Chapter Nine
Gabe intended to torture Miss Caddick for the entire evening.
He meant to hold the threat of exposure over her head long enough for her to realize that she was playing with fire.
While he might admire a youthful interest in medicine—he now believed that she’d been at the Rose Garden to ferret out something medicinal—she had to understand that Lord Benedict’s wife could not engage in such fancies.
Politics was a dangerous business, and she had no restraint on the pursuit of her passion.
Which meant she was not mature enough to handle it without a strong hand—his hand—showing her the way.
But then she’d started asking her aunt about her mother.
He did not want to feel sympathy for a girl who had lost her mother so young.
It was clear she was embarrassed about her need to hear more about her parent.
Indeed, he remembered feeling equally shy when he voiced the same questions about his father.
But whereas her mother was gone, his father had been a few miles away, completely unknown to his bastard son.
Thankfully, Lady Boxval answered everything kindly.
It was better done than his mother’s responses.
She’d filled his young ears with a casual dismissal of his father’s sexual prowess.
He hadn’t understood half the words, but his mother’s mocking laughter had been enough to keep him from ever asking again.
Instead, he went directly to his father and demanded the man’s attention.
It had been a bold act for an eight year old.
But such boldness got him a place at Eton and later, another curt discussion bought his military commission.
Unfortunately, Miss Caddick did not have that same kind of access to her parent, and so she hung on memories and casual comments.
And how cruel it was that she had waited this many years to hear so little.
His estimation of her father dropped down several degrees. His evaluation of her, however, remained exactly where it was. She was too wild to be Lord Benedict’s wife. And so he began a steady campaign to get her to cry off.
“I’m afraid that Lord Benedict will not be joining us tonight.
He is with the Secretary of State tonight entertaining a few dignitaries.
Boring stuff, I believe, as they discuss Malta.
” He smiled at Janelle. “As his wife, you will be expected to attend many of these affairs, even when they happen with little notice. That’s why I keep track of the most important people in his life—every day, down to the minute—so you can join when called upon to attend.
” He paused to emphasize the most important part.
“I must know every day, down to the minute, where you are.”
“You must be very busy then,” she responded as Parry called them in for supper. “We never know if Papa will join us either,” she said gaily. “Every night, we hope he finds us, but more often than not, he remains with his own amusements.”
“That won’t work with Lord Benedict.”
She laughed lightheartedly. “I believe it will because we were never introduced, never courted, never even spoke together before our engagement. I doubt he has a desperate need for my company.”
He couldn’t fault her for that. Even he thought Lord Benedict’s method of obtaining a wife had been cold-blooded. “But a wife must attend to her husband’s needs.”
“Oh my!” she cried as she pressed her hands to her cheeks as if she were embarrassed. “I assure you, I shall handle my husband’s needs without your help.”
Well. The first round of banter went to her.
Social conversation was not his forte, and he wasn’t dismayed by his lack.
Indeed, as the meal commenced, he noticed that she lost some animation.
She appeared to grow thoughtful during the soup course.
Could she be wondering what life would be like with him constantly dogging her footsteps?
His next conversational gambit was aided by her aunt, and it came at the end of the meal. “I’ve heard that Mrs. Belleford had to retire to the country,” she said. “So sad. She always threw such lovely parties. Especially the masquerades.”
“It was because of those parties that she retired,” Gabe said. “Sadly, they were too enthusiastic for her husband’s political leanings. Mr. Belleford decided that no hostess was better than a bad hostess who insulted the very people he needed to attract.”
Miss Caddick looked up. “How did a party insult them? Did she leave them off the invitation list?”
“Oh no. That’s the point. She invited too many people. For example, several of Lord Benedict’s associates prefer quiet evenings with a specific guest list.”
“They don’t care for masquerades?” Janelle drawled. “How extraordinarily priggish of them.”
“Don’t be insulting,” her aunt said returned. “A great many people find masquerades bad ton. You know they often get wild.”
