Chapter Fourteen
In consideration of the unexpected guests, breakfast the following morning was to be served in the dining room. After washing and dressing, Caroline woke the girls and left them to dress in their own time. Her plan was to eat breakfast alone and escape for a long, head-clearing walk before she was required to speak to anyone about anything that mattered.
However, in this she was foiled at the outset, for as soon as she reached the staircase, Richard Benedict strode out of the library and beckoned her inside. Being still furious with him, she hesitated before finally deciding to clear up this silly mess as soon as possible. With dignity, she followed him into the library, without closing the door.
“Don’t look so fierce, Miss Grey. You should be happy on your betrothal day.”
“I am not,” she uttered, “betrothed. At the very least I insist on being consulted before the fact!”
“Well, I’d no time to ask you, and if I had, you would only have refused.”
“And yet here we are, with everyone believing us to be engaged!”
“Including Javan.”
Especially Javan. Pain racked her, like a dagger in the heart. How dared he believe it when she had only just kissed him? How dared he?
“Don’t you see that this is the point, Miss Grey?” Richard urged.
“If there is a point, it is far too obscure for me.”
“No one wishes you to be ruined.”
“I would not have been ruined,” she exclaimed. “Lady Serena would never believe ill of me—”
“Not even after you were accused of a similar indiscretion with her own brother?”
Stricken, she stared at him.
Richard threw up his hands. “You may be right,” he allowed. “But I could not take the chance. I waited for Javan to get in first, but he didn’t.”
The dagger in her heart twisted. “No,” she agreed. “He didn’t.”
“And if he had, you would be thinking he did it merely from honor.”
“It would have been the truth.”
“Rubbish. It was not honor in his heart when he was kissing you in this very room last night.”
She flushed to the roots of her hair. “He was confused, waking from dreams to find himself in a place he—”
“Yes, yes,” Richard interrupted. “Miss Grey, if my cousin is not forced out of it, he will carry on believing he does not deserve happiness. It is your business and mine to show him he does.”
She stared at him. “By us marrying each other? How much, exactly, does he want me out of his hair?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Miss Grey, it does not suit you. Look, anyone can see Javan is in love with you. Except Javan, of course, who will have rationalized it so he can wallow a bit longer in the safety of his superior misery.”
“That is hardly fair,” she said coldly. “Or true!”
“The love is true,” he insisted. “The rest may be exaggerated by my own frustration. The point is, he married Louisa in haste, encouraged by her parents and his own family, and he repented almost immediately. For good reason. He is determined never to make such a mistake again, particularly not when there is Rosa to consider. He needs a push to win you. I thought last night’s discovery might do it, but he drew back at the last moment, so now we must resort to inspiring jealousy.”
Caroline closed her mouth. “You are insane.”
“I promise you it will work. He is already mad as fire.”
She sank onto the window seat. “No, this is wrong,” she said anxiously. “You cannot push people or their emotions about in this way. But more than that, I will not have Rosa believing I will leave her!”
This, clearly, was something Richard had not thought of. Though he quickly overcame the objection. “Never mind. Just tell her we’ll live here for the foreseeable future.”
She regarded him with fascination. “You have an answer for everything. But the truth is, whatever good you imagine you are achieving, you are doing ill by your cousin and by me. I will not spoil things with this dishonesty, and I will not deign to try this manipulation—”
“Now don’t relapse into righteous indignation,” Richard commanded. “Comfort yourself that you will never have to marry me and trust me. I’ve known Javan since I was born. It’s harsh, but he does need a kindly kick. At the very least, you must not make me out a liar, so let us maintain the fiction for today at least.”
“No longer,” she muttered as she rose and walked out of the room.
*
As it turned out, she had little opportunity either to confirm or deny her supposed betrothal to Richard Benedict. By the time she returned from her walk, Javan had made his farewells to his guests and shut himself up in his study, leaving Marjorie and Richard to wave them off.
“I’m so glad for you,” Serena said warmly, giving Caroline a final hug. “Though who will teach my wretched sisters now, I cannot imagine!”
The wretched sisters embraced her with equal enthusiasm and demanded to be invited to the wedding. Caroline actually sighed with relief when their carriages drove off out of sight. There was little sign now of yesterday’s fierce storm, except the sodden, muddy texture of the ground.
Rosa’s hand crept into hers.
She forced a smile to her lips. “Did you enjoy the night with your friends?”
Rosa nodded enthusiastically, although behind the remembered happiness, her eyes were full of questions Caroline could not answer.
