The Rake's Rainbow (26 page)

And could he condemn competence in a female?  Emily was equally blessed, something he had always pointed to with pride. Did he really want to go through life with a wife who was unable to accomplish the simplest task without making a mull of it?  Wasn’t that one of the complaints against Miss Huntsley that had caused him to welcome Caroline’s hand in the first place? 

In retrospect, he had indeed treated her badly. On the other hand, their relationship was not so simple that he could forget the past, beg forgiveness, and live happily ever after. Two stumbling blocks stood in the way.

The first, of course, was Alicia. No change in his perception of Caroline could alter the fact that he loved Alicia, nor could he banish the companion desire that it was she to whom he was married. Never before had he accepted second best, and facing a lifetime married to a woman who fit that description was daunting.

Nor could he forgive or forget Caroline’s association with Wroxleigh. Despite warnings and outright orders, she continued her liaison with the fellow. What should he do?  Catch them together and call Wroxleigh out?  Accept being cuckolded as fitting punishment for his lapse with Alicia and allow the affair to run its course?  He did not know, and having no answers angered him as much as her conduct.

Sighing, he turned his footsteps upstairs. His first duty was to apologize for his unfair judgments and find a way to mend their relationship. Perhaps they could recapture the friendship they had shared during that first week together. How badly shaken was she?  Had the settee struck her? 

But he never saw her. Dawson informed him that Caroline was resting and would accept no visitors. Hurt at being thus labeled, Thomas left for his usual rounds of sparring, shooting, and visiting his clubs. Appearances must be maintained. Never would he allow the
ton
to suspect that all was not well with his marriage.

* * * *

Caroline spent the morning resting. Her leg was bruised and scraped, but not seriously damaged. However, she refused to sleep after a nap ended in nightmare. Again and again that flash of disappointment twisted Thomas’s features. In her dream he pushed the settee down on top of her, then followed with other forms of mayhem when his scheme failed. Awake, she refused to believe him capable of perpetrating such a crime.

You should not take chances,
whispered the voice. She thrust the thought aside, not wanting to even consider the possibility. Yet she let Dawson turn him away a second time, rather than face him with her mind in turmoil.

What should she do?  Her attitude toward their marriage had changed. She paced her room restlessly, trying to decide just what she wanted.
Love...

And pigs will fly,
she scoffed.
Be reasonable!
  All right, she loved him. But that deplorable situation was not responsible for the change.

She paused to peer into her mirror. She was different. Not just the hair and the fashionable clothes. Not even the improved social graces. The whole image had changed, right down to the core. And with it, her view of Thomas had also changed.

She had originally agreed to marriage out of desperation, expecting nothing beyond friendship and more security than she could have found as a governess. Believing Thomas to be well above her touch, she had determined to serve him faithfully without demanding anything in return – a role combining the duties of housekeeper and mistress. Fool!  How could she have denigrated her own worth so thoroughly? 

But London had improved her self-image, beginning with her appearance. She was not the plain dowd she had considered herself after a lifetime of comparisons with her beautiful sisters. Nor was she beneath the touch of the polite world. Her two grandfathers were an earl and a baron, a more exalted lineage than many of the
ton
could boast. Her mother had taught her the skills needed to hold her own in the drawing rooms and ballrooms of Mayfair. And she had acquitted herself well. If anything, her credit now surpassed his.

Never again would she consider herself either the lesser of two evils or a millstone around his neck. Nor should he. She had allowed him to retain those images far too long. It was time to abandon her passive role and fight for a place in his life and affections. No longer was it possible to remain in the background while he worked out his problems for himself.

The battle would not be simple, she admitted, dropping onto the bed and staring at the canopy. Obsession was a formidable foe. And his inability to acknowledge errors in judgment would compound the problem. Her words to Lord Marchgate still held true. Under head-on assault Thomas would dig in his heels and cling ever more tightly to his mistakes. He was not a man to be coerced into anything. Nor would she want him to be. She despised men who lived under the cat’s paw.

