Chapter Eighteen #2
Over the years, Caroline had come a long way in overlooking the rumors, even if she couldn’t be completely deaf to them.
More than once, he’d heard it commented that she should have changed her behavior if she did not wish to attract so much attention.
But Gideon knew the lengths to which Caroline had gone to fit into the tiny box Society allowed for a woman, and it did nothing to quell the wagging tongues.
He was the greatest supporter in encouraging Caroline to live her life as she pleased—those people were going to talk about her one way or the other, so she might as well live her life.
There was no denying she’d been much happier, much freer since she decided to do just that.
It was also quite pleasing to see their nicknames beside one another’s on nearly every occasion they made the tabloids.
Gideon’s attempts at shielding Caroline from the current wildfire of gossip worked for only two days before a paper slipped through the defenses by way of a sealed envelope whose only mark was an address for the new Marchioness of Swanleigh.
Gideon was enjoying a leisurely morning in Caroline’s private sitting room, reclining with his head in her lap as she sifted through her post. He enjoyed resting his cheek against the firm curve of her belly and reveling in the tiny ripples and bumps of their child.
When her body went rigid beneath him, Gideon was immediately alerted to something being terribly wrong with the letter she’d just opened.
He bolted upright, his heart pounding with the need to address whatever had upset her.
Caroline crumpled the documents in her fists, hung her head, and sobbed.
She’d done a remarkable job of piecing herself back together after Callbeck’s intrusion, but that had only been two days prior.
She was still fragile, still emotional, and still pregnant, which, Gideon was learning, was making her moods all that much easier to tip one way or the other.
Watching her so tortured made it feel to him like hours since Caroline had begun crying, yet she showed no signs of stopping.
Gideon was at a loss. With everything in him, he wanted to take away her pain and ease her mind, but it wasn’t that simple—to believe it was would diminish everything she had been through.
“What is it?” he begged her to respond. “Please, tell me what has upset you so.” She fell against him, seeking his support as she pressed her tear-dampened eyes to his cravat.
“T-The tabloids,” she managed to choke out. Someone had sent her a tabloid. Gideon cursed beneath his breath.
“Caro, darling,” he said, stroking her hair as she shoved her face more deeply into his throat.
The front of his shirt was soaked with her tears.
“My love, it is just a tabloid. They are saying nothing that they have not already said a thousand times.” She’d been more emotional lately, but nothing quite compared to this.
Some things had changed now that she was solidly in her sixth month of pregnancy.
While her queasiness had subsided some time earlier, her emotions had been a heart-wrenching swing of highs and lows.
He did what he could to cheer her or give her space when these moments happened, depending upon the circumstances.
Unfortunately, everyone was at the mercy of the tabloids. Even royalty could not completely stop the gossip columns from spewing their vitriol.
“This is worse,” she sobbed, clutching his shirt. “Now they are going after our child, and he is not yet born.”
A well of furious rage boiled deep within Gideon’s chest. He wanted to knock down the doors of these damnable publications and beat the editors and writers until they had no more working fingers with which to spread their hate.
Attack him for his wild ways—he had never been a saint—but to say reprehensible things about his unborn child… that was unconscionable.
“What did they say?” he ground out.
She released the crumpled and slightly smudged print from her hand. What Gideon could make out, however, made him see red.
Across the top of the page in spidery handwriting were the words, “You should be ashamed.” What was worse, news of Caroline’s pregnancy had, understandably, spread since their return from Bray Castle. But the things they said…the caricatures that accompanied them…choked Gideon with fury.
They described Caro as finally having entrapped a titled man into marriage with pregnancy, hinting that it had been her only choice since she’d failed at capturing a husband during her debut.
They said it was bound to happen with the way she and Gideon had carried on over the years.
They portrayed her as a scheming harpy, her nipples nearly visible above her indecent gown, as she enticed a line of men toward her skirts, each of them labeled with sashes reading Lord S, Lord B, Lord K, Lord T, and Lord PB.
The ton had never been able to wrap its simple, antiquated mind around the fact that men could be friends with a woman without sharing her bed.
The insinuation that she’d shared her favors with all of them… it turned Gideon’s stomach.
The next panel depicted an infant in a cradle crafted from gold and jewels, thanking his mother for choosing such a wealthy father. Another panel showed a baby shackled to Gideon’s leg like a prisoner’s weight, holding him back from his future as a poorly drawn Caroline rifled through his pockets.
It was easy to assume that Callbeck had had a hand in the slander, but his name was not mentioned, and this afforded just enough doubt to keep Gideon from lopping off the man’s head.
He and Caroline had been the subject of many a gossip rag; to unquestioningly lay blame for this drivel at Callbeck’s feet was, regrettably, unfair.
This could have been anyone with a vendetta against them, anyone who was righteous enough to throw stones, even a man looking to make a quick penny off an easy target.
He crumpled the parchment in his fist and threw it to the ground, wishing there was a fire in the hearth so he could watch the disgusting lies burn to ash.
“Utter filth,” he growled and held Caroline closer. “You know none of that is true.”
“But I did trap you in a way,” she sniffed and looked up at him. The tears overflowing from her eyes split his heart in two.
“I never want you to hear you say that again. It is most certainly not true, and you know it.” He watched her lips tremble as he tilted her face to his with a crooked finger beneath her chin.
“I need to know that you are hearing me. Do not ever think for a second that I did not do anything I did not wish to. I love you. I love this child. I have loved you for a long while, I was just too afraid to admit it for fear of losing you forever.”
Caroline’s face scrunched and new tears overflowed. “And now I am crying for an entirely different reason!” she wailed and buried her face in his chest again.
A small laugh of relief welled up from his chest. “Now that is all the truth. Let them say what they wish; they know nothing about what happens between us. Not once have they managed to get anything right in all the times we’ve been mentioned in those rags. Pay no mind to their drivel.”
“I know…” Caroline said with a hiccup after she managed to regain most of her composure. “And I know I am being overly sensitive about it, but I cannot help it. Our child has done nothing to deserve this, and just because of my past, he is coming into a world that is prejudiced against him.”
“We won’t allow that,” Gideon said with all the confidence of generations of good breeding.
“He will have adoring parents, a loving extended family, and the Swanleigh title behind him. No doors are closed to the Swanleigh heir.” Then, he had an idea.
He pulled a fresh handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Why don’t you consider taking Emily and Oliver up on their offer for a visit?
” Swanleigh House had already been inundated with well-wishers and curiosity seekers since their return from Kent.
The streets of Mayfair were littered with gossipmongers.
Everyone wanted a piece of Caroline. If he couldn’t wipe out the whispers in one fell swoop, then he would find a place where Caroline could escape.
“I still have a great deal of business to catch up on. You will be safe with them and somewhat removed from the evil lurking in this part of town.”
She released a watery laugh. “Are you sending me away?”
“Not like that,” he reassured her. “I do not want you alone right now, and, unfortunately, I need to spend most of the coming days in meetings. I set aside my duties for our honeymoon—and I don’t regret a minute of it,” he added the last when she seemed about to complain, “but it must be done. In the meantime, I think it might be a relief for you to spend some time with them. You are not so far away that we will not see one another, but you will be a bit farther from everything here in Mayfair.”
“Won’t it look odd?”
“I don’t give one flea-bitten rat’s arse what it looks like to anyone else; I care only for you and your wellbeing. Staying here in Mayfair is doing nothing for your nerves. We will know the truth and that is all that matters.” He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, breathing her in.
Her hand cupped his cheek as she did the same. “I will go,” she whispered.