Mistress by Marriage (7 page)
Edward interrupted. “You have explained the reason you sought out my estranged wife, Ned, despite my express, explicit orders forbidding you to contact her. A barely satisfactory explanation, fueled by foolishness and an excess of drink. One must choose one’s friends carefully, Ned. A Christie examines the character of an acquaintance, not just the convenience. I am aware Rory Carmichael is a school chum, but I wouldn’t choose him as a friend for you.”
“Rory has plenty of character! It’s his father who’s at fault with a whore on Jane Street. I thought Caro—” Ned flushed, apparently realizing he hadn’t thought at all.
“You do realize you put her in an awkward situation, and breached her hospitality most egregiously. I expect you will write her a letter to apologize.”
Ned shifted in his straight-back chair. Edward had purposely told the boy to bring it over to sit on. He wasn’t worthy yet of the comfortable leather chair just a few feet away. “Why can’t I apologize in person? Take flowers or something.”
“She already has a garden, Ned. Quite a fine one. Your flowers would be superfluous. You’re not to have further contact with her. I forbid it. Again, and
this
time you will listen.”
this
time you will listen.”
Ned looked mulish. “I don’t see why. She’s very nice, even if you don’t like her.”
“I like her well enough.” Edward looked down at his desk blotter, remembering the morning. How very inadequate the word
like
was. “But we don’t suit as man and wife. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’ve resolved to divorce her. You can see why a visit from you would be unwelcome.”
like
was. “But we don’t suit as man and wife. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’ve resolved to divorce her. You can see why a visit from you would be unwelcome.”
Ned’s complexion reverted to yesterday’s hangover pallor. “Divorce! But you can’t! A Christie cannot get divorced!”
Edward sat back in his leather chair, surprised at the vehemence of his son. “I am fully aware of the scandal that will result, which is why I am taking you into my confidence to prepare for it. It will not be easy—for any of us.”
“But Caro—she’ll be a complete outcast!”
“Divorce is a mere formality. She is already proscribed from polite society.”
“By you! Because you bought her that damn house!”
Edward’s hand curled around a glass paperweight. “Edward Allerton Christie, do not use that tone with me.”
Ned stood up, shaking. “Well, it’s true! If she was unfaithful, it’s because you’re the coldest man in creation! And I’ll not be saddled with Amelia in two years, because I am
not
cold. You can tell Uncle Roger that I’d rather marry a Jane Street courtesan than his flat-chested lackwit! Have you ever
talked
to Cousin Amelia? She’s positively insipid!”
not
cold. You can tell Uncle Roger that I’d rather marry a Jane Street courtesan than his flat-chested lackwit! Have you ever
talked
to Cousin Amelia? She’s positively insipid!”
Edward stared at his son with icy hauteur. “I fail to see why you keep inserting Amelia into this conversation. Her father and I have a long-standing arrangement. You will do your duty to the family.”
“Just as you’re doing yours by dragging the Christie name through the mud?” Suddenly, Ned grinned. “Wait a minute! Uncle Roger will be so scandalized he’ll break the betrothal contract. He’s even higher in the instep than you are! Yes. Get your divorce. You have my blessing. You’ll have your freedom, and I’ll have mine!” He let out a childish whoop and practically ran out of the study.
“Neddie! Ned! Come back here! We are not finished!” Edward heard the reverberating slam of the front door.
Hell and damnation
. He pinched the headache back from between his brows. How had he sired such an impetuous imbecile? If Alice had lived, her children would be circumspect. Respectful. He’d never caned Ned in his life, and was regretting it. His fingers twitched to do so.
Hell and damnation
. He pinched the headache back from between his brows. How had he sired such an impetuous imbecile? If Alice had lived, her children would be circumspect. Respectful. He’d never caned Ned in his life, and was regretting it. His fingers twitched to do so.
It was Alice’s fondest wish that Ned marry her brother’s girl. They had talked about it when the children were the merest babes. Amelia was perfectly acceptable. Perhaps not a raving beauty, but she was neat in her appearance and habits and had a handsome dowry, not that the Christies needed an infusion of cash. Edward’s investments were conservative. Sound. Lucrative. Amelia expected Ned to marry her when he came of age, just as Alice had expected to marry Edward twenty years ago. The poor girl would be heartbroken.
