Part 10 (2/2)
”Full of orders today, I see. Rossiter came to see me. He'd been up all night worrying about you. I have no doubt that what he heard disturbed him greatly-he was genuinely upset. Last evening he was at a party and overheard two men talking. My name was mentioned in conjunction with the term ransom. From the words used, it is unlikely that any other female attached to me was the object of this crime except for you, but I've taken steps to protect Allie and Beth. Mulgrew will get the guest list to help us narrow down the conspirators. You can figure out which of the gentlemen you've pilloried and we'll take it from there.”
Caroline felt the blood drain from her body. If anything she'd ever written in her silly books resulted in harm to Allie, she'd never forgive herself. ”Edward-” Her voice broke.
”Here. I know this is a shock. Drink your brandy.”
Caroline obediently swallowed from the gla.s.s Edward held to her lips. Her hands shook too badly to take it from him.
”I never meant to cause any harm.”
”I know. From what Marburn said, you've been scrupulously careful, flattering most of the men you've based your characters on. Really, the only aggrieved parties he could think of were Pope and Dougla.s.s. And me, of course,” he added wryly.
”But Pope's book came out months ago! Why would he be so desperate to hurt me now?”
”They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Things have not been easy for him of late. His position in society is tenuous at best. Most decent people cut him.”
”As they should! He's a horrible, horrible man.” Caroline shuddered, remembering the night Lizzie came to her.
”Until we know the precise nature of the threat against you, it's best if you limit your activities. I can escort you when necessary.”
The thought of Edward looming over her everywhere she went sent a little thrill through her, not that she went out much anymore. ”But your valet can do that.”
”So he can if he must. But I would prefer to see to your safety myself. You are my wife, Caroline.”
”Just for the time being.”
Edward looked away. ”About the divorce-”
”Just one disaster at a time if you please! I'll allow you to move in until we get all this nonsense settled. It shouldn't take more than a few days for your Mr. Mulgrew to do his detecting. But I will not share a bed with you again, not ever. I want that to be very clear.” Caroline hoped she sounded resolute. All she really wanted was to be enveloped in Edward's arms. Feel his wiry strength. Smell the lime of his aftershave.
And not simply because she was afraid of this amorphous threat. Perhaps she should be, but she wasn't. She feared herself. She wanted Edward as she always had, and he would break her heart as he always had. He needed to be kept at arms' length if she were to move forward with her life-if she had a life to live.
Oh, she was being melodramatic, worthy of one of her featherbrained heroines. Surely her life wasn't really in danger. Andrew might have gone to Edward as some sort of deranged joke. He'd always had a very odd sense of humor, although Nicky's death had changed him irrevocably.
She could put up with Edward for a day or two. Perhaps even as long as a week. And then- ”I'll let Mrs. Hazlett know you're staying for dinner.”
Edward smiled. ”And breakfast, too.”
Chapter 12.
Henrietta hung shackled to the walls of the dungeon, each hopeless cry echoing on the damp walls like the laugh of The Devil.
-The Grenadier's Ghost.
He was an idiot. He could have hired a hundred men to protect Caroline. But no. Instead he was sleeping on the floor beside her bed.
Of course, he wasn't sleeping. How could he when every sigh, every stretch, every shake of the covers reverberated in the bedroom like a shotgun. And her scent-jasmine and clean skin and Caroline-was driving him absolutely mad. He was as hard as the floor.
After a relatively civilized supper, he had every hope of joining her in bed under that intriguing mirror. There were times during dinner when Edward thought Caroline was actually flirting with him over the filet of Dover sole and baked figs. She had changed into another low-cut red dress, and d.a.m.n if the color was not growing on him. The contrast between its ruby brilliance and the pearl of her body was entirely entrancing. She had swept her coppery curls up with garnet clips and needed no rouge or lip salve on the warm August night to lend her color. Edward had lost his train of thought several times while he basked in her beauty.
When the time came to retire, Caroline had handed him a pillow and a sheet and invited him to sleep on the little couch in her upstairs purple parlor. Unless he wished to triple-up with Cameron and the kitchen boy in the attic, she had suggested sweetly. Edward had tried to oblige, but he was a long man and the couch was short. It didn't take any time at all before he was tapping on her bedroom door, reminding her he could better protect her if they were in the same room. Caroline had pointedly pointed to the floor.
So he was wakeful and woebegone. She had the audacity to be asleep, gently snoring. He didn't remember her snoring during their marriage, but then he'd rarely spent the entire night in the same bed with her. He had taken his pleasure-an unseemly amount of pleasure-then retreated to the propriety of his own rooms, just as all men of his station did. If he had ever noticed Caroline's disappointment as he untangled himself from her arms, he had shut it out of his ordered existence and gone about the business of being Baron Christie. No Christie had ever allowed himself to become the victim of his animal nature, and apart from Edward's precipitous proposal, he had managed to confine Caroline's power over him to the hours bracketing midnight. The last weeks of their reacquaintance on Jane Street, he'd been so sated he'd actually slept right through to morning. But he was definitely dissatisfied tonight, in need, in agony. The thought of Caroline, fragrant and warm, so very close above him, was enough to keep every inch of him alert-his c.o.c.k in particular.
