Lady Caro (8 page)

Emily smiled. “That is only because you have never been in love. I promise you that when you lose your heart to a man, you will like his kisses very much. Indeed, I predict that you will yearn for them as I do for Mercer’s.”

Caro sincerely doubted that. Perhaps with Ashley, however ... Suddenly, Caro found herself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him. Could it be that she was not as immune to a man’s charm as she had believed herself? Dismayed, she told herself not to be such a ninnyhammer, especially over a man who had his pick of beautiful women. Aloud, she protested fiercely, as though she were trying to convince herself as much as Emily, “I shall never fall in love, nor marry either!”

Emily’s slender fingers began to remove the pins from her hair. “You seem to enjoy Lord Vinson’s company.”

Caro, caught by surprise, confessed, “I like him.” Then, lest Emily get the wrong idea, she added hastily, “I wonder which of my cousins will catch him.”

“Neither will,” Emily said with certainty, her fingers still busy with her hairpins. “Even Grace, lovely as she is, cannot hold a candle to the divine Lady Roxley.”

Caro could not stop herself from asking, “Is it true what you said about him being more faithful to his mistress than most men are to their wives?”

Emily nodded. “Vinson wanted desperately to marry her, but his father forbade it.”

This explanation of why he had not married his great love depressed Caro. “I would not have thought him so lacking in bottom. He should have wed her no matter what his father said.”

“He would have, but the lady rescinded her consent after his father threatened to cut him off without a ha’pence. Then she gave her hand to the richest man she could find.”

“You make her sound mercenary.”

“She is, but very clever at disguising it and at mesmerizing gentlemen.”

Caro sighed. “It is the same with Grace and Jane. The men do not see past their beauty to their shrewish natures. I feel sorry for Ashley if one of them captures him.”

Having dispensed with the hairpins that had bound her long sable hair, Emily began brushing it vigorously. “Neither of your cousins has a chance with Lady Roxley in Vinson’s life.”

“Do not underestimate my aunt’s and cousins’ determination and tenacity.”

“Vinson is a master at eluding the designing mamas and their beautiful daughters.”

“My wager is on Aunt Olive,” Caro said, feeling strangely miserable at the prospect that Ashley might marry one of her cousins.

Chapter 9

By the end of a week at Bellhaven, Ashley would have been the first to agree that Caro’s faith in her aunt’s tenacity was well founded. Although he was much practiced at sidestepping such females with grace and good humor, Olive Kelsie and her offspring proved to be an enormous challenge not to his bachelorhood, for their aggressiveness served only to convince him that nothing would induce him to offer for either of them, but to his patience and good manners. He now knew, he thought ruefully, how a fox must feel with the hounds yapping at his heels.

Mrs. Kelsie made so many oblique references to her daughters’ superior understanding of marriage and the pleasures gentlemen often required outside its confines that Ashley was assured that his conversation on the terrace with Mercer Corte had been overheard.

Bad as Olive was, her younger daughter was even more obnoxious. Pouncing upon a possible way of outshining her more beauteous sister in Ashley’s eyes, Jane told him, amid much fan fluttering and coy glances, that Grace was so puffed in her estimation of her beauty that she would certainly be in a flame if ever she thought her husband might look at another woman.

“But I am not at all like her,” Jane continued, cornflower-blue eyes peeking demurely at him from above
her fan
. “I understand how it is for some gentlemen, and I should never hold
my
husband to account.”

Ashley, certain that she would fly into as great a pelter as her sister, was so offended by her demeaning lie that he was sorely tempted to tell her that he did not doubt for a moment that
her
poor husband would wish to avail himself of her broad-mindedness. To escape from Grace and Jane, Ashley sought Caro out with increasing frequency. Not only did the child have no designs upon him, but she was amusing and, despite her naiveté, had a quick intelligence. Female accomplishments might elude her, but she had a number of unconventional ones—from her skill at billiards to her ability to hold her own in a lively argument with him—that made her by far the most entertaining of the seven young ladies on his father’s list. How unfortunate that she should be such a hopelessly ineligible child.

Each day, Ashley accompanied Caro on early-morning horseback rides about the park. He won from her father permission for her to play billiards with him, thereby circumventing her outraged aunt. Ashley was held to be an outstanding player, but Caro was a worthy opponent. So worthy that the other male guests often gathered round to watch their matches.

Ashley’s attention to Caro brought the ire of her aunt and cousins upon her. Grace, who saw only perfection when she looked in her mirror, warned Caro quite sincerely, “Vinson is only trying to make me jealous. Do not think that he means anything by his feigned interest in you.”