“Run up to the schoolroom,” Caroline said. “I’ll be with you directly.”
Rosa obeyed readily enough, and Caroline turned her feet in the direction of Javan’s study. Richard leaned against the bannister, watching her. She ignored him.
A soft rap on the study door elicited no response. She knocked again, more loudly but again she was greeted with silence from the other side. She was sure he was in there and that he knew it was she who knocked. He simply didn’t want to see her. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against the door for the tiniest moment. Then she walked away and climbed the stairs to the schoolroom.
*
Caroline found herself both dreading and longing for luncheon. She wanted to see Javan very badly, and explain, whatever the outcome.
But when she entered the dining room, Miss Benedict was crying with joy and embracing Richard amidst much congratulation. Caroline stopped dead, gazing upon the scene with consternation. This was becoming ridiculous. She would not lie to these people who had been so kind to her. How Richard could, was beyond her.
Miss Benedict flew to hug Caroline, too. “Oh, I am so pleased!” she exclaimed.
Over by the window, Javan stood with his back to the room, apparently paying no one any attention. Was he truly hurt? Her guilty heart ached for him…but still he did not turn to see her pain. And it came to her, with considerable pique, that she should not be pitying him. If he truly cared for her, he should have been the one leaping to her defense last night. He was the one who had kissed her, beginning the chain of ridiculous events that had led to this pretense. And yet there he stood, silent and superior, disdaining her and Richard.
“Thank you,” she said to Marjorie. “I can scarcely believe it myself.”
“It’s so wonderful! Though what we shall do without you, I don’t know!”
A quick glance showed her that Rosa looked stricken. Caroline started toward her, but Richard got there first.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We won’t leave you.”
He might have meant it only for Rosa, but Javan suddenly looked across at him, as though he’d heard every word. He glanced from Richard to Caroline and then to Rosa.
A derisive smile curled his lips. “Really, Richard?” he mocked. “Really? Shall I build you a cottage in the grounds, with a rose garden?”
He knows, Caroline thought in fresh despair. God knows what he thinks of me, now!
*
It was, of course, impossible to tell. During his usual afternoon walk with Rosa, he treated Caroline much as he always did—with unconventional civility leavened by his own distinctive humor. Only the growing closeness between them had clearly vanished, and for that Caroline wanted to weep and to shout at him in fury. She refrained, however, and the matter of the engagement was never referred to. At least Rosa seemed to have abandoned her earlier fears.
At dinner, Richard announced that he had been to Blackhaven and bought tickets for the subscription ball at the assembly rooms next week, and for the theatre tomorrow.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy an excellent evening,” Javan said politely. “On both occasions.”
“I thought we could all go,” Richard said.
“I’m not a dancing man,” Javan stated. His gaze fell on Caroline, who remembered only too well dancing with him at the castle rout. “I’d rather stay here with Rosa.”
“Well, the theatre will not be too late,” Marjorie observed. “I could stay in with Rosa if you wanted to go.”
“I’ll think about it,” Javan said carelessly.
“I could not go without you, Miss Benedict,” Caroline protested. “It makes more sense for me to stay.”
“Good lord,” Richard drawled. “Anyone would think the theatre was some kind of punishment. It’s meant to be fun. Miss Grey—Caroline—the world is not so strict with an engaged lady. I believe the presence of your betrothed is propriety enough, but do ask a female friend to join us, if it will make you more comfortable.”
“I shall take care of that,” Javan said unexpectedly.
*
Caroline’s sense of losing control of her life and everyone in it, was further heightened that evening when she discovered Rosa and Richard sitting on the stairs together. It must have been a somewhat one-sided conversation, but it made Rosa smile, and as Caroline passed them to go to her own chamber, Rosa jumped up and hugged her for no obvious reason.
In her own chamber, Caroline sat down at the desk and penned a note to Lady Tamar, begging for her company at the theatre the following evening if she had no better plans. Only, once she’d given it to Williams to be delivered first thing in the morning, did she bury her head in her hands and acknowledge that this was not solving the problem. She was merely covering the proprieties rather than simply ending this sham engagement.
Caroline had always tried her best to do right, and had stood steadfast in her own sensible opinions, at least until she discovered evidence to the contrary. Yet somehow, she had allowed herself to be swayed by Javan’s mischievous kinsmen into an unbecoming masquerade that had little to do with saving her reputation. Anger with Javan had mingled with the desire to win him, and somehow, she was engaged to another man she did not want. It made no sense and it was wrong.
