Part 7 (1/2)

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 a.s.suredly not pure. However, the halo of diamonds surrounding it glittered in the early morning sunlight, adding a touch of refres.h.i.+ng 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 ma.s.s. 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.

”Brus.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.sault 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 pa.s.sion 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 s.e.xual 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 o.r.g.a.s.m. 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 s.p.a.ce 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 a.s.sociation. 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 a.s.sociated 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 rea.s.semble 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 s.e.x, 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 l.u.s.t 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, wis.h.i.+ng it were something boringly flannel which would cover her from head to toe instead of an insubstantial sc.r.a.p 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 sh.e.l.l-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 pa.s.serby, 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 a.s.signed 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 d.a.m.ning letters, so many times whole pa.s.sages were forever emblazoned in his brain.

But if Caroline was innocent-oh, not innocent, she could never be that-but had not committed adultery then, he had no basis to divorce her. Their marriage had been consummated and he was certainly not impotent. He could have a hundred mistresses and Lady Justice would remove her blindfold to simply wink at him. It mattered only if a wife was unfaithful.

Edward couldn't go home. He stumbled past his street and hailed a pa.s.sing cab. It was much too early for Will to be at his chambers, so he gave the driver Will's home address and settled back into the dingy squabs. All his cautiously constructed plans for his future had just been razed. He was doomed to live in limbo until death claimed him. Feeling distinctly un-Christielike, he punched a fist into the seat, releasing a cloud of dust. What had Allie said just yesterday? All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. It was just happening for him sooner than he expected.

He paid the driver and climbed the stairs to Will's bachelor apartments. Sir William Maclean could have afforded a house anywhere in the city, but he was snug with his books and antiquities and comfortably looked after by a valet and a daily housekeeper. It was the immaculately turned-out valet, Arbuthnot, who opened the door to Edward's noisy pounding.