Lady of Pleasure (37 page)

Alex stepped closer to her. He gently cupped her chin with his hand, startling her. He lifted it and forced her to look up at him. “Why? Why did you do it? Tell me.”

She searched his face, sensing he was being brotherly and said, “Because I’ve loved him ever since I can remember.”

Alex slowly released her chin and lowered his hand.

Caroline sighed miserably. “Not that it matters. He and I are completely ill-suited. What he wants out of a woman is not what I have to give. It’s best I simply move on.” She only prayed Alex would understand.

“
Move on
?” he demanded. “Wait, wait. What? Did something happen?”

Ronan apparently didn’t explain everything. And it wasn’t as if she wanted to, either. “It’s complicated.”

“Yes, well, it’s not complicated anymore.”

She dreaded knowing what that meant. “What do you mean?”

“Caldwell has asked for your hand in marriage.”

She blinked. Why would he ask? Did Ronan ask out of guilt? Out of duty? Or was it possible there was more? Was it possible that…oh, how she prayed there was more. “Why would he do that?”

“Well...” Her brother drawled as if it were disgustingly obvious as to
why
. “Because it’s the right thing to do. The
only
thing to do.”

And there was her answer. There wasn’t more. Damn Ronan. Damn him. Because she wasn’t settling for this. She wasn’t. She stepped back. “So he doesn’t
want
to marry me. He merely feels
obligated
to marry me. Is that what you are saying?”

Her brother glared. “Caroline,
I
should be the one to be upset here. You have no idea –
and I mean, no idea
– the lengths that Caldwell went through in order to tell me what happened. After everything I witnessed, I think he may very well be in love with you.”

She refused to believe it lest what little hope she had be destroyed…
again
. “
May
?” she yelled up at him, now clenching her fists at her sides. “No. Do forgive me, Brother dear, but
may
is not good enough. It
may
be good enough for you, it
may
be good enough for him, but it is
not
good enough for me.” She glared at Alex. “You threatened him into marrying me. Didn’t you?”

Alex let out an unbridled laugh that startled her. He leaned in. “As angry as I was, I didn’t need to threaten him into marrying you. Caldwell is his own man and, in the end, knows when to do the right thing. And marrying you is the right thing. Forget about your stupid need for romance, Caroline, and use your common sense. You’ll grow to love each other. As all couples do.”

She shook her head and kept shaking it in disbelief. She didn’t want to be like all the other couples. Most were miserable. She wanted something special. She deserved something special. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t have him. Not like this.”

Alex waved his hand in riled agitation. “Caroline, when Father passed, I was given full responsibility for not only your well-being but also your future. And your future will be Caldwell. I have already applied for a special license. You and he will be wed in five weeks time. Or next week. The choice is yours.”

Dearest God. Everyone in London would think she was pregnant. “
Next week
?!” she shouted up at him, her eyes widening. “Oh, like
that
won’t ruin me?” What was he trying to do?

“Then in five weeks time,” he laid out, shifting from boot to boot. “It really doesn’t matter. You’ll have him for the rest of your life, either way.”

“But he doesn’t even love me!” she cried, wishing he could understand. “You can’t throw me into a loveless marriage. You simply can’t!”

He glared and boomed back, “
You
made the decision when you damn well flipped up your skirts! Don’t you understand what you’ve done, Caroline? You’re ruined! Completely and utterly ruined! And unless you marry him, not only will
you
be at the mercy of the
ton
, but so will all of our sisters. Have you ever stopped to think about them during your self-indulgent lust parade? Even once? You’ll render all of their opportunities useless! Useless!”

The fact that he was
yelling
that she was doomed didn’t really help. “Damn you, Alex!” she yelled back. “Don’t you think that I know that? Don’t you think I—” She whirled away from him and swung a gloved fist through the air, wishing she could undo everything she had ever done, which included meeting Ronan in the library seven years ago.

Sadly, it couldn’t be. And even worse, she knew her brother was right. She couldn’t hide from this. If her brother knew and Lady Waverly knew and Lord Hughes knew and her mother knew, it was only a matter of time before
everyone
knew and she couldn’t punish her own sisters in the name of defiance.

She had to face this for what it was: hers to swallow. Hers to choke on.

Muttering beneath her breath “I am such a half-wit,” she shook her head and lowered her hands to her sides. Just when she thought she had been given a chance to escape Ronan, he’d come back with a blade to her throat, sending her own brother to do it.

She turned back to her brother and coolly announced, “You’re right. It’s the right thing to do. For our family. For our sisters.”
Though not for me.

“Good.” Alex angled toward her. “You’re heading back to London with me. We’re not staying here.”

Given that tone, her brother was probably going to have Ronan call on her immediately. She wanted to scream knowing it. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose you expect me to still love you after all this.”

He lowered his chin. “Damn right I do. Just as I’m expected to love you. We are and always will be family. And as such, we have no choice but to remain steadfast.”

Steadfast
? It wasn’t a word he used. Apparently, he was not himself. Not that him being half-naked didn’t give it away. “I take it you have involved yourself with someone and that is why you are here? To keep Mama and the rest of us from knowing about it?”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “Yes. But I…it’s over. I ended it tonight.”

He said it with such regret and such anguish she knew this wasn’t a mere dalliance. This woman, whoever she was, had dug a finger into his soul. Something she knew Alex had never allowed. “Did you need to end it?” she softly asked, trying to understand.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I had to. I have neglected my duties as your brother and protector. What happened to you was because I was too distracted with her. And I won’t neglect my duties to you or anyone in our family again. I won’t.”