“And yet you just said you enjoyed them.”
Lady Boxval admitted that with a coy shrug. “It is fun to see everyone’s costumes.” She turned back to him. “But I insist we leave early. Every time.”
“Very wise,” he agreed, though his attention was on Miss Caddick as he continued, “Lord Benedict will ask you to throw modest parties and attend only those appropriate to a circumspect wife.”
Her lips curved. “I’ll make sure to study the guest list carefully.”
“Don’t worry,” he said with his most charming smile.
“I supervise all of Lord Benedict’s entertainments and will, of course, manage all of yours.
It is an important part of being his private secretary.
You can’t be expected to know from one moment to the next which person is in or out of favor.
” He leaned forward. “That was Mrs. Belleford’s error, you see.
She was seen laughing with a gentleman who had just that afternoon insulted her husband in parliament. ”
“Oh heavens,” Miss Caddick said. “Imagine laughing with someone. It’s a wonder she wasn’t tarred and feathered.”
“You scoff, but it is a serious matter. Her husband sent her to the country because of it.”
The lady dropped her napkin with an imperious wave. “Then I find both her and her husband complete idiots. Her for leaving, and him for demanding it. A husband and wife can have different friends and can be seen conversing—even laughing—with different people.”
“That would be true with a normal husband,” he said. “But politics is a small world, one that has consequences on the world stage. Lord Benedict will expect you to—”
“Rely on your guidance?” she interrupted before he could say it.
He held up his hands. “It is what I do.”
It was decidedly not what he did. When they were in the Peninsular War, Gabe handled logistics, disputes between various underlings, and made sure the right communication got to the best person.
In a war, everything hinged on correct, timely information.
Several times, Gabe had risked life to hand deliver orders that could not go astray.
But here in London, he was reduced to investigating an impertinent slip of a girl and trading in gossip about that idiot Belleford and his wife.
“You must be very busy,” Miss Caddick said as she pushed up from her seat. “You can be assured you need not supervise any aspect of my life. I am quite content managing it myself.”
He rose to his feet as was proper. “And yet, my tasks are determined by Lord Benedict himself. Just as a wife’s responsibilities are dictated by her husband.”
She had no answer to that, and he took unnecessary satisfaction in seeing her lips press together in frustration.
She knew as well as he did that a wife’s life was structured by her husband’s.
And it was the sad truth that her life would be managed by himself, not her.
Unless, of course, she cried off and married someone else.
Which meant he won that round, and they were now at a banter score of one to one. That made him excessively happy as they climbed into the carriage for the theater.
“Well, it seems it is just us,” quipped Lady Boxval. “I knew Jonathan wouldn’t join us. He hates the theater, but I had hoped to see your father, Janelle.”
“You did? Why? He only goes when there’s someone he can’t find otherwise. He spends the whole evening looking about for whomever and then talking throughout the plays.”
“Well,” her aunt demurred, “he can be pleasant company nonetheless.”
Apparently not in his daughter’s estimation. “Do you enjoy the theater, Miss Caddick?” he asked.
“Not very much, to be honest. We don’t have an annual box, so we attend in the middle gallery where there is a great deal of milling about and talking. It’s difficult to follow what’s happening on stage. I am excited to experience it from Lord Benedict’s box. It was kind of him to offer it.”
“What do you enjoy most? The company, the play, or the admiration of everyone looking up at you?” He smiled as he gestured to her gown. “You are very lovely this evening. Quite the change from the last time we met.”
Indeed, he’d been shocked when she stepped into the parlor earlier.
He’d been thinking of stoop-shouldered Betty in that dowdy gown when she’d appeared in a simple dress that emphasized her curves.
Her lifted breasts would have been indecent except for the overdress of dusky rose that muted her carnal appeal.
Indeed, she could have been seduction incarnate in that gown if she’d made the least attempt to be sensuous.
