The Lady Gambles (14 page)

In truth, what Caro most wanted at that moment was
the privacy to sit down and cry. To scream and shout, if necessary. And after doing those things she needed the peace and quiet in which to come to terms with the loss of her innocence and the wantonness of her own behaviour this morning in Dominic’s arms.

She gave a cool inclination of her head. ‘You have my promise. Now, do you not think your own time would not be better spent in dealing with Nicholas Brown, rather than in lingering here to extract superfluous promises from me?’

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. ‘Superfluous?’

She gave a tight smile. ‘Of course it is superfluous, when I so obviously have nowhere else of safety to go.’

‘Caro—’ Dominic broke off what he was going to say as, after a brief knock, a maid appeared in the doorway in answer to Caro’s ring. ‘Your mistress requires a bath and hot water,’ he instructed tightly. ‘Immediately,’ he added firmly as the maid seemed inclined to linger in order to satisfy her curiosity rather than be about her business. He waited until the woman had gone before turning back to Caro. ‘My advice is that once you have bathed you then rest quietly—’

‘Why is it, I wonder, Dominic, that when you offer advice it always has the sound and appearance of an order?’ Caro eyed him with exasperation.

Dominic gave a weary sigh as he ran impatient fingers through his already tousled hair. ‘Caro, this situation is already difficult enough—could we not at least try to behave in a civilised manner towards each other?’

Could they? Somehow Caro doubted that they could ever be completely civilised with each other; it seemed
that whenever the two of them were together their emotions ran to extremes. Arrogance. Anger. Desire.

She sighed heavily. ‘Perhaps when you return this afternoon our emotions will be less…fraught than they are now,’ she allowed distantly.

Dominic certainly hoped that would be the case.

But somehow he doubted it.

‘I
am afraid I cannot accurately describe any of the four men who attacked me.’ Nathaniel Thorne lay propped up against the pillows in one of the bedchambers at his widowed Aunt Gertrude’s house, his expression regretful as he gazed across to where Dominic stood in front of one of the long picture windows.

Dominic had been shocked by the worsening of his friend’s appearance when he arrived at Mrs Wilson’s home a few short minutes ago, and the elderly lady’s young companion showed him into Nathaniel’s bedchamber. His friend’s face was extremely pale except for the myriad of brightly coloured bruises and cuts that, although they were starting to heal, still looked vicious and painful. The bandage about Nathaniel’s broken ribs was visible at the unbuttoned collar of his loose white nightshirt.

Nathaniel shook his head. ‘As I told you at the time, I had no sooner walked outside than I was set upon by those four men wielding knives, and fists that had the
force of hammers. I was immediately too busy defending myself to take note of what any of them looked like.’ He grimaced at his oversight.

In truth, Dominic had not held out much hope of Nathaniel being able to add any more light on this particular subject. Regrettably, his reasons for coming here were, in fact, as much self-interest as they were concern for Nathaniel. Much as he wished to assure himself of Osbourne’s well being, Dominic had been even more in need of a diversion from his own company!

Having returned to Blackstone House earlier to bathe and change his clothes, Dominic had then found himself pacing his study, too restless, his thoughts too disturbed, for him to be able to even glance at the papers concerning estate business sitting on his desktop awaiting his attention.

How could it be any other when all he could think about was Caro’s stolen innocence?

‘What is it, Dom?’ Nathaniel’s softly probing concern was the first indication he had that he might have actually groaned his self-disgust out loud.

Dominic had believed, hoped, that he could talk to Nathaniel about his present dilemma with regard to Caro. Instead he had realised since coming here that, as close as the two men were, there was no way that he could confide his despicable deed to the other man. More importantly, that he could not speak about Caro in such a way with a third party. Even one of his closest friends.

Gabriel, Nathaniel, and Dominic had always been as close as brothers, but even so, Dominic knew that he could not reveal to one of those friends what had
taken place at Brockle House that morning. Osbourne, quite rightly, could not help but consider the taking of Caro’s innocence as being beneath contempt. The same contempt, in fact, that Dominic now felt towards himself…

The truth of it was that he had been suffused with feelings of helplessness when he’d discovered Caro had gone from Blackstone House this morning, but instead of feeling relieved when he found her at Nick’s, he had instead been filled with anger to see her calmly sitting drinking tea with Nicholas Brown. So much so that Dominic had completely lost control of the situation once they’d reached Brockle House.

How Caro must now hate and despise him—

‘Dom?’

He closed his eyes briefly before focusing on Osbourne. ‘I believe it is time I left; I have no doubt tired you enough for one day,’ he dismissed briskly as he stepped forwards into the bedchamber, ready to take his leave. ‘Is there anything I might bring to make you more comfortable?’

Nathaniel winced. ‘No, as usual my Aunt Gertrude appears to have everything well in hand.’

