Chapter Eighteen #3
A tide of relief began to flow within him.
Even if it did not entirely extinguish his rage over the despicable treatment of his family, he felt better knowing Caroline would be in a place where she could be safe.
In her absence, he vowed to do what he could to quash the gossip.
He would tell anyone and everyone how utterly, hopelessly in love with his wife he was.
He would scream it until there wasn’t a single person who doubted that Gideon could not have chosen a better wife and partner for himself.
And, one day, he knew they would see Caroline as the wonder she was.
Only two days later, Caroline was comfortably ensconced in Oliver and Emily’s townhouse.
Three stories in height, the narrow brick building was cozy and tidy, and it overlooked a small, well-kept park.
Upon her arrival at the address, Emily had apologized that their home was not well-equipped for hosting a marchioness.
Caroline had pulled her into a hug and reassured her that she was not at all snobbish and had made do with much less for a long while.
She was utterly charmed by the floral papering and simple furniture, the elegant little paintings so lovingly chosen and carefully hung throughout the home. There was just enough decoration to make it feel like the home of someone who lived comfortably.
The home had three bedchambers, and Caroline was shown into one papered in creamy, buttery yellow with dark wood furniture and robin’s-egg blue details.
It was utterly delightful and she told Emily as much.
Sitting on the bed, Caroline experienced a wash of relief and peace.
Gideon had been right; she already felt much lighter now that she’d escaped the prying eyes of Mayfair.
It pained her to be away from Gideon for such a ridiculous reason, but she saw the logic in his suggestion.
The stress of it had been making her ill; she’d cried far too much, far too often.
Now, she could be more herself. It wasn’t long before she would enter confinement for the rest of her pregnancy; she deserved to enjoy these last few weeks of freedom.
Cupping both hands beneath her belly, she gazed down at the curve in her gown.
She was less than three months away from giving birth, and she needed to focus on that.
The baby gave a powerful kick, and she rubbed at the spot. “Not too much longer…” she whispered.
The rest of the week was rather much the same.
Emily had been worried that Caroline would be bored in their home, but it was a delight.
Caroline learned how to chop carrots and stir a stew so it did not scorch or boil over.
She hadn’t been able to stomach preparing the beef for the stew, but Emily didn’t so much as bat an eye.
She gave Emily another task, plucking the herbs from their stems. It was a novel experience for a woman who had only ever stepped into a kitchen to pilfer treats.
Emily and Oliver spent their evenings reading.
Caroline often joined them by the hearth and brought along her embroidery.
She was working on decorating a christening gown for her baby.
The project caused her an equal mixture of joy and sadness because she thought of Gideon each time she used the scissors he’d gifted to her years before.
Her heart ached for him and she struggled to sleep without him holding her, but, other than that, her time with Emily and Oliver was pleasant.
Shortly before luncheon one day, Emily told Caroline she needed to make a trip to her mother’s place of business, the notorious brothel of Lady Night. “I must balance the books and ensure enough supplies are ordered for the week. I should return well before supper, though.”
“Oh! May I go with you?” Emily’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Caroline’s enthusiasm. “That is, if you don’t mind. I shan’t be in the way. I would love to be able to say I’ve been to a brothel.”
“You are certain?”
“No one will know who I am. I will be unobtrusive and merely observe.”
“It is not as exciting as you think it is—just a great deal of numbers.”
“I don’t mind.”
“And how do you think Gideon will react when he finds out you’ve been to Lady Night’s?” Oliver interjected flatly.
“He has been to the brothel; why shouldn’t I?”
Oliver cleared his throat and averted his eyes, unwilling to touch that argument.
“Please?” She looked back at Emily and pressed her hands together in a prayer-like gesture.
“Very well. If you are certain—”
“I have a meeting with an associate in an hour. I can escort you to Lady Night’s after,” Oliver said.
“That will be too late,” Emily sighed. “We will be there well after dark if we have to wait for that.”
Oliver’s mouth was set in a grim line of displeasure.
He and his wife seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes before he released a small sigh of resignation.
“I will take you to Covent Garden before my meeting, deposit you there safely, and you will be escorted home by one of Lady Night’s guards. ”
“Guards?” Caroline reared back in surprise.
“To keep the employees safe,” Oliver explained. A frisson of excitement danced down Caroline’s spine. She couldn’t wait.
Less than two hours later, Caroline and Emily were seated in the room which had once been Emily’s bedchamber.
In the months since her marriage to Oliver, it had been cleaned out and transformed into an office complete with shelves of organized documents and books.
Emily was about to begin reconciling the accounts and was busy selecting the proper book.
