The Wagered Wife (15 page)

“Oh, he does. Occasionally, I remind him just to keep him alert.”

“I'll just bet you do.”

“Mama, who is that lady?” Ashley asked.

They all laughed and reintroduced Ashley to her aunt. Then Caitlyn suggested she and Aunt Gertrude would see Ashley up to the nursery and thus give Trevor some private time with his sister.

Later in her own room, Caitlyn thought with longing of the spontaneous warmth of Trevor's greeting to Melanie. How she envied the easy rapport between the two of them—the mutual love that neither made any effort to hide. If only . . .

In the next few days they saw much of Melanie, who brought her older daughter to play with Cousin Ashley. Melanie's little girl was a year younger than Ashley, but as Elizabeth was rather large for her age and possessed of the same precociousness her mother must have displayed as a child, the two little girls got on amazingly well.

“Two peas in a pod,” Aunt Gertrude observed with a smug note as the two little heads of blonde curls bent together over a toy.

 

 

The other major event which distracted not only Caitlyn, but all of London, was the nation's all-out welcome of its favorite hero. The object of this unprecedented public appreciation was Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, lately commander in chief of the allied forces in the Peninsula.

The Prince was determined to prove to one and all his own immense gratitude to the general—and, incidentally, to share in the nation's accolades. To this end he hosted a glorious ball at Carlton House. He apparently hoped future accounts of this grand affair would one day dazzle the grandchildren of those attending. Wellington was to be the guest of honor, but invitations—which, of course, amounted to royal summonses—went out to hundreds of the country's notables.

Caitlyn and Aunt Gertrude sat in the drawing room one evening. Trevor had gone out to his club some time before.

“As you hold a title in your own right,
Lady
Gertrude,” Caitlyn said, “I fully understand your being invited to the Prince's ball. What I do not understand is how Trevor and I came to be invited.”

“Perhaps because Trevor served as an officer in the army Wellington commanded.”

“Or—the royal summons extended to sons of peers.”

“Possibly.”

In preparing for the ball, Caitlyn chose a brilliant green gown that would complement her emeralds. In nervous anticipation, she met Trevor and Aunt Gertrude in the library before they set off. Trevor's eyes lit up on seeing her, and she thought he was pleased she had worn the emeralds.

Trevor, dressed in the formal uniform of his regiment for this grandest of military balls, looked devastatingly handsome. Caitlyn thought her heart might melt away right there and then, but she was careful to hide her reaction.

“What a truly handsome pair the two of you make,” Aunt Gertrude exclaimed.

“Well, then, that makes three of us,” Trevor said and gallantly offered one arm to Caitlyn and the other to Aunt Gertrude.

The line of carriages seeking entry to Carlton House seemed endless, and once they were inside, the line of guests waiting to be received by the Prince and his lordly honoree stretched for some distance. Finally, Trevor and his two ladies were presented. The duke was shorter and less physically prepossessing than Caitlyn had imagined, but when he spoke, he was clearly a man used to being in command.

“Captain Jeffries. 'Tis a pleasure to see you again.” The duke turned to the Prince at his side. “May I recommend Captain Jeffries to you, sire, as a man of great fortitude and courage.”

Surprised at the duke's singling out her husband so, Caitlyn watched as the Prince gave Trevor a piercing look and murmured a polite greeting. Then Trevor presented his wife and his aunt and they were ushered into the crowd of guests. Caitlyn floated through much of the evening, enjoying the dancing, and trying to memorize the elaborate decorations. The Prince had spared no expense. Two orchestras were discreetly hidden by banks of flowers. Murals of military scenes, gilt statuettes, and colorful drapery all combined to create a fairy-tale effect.

The duke and the Prince, having left the reception line, circulated among the guests. By some stroke of ill luck, Caitlyn thought, she and Trevor were standing in close proximity to Lord and Lady Wyndham, though in separate groups. Melanie and Andrew, along with Captain Ruskin, were talking quietly with Caitlyn and Trevor.