“Oh, Alex.” Even though she was about to be sentenced to a marriage she wasn’t ready to face, she now felt sorrier for him in that moment. He had miserably taken on a role of being more than a brother and it wasn’t fair to him. She reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “Do not blame yourself for what happened. I am taking the blame for all of it and will face it knowing that.” She leaned in close and tried to search his face. “How long have you known this woman?”

He opened his eyes but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “For some time.”

Which meant long enough for him to get attached. “Do you love her?”

He still wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I care for her. Yes.”

Which meant he loved her. She rubbed his shoulder again. “Marry her. Be happy. You deserve as much.”

His features twisted and he shook his head. “I…I ended it in a way that there is no going back. I don’t want to talk about her. So don’t ask me about her again.” He turned away. “I need to get dressed. And we need to leave. It’s late.”

She swallowed, lowering her hand from his shoulder and eventually murmured, “Can I sit with Papa’s coat for fifteen minutes before we leave?”

“Yes.” He trudged back to gather his clothes.

Caroline numbly turned to go up the stairs to retrieve her father’s coat.

Alex paused and added, “Caldwell will be calling on you at our house in the next few days to discuss the wedding. I gave him permission to do so.”

She quietly went up the stairs knowing that she was about to face Ronan again. Damn him. Damn him for confessing everything to Alex.

Days later – early afternoon

The Hawksford residence

Caroline grudgingly stared at the gold-rimmed porcelain plates stacked with enough scones and sandwiches on the tea table in the parlor to feed fourteen people. It was ridiculous. Even though it was only going to be her and Ronan sitting at the table, her mother had insisted the chef prepare enough to last for an hour visit.

Apparently, their new chef thought he was amusing to think two people could eat eleven scones and fourteen sandwiches in an hour. Or maybe the chef thought she would be taking said sandwiches and scones and pummeling her guest with them throughout said hour. That would explain the amount needed.

Either way, Ronan hardly deserved to be greeted so warmly.

In fact, he needed to know
exactly
what his place was.

She assessed the blue-and-pink porcelain vase filled with white roses that had been set at the center of the tea table by her mother. The last thing Caroline wanted was Ronan thinking
she
had set this oh-so-romantic table.

Glancing toward the doorway and knowing everyone had left the house and that Ronan would be arriving at any moment for their so-called social hour, Caroline rose from her cane chair. Leaning toward the vase, she yanked out all of the flowers from it, scattering rose petals everywhere. Marching them over to the open window of the parlor, where the breeze ruffled the embroidered curtains, she mercilessly tossed out the roses, letting them land in the bushes where they belonged.

She
wasn’t the one who needed to be romantic.

She had done enough of it since knowing him.

Sweeping back to the table, she gathered the rose petals that had fallen and shoved them all into the vase which she then carried over to the mantle. She paused, glancing toward the table.

It still looked too pretty for her liking.

She sighed. Bustling her way back to the tea table, Caroline shuffled and disorganized the plates, spoons, napkins and setting, so it looked like countless other people had already indulged, and he was but an afterthought. She even plucked up a few scones and sandwiches and randomly bit into a few of them. Chewing, she then set the half-eaten things back onto the plates. Taking up the small silver spoon from the small jam pot, she also wagged its clumpy stickiness over on the side of the tablecloth where Ronan would be sitting.

Was it childish? Oh, yes. Did she enjoy knowing he wouldn’t be able to set his forearms anywhere on his side of the table to lean toward her?
Oh, yes
. Caroline spattered an extra dollop randomly at his place setting for good measure and then daintily set the spoon back into the jam pot, stirring the jam just enough to smooth out the marmalade.

The table now looked exactly how she felt: full of loathing and chaos.

The calling bell rang, causing her heart and her thoughts to skid.

She scrambled toward the cane chair set at the tea table opposite the chair set out for him and sat down. Smoothing her lavender gown around her thighs, she primly placed both ungloved hands onto her lap and waited. Although she had worn her best gown and had spent about an hour fussing over her hair with her lady’s maid, that was the only thing she had fussed over. She was rather glad her mother and brother had taken all of her sisters shopping on Regent Street for the next hour. It meant everything that needed to be said would be said in sixty minutes or less.

And there was a lot to be said.

The butler appeared in the doorway. Emerson paused, glancing toward her and then the jam-spattered and unorganized table.

She smiled. “Yes, Emerson?” she offered pertly, pretending nothing was wrong.

Emerson eyed her. “Lord Caldwell has come to call, my lady.”

“Thank you, Emerson,” she offered, still smiling. “You may send him in.”

He hesitated. “Yes, of course, my lady.” Emerson eyed the table one last time, inclined his head and turned to retrieve Lord Caldwell from the foyer.

If Emerson, who had been in service to the Hawksfords for too many years to be easily perturbed by much, appeared ruffled by the table, Caroline knew her duty as disgruntled hostess was done.

Within moments, steady footfalls approached.

She pressed her hands together feeling as if she would retch.

Ronan veered into the room and towered in the doorway. He paused, holding a closed, wicker basket in the crook of his arm. A blue-black morning attire emphasized his tall, muscled frame.

She paused. Something was different about him.

His leather boots, which were usually well-polished, were scuffed and his blond hair, which were always perfectly brushed back with tonic, was a wind blown mess. It was as if he had spent the entire morning outside and left his valet and comb at home.

Even unkempt, he looked annoyingly divine. She slowly rose from her seat, trying not to let on she noticed.