More Than a Lover (19 page)

Caro looked magnificent. Beautiful. The gown, a lovely shade of lavender, showed her milky skin off to perfection, and her hair had been pinned into an elaborately charming style. Blade couldn't have drawn a breath if he'd tried. He jabbed an elbow in his brother's ribs. ‘A little more respect, if you please.'

His brother rubbed at the offending part of his anatomy and gave him a cheerful grin. ‘Like that, is it?'

Annoyed, Blade glared at him. ‘It is not
like
anything.'

In case others fell into a similar misapprehension, he edged out of the centre of things and let Charlie and Merry do the necessary courtesies to those who mattered.

Like his father and his brother.

From where he stood he could see the courage with which she endured the introductions. For the sake of her child.

He wanted to hit something.

Or run away. As he had run from his father all those years ago, but it had done him no good then and would not do so now. Besides, he'd never run from a fight and Caro was fighting for her son and the right to the life that had been ripped away by a fellow who hadn't recognised a treasure worth a king's ransom.

Finally, she was standing in front of him flanked by her guardian angels, Charlie and Merry. ‘And of course you and Blade are old friends.'

Far more than friends. The thought flickered in her eyes before she dismissed it.

‘Indeed,' she said, inclining her head at the perfect angle for the illegitimate offspring of an earl. She was magnificent. She would carry the whole thing off without any help from him.

‘How are things going at the Haven?' he asked in a low voice as the ducal heir helped his wife to a seat near the hearth.

‘Swimmingly,' Caro said, twiddling her fan. ‘We have three new occupants and one of them has a child.'

‘I assume you will not be returning there.'

‘No. Merry has asked me to help her establish a similar institution here in London.'

He had thought the whole idea for her remaining in London was to find herself a husband. ‘You will enjoy the Season, then.'

She looked doubtful. ‘Merry would have it so. I am not sure I am up to the rigours of town life, but Lady Thornton wants to make sure Tommy, I mean Thomas, has every advantage.'

He couldn't contain his smile. ‘He will always be Tommy to you, even when he reaches maturity.'

Her eyes sparkled. ‘He will. In private.' She glanced around the room. ‘It is so very kind of everyone to turn out in support of the Thorntons. I hope I do not let them down.'

‘How can you? You have given them their hearts' desire. Returned a part of their son. Remember, many of those here came for your sake.'

Her gaze darted to his face and away, a slight stain of colour on her cheeks. Damn, did she think he was only talking about himself?

She gathered her composure with her lovely cool smile. ‘Merry agrees with Lady Thornton that I should seek a husband as soon as possible. Thomas needs a father. I can see that now.'

A pang pierced his heart. ‘How is his ankle?'

‘Oh, he is hopping around on crutches and feeling very much the wounded hero.' She closed her eyes briefly and winced. ‘I beg your pardon. I had no intention of belittling—'

‘Caro,' he murmured urgently. ‘Between us there should never be awkwardness. Cannot be. The
ton
watch with eagle eyes.'

The butler was again making a grand entrance. ‘Lord and Lady Robert Mountford.'

The most fascinating petite woman entered on the arm of a gentleman who looked exactly like Charlie, if it wasn't for the sun-bronzed skin of his face.

‘Robert,' Charlie said, surging forward. ‘I had no idea you had returned from Italy.' He shook his brother's hand and was pulled into a manly hug complete with the obligatory thump to the back.

‘We arrived yesterday,' Lord Robert said, grinning broadly and being thumped in return. ‘I had no idea you were entertaining until Mother sent us a note. Oh, and by the way, I brought reinforcements.'

‘His Highness, the Prince of Wales,' the butler trumpeted. ‘And his Grace, the Duke of Wellington.'

Brilliant. Charlie had done it. Clearly, Blade had been right. He really wasn't needed. He would have left right then, if it wasn't for Caro hanging on to his arm like a lifeline.

* * *

‘The first ball of the Season,' Lady Thornton said, watching a set in full swing. ‘And everyone will remember it as the best, too.'