“I say, Wyndham.” The duke's braying voice caught the attention of everyone near. “You must be proud of this son of yours.” The duke drew Trevor into the other circle, and Trevor brought Caitlyn with him.

The Earl of Wyndham colored and coughed discreetly, but Wellington seemed not to notice and continued, “Yes, sir. You have cause to be proud. Our nation owes a great debt of gratitude to two of your sons.”

“Is that so?” The earl seemed merely curious, but Gerald, standing at his father's elbow, preened.

“Trevor here distinguished himself at Vitoria—was wounded even—but he came back to be a vital factor in our taking San Sebastian.”

Caitlyn saw shocked surprise on the faces of all Trevor's family but Melanie's, which registered only delight. Obviously, they had known nothing of the exploits of their son and brother on the field of battle. But then, neither had his wife.

“Of course, we are very proud of our children,” the countess put in, nudging Gerald to the great man's attention.

“Marcus Jeffries was invaluable to us in Paris,” Wellington went on. “Still is. Too bad he could not join us tonight. Good men, both of them.”

With that, the duke and his host moved on, leaving a much chagrined Gerald unable to meet his brother's eyes. He, his wife, and the countess quickly began to move away. But the earl paused.

“I should like to be presented to your wife, Trevor,” the earl said.

Caitlyn saw anger flash across the countess's features as the woman distanced herself even farther from Trevor and his father. Gerald and his wife tried to conceal their shocked disgust with polite smiles pasted on their faces.

Trevor made the introduction, and Caitlyn offered the old man her hand. He held her gaze momentarily, then bent his head over the proffered hand.

“Lovely,” he said to Trevor and addressed Caitlyn with “I am very pleased to meet you, madam.”

Surprised and disconcerted, Caitlyn murmured what she hoped was an appropriate response. Lord Wyndham, like Wellington, was smaller than she expected; both his sons towered over him. But he was a man fully aware of his own worth, and he presented a sense of power and control. It struck Caitlyn that she had lately perceived such qualities in the man's younger son.

“Alfred.” The countess's tone was insistent. The earl gave a slight grimace and followed his wife.

Trevor and Caitlyn turned to each other.

“Well, what do you know?” he asked rhetorically.

“That was certainly unexpected,” she replied.

“I knew Father would come around,” Melanie said. “This is a beginning, at least.”

Any sense of triumph Caitlyn might have felt was quickly doused as La Contessa, with a soldier on each arm, approached their group. Dolores immediately became the focus of attention, and when Latham invited Caitlyn to dance, she eagerly accepted. Soon thereafter, she saw Trevor partnering the contessa and struggled to squelch what she recognized as rampant jealousy.

In the carriage on the way home, Aunt Gertrude said, “Trevor, you did not tell us of your exploits on the Peninsula.”

“You heard, then?” He seemed slightly embarrassed.

“You must know that every word the duke uttered tonight was endlessly repeated. And there I was—with no idea my very own nephew was a famous war hero.”

“Not such a hero at all,” he protested.

“But you were wounded,” Caitlyn put in.

“A flesh wound.” He touched his jacket just below his right shoulder. “I was fortunate that it was not worse.”

“Hmm.” Aunt Gertrude sounded disbelieving, but said no more.

Caitlyn pondered what she had learned after Theo filled her in on Trevor's actions. Her husband was, indeed, a hero. He had repeatedly put himself in great danger to save others. The wound had been far more serious than he would have them believe, and he had suffered other, less serious wounds, as well.

She had, since his return, been struck by the contrast between the man he seemed to be now and the callow, self-centered, naive youth who had been manipulated into deserting his wife. Yet even then—five years ago—she had been attracted to some core of inner strength in him. It was a quality she had ignored in her subsequent anger and resentment.

Now, here—along with his acceptance and love of their daughter—was confirmation of her instinctive admiration for him.