Instead, her campaign must approach through the back door, taking advantage of every opportunity to support or assist him. Her presence must become an integral part of his life, essential to his well-being. But her behavior must remain matter-of-fact. Never again would she play the role of servant. Nor would martyrdom help. And no matter how difficult, she must never criticize either Alicia or his behavior. If ever she succeeded in breaking Lady Darnley’s hold, she must put the past behind them and never refer to it, even if he did not turn his support to her.

Can you really manage that? asked the voice.

It was a question she hoped never to have to answer.

She resumed her normal schedule in time for afternoon calls and attended a ball that evening. It would not do to advertise the mishap.

“How lovely you are tonight, Caro,” exclaimed Robert, leading her into the first cotillion. “We go well together.”  Indeed, her blue silk was the identical shade of his jacket, though she would never have donned anything like his lemon waistcoat, gaudily embroidered in acanthus leaves and bluebirds. He sported a new style of cravat.

“Is that one of your own designs?” she asked.

“Yes, a variation on the Oriental.”

“Exquisite.”

“Thank you. Did you hear about young Delaney’s latest scrape?”

“A bit, though no one seems to know why he was there. Lady Beatrice imputes the most scandalous motives.”

“She would. But he was merely saving the poor woman.”

“Oh?  From what?”

“My dear, thuch horrorth!”  His lisp intensified with the affected words. “His youngest brother had to come to town for a few days – visiting the tooth drawer, I believe.”

“Poor chap. How old is he?”

“Just eight. He didn’t like the idea at all, as you can imagine, so he brought along a few items with which to amuse himself. One was a baby hedgehog.”

“Oh, dear.”  Caroline giggled – she’d had plenty of experience with young boys and their pets.

“Oh, dear, indeed. The poor thing escaped, as one must expect of such creatures, and turned up in Lady Feldham’s bedroom – when the poor lady was barely awake. She succumbed to hysterics. Young Lawrence was the first on the scene.”

She giggled once more. “I take it Lady Feldham has little use for small animals.”

Robert tittered. “Very little. She was standing on a chair, one hand clutched to her bosom, the other shaking out her skirts, her eyes in danger of popping out. The terrified hedgehog succumbed to its own hysterics, cowering on the hearth, rolled up in a little spiny ball, only its tiny black eyes peeping out. Lawrence collapsed against the wall, laughing too hard to rescue the beast.”

“Laughter would hardly be appreciated under such circumstances.”

“How right you are. By the time Lady Feldham’s dresser arrived, she was screeching at him to stop staring and take himself off. The hedgehog had summoned the courage to escape out the door, and Lawrence was in a pickle.”

She was having a difficult time restraining her own laughter. “And what of his brother?”

“Back home.”

“Sans
hedgehog?”

Robert giggled and nodded. “The poor creature has not been seen since. Much to Lady Feldham’s horror.”

“The poor lady must be having twenty fits every day,” she choked.

The music swirled to a close and Robert raised one hand to his lips before escorting her to join Emily and Helena. “Delightful, as always.”

“Has Lord Potherby accepted your school plans?” she asked Helena as Robert departed.

“He has yet to agree, though he is no longer protesting. I must thank you for talking with him that day.”

“Were you really able to persuade him?” asked a surprised Emily.

“It was nothing,” demurred Carolyn.

“Fustian. He has been a different man since,” explained Helena. “Carolyn presented all the appropriate arguments, wisely citing observations of Lord Waite and your parents rather than her own experiences. I have heard nothing about consequence since, though I suspect he is discussing the idea at his clubs.”

“Things were easier once I discovered that Waite was a neighbor and had been a close friend of his father. He should find little support for his top-lofty objections. Even those who disagree with education seldom cite consequence. And he so readily adopts changing agricultural methods that he is bound to agree in the end.”  Unless someone scared him silly with fears that education would lead to insurrection.

“I hope so,” murmured Helena as their partners approached for the next set.

“What is bothering you tonight?” Jeremy asked at supper. “You seem unusually quiet.”

