More Than a Lover (18 page)

Blade knew what she was thinking, with her eyes full of tears and her expression full of doubt, and he wanted to curse. She was wondering if her son might not be better off without her. It was so like her to put her son before herself.

Unlike his mother, who had wanted her freedom.

Caro took a deep shaky breath. ‘You mean this?'

The earl wagged a finger at her. ‘You know, you aren't the first engaged couple in love to anticipate their wedding vows. Most will understand. After all, Harry was a hero.'

Bribery if ever he'd heard it. And perfectly feasible.

‘You are very kind, my lord. May I think about it?'

The old man looked a tad surprised that she wasn't leaping at his offer, but he inclined his head. ‘Of course. Take as much time as you would like, but let me say that it is our fondest hope that you will agree. For Thomas's sake.'

And on that parting salvo, the old man left the room.

Her gaze sought out Blade's.

He knew he should be happy for Caro. Ecstatic even. Instead his gut felt hollow. He was losing her to Thornton, who had status and wealth. Damn it to hell. This was the best possible outcome. That he was not delighted did not sit well with his image of himself, so he spoke more brusquely than he should. ‘This proposal is all and more than we could have hoped. I beg you will excuse me. Ned needs to see me in the stables.'

He bowed and headed out of the door, aware of her puzzled gaze.

* * *

The door closed behind Blade. That was that, then. He clearly wanted nothing more to do with her and Tommy. She'd been as foolish over him as she had been over Tommy's father.

Except that Blade was twice the man Carothers had been. He was caring and generous and wonderfully kind to a small boy. He was also right about the earl's offer. It was far more than she had any right to expect. Far better than anything she had envisaged, certainly.

And yet she didn't feel...happy. She had an uncomfortable sense of something not being quite right.

Likely because if she accepted their offer, she would lose all her independence. Thornton was insisting she give up the Haven. Never had she envisaged her choice devolving down to her son or her dream of a better future for women like her.

The butler scratched and entered. ‘Her ladyship will receive you now,' he intoned.

Butterflies took up residence in her stomach. Had his lordship consulted his lady before making his offer? Was she in agreement? Or had she been handed a fait accompli? The perspective of women was often very different to their menfolk. Caro had to know if Lady Thornton approved of all of this before she came to her decision.

She followed the butler upstairs to the ladies' withdrawing room, a light, airy room sprinkled with delicate gilt chairs and tables and fine porcelain knick-knacks. A boudoir from a previous age. Warm and heavily scented air made it difficult to breathe. The lady herself reclined on a chaise longue near the hearth. She regarded Caro from pale-grey eyes so like her dead soldier son's Caro was completely unnerved. Until now, she hadn't even recalled he'd had grey eyes.

The countess held out an imperious hand. ‘Come closer. Let me look at you.'

Caro moved a few steps nearer and dipped a curtsy. ‘My lady.'

‘Miss Lennox,' the lady said.

Caro froze at the sound of her maiden name.

‘Come,' Lady Thornton said. ‘Sit.' She pointed to a chair set at right angles to the
chaise
. ‘I do not bite.'

Inhaling a breath to steady her nerves, Caro sat.

The lady lifted a lorgnette and peered at her.

Caro had never felt so uncomfortable in her life.

‘My word,' Lady Thornton said finally. ‘I had no idea Harry had such good taste. You are positively lovely.'

Surprised and pleased, Caro blushed. ‘Thank you, my lady.'

The lady swung her feet down and sat up straight. ‘I think I am going to enjoy this coming Season.'

‘I beg your pardon, my lady?'

‘I always wanted a daughter. I envied my friends their come-outs and their forays to balls and Almack's. Sons are just not the same. You will be a big hit, my dear.'

Caro stared at the beaming elderly woman. Had she lost her reason? Forgotten that Caro was well past the age for a come-out and had born a child out of wedlock? Should she remind the countess of these facts? ‘I do not think—'

‘You did not think when you, a respectable vicar's daughter, allowed my rakehell son to get you with child.'

Caro flinched.

‘I beg your pardon, child. You will excuse an old woman for her plain speaking. In my day we did not mince words as they do today.'

‘Then if we are to have plain speaking,' Caro replied, deciding to make sure there were no misunderstandings, ‘you will surely see that I am not a candidate for the kinds of entertainments you describe. I am well past the age a girl can make her debut and I would never be accepted in polite society.'

