Chapter 56 #2
“When did you put down the money for this new house?” she asked curiously.
“Some two or three weeks ago.”
“But you did not know then that I was to be wealthy,” she said with a pucker between her brows.
“No, I did not,” he agreed. “I had to free up some money I had invested elsewhere. It was not too difficult.”
“You could afford to buy a whole house in a prime London location?” she asked in a strange voice.
“I could,” he said simply. “I have several business ventures. The Citadel is just one of many. I also own part of a racehorse, a shipyard, and shares in several commercial concerns. As a silent partner, of course.”
“I have never really understood your financial situation,” she admitted.
“Well, in all fairness, I never took the trouble to explain it to you. Or my uncle. He likes to think I am wholly dependent on him. I must confess I like sending him the more trifling of my bills. He likes to feel useful and sometimes investments do not work out, so it is a good thing to have old George to rely on.”
She did not look as though she knew how to react to that.
Did she think him a frippery fellow, undependable and bad with money?
He should probably persuade her otherwise with all haste.
“It is true, I claimed to be penniless at the outset of our acquaintance but that was not actually true. I just liked acting feckless and irresponsible in those days. Having people think me dependable was the last thing I wanted.”
“But not anymore?”
He shook his head. “No sooner did I meet you, Lady Atherton than I reformed my ways. Only recollect how promptly I adopted the twins. I started taking responsibility almost from the start,” he said with perfect truth.
“In fact, some might say I have been practicing the role of husband ever since we left Penarth together.”
When she continued speechless, he added forthrightly, “If I am honest, I have long since considered you my wife and treated you accordingly. If I need to make further adjustment to my conduct to please you, you need only say the word.”
Affecting not to notice her shocked reaction, he plunged straight on. “Would it make you feel more at ease if I presented you with my account books?” he asked with perfect calmness. “If so, I can easily make an appointment with my accountant where he could explain them to you…”
“Oh no!” she assured him hurriedly. “That is not necessary, Gervaise.”
“Perhaps not but I think it would be a good idea.”
“Well, perhaps you are right,” she conceded, after a heavy pause. “You will certainly have to meet with mine. I’m afraid I did not really take it all in this morning. The truth is, we already own a house in London. And one in Bristol too, apparently.”
Gervaise’s eyebrows rose. “Do we indeed?”
“And then there’s Benham Hall, of course,” she added awkwardly, looking evasive.
“Ah yes, Benham Hall,” he mused. “We could always sell it, if you did not wish to return to that neighborhood?”
“Sell it?” She looked up quickly at that. “Oh but—”
“Oh, but what?”
“Well…” She hesitated. “Would you not find it convenient to have a country residence so near to your closest friend’s estate?”
Gervaise shrugged. “We would always be assured of a welcome at Vance if we wished to travel into Cornwall.”
“Yes, I suppose that is true,” she agreed, then paused. “Of course, there is also Edgar to take into consideration.”
“Needham?” He frowned. “What the devil does it have to do with him?”
“Well, it is the only home he has ever known, Gervaise,” she said reproachfully. “It would not seem right for me to fling him out of doors.”
“That is palpably untrue, my darling. Did you not tell me that he has been living and studying in Exeter for the past couple of years?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then he can return there forthwith. Him and his poisonous wife. They can live with her mother in Exeter. Why should Diana Hipworth get to play lady of the manor? It is your house. You owe them nothing.”
“Poisonous?” Her eyes widened. “Oh no, Gervaise, that was simply what Mama claimed, and as you know she was a consummate liar. I am quite convinced that Diana did nothing to deserve her enmity and so I told my brother.”
“Defended her, did you?” he asked with displeasure. “Well, you are a far better person than I.”
She turned a concerned look on him. “But why have you taken such an unaccountable dislike to Diana?”
“I have long detested her,” he said roundly. “Her and that Cynthia Jarrow both. I have no time for either one of them.”
She was clearly taken aback by his vehemence on the matter.
In truth, he was a little surprised himself, but he was just realizing he felt unaccountably strongly on the subject.
His poor Caroline had longed for companionship, and they had dangled it before her and then snatched it away.
He would not forgive them for such cruelty.