She sighed.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

The next week saw the entire household at sixes and sevens as they prepared to remove to Atherton. Trevor's round of visits to say farewell centered on Melanie and Theo, both of whom would also be leaving town soon, Theo going to his father's primary holding in the Midlands, and Melanie to Timberly to visit her childhood home. Later, she and her young family would visit Atherton.

Trevor watched idly as two coaches drew up in front of the house. There was another vehicle for luggage. He knew that Caitlyn's mount and other cattle were stabled at nearby mews. He had taken little interest in them before now. The black was missing. Caitlyn must have sent him on ahead, or intended to have him brought later. It struck him that these teams were especially fine-looking animals.

With that observation came a familiar wave of annoyance. No need to ask where his wife had come by such excellent horseflesh. After all, the Ratcliff stables were well known. Ratcliff had certainly become a firmly rooted fixture in Caitlyn's life. Trevor wondered just when it had happened. It was an ongoing matter—of that much he was sure, judging by that bit of conversation at the Terwilligers's musicale.

At their first stop to change horses, Trevor made another discovery: The replacement teams were also their own cattle. The Jeffries household boarded its own teams at changing stations between Atherton and London! He knew this was a common practice among those who could afford it. That
he
could afford such luxury came as a surprise until he remembered the figures in those account books.

The three adults traveled in the first carriage, with Ashley and four servants in the other. There were additional servants riding on the outside of both carriages, for the weather had continued to be cooperative. Their schedule in recent days had been hectic. They were all tired, especially in the afternoon after a stop for the midday meal. In the front carriage, Aunt Gertrude was the first to nod off. She and Caitlyn had been sharing the forward-facing seat.

Apparently seeing the older woman's head bobbing up and down, Caitlyn said, “Here, Aunt Gertrude. There are some extra cushions—and if I sit across with Trevor, you may be more comfortable.”

“Hmm. You are always so thoughtful,” Aunt Gertrude mumbled, accepting her bonus of comfort.

Trevor made room for Caitlyn on his seat.

“You do not mind, do you?” she asked.

“No, of course not.” The truth was, he quite welcomed her closeness and the subtle, tantalizing scent she wore. He rested his arm along the back of the seat behind her.

They talked quietly of inconsequential matters such as the weather and road conditions. There were also periods of silence, but these were not uncomfortable. Neither had spoken for some time when Trevor noticed Caitlyn fending off drowsiness.

“Come. Don't fight it.” He gently pulled her head to his shoulder. She hesitated only a moment, then snuggled closer and was soon fast asleep.

For some time he sat savoring the experience of simple togetherness. Then he, too, nodded off, his head resting on hers. He loved the softness of her hair against his cheek. When the coach lurched to a stop at an inn for the next change of horses, all three of them were startled to wakefulness. Caitlyn seemed embarrassed at finding herself so firmly in his arms.

“I am sorry.” She sat straighter. “You cannot be comfortable with me crowding you so.”

“On the contrary. It felt . . . right to me.” He reluctantly released her and leaned across her to open the carriage door. He heard her sharp intake of breath at this moment of further closeness. Trevor handed both ladies from the carriage.

Sometime later, the two vehicles were on their way again, with the addition of Ashley to the forward carriage. Her questions and chatter entertained them until their stop for the night. Trevor was surprised that this break in their trip came in the same town and at the same inn where he and Caitlyn had spent the first night of their marriage over five years before.

He looked at Caitlyn and knew she had only now realized the significance of this particular location.

“Oh, dear,” she said softly, glancing at him, then away.

“Is something amiss?” Aunt Gertrude asked.

“No. Not at all.” Caitlyn recovered quickly, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Trevor chuckled and jumped from the carriage. “I shall see to our accommodations.”

He noticed an inordinate amount of activity in the inn yard. It occurred to him that traffic had become much heavier as they entered this town. A servant who had been sent ahead to secure their rooms and arrange their meals met him at the door.