Caroline sighed in resignation. Was she really that easy to read?  Her close friends always seemed to know what she was feeling. Drew’s unexpected perception had been disconcerting, though he was right to think she had needed a good cry.

“Nothing serious,” she tried. “I suffered a slight mishap this morning and am a little stiff as a result.”

“What happened?”

“A footman tripped, sending a settee tumbling down the stairs, narrowly missing me.”

“Good heavens!  Are you all right?  How could such a thing occur?”

“I am fine, Jeremy, but the details are a bit hazy. Thomas left just afterward so I do not know precisely how it all came about.”

“He was there?”

“Yes.”

But Jeremy must have noticed something in her expression, because he frowned. “You cannot believe that he had anything to do with it.”

“Of course not,” she denied, but her voice wavered.

“He would never consider such a thing.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself,” she declared. “But you know how things stand with him. He considers me a millstone now that Alicia is free.”

“He is a fool to continue adoring her when he has you,” snorted Jeremy. “But obsession is blind. To some extent I can sympathize with him. Though the fair Alicia never appealed to me, I too fell in love last Season.”

“What happened?”

“She turned me down. Claimed I did not know her at all. And she was right. Infatuation had blinded me to her real character. I saw only what I wanted to see. She wasn’t at all like I believed. She married Wrexham last summer and is ecstatically happy by all reports. Produced an heir just last month. It’s too bad Thomas has not learned the truth about his inamorata, for I cannot believe he sees her clearly. I don’t suppose you could tell him.”

“Surely you jest!” exclaimed Caroline, chuckling at the idea. “How can a wife approach her husband to inform him – strictly for his own good – that the woman he loves is a scheming, selfish, bad-tempered harridan, who has probably enjoyed the favors of more men than he has women in his long career as a rake?”

“Is she really that bad?”  Jeremy laughed in turn.

“See?  Even you don’t believe me. Yes, she is.”  And she described the scene at the modiste’s and several similar occurrences Emily had related. “And you cannot be ignorant of her reputation, though somehow Thomas remains so.”

“Good Lord!” gasped Jeremy. “But surely he will discover her true nature.”

“Perhaps, if given enough time. But his brain ceases to function whenever she is around, and he never questions his devotion otherwise. Nor can I imagine him ever admitting to a mistake in judgment. He possesses a stubborn single-mindedness that sets a goal, then pursues it relentlessly without ever again questioning whether it is worthy or whether he still desires it.”

“Too true,” sighed Jeremy. “He has ever had that problem. I can remember when we first came down from Oxford. He bought a horse at Tattersall’s. Beautiful animal, but about as sound as a house with dry rot. Immediately obvious to everyone else, of course, but would he agree?  No. Even after he replaced it with that black stallion he rides now, he never admitted that the original was a mistake. Always claims he switched because he wanted a horse he could put to stud.”

“Maybe there is hope, then.”  Caroline surprised him with this observation. “He may not have admitted the mistake, but he obviously learned his lesson. Everything he owns now is prime blood.”

This conversation restored at least some of her hope for the future. If she remained patient, Thomas would learn for himself what Alicia was really like. She would never expect him to apologize for his behavior or even to admit that he was making a cake of himself over someone unworthy. But he would eventually turn to her. She had to believe that.

In the meantime, she continued her own social schedule, accepting Thomas’s public attentions in the spirit in which they were offered. He had mellowed, seeming less icy, though she did not believe that the fundamental problem had eased. She was unable to find any way to pursue her goals at home, but maintained her optimism. Something would turn up.

* * * *

“Hello, Thomas,” George called when his friend wandered into White’s one afternoon. “How about sharing a bottle over a couple of hands of piquet?”

“Only a couple?” asked Thomas, dropping into the opposite chair.

“I have to visit my tailor. Usual stakes?”

He nodded.

George frowned. “You look a mite down today. Problems?”

Thomas shrugged, but no one was close enough to hear. Picking up a deck of cards, he began shuffling. “I’ve made a royal mess of my life,” he admitted while George cut. “And I’ve been unfair to Caroline – you see, I can admit mistakes.”