“Your mother is quite the most wonderfully fantastic person I’ve ever met,” Caroline gushed. Everything about the madame was over the top, from her elaborate hairstyle to her silk kimono robe imported from the Far East; she exuded confidence and no-nonsense.
“You would be in good company,” Emily replied distractedly as she continued her search. “Everyone she meets seems to find something about her they are drawn to.”
“I think it is how she is unapologetically herself,” she said thoughtfully.
“There it is!” Emily pulled the book from the shelf and opened it on the desk. She began setting up her quill, ink, and blotter. “Would you ask Mary to have some tea and sandwiches prepared? I’m feeling a bit peckish.”
“That happens,” Caroline said in commiseration.
The women had shared several conversations about the symptoms of early pregnancy, the unbearable fatigue, the increase in one’s appetite, and the like.
Emily still had not disclosed the pregnancy to her husband, but promised she would in just a few more weeks after she missed another of her cycles.
“I shall go find her.” Caroline stood and shook out the skirts of her dove-gray gown.
It was the simplest one she’d brought with her for her stay with Oliver and Emily; luckily, it was also the one that had the most pleating and extra fabric in the skirts.
This allowed her greater freedom of movement but also reminded her that she would need to make even more adjustments to her wardrobe, and soon.
A visit to the modiste would be in order since only two or three of her pieces still fit her.
She’d already had to give up on stays altogether.
She found the maid to whom she’d been introduced earlier and passed along Emily’s request.
“She should return with a tray soon,” Caroline told Emily as they settled in.
Overall, the brothel appeared relatively innocuous.
Caroline had seen few of the public spaces, but what she saw was opulent and enticing.
She wanted to explore more, but she thought she might have to save that for another time.
The last thing she wanted to do was push things too far and never be invited back again.
She was lost in a daydream of just what the pleasure rooms might look like when there was a knock at the door.
“I will go,” Caroline offered, noticing Emily was hunched over her numbers and lost in deep concentration.
She was somewhat surprised to notice a man standing on the other side of the door.
He was built like a bull with a barrel chest, round, dark eyes, and an oversized nose.
Then, she remembered that Lady Night employed men as guards.
Perhaps Mary had been waylaid by a task and this man was sent in her stead; he was, after all, carrying the tray of tea and sandwiches.
She stepped aside and let him in. “In the office, please, if you don’t mind,” she said politely and left the door unlocked as she followed the silent, hulking man.
Emily looked up as they entered the room and she froze. The quill dropped from her fingers, leaving blots of ink across her orderly rows of numbers.
“Caroline…”
“What is it dear? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” She rushed over to Emily’s side and grasped her frozen fingers. Behind her, the man set the tray on a table with a slight clatter.
“I do not know that man,” she hissed beneath her breath.
“What?”
She squeezed Caroline’s fingers even tighter. “I do not know that man. And I know every employee.”
Ice seemed to seep from Emily’s hands into Caroline’s blood. “What are you saying?”
Slowly, Emily reached beneath the desktop. A small metallic click indicated something had been dislodged. “Run.”
Terror clogged Caroline’s throat, but she did as she was told without question.
She turned and, hiking up her skirts, she bolted from the room.
She was only able to avoid the bullish man because Emily threw a glinting silver blade in his direction.
Unfortunately, no sooner had Caroline escaped the office than she ran into the chest of a second man so strong and solid that the collision nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
How? The door!
She’d left the door unlocked. Caroline fought even as the man’s arms closed around her in a vice-like grip.
There was a shout and a bang from the office.
Emily. Caroline continued to kick and flail, bashing her heels into the man’s bony shins several times before she finally connected with a kneecap.
He dropped her with a grunt and she fell to her hands and knees with a painful thud that jarred her teeth in her skull.
She attempted to crawl away, but a vicious hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked.
She cried out in pain, reaching back to claw at the offending hand as it tugged painfully on her neck.
She was opening her mouth to scream when a calloused hand clamped over her face.
It covered her nose as well, making it nearly impossible to breathe, so she sank her teeth into the palm.
The man bellowed and wrenched it away, but he also shoved Caroline to the side.
The front of her body collided with the low table in the parlor.
Pain exploded behind her eyes and she collapsed dazedly to the ground.
Acting only on instinct, she curled her body around her abdomen as the ache began to spread.
Her belly was already sore and tender to the touch from the collision with the edge of the table.
She was paralyzed with shock as the first cramp seized her.
Mercilessly, she was hauled up from the ground, a damp rag was shoved in her mouth, and her hands were bound so tightly that her fingers began to lose sensation.
Despite flailing and scrabbling for purchase with every surface they passed, she and Emily were spirited down the back stairs of Lady Night’s, down an alley, and forced onto the floor of a covered carriage where they huddled together, bruised and battered, crying silent tears of fear and pain.