“But Gervaise—”
“They are wholly undeserving of your friendship, Caroline,” he said testily.
“And I do not mean to let them wheedle their way back into your good graces now. When I think of how they turned on you, having first known you…” he seethed, then shook his head.
“If I had my way,” he said with slow deliberation, “we would not go to the Continent or remain here in London.
“Instead, we would travel down to Benham Hall and really take our time bringing your old neighborhood to its knees. We would make it known far and wide how you suffered and how close you came to—” He could not quite bring himself to finish the sentence.
Instead he closed his eyes until he was calm again before continuing coolly.
“They all need to grovel on their knees for your forgiveness, and I for one would dearly like to bring it about.”
“Gervaise!” she whispered. “Would you really?”
“I would,” he said darkly. “I would have them all writhing with embarrassment and shame, shaking my head and marveling all the while that none of them could see the truth of the matter. The truth which I saw within minutes of meeting you and your evil bitch of a mother. I would start with that wretched Ryland woman,” he said thoughtfully. “And go on from there.”
She did not speak for a few heartbeats, then she parted her lips. “I do believe you would,” she said softly.
“You should believe it. I would make exquisite work of it, Caroline. They would be as souls in torment and yet I would accomplish it all with an outward appearance of the utmost civility.”
She met his gaze squarely, the color mounting in her cheeks. “I believe I should like to see it,” she confessed, biting her lip.
He slid his hand up to her waist, clasping her there. “You have only to unleash me,” he vowed, seeking her lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and slow, but by the time Gervaise drew back, his blood was pounding in his ears.
“If we…if we did go down to Benham,” she ventured, “we could perhaps invite your uncle George down to visit with us and show us his support.”
Gervaise, who was watching the rise and fall of the ruffles obscuring her bosom, struggled a moment to make sense of her words.
“He would probably enjoy that,” he admitted, resisting the impulse to slide his hand up the front of her velvet dressing gown.
Instead, he inched closer to her, insinuating his arm between her neck and the pillows.
“Do you think it will take long for him to be reconciled to our marriage?” she asked so sincerely he could have laughed.
“No,” he said abruptly. “He will love the fact you’re an heiress, and let us be frank, you will make him a far better niece than I ever did a nephew.
I expect you will be his favorite within a week of knowing you.
He finds Cousin Louisa abrasive, and me infuriatingly arrogant.
You will be like a breath of fresh air in his stale bachelor life. ”
“I almost look forward to having a fond uncle,” she said so openly that he felt a pang somewhere in the region of his chest. His poor, deprived Caroline.
“I will gladly share my buffoon of an uncle with you,” he whispered, hanging over her.
“I will make you a present of him.” He was kissing her again.
Bestowing the gentlest of kisses, for he had vowed to himself that he would be nothing but adoring toward her all night.
She deserved careful handling after her ordeal and to feel cherished, nothing more, nothing less.
Her hand slid into his hair, and he was forced to draw back lest his feelings overwhelmed him.
“Gervaise, I want you to do it,” she said with suppressed excitement.
He blinked slowly down at her. Do what? “Let’s not go to the Continent,” she continued, seeing his blank look.
“We could visit your mother at some later point. Instead, let us go to Benham and…and make it truly ours.”
He nodded. Had he not already said he would do whatever she wanted? Only gradually did her full meaning filter through his tender thoughts. “You mean…you’ll let me punish your friends and neighbors at my leisure?” he asked, a satisfied smile curving his lips.
“I don’t have any friends,” she reminded him.
“Not true.”
“Well, not in Penarth I don’t,” she said, stroking her fingers through his hair. Her touch almost had him trembling. He kissed her again, lingeringly.
“Except for Teddy and the Farises, of course,” she added when he drew back.
He cleared his throat. His heart was beating so loud he was afraid she would hear it.
“You will need a whole wardrobe of elegant black,” he said, trying to focus on the task at hand, “in the very latest of styles. We will be in full mourning. Mourning jewelry, the lot. I will need to take you shopping again.” He liked that idea.
Some veils might be intriguing, and perhaps an onyx locket with a matching ring.
“Full mourning?” Her expression wavered. “For Mama.”
“Ostensibly, but privately it would be for your father,” he said, running a comforting hand up and down her back.