Part 23 (1/2)

”I do.” She sighed. ”But I don't deserve you.”

”Rubbish. Caroline, the past is the past. Every bit of it. Every mistake you've ever made-every mistake I have made-cannot be undone. But we would not be who we are without them. I expect we will make more mistakes in the future. It won't be so awful if we make them together.”

She shook her head. ”Christies don't make mistakes.”

Ah! He had her now. ”Then we are in agreement.”

”I haven't agreed to anything!”

”Oh, but you have. Christies don't make mistakes. I am a Christie. I want you. Therefore, it is not a mistake to want you, because Christies don't make mistakes. You can't argue with that. It's logic.”

”Love isn't logical.”

”No, it isn't,” Edward said soberly. ”I love you, Caroline. I never knew what love was until the night in your garden when you said we were done. It's come late for me, but not too late for us, I hope.”

With three little words, Edward discovered that kidnapping, jewels, and logic were completely superfluous to winning back his wife. Christies always told the truth, and if he said he loved her, it must be so. Inconvenient, impossible, but true. She melted into his arms and wept on his shoulder. His coat was ruined already. He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket.

Caroline blew her nose in a most unromantic fas.h.i.+on. ”You love me?”

”I've just said so, haven't I? What do you think all this has been about?”

”Take me home, Edward. To Christie Park.”

”Tomorrow, at first light. Tonight you'll rest right here.” He cupped her upturned face and kissed her. ”Do you suppose Serena has a mirror on her ceiling too?”

”We cannot make love in Serena's bed!” Caroline said, horrified.

”Christie House it is then. Putney!”

The butler materialized as though he'd been standing inches away from the door. ”Yes, my lord.”

”Thank you for a.s.sisting my wife earlier. I am deeply indebted to you.”

”I was only doing my job, my lord.”

Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of bank notes. Putney looked as if he might swoon, but managed to accept them with alacrity.

”There is the matter of a vase, Edward,” Caroline said contritely.

”Have Miss Serena send me a bill. I will take it out of your allowance, Caro. Your pin money will dwindle down to nothing if you do not rein in your temper.”

Caroline lowered her eyes. ”Yes, Edward.”

”Do not think for a minute you are fooling me with this submissive act.”

Caroline chewed a lip. ”No, Edward.”

Edward threw up his hands. ”It is definitely time to remove you from Jane Street. You've gone mad, or I have.”

Putney cleared his throat. ”Perhaps you've gone mad together, my lord. May I send for your carriage?”

”I've a poor old horse tied up out there. If you can have somebody see him home to Christie House, I'd be obliged. My wife and I will walk home. If you're up to it, Caro.”

”Yes, Edward.”

He waited until they were on the sidewalk, then swept her up in his arms.

She yipped like a startled Pekingese. ”Edward! What are you doing?”

”Carrying you home, my love.”

”Put me down at once! You can't carry me through the streets of Mayfair in broad daylight! People will talk! And I'm too heavy!”

Edward kissed her forehead. ”You are not,” he lied. ”And let them talk. I want the world to know that Baron Christie has found his baroness and will never, ever let her go again.”

Caroline relaxed in his arms. ”Yes, Edward.”

Caroline's acquiescence was bound to be short-lived, but he had a pretty good idea what to do with it for the next few hours. All he had to do was not drop her on her beautiful white a.r.s.e. He thought, on the whole, he was absolutely up to the tasks ahead.

Chapter 24.

And they lived happily ever after.

-The Baron's Bride.

Edward picked up the grubby letter from the tray, broke its seal and uttered an oath.

Caroline knew the rules. No talking at the breakfast table. She spread more marmalade on her toast, focusing on the pattern of the silver spoon. It was quite lovely, with tiny lilies of the valley entwined with some indefinable flower. She returned it to the jam pot and took a bite.

Edward looked as though he were choking on his own toast, which lay untouched on the plate before him. She wouldn't ask about the contents of the letter. It was enough just to sit with him in Edward's-their-lovely breakfast room at Christie Park. The room hadn't needed much in the way of redecoration, just some drapes, plants, and new pictures on the wall, so it was the first one she'd tackled. She'd be poring over wallpaper and fabric patterns for the rest of the house later with her sister-in-law Beth and was itching to get started. She took a large swallow of tea.

”h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation!”

Still, Caroline said nothing. The rules really were not so onerous. Edward was most particular about his morning routine, although he'd altered it recently to spend it-and the previous night-in her bed. Their bed. One of her rules. He still kept his old bedroom, of course, but seemed to wander into it only to keep Cameron busy.

Perhaps the letter was about the children. Alice was upstairs terrorizing her new governess, but the boys could have achieved most anything to set their father off. They were very busy sowing their wild oats at Cambridge. Entire fields were sprouting up, even if it was October. Caroline waited.

Beth didn't have her scruples. ”Good Lord, Edward, what is it? Caro and I are dying of curiosity.”

Edward looked up, straight into Caroline's eyes. ”This is from Andrew Rossiter.”

Caroline felt the pleasant air suck out of the room.

”He writes to tell me that he is dead, and wishes me to facilitate the transfer of his bank funds so I can purchase him a house on some Scottish island. Oh, and I'm to hire him an Italian-speaking governess.”

”Andrew is d-dead?”