Decisively, she jumped to her feet, seized her candle, and left her chamber. A quick glance showed her that the drawing room was empty, so she knew where to find Javan.
She knocked on his study door, and this time, after only the slightest pause, his voice bade her come in.
He was watering his plants as she entered and showed no surprise at seeing her.
“Miss Grey, what might I do for you?”
“I wish to speak to you about my engagement,” she blurted.
He stilled for an instant before lowering his watering can and setting it on top of a cabinet. “I am no expert in such matters.”
“Neither,” she said dangerously, “am I.”
He regarded her with faint amusement in his otherwise veiled eyes. “Go on.”
She glared at him. “You know perfectly well this betrothal is a sham. Mr. Benedict pretended it only to save my reputation.”
“Which was never at any risk,” Javan said with a hint of contempt that stung. “If neither of you wanted it, you should have kept quiet.”
“As you did?” she snapped.
He picked up the watering can. “Yes,” he said, opening the next cabinet. “As I did. If you don’t wish to marry him, be patient. He will leave soon enough and then you can just let if drop naturally.”
She stared at his averted face. “That is your best advice?”
“If you don’t like it, you don’t need to take it.” He walked around the cabinet until he stood too close to her. She refused to back away but met his gaze with seething indignation. With his nearness came the inevitable melting of her bones, and a twinge of hope. “What do you want from me, Caroline?” he asked softly. “Another proposal?”
Hope died in a fresh flurry of bitter anger. “Another? I have not received one yet!” With that, she flung away from him and out of the room.
*
Javan watched her go with raging disappointment and guilt. She was in an impossible situation, for a young woman in her position could not go about making and breaking engagements. And her engagement to Richard would be all around Blackhaven by now, perhaps even on its way to London and Richard’s friends and family.
Caroline had come to Javan for help, and he had not given it, mostly because he wasn’t sure it was what she wanted. He couldn’t truly believe she was the devious schemer who had first gone after Braithwaite and then him, before she had settled on his wealthier cousin, a baronet’s heir. The girl he knew would never behave so. And yet…she had not denied the engagement at the outset, although she must have known the compromising situation she’d been discovered in would never have gone beyond the Tamars and the Grants.
But could he blame her for wanting a better life than the drudgery of governessing? And Richard would make her a far better husband. Why then had she come to him about it now? He had always meant to offer himself as the alternative, if only she would come to him honestly. But then she had bolted before he could say the words. And doubts—not so much of her fitness but of his—kept him from following her.
I’m making a mess of this…
When the eerie howling began, he thought for a moment that it came from his own unhappiness and actually bit down on his lips to stop it. A bare instant later, he recognized it for the sound he’d been waiting for. Galvanized, he seized a candle and bolted out of the study and up the back stairs. As before, it was impossible to tell where the strange, echoing wail came from. Javan had no idea where the intruder was, but he knew where he would eventually have to go.
Approaching the library, he saw Marjorie’s head poking out of her bedchamber door. “Javan?” she whispered, clutching his arm. “It’s happening again!”
“I know,” he said grimly. “But this will be the last time. Don’t worry.” He had no doubt of his ability to deal with whoever this turned out to be. In fact, he wanted to deal with them. He wanted to fight, to expend energy on something tangible—a battle against someone other than himself.
The library door was closed as normal, though not completely, for it opened as soon as he pushed it. Darkness shrouded everything within. All his senses alert, in case the intruder lurked there, Javan entered, raising his candle high and quickly searching every corner of the room. Empty…and yet he was sure he sensed something…
And then he saw it. Where the left-hand side of the fireplace should have been, the tiles had been replaced by blackness. A small man-sized hole. He took a hasty step toward it and a man’s head poke out.
Williams. His old sergeant beckoned him with a grin. Javan advanced hastily, bent and entered the hole. For the barest instant, his candle flame flickered over Caroline’s face, and then she blew it out.
“Is the whole household here?” he murmured.
“Just us,” Williams assured him as another, more muffled howl reached them. “He didn’t even see me lurking behind the sofa in the dark, just stepped out of here and went straight for the door. No light.”
“He must know this house like the back of his hand,” Javan remarked.
“Should do,” Williams said sardonically. “He’s here often enough. But look, he leaves his lantern here.” Williams reached behind him and lifted something, a blanket, to reveal the lantern beneath. For an instant, the light glowed on a narrow stone passage within the walls, and steep steps leading downward. Then Williams dropped the blanket back over it.