‘Do you think so?' Caro was beginning to feel overheated by the press of people and there was no respite to be had, for she was on display. Indeed, people were still lined up down the stairs from the front door to the first-floor ballroom, waiting to get a look at her. If dinner had been terrifying, the ball was horrendous.

‘With both the prince and the duke in attendance? It is a coup,' exclaimed her mother-in-law. For that was how Mrs Thornton had introduced her at every turn.
My daughter-in-law.
When Caro had objected the truthfulness of this, she had waved her off, saying it only wanted the little detail of a ceremony.

The prince had been charming and very condescending to Caro at dinner and at the ball had held her in conversation for several minutes after the first dance had been completed. Then he had left.

But the point was made.

There couldn't possibly be a scrap of scandal in Caro's past or the prince would have refused to acknowledge her.

The fact that the Duke of Stantford had offered the prince the stupendous gift of a work of art he had bought in France immediately after the war had sealed his co-operation. How would she ever repay her debt to all these people?

She understood why Tonbridge and Merry were so keen on her acceptance by the
ton
. She was their good friend. A person they wanted to have as part of their social life. This was their way of ensuring that very thing.

And she could not be more grateful.

But...ever since the start of all this fuss to make her entirely respectable, Blade, her friend and her lover, had become more and more distant. Was it that he did not approve of what his friends were doing? Did he perhaps feel she was getting above herself?

Strumpet. Shameful jade.
Her father's condemnation rung in her ears.

She shivered.

‘I believe the next dance is a waltz,' a deep voice murmured close to her ear. Blade had come up behind her to stand at her shoulder.

Lady Thornton stiffened. ‘Mr Read, Mrs Falkner has no intention of waltzing this evening.'

Could his timing have been any worse? Could he not have waited until she was standing with someone else like Merry or Tonbridge, which would have allowed her to refuse in a less public manner? She took a deep breath. The challenge in his gaze, the edge of pride, said he expected her refusal. Blast him, he was asking her now so she could show the world she was not the sort of woman to fall for a man renowned for his seduction of lonely widows and bored wives.

‘It is an age since I waltzed, my dear mama-in-law,' Caro said sweetly. ‘Having watched the last one, I believe I remember the steps perfectly well.' She dipped a curtsy to Blade and held out her hand. ‘I would love to waltz, Mr Read.'

He led her onto the dance floor.

Ripples of shock stirred the air around them.

‘You should have declined,' he said in a voice too low to be heard by their nearest neighbours as he whirled her around. ‘Now I will be forced to dance with every wallflower in the place, to stop tongues wagging.'

She stiffened. ‘If you did not wish to dance with me, you should not have asked.'

‘I am surprised Tonbridge did not warn you.' He smiled at her with seductive charm for the sake of those watching. ‘Tongues are wagging. They know we are both friends of Tonbridge and that I recently returned from York. They know you hail from somewhere nearby. Someone let the cat out of that bag. Probably one of the Thorntons. They are very well meaning, but not exactly sharp. You told me you were not going to waltz.'

‘There you go again. Saving the damsel in distress at the risk of your own life,' she said, a little buzz of anger humming along her veins, making her say what she thought and not what she should. She almost added the word
idiot
, but it was hard to be furious with a smile on her lips.

He twirled her under his arm and gracefully brought her alongside him for the traverse. ‘You waltz divinely,' he said.

‘I'll wager you say that to all of your ladies.'

‘There are no ladies,' he said. ‘Not any more.'

Something inside her seemed to shatter, but in a good way, as if a fear had broken away and diminished.

‘You really were not supposed to dance with me.' He spoke truculently, as if he was annoyed that she had robbed him of the chance to...to what? Fight her dragon?

‘I could not be that cruel to a man—' She broke off.

‘A man?' he prompted.

Now was not the time for such honesty. Or the place, when it was full of strangers and she did not know how Blade might respond. ‘A man who is my good friend, whom I admire and respect.'

Was it disappointment she saw in his eyes? Or merely acceptance.

He sighed. ‘And so you consign your good friend to the wallflowers.'