Dominic smiled slightly at his friend’s affectionate irony. ‘I did not see her when I arrived earlier.’

‘She has been persuaded to go out visiting this morning.’ The relief could be heard in Osbourne’s tone. ‘Between her over-attentiveness, and her companion’s sharp tongue, I am not sure I will last out the week!’

Dominic would not have thought the quiet and gracious young lady who had shown him up to Osbourne’s
bedchamber capable of being sharp-tongued. ‘I am sure you will manage, Nate.’

‘I wish I had the same confidence.’ His friend gave a shake of his head. ‘Of all things, my aunt is talking of removing me to the country to convalesce once I am well enough to travel.’

The idea had merit, Dominic decided after only the briefest of considerations. Nathaniel would be removed from danger, at least, if he were safely guarded by the formidable Mrs Wilson at her country home. ‘It sounds a reasonable plan to me.’

‘It is not at all reasonable!’ Nathaniel glared. ‘The Season has barely begun and Aunt Gertrude is intending to subject me to the boredom of the country when I am in no condition to protest.’

‘No hardship, surely, when she is also removing you from the avaricious sphere of all those marriage-minded mamas?’ Dominic reasoned drily.

‘As I have reached the age of eight and twenty without as yet falling foul of those marriage-minded mamas, I am reasonably optimistic that I will have no trouble continuing to resist the allure of their beautiful daughters.’ Osbourne eyed Dominic curiously. ‘Speaking of which… Was I hallucinating, due to the beating I had just taken, or did your angel accompany us home in your carriage two evenings ago?’

Dominic stiffened. ‘My angel?’

He knew to whom Nathaniel referred, of course; although the last time he had seen Caro, she had, quite rightly, presented him with all the warmth of a porcelain statue…

‘You know exactly to whom I am referring, Dom,’ Nathaniel prodded ruthlessly.

Exactly, yes. ‘Do I?’

‘Do you have any idea how boring it is just lying here with nothing to do but think?’ Nathaniel’s scowl was disgruntled to say the least.

‘If you must think, then perhaps you should give consideration to Gabriel’s future rather than my own?’ Dominic attempted to change the subject.

Osbourne brightened slightly. ‘He should be arriving in England very shortly.’

Dominic shrugged. ‘But with the intention of travelling immediately to Shoreley Hall, remember.’ Fortunately. If informed, Gabriel would definitely have had something to say about the situation Dominic found himself in. ‘I—’

‘I am sure we are very grateful for the frequency of your visits, Blackstone, but the physician has assured me that my nephew is in need of rest rather than excessive conversation.’ An officious Mrs Wilson bustled forcefully into the bedchamber to begin enthusiastically plumping up the pillows beneath Osbourne’s head, obviously now returned from her visiting, and not at all pleased that Dominic was once again disturbing her nephew in his sickbed.

Dominic gave her a polite bow. ‘I assure you I am just as concerned for Osbourne’s welfare as you obviously are, ma’am. In fact, I was about to take my leave when you came in.’

‘Oh, I say, Aunt—’

‘We must all take note of Mrs Wilson, Nate, if you
are to make a full and speedy recovery,’ Dominic drawled mockingly over his friend’s protest.

The other man shot him a narrow-eyed glare that contained the promise of retribution for Dominic’s defection at some later date. A glare that he chose to ignore as he smilingly took his leave. A smile that faded as soon as Dominic stepped from Mrs Wilson’s home, as he acknowledged that he could no longer put off his return to Brockle House.

And Caro…

‘Lord Vaughn is here to see you, Mrs Morton.’

Caro heard the butler’s words, but did not immediately respond to them.

The first thing Caro had done, once Dominic finally left earlier that morning, was to strip the soiled sheets from the bed and attempt to remove the worst of the bloodstains with some of the cold water left in the jug; bad enough that she was aware of this tangible evidence of her lost innocence, without the whole household being made aware of it, too.

Although she doubted there could be much doubt in the minds of any of the servants Dominic had engaged at Brockle House, concerning the events of this morning!

To their credit, Caro could not claim there had been any evidence of that in the demeanour of any of the servants who’d brought in the bath and hot water some half an hour after Dominic’s departure, their manner both polite and attentive as the fire was lit in the hearth before the footmen placed the bath in front of it and the water was poured in.

Caro had refused the offer of help from one of the maids, however, needing to be alone as she soaked in the bath and contemplated the events of the morning just past.

Not one of those thoughts had offered any comfort to the situation in which she now found herself. Caro knew, at the very least, that she should feel angry with Dominic for having taken her innocence and yet somehow she could not bring herself to do so. Perhaps because she knew herself to be just as responsible as he—if not more so—for what had happened?