“I do not,” Caro replied truthfully. She was perfectly aware that handsome Corinthians like Ashley did not fall in love with anecdotes like herself. She had not led
that
sheltered a life.

“Yes, you do, you silly little fool,” Grace cried spitefully. She had long cursed an unjust fate that had wasted fortune and birth upon such a paltry girl as Caro instead of bequeathing it to her; she, with her great beauty, was far more deserving. “You hope he means to make you an offer!”

“I do not!” Caro retorted, knowing that to be an impossibility. “You know that I am determined never to marry!”

Grace’s cornflower-blue eyes glittered cruelly. “You say that only because no man would marry you except for your fortune.”

Grace was right. Never would a man look at Caro in the adoring way that Mercer Corte looked at Emily. The thought of what it would be like to have Ashley look at her that way made her knees grow weak for an instant before her good senses took hold and reminded her that she was a pea goose to think of such a thing.

Caro examined herself despairingly in her mirror. All her flaws seemed to leap out at her from her reflection: eyes too big, face too thin, skin too sallow. If only she could do something with her complexion and mousy, uncontrollable hair. She had wanted to have it cut short, but her aunt had objected strenuously, telling her father that it would make her look even less like a lady than she already did.

Having recently seen an advertisement that called Gowland’s Lotion “the most pleasant and effective remedy for all complaints to which the Face and Skin are liable,” Caro surreptitiously acquired a supply. Her face and skin had so many problems that she would be a true test of Gowland’s claims.

For the first time in her life, she began to pay close attention to her clothes, none of which, she thought despairingly, seemed to make her look very attractive. She tried hard to act more ladylike, too, walking at a slower pace and even fluttering her fan occasionally.

Each morning, Caro would peer eagerly into her mirror to see whether Gowland’s Lotion had yet changed her complexion for the better. And each morning, she was disappointed. Nevertheless, she persevered in using it lavishly.

All of her other efforts seemed to go for naught, too. Inevitably, Ashley caught her in some childish caper when she had momentarily reverted to her old ways. It was positively perverse the way he managed to come upon her when she was climbing an elm tree to rescue Muffy again or when her father’s hounds had just left their enthusiastic welcome of her imprinted on her skirt. No wonder Ashley thought her nothing more than an amusing child.

One night Ashley asked Caro whether she would like to ride in his curricle the following day so that he could show her his chestnuts’ pace. She hesitated, then replied truthfully, “I should like it above anything, but I fear that I must make my rounds tomorrow.”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Your rounds, elfin?” She explained that once a week she visited the ailing among her father’s tenants and dependents.

“Let me take you around,” Ashley volunteered.

“You will be bored,” Caro warned.

Not half so bored, he thought, as he would be trapped in her cousins’ company. Smiling, he said gallantly, “How could I be bored in your company, elfin?”

Her heart seemed to bump against her ribs. Determined to know the truth, she bluntly asked him why he was paying her so much attention.

“Except for Emily, who loves Mercer Corte, you are the only girl here that is not trying to leg shackle me,” he told her. “You, child, are my armor against the others.”

Caro was deeply wounded that Ashley saw her not as a woman, but only as an amusing child to be used as a shield against women who wanted to rivet him. Despite the lump in her throat, she managed to say lightly, “Yes, you are quite safe with me.”

The following morning, Vinson was abruptly summoned to attend Levisham in his estate room. When Ashley entered the chamber, the marquess rose from behind his massive desk that
half-filled
the small room and gestured to him to take a straight-backed chair. As Ashley complied, he was again struck by how frail his host looked.

“I shall waste no time but go immediately to the reason that I called you here,” Levisham said abruptly, his directness reminding Ashley of his daughter. “We each face serious dilemmas. I propose a solution that would solve both of them, I believe, to our mutual satisfaction.”

“I fear I do not comprehend,” Ashley said, at a loss to know what his host was talking about.

“You must wed, and I must marry off my daughter. If you were to wed her, it would solve both our problems.”

Ashley was so thunderstruck that he blurted, “But Caro is a child!”

“A very temporary state,” Levisham replied calmly.

“Nevertheless, my only reason for marrying is to obtain an heir and a gracious chatelaine. A girl barely out of the schoolroom will not do.”

“I grant you that Caro is young for her age, but in no time she will make a lucky man as excellent a wife as her mama did me. I propose to make you that lucky man.”

“How very kind of you,” Ashley said dryly, “but why is it that Caro must be married off in such haste?”

“Because I fear that I do not have long to live. The fever that struck me last spring has weakened my heart. When I die, Caro, unless she is married, will become a ward of her cousin Tilford. She will be at the mercy of him and his evil mama, who will force her to marry him.”

