Chapter 25
Caro couldn’t very well exclaim, I don’t know what you mean, to Lady Carmichael, when she’d already been so intimate with Eamon.
Intimacy Caro had relived in her heart every day and night since. Each kiss they stole tasted of it, each smile and touch brought the rush of desire flaring to the surface. It was agony to know Eamon was so close but at the same time had to remain remote.
Eamon always made certain to leave the house at six in the evening, Singleton locking up after he’d gone.
Caro knew she was wanton enough to beg him to stay, hang the scandal, but Eamon was being very careful with her reputation.
Caro ought to be grateful, but the hunger he’d stirred could not be sated.
Caro only hoped her heated discomfort at Lady Carmichael’s questions did not show too much on her face.
“I am a grown woman,” Caro said stiffly. “And a widow, not a foolish ingenue.”
“I know that, my dear, but your mother-in-law tells me that you and the picture man are rather inseparable.”
The dowager always discerned more than she let on, which burned Caro hotter still. She strove for dignity. “I do not believe it is anyone’s business.”
“If you marry him, it will become many people’s business,” Lady Carmichael said with her stern practicality.
“This Mr. Stone will have influence over Leo and all those who want to be close to him. Including Cousin Rudyard, which is why he is being so troublesome. Rudyard wants guardianship of Leo, does he not? Hence you fishing for any dirt on him you can find.”
“I can’t give Leo to Rudyard,” Caro said, her desperation returning.
“I agree with you. Rudyard will do everything it takes to gain the title, especially if he owes people money. If nothing else, once he is duke, Rudyard could make laws in the House of Lords that keep him from having to pay back what he’s taken.
” Lady Carmichael waved a black-gloved hand.
“Possibly. I have no idea what they get up to in the Lords. A great deal of empty posturing, I’m certain. ”
“Please help me stop him,” Caro begged.
“You poor darling. Of course we will stop him.” Lady Carmichael’s voice gentled. “You do realize that, in order to keep Leo safe, you might have to send your picture man away. Are you prepared to do so?”
Was she? Caro had long understood she might have to tell Eamon to leave, and she would, if she had no other choice.
Once Leo was grown and Caro was old and decrepit, and no one cared what she did, perhaps she and Eamon could meet again and have their affair—if Eamon remembered her at all by then.
Caro felt herself break down. She’d resolved to remain businesslike while she spoke with Lady Carmichael, to gather her arsenal to face Rudyard.
But the thought of sending Eamon away, of weathering a bleak, lonely future without him, washed her in despair. Caro had never meant to lose herself like this, but it was too late now.
Caro’s tears blurred the creams and blues of the drawing room and the black-clad form of Lady Carmichael. “Why does it have to be so difficult?” she asked shakily.
“Because life is always difficult, dear, in great ways and small ones.” Lady Carmichael patted Caro’s hand then handed her a large linen handkerchief.
“Love is difficult as well. But worth fighting for, in my experience. Leave it with me. I will find out specifically what Rudyard is up to, and we’ll have him.
Few people can abide him anyway, so they’ll be happy to shut him out. ”
Caro wiped away tears, grateful for the pragmatic handkerchief. “Will that be enough to keep Leo safe?”
“Possibly. We can’t change the line of inheritance or Rudyard’s blood ties to Leo, but we can make England too hot to hold Rudyard and allow Leo to grow up in peace.
Once Leo comes of age, he’ll be able to deal with Rudyard himself.
And who knows? Leo might produce many heirs of his own, and keep Rudyard far from the dukedom. ”
Caro smiled tremulously at Lady Carmichael, crumpling the damp handkerchief. “Then let us do our worst.”
“That’s the spirit,” Lady Carmichael said. “Now, drink your tea, dear. It will fortify you for what’s to come.”
When Eamon reached the Grosvenor Street house the next afternoon, after a morning spent running all over London, he found the Countess of Heyford and Princess Josephine descending the staircase.