‘I am sorry,' she said as the waltz came to an end. And she was. Dreadfully. But she did not think he truly believed it. And she wished she knew how she could make him understand.

Chapter Sixteen

B
lade took a sip of the brandy Tonbridge handed him. It was three days since the ball and Tonbridge had asked Blade to drop in after dinner.

‘To our success.' Charlie raised his glass in a toast. He sounded smug. As he should. The lady was successfully launched. The brief appearance of Prinny and the extended stay by Wellington meant that Mrs Falkner's reputation as a respectable widow was assured. No one would ever query the death of Mr Falkner. Not when Thornton had arranged for such a healthy settlement in that dear departed individual's name to be available when she married again. She already had several suitable men sniffing around, at least one of them with an ancient title.

Blade toasted with his glass in response. The fact that
he
didn't feel the slightest bit smug was neither here nor there. His duty was done. He took a healthy swallow of some of the best brandy it had ever been his privilege to imbibe. ‘I'll be getting back to my stewarding in Yorkshire on the morrow.'

Tonbridge gave him an odd look. ‘It won't be necessary. Merry and I will be returning there next week, now that Stantford is on the mend.'

In other words, his services were no longer needed. ‘I'll let Ned know.' The man would be disappointed to leave his fair Beth behind. ‘Unless you have a position for him? He's a good man with a horse and you haven't yet replaced your coachman.' A bit of a comedown for a man of Ned's talents, but at least he would be able to stay near his sweetheart. Blade certainly didn't have any work for him. Or much in the way of funds to pay him.

‘He could take your old position, I suppose,' Tonbridge mused. ‘In a more limited capacity, though. Merry will expect him to marry the lady in charge. Less gossip that way.'

‘Beth will be in charge at the house?'

Tonbridge inclined his head.

The duke-to-be didn't miss a trick and the idea he proposed cheered Blade. Somewhat. At least it relieved him of his obligation to Ned and he knew it would please the man no end. ‘An excellent solution.'

‘I am glad you think so. So what will you do now?'

His only thought had been to leave London, given that the Season was in full swing. The bastard son of an earl was always at a loose end in polite society, unless he had an interest in cutting a swathe through the new crop of bored matrons and widows in need of comfort. The thought made him feel tired. He certainly did not want to be around to congratulate Caro on her conquests or for any other reason for which a woman received congratulations, like engagements and forthcoming weddings. ‘Perhaps I shall go to France for a while. See Paris as she is meant to be seen. Sample more good brandy.' He raised his glass a fraction. ‘There are other armies in Europe in need of soldiers.'

Tonbridge's lips tightened. ‘What about the offer to serve as land steward on your father's estate in Kent?'

‘Heard about that, did you?'

‘From your brother Victor.' The legitimate brother and heir moved in the same circles as Tonbridge. Belonged to the same clubs. Gossip had never been Blade's friend.

The brief interview with his father on the subject of his resigned commission had made him feel like an
ungrateful
bastard. To say the subsequent offer of employment had come as a shock was putting it mildly.

He shook his head. ‘It holds no appeal.' Or rather, it was too close to the temptation of Caro Falkner. Perhaps France was also too close. India might be better.

‘I don't see myself as a farmer,' he said. ‘Nor do I wish to become his dependent.' He still owed his father the cost of his commission.

Tonbridge raised a brow. ‘I rather thought you would be relieving him of a worry and thus putting him in your debt.'

Blade cracked a laugh that sounded false to his ears. ‘Relieving him of the worry of how to support me, you mean.' Or the guilt that he'd ever been born.

‘Something of the sort.' Tonbridge refilled their glasses. He sipped reflectively for a moment. ‘I apologise for this next, Blade, but I am required to ask, because my countess will take me to task if I do not. What of Mrs Falkner?'

He froze. It was the last thing he had expected to be questioned on. The recollection of her at the ball whirling around in several lordlings' arms had his hand tightening around his glass. ‘I am not sure what you mean. The gossip was scotched.' Barely, after that waltz. ‘The lady successfully launched, as you so recently pointed out, and the matter is satisfactorily resolved.'