‘Perhaps not among the crème de la crème of society,' her ladyship agreed. ‘But with a large enough dowry, there would be many more who would overlook the past, provided your manners are pleasing and your demeanour respectable.'

Caro's mouth dropped open. ‘You cannot be serious.'

‘Of course I am. A young woman as lovely as you cannot fritter away her youth. We need to find you a husband.'

A hollow feeling entered her stomach. Here was the serpent in the Garden of Eden. The woman planned to be rid of her, fob her off on some gentleman who would see only the fortune they no doubt intended to dangle before him.

She knew all about such arrangements from Merry, who had despised the idea and then fallen in love with the heir to a dukedom and he with her.

‘And what of Tommy?'

‘Thomas,' the older woman corrected. ‘Why, I am sure you will allow him to visit with his grandparents from time to time.'

Astonished, she stared at the older woman whose wrinkled lips twitched suspiciously as if she was enjoying some sort of private joke.

‘I do not understand why you are proposing this. I thought you wanted Tommy...Thomas.'

‘We want him as part of our lives. But not at the expense of his happiness. Oh, I know Bertie would have you and him under his thumb here at Thornton, but he saw how well that worked with Redmaine. And Harry. He has come to regret his autocracy, though I would not put it past him to continue in that vein if he is not adequately checked, which is why we must find you a suitable spouse.'

‘No respectable man would wish to marry me.' Take Blade Read for an example. He had been happy with a dalliance, but that was all he intended. All either of them had intended, to be truthful.

‘Thornton is not without influence, gel. He has the ear of the Regent, and if we can convince Prinny to approve, then the rest of 'em will follow like lambs. We might even be able to convince the Crown to let Thomas inherit, in time.'

Thomas a peer? ‘All this hinges on my marrying well?'

Lady Thornton pursed her lips. ‘It is key. What? You do not wish for a husband? A home of your own? A man to serve as father and mentor to your son?'

There was only one man she could think of who could serve in that capacity and he had already indicated it was not what he wanted. Hadn't he?

The woman tilted her head on one side, like a thrush hearing a particularly tasty worm beneath the turf. ‘My son treated you abominably and I believe he came to regret it. I would move heaven and earth to make up for his mistake, if you will allow.'

A husband, home and a father for Tommy seemed too good to be true. Something she had never dared aspire to. Now here it was seemingly hers for the taking. All she had to do was reach out. ‘I don't know.' When had she been so indecisive?

‘If not for yourself, then think of your son. He's no longer a baby. He needs a man's guidance and Thornton is far too old.'

‘I wish to continue the work of the Haven. Women in trouble need help to find decent respectable employment, if they don't want to give up their children.' Their illegitimate children.

The old woman's eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘As you did for our grandson. We will help all we can. You will of course take a position on the Board of Governors, rather than an active role. We will find a good person to take your place.'

‘A fair compromise.'

‘Then you will promise to at least consider an offer of marriage. For the sake of your son.'

Heaven help her, the woman was manipulating her. Perhaps there was a man out there she could love and respect. But would he be willing to ask for her hand? ‘I promise. But if there is no offer to which I can agree...'

‘Then you will have a comfortable settlement upon which to live.' Lady Thornton rose to her feet. ‘It is agreed, then. As soon as Thomas's foot is strong enough, we will hie to London.'

* * *

When Blade arrived in the stables, he found his henchman looking as grumpy as he himself felt. ‘A problem with the horses?'

Ned shook his head and left the horse he was grooming to hand Blade a letter. ‘From your father.'

The missive had followed him from York to Skepton and now here.

Blade cursed. ‘He's heard the news, I assume.' He broke the seal. As he had guessed, the earl wanted an accounting of his recent
contretemps
, as he labelled it.

He and his father had never been close. Blade's fault entirely. ‘I am summoned to London.' The only question in his mind was whether he stuck to the official version of why he had resigned or gave him what his father would consider the shameful truth. Blade knew his father's political machinations—the earl was likely already in possession of the facts as presented by those in charge. It seemed he was to face the music of his errant behaviour sooner rather than later.

‘What of the missus?' Ned asked, going back to his brushing.

‘Mrs Falkner is well settled. She has no need of our continued presence.' His presence could only cause her embarrassment. It would not do for Thornton to sense there was more between them than a common employer.

