest gossip, Parliament would not be recessing after all—which meant that Edward was not retiring to Christie Park. Perhaps the pearl ring was a good-bye gift. He could not expect to conduct their affair indefinitely. Caroline’s lips curved. Could one have an affair with one’s husband? Apparently so.
She eased out of bed to go to her dressing room, careful not to disturb him. Once she relieved herself and cleaned her teeth, she came back wearing a sheer peach peignoir and a cloud of perfume. Her hair seemed hopeless, but she sat at the dressing table and attacked it anyway, the brush crackling through its coppery mass. If Edward was to take his leave of her, she wished to appear so perfect it would pain him to do so.
If he left, she could write to her heart’s content, never worry about interruptions. It would not be as much fun to wear her red dresses without his glare of approbation, but that was a small sacrifice. She looked her best in Madame Dulac’s creations and could impress some other man.
As if she wanted to.
“Good morning. What are you doing so far away?” Caroline glanced over her shoulder. Edward was stretching his long arms, a boyish smile on his face. He looked too relaxed to be giving her a farewell speech.
“Brushing my hair, and from the looks of things, I should brush yours, too.”
One hand went to his head, sweeping his dark hair back over his forehead. “There. Am I presentable?”
“Very nearly.” Caroline got up, taking the brush with her. She raised it over Edward’s head, but his hand encircled her wrist.
“I have a better idea.”
Caroline noted the tenting sheet. “I can see that.” She dropped the hairbrush on the bed and the peignoir to the floor.
He tugged her down gently to kiss her. His lips were soft and warm, his tongue dallying first at the corner of her mouth, then slipping within. To her disappointment, he broke the kiss before it had a chance to claim her.
“Umm. Toothpowder. Should I follow your example?”
Edward tasted delicious as usual. She shook her head. She couldn’t put off her need of him. He made a thorough assault on her senses, probing deeper until she thought he might swallow her up for breakfast. While his tongue was busy, she felt the bristles of the hairbrush graze her back, stroking slowly on her sensitive skin. Each soft boar hair tickled its way down to the cleft of her bottom, then trailed up like a thousand feathers. Sinuous, then straight, then serpentine lines, designed to lull her like a pampered pet. Torn between total collapse and giggling flight, Caroline’s decision was made for her as Edward flipped her to her back. She watched as he gazed down, fisting himself to spear into her. She was sure he had no thought of divorce, but of dominance. He was all stark male beauty, and she pretended she would belong to him forever.
There was no gradual entrance, but a pure instant, instinctive thrust. Edward’s face was triumphant, not that she had put up any resistance whatsoever. She closed her eyes, afraid to fall deeper in love with her husband.
She didn’t even know
why
she loved him. She hadn’t meant to. He wasn’t her type at all—not a teasing, playful bone in his long, upright body. Everything about Edward was upright. Tight. She’d chosen him for that very reason. They were supposed to have a marriage of convenience, but somehow passion had overtaken good sense. Not that she had any. Edward was supposed to have enough good sense for both of them. He was a Christie, legendary for his control. You couldn’t build a marriage on sexual pleasure alone.
But how effortless it was to rise to meet him, to feel each stroke, to mold herself against him. She had not forgotten how good it was between them, even when she was full of inarticulate rage and he with chilly contempt. It was probably too late to have the conversation they should have had in the few days before their whirlwind wedding. Edward would never understand anyway. If anything, disclosure would only cement his determination to rid himself of her.
Even with those grim thoughts, her heart beat faster, her breath hitched, her skin heated. She had that peculiar sensation of her nose tingling into numbness, which always heralded her orgasm. How Andrew had laughed and mocked her when she told him. She had never repeated the same mistake with Edward.
Her legs stiffened, toes curling in obligatory fashion, teeth clenched in pained ecstasy. Sensation ripped through her, wave after humbling wave, reminding her she was at Edward’s mercy for the exquisite relief. He followed her soon after, flooding her. Her barrenness was a fact. There was no need for him to act the gentleman.
They lay entwined in exhaustion. He brushed the tear from her cheek. “Did I hurt you? I am not myself these days.”
Caroline shook her head. He hurt her in ways she couldn’t explain. “You will remember I urged you to indulge your carnal side. You are simply making up for lost time.”
He rolled away, staring at the ceiling. Caroline could see the thoughts moving across his angular face; he had something of import to tell her. She braced herself for the unpleasant truth, pulling up the crumpled sheet to cover herself. To be miserable and naked in the bargain was nothing to aspire to.
“About this.” He gestured at the space between them. “I will be required to stay in town for the duration of the case against Queen Caroline. I know I had promised you a short—fling, if you will—before we parted ways for the summer.”
“Before we parted ways forever,” she reminded him.
“Yes. I do not wish to be unfair, to press you to accept a further association. I know I’ve been high-handed in this arrangement. You have obligations.”