‘You are satisfied?'

‘Of course,' he lied. Knowing his early departure from that long-ago assembly because of his adolescent hurt feelings had allowed Carothers a free rein with Caro burned a hole in his chest. As did the knowledge of how more recently he had taken advantage of her loneliness.

Except he could not stop thinking about his time with her, over and over. They were memories that would keep haunting him for the rest of his life.

‘I presume the fact that she is right now upstairs taking tea with my wife is of no interest to you?'

He shot to his feet. ‘This is why you asked me to come by this evening? Some sort of ambush you have concocted between you? And I thought you a friend.'

Charlie's expression darkened and he looked down his lordly nose. ‘I'll forgive you that, Blade, but only because you are acting like a dolt. For heaven's sake, the woman is breaking her heart wanting to know what she did to drive you away.'

‘What
she
did?'

‘You have to talk to her, Blade. Face to face. Explain yourself.' He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘stubborn idiot'.

His heart began to race. ‘I can't give her what she is entitled to. Her or her son.' What had been taken from her by another thoughtless male. The respectability she craved.

‘Entitled? Or what she wants? Because what she seems to want—which personally I cannot understand—is you.'

Something inside him shifted. No one that he could ever remember truly wanted him. His mother certainly hadn't. His very existence had been an unpleasant shock to his father. He'd learned to accept that as his due. But Caro—whom all those years ago he'd let down so badly because he'd known what Carothers was like— ‘Taking tea, you say?'

‘A three-handkerchief tea by the time I left,' Tonbridge said, looking disgruntled.

She was crying? Over him? The idea pained him. Badly. ‘Perhaps we do need to clear the air.' He'd honestly thought she would be glad to see him gone. She as well as the Thorntons. It seemed she needed convincing.

‘Wait here while I scout the terrain.' Tonbridge sauntered from the room.

Tonbridge, ever the careful soldier. It was what had made him such a good commanding officer. He had a brain and he cared about his men.

Damn it all, Caro was here? Blade paced from one end of the room to the other, rehearsing what he should say. The list of advantages now open to her and Tommy. His lack of prospects. Although there was the estate in Kent, where he wasn't well known. He'd been there once or twice as a boy. It was part of the settlements for the countess's children. He'd loved the place because it was nowhere near as grand as the earl's other holdings. How could he ask Caro to bury herself in the country when she had such dazzling prospects before her?

No. He would not allow her to sacrifice herself in that way. Thornton had made it quite clear Blade's antecedents and youthful peccadilloes would reflect badly on Caro as well as the name of Carothers. A name Tommy would adopt as his own if the Thorntons had their way.

At a sound, he glanced up, expecting to see Charlie come to escort him up, but it was Caro entering in a swish of silks. She looked lovely. She'd always looked lovely to him, but now, fashionably dressed, her bronze-coloured gown cut seductively low, her hair in the latest style, she was magnificent and utterly calm. Perhaps it was Tonbridge who had needed the handkerchiefs.

‘Mrs Falkner,' he said, trying to keep his tone teasingly light. ‘First you waltz with me and now you meet me unchaperoned—have you no sense at all of self-preservation?'

‘Mr Read.' She glided deeper into the room. ‘I heard you were thinking of going away. To France. Is it true?'

‘I did not realise my business was of such concern to the world, but, yes.'

She stared at the carpet as if gathering her thoughts, then lifted her gaze to his face. Her skin was luminous in the light of the candles, paler than usual. ‘There is something I wanted to tell you. Something I think you should know.'

He closed his eyes briefly at the stab of pain, before forcing a smile. ‘You have an offer of marriage. I wish you well and you have no need for concern with regard to my discretion.'

She drew in a breath, as if he had shocked her. ‘No. That is, yes, I have had an offer, but that is not what I wanted to say.' She hesitated, and despite the pain behind his breastbone at her news, he couldn't help drinking in her beauty, memorising each delicate curve, the line of her neck, the turn of her elbow.

Her voice trembled as she spoke. ‘Blade, I want you to know that I love you.'