Caro glided after them, she in her simple everyday frock while her friends wore the latest in light summer coats and plumed bonnets, though the countess’s shades were subdued. Caro was animated, her color high, eyes sparkling like jewels in the dim light.
“Your Ladyship, Your Highness, Your Grace.” Eamon swept off his hat and greeted them in turn.
“Mr. Stone.” Lady Heyford gave him an elegant nod.
Jo shot him an impish grin. “Mr. Stone, how lovely to see you. And how clever you were to find Leo’s Rembrandt. How fortunate, also, that Colonel Harper wished to buy it. Yes, I have my resources and know he was the purchaser.”
Eamon couldn’t stop himself from grinning back at her. “Indeed. Her Grace has been most fortunate all the way around.”
“As have you, but I do not think it was all luck.” Jo’s eyes twinkled with good humor. “By the bye, while you’re searching London for more genuine paintings, you wouldn’t look out for a nice miniature—say a Holbein or some such—would you? I’d like to give one to Merry for her birthday.”
Eamon nodded. “I know the sort you mean, and yes, I will keep an eye out.”
“Splendid.” Jo latched her arm through that of Louise, who’d been listening with cool detachment. “We are off to do battle. Good afternoon, Mr. Stone.”
“Good afternoon, ladies.” Eamon handed his hat to Singleton, who’d emerged the moment the two women reached the ground floor, and bowed once more.
A carriage pulled up before the house, footmen swarming from it to help the ladies inside. Caro waved her farewells until the carriage rolled away and Singleton shut the door.
Singleton took Eamon’s coat as he shed it and hung it on the hall tree, then vanished to wherever he vanished to every day. The man always reappeared like magic when Eamon finished for the evening and was ready to depart.
“I have much to tell you,” Caro said to Eamon once they were alone in the foyer.
“I have things to tell you as well,” Eamon said. “Shall we?”
He gestured up the stairs, as formal as though they hadn’t shared a passionate kiss the evening before or lounged together in her bed the previous week.
“I think mine is more important,” Caro declared as they started for the gallery.
“Of course it is,” Eamon said. “A lady’s news should always come first.”
Caro eyed in him exasperation. “Do not try to be witty. But it is important. About Rudyard.”
Eamon had no interest in discussing the lump, but he drew Caro to the far end of the gallery and turned her to face him.
“Rudyard has been running an investment scheme.” Caro bounced on her toes as she announced this. “Taking money from his friends and acquaintances, telling them they were investing in anything from shipping ventures to new canals that will trundle goods across England.”
“Has he, now?” Eamon’s interest reengaged.
Since canal building was an ongoing activity, and ships from all over the world came and went from London, such a proposal on Rudyard’s part would sound plausible. Rudyard could then take the money he claimed would go straight to an investment house and pocket it for himself.
“Everyone believed him at first,” Caro went on, “because he’d pay them back handsomely in a few months, sometimes doubling what they’d invested.”
“Ah,” Eamon said. “I begin to see.”
His father hadn’t been as daring, because any money Sir Benedict had come into slipped through his fingers immediately, but several of Sir Benedict’s cronies had tried such schemes.
They would pay the first investor with money from the second, pay the second from the third, and so on, after skimming off a large portion for themselves, of course.
“But then, some people began to grow restless,” Caro was saying. “When they’d inquire about how their investment was doing, Rudyard would evade the question or send them a placating letter. I believe Rudyard keeps all the money and has never invested at all.”
“I believe you are right,” Eamon said, catching her animation. “Have you found proof?”
Caro nodded, tendrils of hair dancing, as they did in every sketch Eamon had made of her.
“Lady Carmichael has suspected him of it for a time. She’s asked among her friends, and I had Jo and Louise do the same.
It turns out that plenty of people have entrusted Rudyard with their money.
Even if they don’t like him personally, he is the nephew of my late husband, whom they did like.
Leopold was always painfully honest, and I suppose those who don’t know Rudyard well assume he must be the same. ”
“Which explains why he’s so keen to be duke,” Eamon mused. “Though there’s no money in the title, he’d have lands and some protection if his schemes come to light. Sooner or later, though, he will have to answer …”
“He will,” Caro said in satisfaction. “We are rounding up our army to expose him.” She finished with a smile of triumph.