“I done me best, sir, but the inn is real full. There's a mill takin' place here tomorrow.”

“Are you telling me we have no rooms?” Trevor demanded.

“Oh, they's rooms all right, but only two, you see.”

By now the harried landlord had joined them. He was a burly, red-faced man of middle years, wearing a once-clean apron. Trevor observed that the taproom was crowded with an eclectic group of
ton
dandies, cits, and local farmers.

“I am sorry we can't do better by you, sir,” the innkeeper said. “As I was tellin' your man here, the whole town is full up for this boxing match tomorrow.”

It developed that these were, indeed, the last two rooms available in the entire town. Moreover, Trevor was informed, surrounding villages were likely to be just as crowded, for this sporting event pitted two very popular pugilists against each other.

When he explained the situation to Caitlyn and Aunt Gertrude, Caitlyn said in a matter-of-fact voice, “Well, we shall just make do. It is far too late to drive on now.”

However, he thought she seemed much less complacent when it became clear that she would be sharing a room with him, while Aunt Gertrude, Ashley, and their three female servants were allotted the other, slightly larger, room. The coachman and other male servants would sleep in the stables.

 

 

The inn's only private parlor had been taken over by a group of Corinthian revelers. The Jeffries party therefore dined at a table the landlord set up in the room Trevor and Caitlyn would share. Caitlyn surveyed the fare and then shrugged.

“It is a bit cozier than we anticipated, but it will have to do,” she said to Aunt Gertrude as the two of them waited for Trevor to join them.

“Beggars are not allowed to be choosers,” Aunt Gertrude said.

“It never occurred to me that we should reserve rooms in advance.”

“Perhaps there is a message to be had in this little twist of fate,” Aunt Gertrude said archly.

“I cannot imagine what it would be.”

But Caitlyn, who found it difficult to control her nervousness about sharing this room later with Trevor, knew very well what her aunt had in mind. More than once, the older woman had hinted at hoping that Caitlyn and Trevor could resolve any differences between them.

Trevor came in at this point. There was an air of boyish excitement about him. “You will never guess who is below,” he said. “Jenkins and Moore. They knew all about this contest. I've promised to join them later.”

Caitlyn did not know whether to be pleased or dismayed at this news. She made a polite response, as did Aunt Gertrude, and the meal progressed amicably. Then Trevor left to join his friends, and Aunt Gertrude retired to the other room.

Left alone with her own thoughts after dismissing her maid, Caitlyn was apprehensive about the forced intimacy of their shared accommodations. Would Trevor expect to assert his rights as her husband when he returned?

Did she want him to?

Facing this question honestly, she did not know. She freely admitted to her own physical attraction to him—and to being mildly surprised at this response to a man who had wronged her. She chastised herself for being “such a strumpet,” though she supposed a purely physical reaction to an attractive male was a natural response.

Then an impish demon in the back of her mind suggested that she knew other men who were equally handsome. None of these caused her to experience the shortness of breath and flood of awareness that assailed her whenever her husband was near.

What kind of woman would welcome the advances of a man who had once so forcefully rejected her?

A strumpet, of course. But, God help her, she thought she might welcome Trevor's presence in her bed again.

She sat in a lacy bedgown and brushed her hair vigorously. Then she tried to pick up a book she had tucked into her portmanteau. Her mind kept drifting, her thoughts punctuated by the merriment floating up from below.

Finally, she climbed into bed, turned the lamp low, and waited for Trevor's arrival.

And waited.

And waited.

She hardly knew whether she was angry or disappointed about his continued absence. Drowsiness overcame her and she slept. It was much later when she heard a key turn in the lock. She was instantly alert, but she lay still, feigning sleep.

She heard clothing rustling and the soft thud of his boots hitting the floor. Then she felt his nearness next to the bed. She caught the scent of his shaving soap mixed with brandy. Beneath her lashes, she saw him bend over to touch her hair spread on the pillow. Then he straightened, heaved a sigh, and extinguished the light. He moved away to settle himself on a chaise longue in the corner.