She had wanted Dominic to make love to her this morning. Had desired him as much as he had desired her, to the extent that her chief emotion had been disappointment when he had brought an abrupt halt to their lovemaking. It was a shameless admission from a young woman who had been brought up to believe that women who behaved in such a way were wantons, no better than the prostitutes who roamed the streets of any large town or city.

As to how Caro now felt towards Dominic himself…

That was a question she had considered and then shied away from answering. Whatever her feelings towards him, it would be madness indeed for Caro to care anything for the Earl of Blackstone—a man who so obviously shunned all the softer emotions in life.

That Dominic had now returned, as he had said he would, made Caro all the more determined that he not become aware of her own inner confusion of emotions. ‘Show him in, please,’ she instructed the butler coolly as she stood up to receive him with the same formality to be found in the sunlit drawing room in which she sat.

One glance at Caro’s coolness of expression and the dignified elegance of her body was enough to tell Dominic that, even if she had not recovered from this morning, she did not intend to reveal as much by her demeanour. Aware of the presence of the butler, Dominic greeted her formally. ‘Mrs Morton.’

She gave a brief curtsy in response to his abrupt bow. ‘How kind of you to call again so soon, Lord Vaughn.’

Dominic wasn’t fooled for a moment by the politeness of Caro’s greeting, aware as he was of the utter disdain in her expression. As aware, in fact, as he was of how lovely she looked in a gown of deep lemon, with the sun shining through the window behind her and giving her delicate curls the appearance of spun gold, her light and floral perfume tantalising his senses.

He waited until the butler had left the room and closed the door behind him before answering drily. ‘A visit you obviously wish I had not made.’

Caro raised her light-coloured brows. ‘On the contrary, I am merely curious as to why you bothered to have yourself announced when you are the owner of this house?’

Dominic frowned his irritation. ‘I may own the house, Caro, but you are the one living here—’

‘Temporarily.’

‘As such,’ Dominic continued firmly, ‘it would have been impolite of me to simply walk in unannounced.’

Her smile was more bitter than amused. ‘And politeness is to be between us from now on, is it?’

Dominic’s mouth compressed as he walked farther into the room. ‘It is to be attempted, yes.’

‘How nice.’ Caro resumed her seat upon the sofa, her hands folded neatly together to rest upon her thighs as she looked across at him serenely. ‘In that case, would you care to take tea with me, Lord Vaughn?’

What Dominic would rather have was a return of the old Caro. The Caro who no more cared for polite inanities than he did and who opposed him at every turn. The same Caro who had defiantly assured him on numerous occasions that she would do exactly as she pleased, when she pleased. A Caro who, as far as Dominic could tell, was nowhere to be seen in this coolly self-possessed young lady who gazed back at him so aloofly.

‘Or perhaps you would care for something stronger than tea?’ she prompted distantly when Dominic made no answer, not betraying by word or expression how deeply his presence here disturbed her.

She had no idea how a woman was supposed to behave towards a man who only that morning had taken her innocence, but had afterwards made it patently clear how much he considered that action to have been a mistake. She was sure, given the circumstances, that she should not be quite so aware of how magnificently handsome he appeared in a superfine of deep blue, a paler waistcoat beneath, his linen snowy-white, with buff-coloured pantaloons above brown Hessians.

Although the expression in those silver-coloured eyes, and the hard tension in his jaw, showed he was far from as confidently relaxed as he wished to appear.

The coldness that now existed between the two of them was intolerable, Caro decided heavily. Not that it was her wish for either of them to allude to the events
of earlier this morning—it was, in truth, the very last thing she wished to talk, or even think, about—but she found the polite strangers they were pretending to be just as unacceptable. So much so that her emotions were once again verging on the tearful.

She stood up abruptly to tug on the bell-pull. ‘You would prefer brandy? Or perhaps whisky?’

A glass of either of those held appeal, Dominic acknowledged wryly. Except he doubted that even imbibing a full decanter of alcohol would numb the feelings of guilt that had beset him as he observed the changes in Caro. ‘By all means order tea for us both.’ He moved restlessly to stand over by the window as she spoke softly to the butler when he arrived to take her order.

He could have been the male guest in the drawing room of any female member of the
ton
, Dominic recognised with a frown. There was the same politeness, the same formality and stiffness of manner he could have expected to receive there. The sort of polite formality that had never existed between himself and Caro!

He drew himself up determinedly once the two of them were once more alone. ‘Caro, it must be as obvious to you as it is to me that we need to talk.’

‘What would you care to talk about, Lord Vaughn?’ she prompted brightly as she resumed her seat on the sofa to look across at him with unreadable sea-green eyes. ‘The weather, perhaps? Or the beauty of the gardens at this time of year? I am afraid, never having attended one, that I cannot talk knowledgably of the balls and parties given in the homes of the
ton
—’