What kind of husband Ned would make was now in question. Drinking, carousing, showing execrable judgment. Edward flushed. He was
not
the coldest man in creation, but as warm-blooded as the next man. But he was prudent. Practical. His son had two years to get his education, pull himself together and rise to the occasion. Two years was a long time. Anything could happen, even the reformation of Edward the Younger.
not
the coldest man in creation, but as warm-blooded as the next man. But he was prudent. Practical. His son had two years to get his education, pull himself together and rise to the occasion. Two years was a long time. Anything could happen, even the reformation of Edward the Younger.
Thinking of time, Edward consulted his appointment book and penned a brief but detailed letter to Caroline, feeling somewhat more in control afterward. Then he negated that by opening his desk drawer and removing the hinged gilt case that held Alice’s miniature. It had been some years since he’d talked aloud to his dead wife, but sometimes just looking at her painted pink face eased his heart. Not today. Prying the case open, he didn’t see the usual sympathy from her large brown eyes, but an accusatory glare.
“You’re right. Everything is all bollixed up. I—I’ve lost my way, ever since Caroline. Sometimes I wonder if you’re in heaven punishing me for marrying again, but that doesn’t seem very heavenly. I couldn’t seem to help myself, you know. Caro is—well, I don’t think you’d understand her. God knows, I don’t. I’m going to try to set it all to rights—if only I can figure out how.”
Feeling foolish, he snapped the case shut. Next he’d be talking to plants or imaginary friends. Whom he should be talking to was Will Maclean about the divorce. He returned the portrait to the dark of the drawer and headed out to do just that, being careful not to slam the door behind him.
Edward had had a full and frustrating day—his early interlude with Caroline, his aborted interview with Ned, the somewhat alarming appointment with Will Maclean, his appearance for appearance’s sake in Parliament late in the afternoon to vote on a bill he hadn’t even read. But he knew which way his party expected him to vote, and he did his duty as he always did. He was Baron Christie.
Finally, he was off to be just Edward, to find a few hours of easy, mindless pleasure again in the arms of his soon-to-be ex-wife. Well, not soon. Certainly not soon if Will was to be believed, and Will was as honest and upright as any man in Britain. There had been discussion of formal separation versus divorce, but Edward’s mind was made up. Will had thrown every conceivable spanner in the works to test him, raised every possible objection as devil’s advocate, but Edward stood firm.
Firm was his watchword. Firm he was. The thought of Caroline’s fiery hair across the white linen of her pillow made him as randy as a schoolboy. Perhaps that was Ned’s problem—Amelia’s mousy blond hair held no similar attraction. Maybe Edward had been too demanding, expecting his son to deny his baser instincts. He would try to talk to him again, when their tempers cooled.
Edward startled the two Jane Street guards by appearing three times in three nights. He startled himself that he had the stamina, considering he’d been there that morning too. But the street was not patrolled in the daytime, as though one’s sexuality only came alive at night. That certainly was not true in his case.
Though he might be forty, he was still fit. The Christies were fortunate with their physiognomy—each generation was taller and leaner than the last. Ned topped him by an inch, and Jack was catching up. Little Alice was a worry, however. Even her Aunt Beth, a tall woman herself, seemed unable to untangle his daughter’s coltish awkwardness. Allie was all sharp angles in body and in tongue.
Enough. No more fatherly thoughts and worries. He was on Caroline’s steps to sin, and sin well—if one could sin with one’s wife. He rather thought one could.
Once again, Hazlett was prompt opening the door. “Good evening, Lord Christie. Lady Christie is in the downstairs drawing room.”
Well, damn. She was going to make him work to get her upstairs. It wouldn’t harm him to brush up on his flirting skills—if one could flirt with one’s wife. He rather thought one should.
His breath hitched when he spotted Caroline, a brilliant ruby in an emerald sea. She reclined on her green couch reading a book, wearing the most . . . the most incendiary . . . something. His mental words deserted him. One could hardly call it a dress. Perhaps a peignoir. Whatever it was, the pearl white of her bosom spilled over the flimsiest of bodices. Her skirt had been raised so one unstockinged ivory leg lay most visible on the sofa cushions. Her eyes finally lifted, bright as polished silver. Her hair streamed over her shoulders like rose-gold and molten copper in the candlelight.