“Useful,” Javan commented.
“I must have passed him downstairs when I left you,” Caroline whispered. “For I’m sure the first howl came from there when I was half way upstairs.” In the cramped space, her breath caressed his ear with devastating effect.
“So you came in here to be safe?” he managed with cool sarcasm.
“To see how he got in,” she corrected. “I thought it was the plan. Where is—”
He cut her short with a finger over her lips, for his ears, trained for so many years to pick up the faintest sounds, told him their man approached.
Her lips parted in shock at his touch. And God help him, it was sweet, even in this slightly ridiculous situation. Shrouded in darkness, awaiting the approach of the enemy, there was something unspeakably sensual about her soft, warm lips against his fingertip, her ragged breath stirring the tiny hairs on his skin. Even when she was engaged to his cousin. He did not move as the library door whispered open and breath panted in the room, advancing on their hiding place.
With reluctance, Javan let his finger slide away. He tugged the blanket off the lantern, grasped it and stepped out into the room, straightening at once.
A young man stood frozen in the light, his eyes wide and frightened. It was no great surprise.
“Tom Nairn,” Javan said conversationally. “I thought it was you.”
As though released from a bow, Nairn whirled around and bolted for the library door—but Richard now stood there, placing a candelabra on the table beside him. Brought up short, Nairn spun helplessly, looking for an escape that didn’t exist.
At last, his shoulders slumped. He didn’t even try to fight when Williams advanced and collared him.
“Any reason we shouldn’t hand you over to the magistrate?” Javan asked sternly.
Nairn shook his head miserably. “I told him it was over. Said you came too close last time, which you did, and you weren’t going to leave anyway—”
“You want us to go so you can buy the house cheaply?”
“It’s for my ma. She used to work here, was lady’s maid to Mrs. Gardyn, and always dreamed of living here again, only as mistress. And when my da came into some money…”
“If you had frightened my daughter, just once,” Javan said coldly, “I’d kill you.”
The boy blanched. “I told him that. I said you weren’t like the other tenants and we were playing with fire, but he wouldn’t give up. Said he’d come himself.”
“Who? Your father?”
Nairn paused, then nodded.
But Javan had already picked up his hesitation. “Not your father?” he pounced, going closer, holding the youth’s frightened gaze. “Come on, man, spit it out. It’s your only hope.”
“I’d talked my da round. He didn’t like it, but he took my word eventually. Then he met this cove skulking around the farm and nearby land, and suddenly it was back on again. This cove don’t like you, paid my da to scare you one more time.”
“What cove?” Williams demanded.
“I don’t know his name,” Nairn insisted. “Not sure my da does either!”
“A slender, pale gentleman with a walking stick?” Javan hazarded.
Nairn blinked. “Oh no. He was no gentleman. Great hulking fellow you wouldn’t want to cross.”
Javan frowned. That, he hadn’t expected. Although the boy might be lying.
“How do you open the passage from this side?” Caroline asked. “We found the lever inside the passage, but we couldn’t find a way in from the room.”
Nairn hesitated.
“Magistrate,” Williams said decisively, tugging Nairn by the collar.
“No, wait!” Nairn resisted, desperately. “I’ll show you and I’ll swear on the Bible never to come here again if you just let me go. It’ll kill my ma if I get sent to prison and—”
“Stop whining and show us,” Javan interrupted.
Nairn drew in his breath, and Williams released his collar, allowing him to walk to the bell pull. Lifting the cord, he pulled it sharply to the right and the fireplace hole began to close with the same clanking grind Javan had heard so often before. Then Nairn pulled the cord to the left, and the secret door slid silently open again.
“Well,” Caroline said, impressed. “None of us thought of that.”
“I’ll be blocking this off,” Javan snapped. “At both ends. And you may tell your father I’ll have you both up before the magistrate—who is a friend of mine, incidentally—before you can say ‘help’ if I catch either of you within a hundred yards of my house or my family again. Or, if I’m angry, if my daughter is frightened in the slightest degree, I’ll just kill you where you cower. Do I make myself clear?”
He pushed the terrified boy back into Williams’ hold to be marched out of the house by the front door.
Richard raised one eyebrow at him. “You’re letting him go?”
Javan shrugged impatiently. “I don’t want the fuss. Besides, it’s over. He knew that before he came.” He glanced around, frowning suddenly. “Where is Caroline?”