Ned looked a little sheepish. ‘What?' Blade asked, interpreting that look.

‘I would like to return Tonbridge's carriage and team to Skepton. One of us should be at the Haven with all the rising-up talk going on.'

‘Need to assure yourself Beth hasn't run off with the grocer's boy, do you?'

Ned grinned. ‘She wouldn't do that.'

He sighed. ‘I agree. You should be on hand, ready to pass the information along to Tonbridge should the threats become more than talk. I will return as soon as I am able.'

Ned looked pleased. ‘I will set out in the morning.'

‘As shall I. I can be in London before day's end whereas you will take it in easy stages with Tonbridge's cattle.'

‘I will,' Ned agreed.

‘I will inform Thornton of our imminent departure.' Hopefully, the old gentleman would pass the information along to Caro before they sat down to one last dinner.

While he wasn't particularly glad of the reason he needed to depart, he was nevertheless glad to have a reasonable reason to depart Thornton Manor that would not leave Caro wondering if it were somehow her fault. The woman seemed prepared to shoulder a great many burdens.

That he must go was an unassailable truth. He had done all he could in his limited power for Caro and her son. Next she would be giving him thanks and his congé. Cowardly though it was, he would sooner forgo that particular scene.

Chapter Fifteen

T
wo weeks after Caro arrived in London, and after numerous visits to dressmakers, milliners and other such worthies, she was deemed fit to make morning calls. Her first was to Merry and her husband, Lord Tonbridge, at the Duke of Stantford's London town house. It was not really an official morning call, since she had walked over with her maid, who was now being entertained in the kitchen.

At their request, she had told her friends everything—everything that was not too personal to mention—that had occurred over the previous several weeks.

At the conclusion of her tale, Merry raised a brow towards her husband. ‘If it wasn't you telling me this tale, Caro, I would assume it was a story from a novel.'

‘Precisely,' Caro said. ‘I was so sure the Thorntons despised me and I would never see Tommy again, when instead they have been wonderfully kind and treat me as they would a real daughter-in-law. Honestly, though, the idea of me going to balls and attending routs—' she shook her head ‘—it doesn't make any sense. Surely the members of the
ton
will turn their backs when my story is known. For it will be. I have a son and I was never married.'

‘Your mother was the daughter of an earl and your father the third son of a baron,' Merry said. ‘Two things you didn't tell
me
, by the way. As I understand it, the story is that you were engaged to be married and your betrothed's untimely death prevented tying the knot. Given that the Thorntons recognise both you and Thomas, and with the support of others of influence—' she smiled at her husband, who was sitting beside her on the sofa ‘—Lady Thornton is right. It should be very possible for you to contract a suitable marriage, should you so wish.'

‘I wish my father was alive to hear the news.' It had been a shock to learn her family had been wiped out by an outbreak of smallpox in the village more than two years before and all because her father had insisted her mother and sister do their Christian duty by those who were ill. Had she not left, she would likely have suffered the same fate.

‘Bah. Your father blamed the wrong person,' Merry said. ‘If Carothers was not already in his grave, I think I might want to kill him myself.'

‘Dearest wife,' Tonbridge said with a look of deep affection in his eyes, ‘given your condition, you will leave such violent actions to your dutiful spouse.'

Merry snorted. ‘I'm expecting a child. I'm not an invalid.'

She was indeed expecting a child and soon, Caro judged. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘Like a barge in need of two tugs,' Merry grumbled, placing a hand to the small of her back.

‘I believe it is time for your nap.' Tonbridge took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

‘It is your enjoyment of napping in the afternoon that landed me in this situation,' Merry snapped, but her smile belied her sharp words.

Caro couldn't prevent her laugh. She'd missed Merry and her down-to-earth ways.

‘Madam, you are shockingly outspoken,' her husband admonished with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Only among friends,' his wife said.

The thought of friends brought someone else to Caro's mind, though he was far more than a friend and very dear to her heart, which seemed to have spent a great deal of time missing him. ‘What do you hear from Mr Read?' Her face warmed. ‘Did he return to Skepton?'

Tonbridge shook his head. ‘No. His family have requested he remain in town. He has a sister who is coming out this Season and he has been dragooned into escort duty, much to his horror.'