Caitlyn felt a distinct sense of loss.

 

 

Trevor awoke early the next morning, hurried through his ablutions, and left the room before Caitlyn arose. She had awakened, however, to bid him a shy “good morning.” When he returned shortly for breakfast, Aunt Gertrude and Ashley had joined them.

The journey started with Ashley again in her parents' coach. The conversation was limited to answering her interminable questions and sharing in her chatter with her ever-present doll.

Trevor had not slept well on the chaise longue. Even as he had conversed earlier with Jenkins and Moore, his mind had drifted to the thought of Caitlyn alone in the room above. He had wanted to go to her then, but was unsure of his welcome. Now whenever he closed his eyes or stared, unseeing, out the coach window, the same image haunted him: Caitlyn lying in bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow. The temptation to take her right then and there had been nearly overwhelming. Why had he hesitated? She was his wife. Husbands had certain rights, did they not?

Then he answered his own foolish question. Trevor Jeffries had never in his life taken a woman against her will. He certainly would not start with his wife.

It was another long day of travel. Darkness was settling in as they arrived at the familiar driveway to Atherton. Trevor could see little, but he thought the general scene was neater. There was a sense of trim, clean lines about the place. Lanterns showed the stone steps leading to the entrance swept clean, and there were pots of bright flowers on either side.

The door swung open to reveal a golden glow of light from within. Merrill seemed unsurprised to see him. Was that the customary stoicism of a well-trained butler? Or had Caitlyn sent word ahead? Both, he decided.

Inside, the transformation was astonishing. Treated to a quick tour, he found that such floors as were not covered with carpets, as well as every other noticeable piece of wood, were highly polished. The walls were clean, and the furniture showed not a speck of dust. Some familiar pieces had been refurbished. New pieces had been chosen with care and good taste.

“Very comfortable,” he said, and Caitlyn seemed pleased.

“I have had your things put in here.” She opened the door of what he knew to be the master bedchamber—one they had previously shared. She apparently read his unasked question, for she went on, “I shall have the room next door.” She
had
sent word ahead, then.

The master chamber had been completely redone, but he was pleased to note that the style was subdued, the colors restful blues and greens. In fact, every room he entered showed subtlety and restraint in the use of style and color. Nor had modern comforts been ignored. Gaslights in the hallways and lamps in each room provided soft illumination.

The London travelers were exhausted and all retired early that night. Before seeking his own room, Trevor decided to look in on Ashley. As he opened the door to her room, he saw the glow of a candle. Beside the bed, Caitlyn looked up as he entered.

They stood in companionable silence gazing at the angelic countenance of their child asleep. Trevor could not resist reaching to touch an errant blonde curl.

“She is so beautiful,” he whispered. Profoundly moved, he turned to Caitlyn and made no effort to hide his emotions. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me this child.”

Her response was a soft, nervous laugh. “Perhaps I should thank you. Ashley is quite simply the best thing that ever happened to me.” Her eyes shone brightly in the candlelight.

Not knowing what to say, he reached for her hand and locked his fingers tightly with hers. They stood in quietness for a few moments, each lost in thought; then she gently disengaged her hand. She extinguished the candle as they left the child's room and descended the stairs to their own chambers. Reacting to the shared moment, Trevor felt a wave of desire, not just to possess her woman's body, but to erase her concern, to protect and cherish.

At her door, she quickly stood on tiptoes, kissed his cheek, and murmured, “Good night, Trevor.” She put her hand on the door latch.

Stunned, he hastily placed his hand over hers.

“Caitlyn, I—”

Her name was an anguished groan on his lips as he pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. She stiffened and for a fraction of a second was very still. Then—wonder of wonders—she was responding, her arms around his neck, her mouth welcoming.