Good Lord, he was thinking like a jeweler in a trance.
He woke up abruptly as Caroline made a show of yawning and stretching. “Let’s get this over with, Edward. I’m quite fatigued.”
Rubbish. She looked well rested, her skin glowing, her eyes gleaming like silver. She looked like a woman who had been shopping, had spent a fortune on a dress and knew its worth and her own.
“Is that a new gown? If you recall, I don’t favor red.” Critical Baron Christie had slipped into Easy Edward’s shadow. That did not sound a bit flirtatious. Certainly if Caroline appeared in public is such dishabille, there would be cause for criticism. But there was no one to see her—nearly all of her that was worth seeing—except for him. He began again. “Although you look very—vibrant.”
Caroline’s silver eyes shot silver bullets at him. “Your good opinion matters little to me. I received a note from your friend Will Maclean a little while ago, no doubt designed to rob me of my sleep. You wasted no time after this morning, did you?”
Edward was mistaken; her eyes were not like silver, but ice. While he had urged Will to spare no speed or expense, he had not expected him to contact Caroline that very day. “You knew my intentions,” he said, his back stiffening.
“Indeed. Forgive me if I cannot reconcile the chill of your heart to the heat of your manhood. The dichotomy must cause you some confusion as well.”
He would not acknowledge he’d had his own faint misgivings over the current path he’d chosen to tread. “I’m not confused. I am exercising my marital rights. You yourself encouraged me to appease my carnal nature.”
“When have you ever listened to a thing I said? You think I’m cork-brained—you’ve said it often enough.” She snapped her book shut, no doubt wishing Edward’s head was between the covers.
He removed the simple gold stickpin from his cravat and tucked it in his pocket. “I did not come here to argue.”
“Or discuss your children! And there’s no roast, either, so let’s get on with it.” Much to Edward’s regret, Caroline tossed her ruched skirt back over her exposed leg. He continued removing his tie.
“About the other night, I’ve talked to Ned, and he recognizes how inappropriate his visit was. You can expect to receive an apology.” He wound the length of linen around one hand, dropping it on a pie crust table. It appeared once again they would not make it all the way upstairs to the bed.
“I don’t need an apology. He was befuddled—he’s just a boy.”
“He’s nearly twenty. At his age, I was not vomiting in the streets.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “No. You were probably at home, reading your Bible.”
“There’s no need to be blasphemous, Caroline. I’ve never made any pretense of being a saint. Or even particularly religious.”
“But you have made a habit of being
good.
” She pronounced the word with contempt, as if good was bad. Perhaps in Caroline’s world, it was.
good.
” She pronounced the word with contempt, as if good was bad. Perhaps in Caroline’s world, it was.
“Look,” Edward said quietly, getting a grip on himself. “You obviously want to provoke me. You are dressed as a harlot, in a color I abhor. You’ve arranged yourself like temptation on a platter to make me sorry for wanting you. I can’t be. I want you, Caro—just not as my wife. Just as you don’t want me for a husband. I don’t mean to hurt you—or myself—anymore. You know divorce is the most sensible solution.”
“Yes. You are perfectly right as usual.” With one violent tug, she ripped the diaphanous fabric of her bodice straight down, freeing her breasts. There was nothing between the dress and the snowy velvet of her body. Edward stared for a moment, slow to find words.
“That was unnecessary. You won’t be able to mend it.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I bought more dresses. And you had better get used to the color. Close the door, would you? We wouldn’t want Hazlett to have an apoplexy.”
He didn’t quibble at the order, but slid the pocket door shut and turned the lock with a click. Somewhat disappointed that the bedroom ceiling mirror would not be an accessory to their activities, he reminded himself there were still twenty-two more days before he left for Christie Park—if he didn’t have an apoplexy of his own.
Caroline slipped from the sofa to her knees, rising like a white light from a pool of crimson fire. There was no hesitation for either of them. She made quick work of his falls without resorting to the destruction she’d exhibited a moment ago, cupped his balls and took him in the warm wet heaven of her mouth. He tried to stem his orgasm by counting each long black eyelash as they fluttered against her cheek, but never made it much past one hundred before he lost himself. She smiled, satisfied with her explicit power over him.
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