Did that mean she would see him at one of these balls or routs she was anticipating with such dread? Her heart gave a little thump. Would he pretend they were meeting for the first time? Or would he be forced, for the sake of his debutante sister, to turn up his nose at a woman who was no better than she should be and who had forced herself into the midst of the
ton
?
She was, after all, quite scandalous. A fallen woman. Her father had called her a strumpet and others would, too, though not to her face when she was accompanied by the Thorntons, accepted by the Tonbridges and indeed by the Duke of Stantford, who, while still recovering from his illness, had signified his approval by hosting the ball in her honour.

The Duchess of Stantford had also promised to send tickets for Almack's when she had called on Lady Thornton earlier in the week.

‘You do know Mr Read is a—' Merry pressed her lips together at a warning look from her husband. ‘Was born out of wedlock and only because he is recognised by his father is he accepted everywhere.'

‘Up to a point,' Tonbridge added. ‘He would not be found suitable as a prospective husband by the most discerning of papas with hopeful daughters, though he would be fine as a dance partner.'

‘It seems so unfair,' Caro said, ‘when he served his country so bravely.'

‘I agree,' Merry said. ‘What do you hear from the Haven?'

A kind change of topic. ‘Beth has come into her own. She and Ned are managing very well. Cook's rheumatism has subsided and she is back at her post and three girls arrived last week. One of them with a child. Everything seems to be running like clockwork.' While she was pleased for the younger woman, it made her feel...unnecessary. And not only at the Haven. Tommy loved his new tutor and was happy with his Linny, as he called her, no matter how often Lady Thornton instructed him to use her last name. And then there was Blade, who had walked out of her life without a backward glance.

There was no one who really needed her any more.

It was lowering and disappointing.

Though, she thought with a surge of joy, Tommy still would not sleep unless his precious mama read him a story and tucked him in.

‘I am sure Beth will continue to need your guidance,' Merry said, as if sensing some of those feelings of loss. ‘Now we have one established so successfully, I am thinking we should find a similar institution here in town. I would love your help.'

‘Not until after the child is born, I hope,' Tonbridge said. ‘You will run yourself ragged, my dear. And besides, Caro will need to establish herself before she can begin such a venture.'

Such a venture would be doomed to fail if she was not accepted by the members of the beau monde.

She glanced at the clock. She had been here far longer than the fifteen minutes allotted to such calls, though Merry was not actually receiving calls as a general rule, so there was no one to notice. ‘I should leave you to your rest,' she said, rising to her feet.

Tonbridge followed suit and escorted her to the door.

It opened before they reached it.

Blade stood before her. Warmth rushed into his expression, but was gone so swiftly she might have been mistaken.

For long seconds they stood, staring at each other.

For two long weeks she had been in London and not once had he called. No doubt her knight, having completed his quest, had moved on to the next maiden in distress. But she wasn't a maiden, was she?

‘Mr Read,' she said, her voice sounding chilly, colder than she had wanted, though cold was the only way she could survive seeing him so unexpectedly.

‘Mrs Falkner.' He bowed with that lovely elegance that always struck a chord low in her midriff.

She dipped a curtsy to Merry and Charlie. ‘I bid you farewell until tomorrow night.'

Merry looked as if she wanted to say something, but Charlie took her hand and looked down at her before he spoke. ‘It will be our greatest pleasure, Mrs Falkner. I will ring down to let your maid know you are leaving.'

‘Thank you.'

‘Blade, will you walk Mrs Falkner to the front door? My wife needs my help up the stairs.'

Blade stood to one side, presenting his arm. ‘I would be honoured.'

A lady had the right to refuse a gentleman's escort and she could see in his eyes he half-expected that she would. But he was Tonbridge's friend and it would make their lives awkward if she was to behave with anything but cordiality to this man. Angry she might be. Hurt at his indifference. But it wasn't the first time she had been cut loose from those she cared about. She'd survive.

Despite the ache in her heart.

She took his arm and they promenaded out of the door and down the stairs to the ground floor.

‘Caro,' he murmured softly. ‘You are well?'

She tried not to put too much import on his enquiry, though politeness had never been his forte. ‘Exceedingly so,' she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

‘You look fagged. Have they been trotting you too hard? You must not allow yourself to be run off your feet. You will want to be in your best looks for the ball.'

‘Will you be there? At the ball?' Oh, why did her pride have to desert her now? ‘It is to be quite a grand affair, I understand.' She hoped she sounded polite, rather than desperate. As if she did not care if he came or not.