Ah, yes. Her busy life. Taking tea once a week with courtesans. Digging in her little patch of dirt in the back garden. Struggling over each and every word lately. Was there any point to telling him she was blocked in her writing? She found her characters needlessly frivolous and her villains far too predictable. The harlot would never find her husband at the rate she was going. And worse, the story she was writing for herself was turning into a tragedy with no happy ending in sight. The only thing she lived for were his visits. Lord, but she was a fool.
“Are we done then?” Her voice was surprisingly light.
Edward said nothing. She could not meet his eyes in the mirror above. The new clock ticked on the mantelpiece as the sunlight filtered through the blinds. Discreet movement was audible downstairs signaling the household had risen. Edward should go home to his children and his own obligations before she fell apart.
He cleared his throat. “Do you want us to be? I confess, I don’t. But don’t misunderstand. I have every intention of pursuing the dissolution of our marriage.” His laugh was hollow. “I’m as despicable as those men you write about. I’m using you, Caro. There’s absolutely no justification for what we’ve—for what I’ve—been doing. I’m betraying my principles. It’s as though I’ve been bewitched again. I should know better.”
Perfect, cruelly honest Edward. He’d never been able to dissemble. That was her forte.
“How you flatter me. Do you suppose I put something in your wine? Chanted a spell? Red hair was once associated with witchcraft, you know.”
“I’m serious, Caro. I despise myself for my weakness.”
“Well, as long as you’re not despising me.” She sat up, hoping he would not admit that he did.
Her inner witch spun from vapor to solid form, compelling her to speak her mind for once. For one final time, because she was determined that they be done. It was far too late to change anything, to reassemble the shattered trust of their marriage, but she needed to spare her heart. Each time she saw his face, she lost more than her ability with the written word. “Look, Edward, neither of us is dead yet. We are healthy, consenting adults. You need not feel any guilt for wanting to sleep with your legal wife. Once we’re divorced, you’ll probably take up a mistress, perhaps even turn up here now and then for old times’ sake. I might not turn you away.”
“Caro!”
“Oh, don’t sound so shocked. I’ve no intention of spending the rest of my life denying my nature and living like a nun. I like sex, Edward. No, I love it. I need it. I was corrupted at an early age. These past five years have been agony. Whether you believe me or not, there has been no other man since I spoke our wedding vows, but I mean to change that.”
There. She’d said it. It couldn’t be plainer. She had finally answered his question. She had never ever meant to revisit that long-ago afternoon, but at least she wasn’t begging him to forgive her. She watched him pale in the mirror. “That’s right. Although I have no doubt Andrew will happily cooperate with you for the criminal conversation portion of the divorce for the right price, he will be perjuring himself. What’s one more lie to him if you pay him well?”
Edward’s brows were lifted in disbelief. “I saw you with my own eyes.”
“I know what you thought you saw. I don’t blame you for leaping to conclusions. If you hadn’t come in when you did—” She stopped. She
would
have slept with Andrew again. She might as well have. The results had turned out the same. She’d seen no other way out of her predicament then. If she hadn’t actually sinned, she’d had lust in her heart and the requisite guilt over it. “But you certainly have grounds for fraud. I was not a virgin when we married. Either way, you are right to seek an end to this farce.”
“But—”
In just that one wavering word, Caroline heard the doubt in his voice. Fine, let him doubt. Let him think she was lying to him again. What did it matter? She retrieved the peach robe from the floor, wishing it were something boringly flannel which would cover her from head to toe instead of an insubstantial scrap of wisp. Wrapping it as tightly as she could, she settled herself at her desk and picked up a pen.
“Go home, Edward. I’m tired already and the day has just begun. I think your little experiment has run its course, has it not? We are surely done with each other, whether you are ready or not. I’ll expect to hear how the legalities are progressing. And thank you for the ring. It’s lovely.” Deliberately turning her back to him, she scratched out a few phrases in her notebook. She pretended indifference as he moved silently about the room. Only when she heard the door click shut did she give in to the tears that swam in her eyes, blurring the words before her.
 
Edward felt shell-shocked. While he had never served in the military, he’d heard enough from friends who, deep in their cups, finally revealed the grim reality of war’s glory. He could barely put one foot in front of the other on his short walk home. To a passerby, he must resemble a man awakened too soon from a drunken evening. Instead, he was waking from five years of self-imposed delusion.
If what Caroline said was true, he could not possibly go through with the divorce. He’d been ready to lessen Rossiter’s pain with an infusion of cash—the man couldn’t afford the damages likely to be assigned by a court. Edward had not thought of it as tampering, just ensuring the necessary first step of the entire procedure. Rossiter had an affair with his wife; he was guilty of alienating her affection, if she in fact had ever looked upon Edward with anything other than a naked desire for financial security. He had seen them in the most compromising of positions with his own eyes. He’d heard Rossiter’s taunts with his own ears. He’d read every word of those damning letters, so many times whole passages were forever emblazoned in his brain.

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