If she would only cease being beautiful for a few moments, Eamon might remember how to breathe.
“This is excellent news,” he managed to say. “My friends and I will do everything in our power to help you.” Eamon dipped a hand into the pocket of his frock coat. “But as much as I’d like to rush out and drag Rudyard before a magistrate on the moment, I do have something for you.”
“Oh, yes, for the Rembrandt.” Caro clasped her hands, her smile broadening. “You do not have to give me the money, you know. Take it to Leo’s man of business. I’m certain he’ll be excited to hand it out to the creditors, which will be such a help. Thank you, Eamon.”
She would slay him with her praise. Eamon tamped down his impatient desires and forced himself back to the task at hand.
“This has nothing to do with the money. The funds are with Leo’s man of business even now.” One of Eamon’s errands had been to that gentleman.
Caro regarded him with eager anticipation. “Have you located another painting?”
“Not yet, but please let me finish.”
“I beg your pardon.” Caro’s attempt to be contrite made her more enticing than ever. “I simply haven’t been hopeful for a while. What is this something?”
“A small token.” Eamon pulled a velvet bag from his pocket. Under the watchful eye of the faux Diana on the table next to them, he opened it.
Caro caught the flash of light within. “What on earth?”
Eamon lifted a thin gold strand studded with diamonds from the pouch. “I’ve been wanting to see this on you,” he said softly.
Caro’s lips parted as she stared at the diamonds in wonderment. “No, I could not possibly …”
“You could. Most definitely.”
Eamon stepped behind her, as he’d pictured himself doing so many times, and laid the necklace around her throat. He fastened the catch, pleased that his fingers didn’t shake.
The necklace was not something he’d simply found at a jeweler’s stall. Eamon had run down an old friend of his father’s in Hatton Garden and told the man exactly what sort of adornment he’d wanted for Caro.
The man was a genius, setting ten diamonds perfectly along the gold strand. The necklace had taken every last pence of the money Eamon had recovered from Colonel Harper for the painting, but viewing the diamonds resting on Caro’s bosom was worth it.
“Really, Eamon, I cannot take this.” Caro’s voice was almost a whisper.
“I am happy you like it.”
“I do.” Caro gazed up at him with soft eyes, fingers resting lightly on the chain. “I adore it. You are far too kind.”
“It has nothing to do with kindness.” Eamon brushed the necklace, her flesh warm through her gauzy fichu. “I want you to be my duchess in diamonds. Nothing less will do for you.”
“Because we are lovers now,” she said shyly.
“Nothing to do with being lovers, either.” Another caress, catching her fingers with it. “I want you to have it. Now you do not have to borrow your friends’ jewels when you attend their balls.”
“Ah.” Caro’s look turned teasing. “It is out of pity, then.”
“Why does there have to be a reason?” Eamon drew her to him. “My reason is I want you to be happy. Seeing your eyes light like they are now is reason enough.”
“Then I will cease being a prig.” Caro rose on her tiptoes. “Thank you.”
She kissed him.
Eamon forgot everything—Rudyard, paintings, debts, even the necklace—and sank into Caro, parting her lips, letting her sear him.
Caro made that delightful noise in her throat which meant she wanted him. Eamon’s longing soared, and he scooped her into him, tasting her joy and need, letting it sustain him.
A draft flowing along the gallery reminded Eamon that they stood in too exposed an area to act on their yearnings. He reluctantly broke the kiss but could not resist leaning down and catching the diamonds in his teeth.
Caro gasped, then her quiet laughter surrounded him. She stepped away, but before the cold of that could slap him, she caught Eamon’s hand and towed him to the staircase.
They ascended to the next floor, which embraced them with its silence. Caro guided Eamon a short way down the hall to the small drawing room where he’d first encountered her, when she struggled with a stubborn window.
Caro led him inside, closed the door, and turned the key in the lock.