Punching down the pillow, he rolled away on the carpet, snagging his nights.h.i.+rt under him in a bulky lump. After a few seconds of frantic tugs, all was smooth again, but certainly not comfortable. The French windows were open to the night air of Caroline's garden, and its perfume joined with hers to permeate his senses and make sleep impossible. Edward pulled himself up and stepped onto the little balcony overlooking the walled yard, wis.h.i.+ng he had a cheroot or brandy to soothe his nerves. His nights.h.i.+rt tented comically in front of him.
All seemed quiet on Jane Street and in the houses beyond. Here and there a flicker of candlelight indicated someone else was as wide awake as he was. Night jasmine, planted not for its beauty but its fragrance, lay below, its pale yellow blooms faint in the bright moonlight. The only sound came from the Marquess of Conover's garden fountain two doors down. It splashed like a regular rainfall, possibly soothing someone, but not Edward.
He had heard in his club that Conover was getting married again, to some childhood friend. The man had wandered across the world for a decade. Perhaps this new wife would keep him home, steady him as Alice had done to Edward, providing him with a well-ordered household and dependable affection.
Not like Caroline. While her dinners were served on time, one never knew what mad dish would be under the covers. She collected cookery books much as some women collected porcelain figurines, nearly forcing his cooks to quit with her interfering ways, both in town and in the country. Edward had finally forbidden her from the kitchens to protect his staff and the a.s.sault to his stomach.
Caroline was all spice-ginger and hot pepper, curry and cardamom. She kept an herb patch in the city-leaves of something exotic had seasoned his soup tonight. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the tiny Eden she had created below to blanket out the rest of London. He tensed as a rustle came from bushes, but it was only Caroline's cat. Harold had taken one look at Edward earlier and decided to spend the night outdoors. The cat's green eyes glowed up at him in disdain, then disappeared into the shrubbery.
Shunned by the cat. Shunned by Caroline. He supposed he deserved it. Edward felt rather useless. The safety of Jane Street's inhabitants was a.s.sured by the hired watchmen who stood armed at the gates with their list. Leaving his man Cameron there by day was more than likely enough to protect Caroline, but Edward had not been content with that solution. He wanted to see Caroline again after the abysmal weeks of staying away.
Devil take him. He was d.a.m.ned no matter what happened. Had been d.a.m.ned from the moment Caroline Parker stepped beneath the chandelier in all her crimson glory at Lady Huntington's ball.
”Edward? What's the matter? Is someone out there?”
She whispered, but he heard her anxiety. He had frightened her by simply standing at the window thinking too much. ”No, Caro. Everything is fine. I just couldn't sleep.”
”Well, you would choose to sleep on the floor instead of the couch.”
”I'd much rather be in your bed,” he mumbled.
”What's that?”
”Nothing. Go back to sleep.” He heard her strike the flint and the bedside candle flared along with her laughter.
”Good heavens. I don't believe I've ever seen your hair so disordered.”
Edward ran his hand through his straight dark hair. He was in desperate need of a haircut. ”Cameron can give me a trim tomorrow before I leave for Parliament.”
”I could do it. I used to cut my brother Nicky's hair.”
”Well, you won't cut mine. I wouldn't trust you near me with a pair of scissors.”
Caroline chuckled. ”I'm no Delilah. And I wouldn't harm a hair on your head. Or hurt you anywhere else.”
By G.o.d, he wished she would hurt him. What he wouldn't give for her hands to be all over him, nails raking, fingers probing. Her sleep-honeyed voice alone was making him crazy. ”I'm going below stairs for something to drink. May I bring anything back to you?” He watched her stretch into the pillows, her full round b.r.e.a.s.t.s straining against the filmy material of her nightdress, the dusky pink of her nipples visible. He suppressed a groan.
”I'll come with you. I know I shouldn't be hungry, but I am.”
He'd always been amused by Caroline's appet.i.te. She was not one of those pale, dainty things that minced their food into bird-like portions. During their marriage, he sometimes thought she'd gone without food during her youth and was making up for it. She could make a banquet of apples from his orchard, hitching up her skirts and climbing the tree herself. Her choice of outlandish dishes, her love of vibrant color, her childlike enthusiasm to try new things-they should have warned him from the first. She was entirely unsuitable. Cheerfully unsteady. He'd made them both suffer for his thoughtless l.u.s.t.
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