She had not. If anything, her carriage was proper and her movements efficient. And that, paradoxically, made her a thousand times more interesting to him. He even smiled when she drew herself up at his implied insult.
“Do you say I was ugly when last we met?”
“Of course not,” he lied. “You were simply unprepared to greet me.”
“Goodness,” her aunt interjected. “How were you dressed, Janelle?”
“For housework,” she said. “The major caught me unawares in the kitchen. He came to the servants’ entrance to deliver a message from Lord Benedict.”
Neatly done. She set the scene with him as a servant of no more account than the lowliest footman. “It was a private matter between the lady and her fiancé,” he said. “I thought it best to deliver it as discreetly as possible.”
“And yet you bring it up now in front of my aunt.”
Of course, he did. He was reminding her that he could reveal her activities at any moment. “A mistake,” he lied. “I simply meant to compliment your transformation. I stand amazed by your beauty.” That was the truth.
He expected her to flush at that. What girl didn’t like to be complimented? He intended to judge the depth of her vanity by her reaction, only to be amazed when she didn’t appear to have any.
“My aunt chose my dress, and my maid does my hair. If anyone is to be complimented, it is they. Truth be told, I much prefer my working attire.”
Her aunt was outraged. “What a thing to say, Janelle!” She shook her head.
“I thought you had disposed of all those ugly clothes. It is one thing to assist with the kitchen work when you were a baron’s daughter in Devon, but now you are Lord Benedict’s fiancé.
You must be appropriately attired at all times.
” She shook her head as she turned to Major Vance.
“My brother-in-law appears to have missed some key aspects of Janelle’s education, but I promise you that she will be ready by the time the banns are read. ”
“His lordship asked me to post the banns this week, my lady.” He watched Miss Caddick’s expression closely as he spoke those words. Her reaction would give him a good idea of how far he had to push her before she cried off.
Not far, apparently.
Her face paled and her hands tightened in her lap. “This week?” she squeaked.
“He did not tell you?” he asked. “Lord Benedict wishes to be married within a month. Indeed, we discussed a special license, but I thought it would look too hasty.”
Lady Boxval pressed her hands to her cheeks in shock. “A month? But that is much too soon to plan a wedding.”
Meanwhile, Miss Caddick was shaking her head. “He said nothing of the kind to me.”
“Truly?” he pressed. “Did he mention a congress in Vienna, perhaps? That consumes his schedule as we discuss what is to be done when Napoleon surrenders.”
Her chin jerked up. “But Napoleon has not surrendered. Indeed, who knows how long that will take.”
“I believe we shall get notification of it this evening. That is the reason Lord Benedict is absent tonight. He is awaiting the news.” Which is exactly where Gabe wanted to be as well.
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to hasten the Corsican’s surrender.
But there was a great deal he could to do prevent Lord Benedict from saddling himself with a difficult wife.
And so he was here, poking a girl who clearly didn’t want the life she would have with Lord Benedict.
“Was it not your choice to marry?” he asked.
“My choice?” the woman gasped. “I had never met Lord Benedict before he was down on one knee before me.”
Her aunt reached out and patted her hand, as if to tamp down the coming flash of temper. “But that isn’t why a woman of your station gets married.”
“I know, aunt, but—”
“But nothing. Lord Benedict is clearly smitten with you.”
That could not be true. And Miss Caddick shared his disbelief as she snorted her derision.
“It is an advantageous alliance for everyone,” her aunt continued.
“Good lord, Janelle, you will be a countess. Your children will be ladies and lords. Your father did very well to arrange this for you. I am sure you are very grateful.” That last came out as a command.
Miss Caddick would be grateful or she would answer to her aunt and father.
“Of course,” the girl responded, her voice meek. “I shall be very pleased to marry Lord Benedict on whatever schedule.”
Of course, nothing. Gabe did his best not to grin. A little more pressure and he would have the girl crying off before the last act.