Everything inside of him stilled. His heart felt suddenly too large for his chest. Too big to allow breath into his lungs. He loved her, too. But... ‘You are a lovely generous woman. You deserve far more than I could ever provide.'

‘You already gave me so much.'

‘You are not saying you are...?' He glanced down at her stomach. ‘You did not conceive?'

She swallowed, her eyes sad. ‘I have not.'

He didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. For he would have married her had it been the case. ‘I am not what you need. Not what Tommy needs. I told you I have no interest in marriage.' She flinched and he wanted to strike out. Most likely at himself. ‘Caro, you will find someone else upon whom to shower your affections. I do not believe in what the poets call...love.' He forced the word out.

‘Why not?'

Blast the woman. When had she become so deuced persistent? Since always. He smiled wryly to himself. It was one of the things he liked about her. What on earth could he say in answer to such a question? ‘I find the whole concept strange. I am not sure I could ever confine myself to only one woman.' Though of course he had and would likely continue to do so for some time to come.

Her eyes glittered. With anger? Tears? Her self-containment didn't allow him to be sure. ‘Blade, I love you. I promise I would never abandon you.'

The words tore a hole in his heart. What on earth could have made her pick on the one thing he feared in the deepest reaches of his soul? The one thing he barely admitted to himself. How could she even make such a promise? Circumstances changed. People changed.

‘Caro,' he whispered. His arms longed to embrace her. His fingers itched to ease the tightness of his collar almost as much as they itched to furrow through the careful ordering of her locks so he could see them in disarray about her shoulders one last time. He held himself under rigid control. He forced what he hoped was a smile. ‘I really am sorry.'

After a long considering look, she inclined her head. ‘You will come and say goodbye to Tommy.'

He wanted to howl. And he wanted to strangle Tonbridge. But a soldier knew when he had been given an ultimatum. ‘I will.'

She turned and left. He gave her a moment to go up the stairs and departed before his so-called friend could arrive with more stories of handkerchiefs.

* * *

‘I don't like London,' Tommy said, banging his one good heel against the leg of the breakfast-room chair.

‘Please do not kick the chair, Thomas. This is our home,' Caro said quietly. He was trying to be good, but his changed circumstances, the restrictions, were difficult for him to accept. ‘Please eat the rest of your eggs. Would you like a slice of toast?'

‘Only if it has strawberry jam,' he said crossly.

‘We only have marmalade at the moment. Orange jam. You know you love oranges.'

‘I want strawberry jam.'

Tommy was never grouchy. ‘Is your leg paining you, darling?'

‘No.'

Grandpa Thornton lowered his paper and revealed equally lowered bushy grey brows. ‘Perhaps it would be better if he took breakfast in the nursery.'

He was already taking luncheon, afternoon tea and dinner in the nursery. It was a long time since the Thorntons had lived with small children, and to hear them tell of it, their children had lived most of their lives in the care of others. From this happy state of affairs they'd developed the notion that boys aged eight were perfect little gentlemen when in the company of adults.

Tommy cast her a look. Daring her to agree. He'd already threatened to run away again.

‘The sooner you finish eating everything on your plate, the sooner we will be on our way to the park.' Every morning after breakfast they visited the ducks in Green Park. Children needed routine.

Lady Thornton glanced up from one of her many pieces of correspondence with a frown. ‘Is it right to reward—?' She stopped, clearly realising her words were not being well received. ‘I beg pardon, Caroline. I am sure you know what is best.'

She was right. Granting him a treat
was
bribery in a way, but Tommy was spending far too much time in the nursery when boys of his age needed to be outside. She would be glad when they returned to Thornton Manor with its extensive grounds where a young lad could breathe.

* * *

Tommy finished his breakfast in short order and it wasn't too long until they were off in the open carriage. Linny had complained of female pains and had begged off the outing. Caro had no doubt her pangs were genuine. The poor girl had looked so dreadful, Caro had sent her back to bed with a tisane and a hot water bottle. So they were accompanied by one of the Thorntons' rather stuck-up footmen.