“Good God!” Ashley exclaimed, horrified at the prospect of Caro being shackled to that drunken dolt. “Why would your sister-in-law want such a union? It is clear that she does not even like your daughter.”

Levisham’s lip curled contemptuously. “Olive has two driving passions: ambition and greed. It is true that she detests my daughter, but she lusts for the great fortune that Caro inherited from her mother. Furthermore, Tilford cuts such a sorry figure that he is not likely to win the competition for any other great heiress.”

“His mother would not rest until she has squeezed every bit of spirit and liveliness out of Caro,” Ashley said in disgust. “It cannot be permitted to happen.”

Levisham gave him an approving smile from across the broad desk. “You have a quick understanding, like your father. The only way that I can ensure Caro escapes that fate is to see, before I die, that she is married to a man who will care for her properly, a somewhat older man who has the patience and experience to guide her with kindness and affection into adulthood.” Levisham fixed Ashley with a penetrating eye. “I believe you are that man.”

Ashley shifted on the uncomfortable straight-backed chair. “Why me?”

“I always had great admiration for your father, who was as honorable a man as I have ever met. I have made inquiries of you. Your character is as highly regarded as his. In addition, you have an amiable disposition and you like Caro, even though you are put off by her age. You are the only man I know that I am willing to trust my daughter to.”

“How flattering, but why the devil should
I
wed a hoydenish child?”

Levisham plucked a quill pen from the inkstand and absently smoothed its feather. “Because you must marry, and Caro was on your father’s list of acceptable young ladies.”

Ashley was horrified. Had everyone at Bellhaven overheard his conversation with Mercer Corte? How could he tell Levisham that the earl of Bourn, whom he so greatly admired, would never countenance Caro as his heir’s wife?

“I hardly need remind you,” Levisham continued, “that Caro’s breeding is excellent and her fortune very large. Her husband will control it once she is married, for I dare not turn it over to her to squander.”

“Caro does not strike me as a spendthrift,” Ashley objected.

“She would not squander it on jewels, expensive gowns, and other extravagances like most young women, but on the needy—and the unscrupulous. In her kindhearted innocence, she has frequently been an easy mark for those with a sad, untrue tale.” Levisham’s left hand continued alternately to ruffle and smooth the feather of the pen that he held in his right. “She is constitutionally incapable of resisting anyone who sheds a tear in her presence and must be protected from her own generosity.”

“I might waste her wealth,” Ashley warned.

Levisham gave him a shrewd smile. “You might, but you won’t. In fact, you would manage it prudently and for her benefit, would you not.”

“Yes, of course I would,” Ashley said impatiently. “But it is not a responsibility I seek. Nor do I want to wed a child, and most particularly one who does not wish to marry me or any other man.”

Levisham sighed. “I fear that my own selfishness is much to blame for that. She is so much like her dear mama that I could not bear the thought of losing her to a husband. I encouraged her distaste for marriage, which was not difficult. This neighborhood offers several unfortunate examples of the misery that can befall a wife. Caro, who cannot bear to see another suffer, took their experiences much to heart.” The marquess dipped the point of his pen into the inkpot and began doodling absently on a sheet of paper. “But I have seen the way that she looks at you, and I am certain that in time you could, if you were of a mind to, capture her heart. You are reputed to make love charmingly.”

“I hardly think
that
would win the approval of a prospective father-in-law,” Ashley said grimly. “Furthermore, if you overheard my talk with Mercer Corte, which I think you must have to be aware of my father’s list, you must also know that there is another woman in my life.”

“Yes, I know about your mistress,” Levisham said calmly.

“Since we are speaking plainly, Caro deserves better than a husband who loves his mistress.”

“Yes,” her father agreed, “but she insists that she wants a marriage in which her husband has another interest.”

“But, my lord,” Ashley cried, profoundly shocked, “whatever you daughter’s naive sentiments may be, surely my attachment must make me ineligible in
your
eyes.”

“Not at all. In truth, I prefer it, too.”

Ashley’s jaw dropped. This was not a conversation he would ever have envisioned having with a prospective father-in-law. “Good God, why?”

“A man with other interests will make fewer demands on her.” The marquess’s face clouded, and the pen slid unnoticed from his fingers. “She is as tiny and delicate as her mama.”

Tiny perhaps, Ashley thought, but Caro was about as delicate as a steel rod.

“And too young and fragile for endless childbearing.” Levisham’s face suddenly sagged with grief, and his voice broke. “Just as her mama was when we married. But I had such a passion for her that I could not keep my hands off her.” His voice dropped to an agonizing whisper. “Childbirth and miscarriages sapped her health, and she died giving birth to Caro’s little sister, who lived but forty-eight hours.”