‘I will be there.' He hesitated. ‘Your adopted in-laws do not care for me, I think, or I would ask you to save me a waltz.' His voice was low and seductive and her insides fluttered wildly. As he no doubt intended.

Memories of their first dance chased across her mind. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Thoughts of good behaviour almost deserted her. Almost.

‘I do not waltz, Mr Read.'

His eyes widened a fraction and then he nodded tersely.

Surely he understood that she would not be waltzing with anyone. There was no further time for talk of a personal nature, for they had reached the front door, where a footman stood ready with her maid.

Blade took her hand in his and bowed low, then kissed her knuckles in a way that felt like possession, but could only be old-fashioned courtesy. Or so she must tell herself, because if he was toying with her, as he apparently toyed with so many other females at the edge of society, she really could not bear it.

‘Until tomorrow,' he said.

Her heart lurched. She forced a smile. ‘Tomorrow.'

And then she was out on the street and her maid was scurrying along, trying to keep up.

* * *

It was the day of the ball. Blade glared at his reflection in the pier glass. Charlie had kindly lent him his valet to help him dress, but he missed Ned's practised skills and applying the false hand to his wrist had been an exercise in gritted teeth, ill-concealed embarrassment and utter futility. Until Charlie had come along to help.

If not for Charlie and his bride, Blade would have left London for points far away. They had convinced him that Caro needed as many friendly faces as possible, though in his opinion, he was likely to be more of a hindrance than a help.

And she was not going to waltz.

Something he and Charlie had plotted to take advantage of. Yet more misery to add to this day.

He twitched at the bottom of his coat, took a breath and wended his way to the drawing room, where Charlie and Merry had gathered their exclusive guests attending the dinner ahead of the ball, important people in the world of the beau monde. They were to present a united front. To prove that, in their view, Caro was another unfortunate victim of Bonaparte's ravages across Europe. Had her fiancé lived, Caro would have married her sweetheart with the full support of the Thorntons.

He ignored the sour taste in his mouth at the thought.

Blade had brought his own big guns, courtesy of his father's eldest legitimate son. The earl, his father, and his countess were a force to be reckoned with among the denizens of the
ton
.

Knowing Caro had not yet arrived, he strode into the drawing room, pretending, as he always did, that he belonged. As society dictated, he greeted his hostess and host, then moved on to his father. Blade bowed. ‘My lady. My lord. Thank you for coming tonight. Your support is greatly appreciated.'

‘Blade,' his father said gruffly.

A surprise, to be sure. His father rarely used any form of address but his last name. A reminder that they were only peripherally related, Blade had always assumed.

‘I was delighted to be asked,' the countess said, her gaze fixed intently on his face, disappointment shadowing her eyes as it always did when she looked on him. Who would blame her? What wife wanted her husband's by-blow dropped into her pretty nest?

‘I hope Tonbridge can carry it off.' Victor, Blade's next brother in age, joined them. He was very much like the earl, with his dark hair and eyes, whereas Blade took after his mother. ‘Having Stantford here would have set the seal,' Victor continued. ‘Too bad his Grace is not yet well enough for public functions. Good to see you here, Brother.'

He shook Blade's hand, his grin infectious. The fact that he raked around town to his family's dismay was neither here nor there, in Blade's opinion. He had years before he needed to think about his duties as heir. ‘I thought you had decided to hare off north again.'

Blade liked this new adult version of his half-brother, whom he'd played with when they were children, though they'd had their share of childhood rivalries. They had seen little of each other since Blade took the King's shilling. He was surprised to realise how much he had missed him.

‘I'll be leaving soon,' Blade said.

‘And how do you find the wilds of Yorkshire?'

‘Seething with discontent.'

His brother's face became grave. ‘Hardly surprising. Prinny is an idiot. As are the rest of them. Do they want to start a revolution?'

Blade cocked his head. ‘I am surprised to hear you voice such an opinion in public.'

‘Think I am an idiot, too, do you?' He glanced over at his father. ‘Even the earl is baulking at the Six Acts.'

Blade was pleased and proud to hear it. ‘Too bad he didn't put a stop to them.'

The butler opened the door. ‘Lord and Lady Thornton and Mrs Caroline Falkner.'

At his side, Victor drew in a sharp breath. ‘My word, what a diamond she is. And a widow, too. She will take the town by storm.'