Chapter 23 #2
“I suspect so,” he replied.
“I believe I have not the pleasure of either of your acquaintance,” Caroline said, surprising even herself with her haughtiness.
The woman’s mouth pulled into a smile. “Putting us in our places! And rightly so.” She took hold of the banister and began her descent. “No doubt you are wondering why we have invaded your—forgive me for saying so—obscure village.”
“I assume you are here for the election,” Caroline responded.
“Well, we certainly are not here for the society,” the woman retorted as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She regarded Caroline with her scrutinizing gaze and smiled knowingly. “Yes. I quite see how he might be overset by you. You two will deal very well together, I think.”
Caroline’s confusion was growing by the second, indignation on its heels.
“Caroline.” Frederick stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes moved from her to the woman and the gentleman, then his mouth turned up in grim amusement. “Ah. I see you have met my family.”
“Your…family.” Caroline looked at them, and the pieces began to come together, locking into place one by one.
Frederick came down the stairs. “You mean you have not met them?”
“I…” She looked at the gentleman, and mortification began to creep into her neck and cheeks. “Are you…the duke?”
The man’s mouth quivered at the edge. “Guilty.”
She shut her eyes in consternation and curtsied deeply—all the more so to atone for her rudeness. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he replied amicably. “It was bad of me not to make myself known to you, but my curiosity overtook my manners, I fear.”
The older woman cleared her throat loudly.
“Right,” Frederick said, grinning. “Lady Radcliffe, allow me to introduce my aunt, Eugenia Ashby.”
“I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Ashby,” Caroline said, trying valiantly not to crumble from mortification.
“Are you?” the woman replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“I was quite rude, wasn’t I?” Caroline said with a grimace.
“Were you?” Frederick asked, apparently liking the idea.
“She put us in our places,” Mrs. Ashby said.
“I am sorry to have missed it!” Frederick said with real feeling. “No one needs putting in their place more than these two.”
Caroline shut her eyes and shook her head. “I had thought…”
“What did you think?” the duke asked curiously. “I could have sworn you took exception to me almost instantly.”
“I thought you were…a puppet.”
One brow ticked up. “Did you?”
“A puppet?” Frederick repeated, more amused and confused by the second. “Whose?”
Remembering her reason for coming in the first place, Caroline turned fully toward him. “Oswald.”
His brows rose.
“Oswald?” Mrs. Ashby repeated. “Is that not the fellow who…?”
The duke nodded.
Mrs. Ashby scoffed. “William would never be the puppet of such a namby pamby! I insist on understanding why you would make such an assumption, Lady Radcliffe. Over tea, I think.”
Frederick looked as though he might overrule this idea, but Caroline was too grateful for the opportunity to show a more agreeable side of herself, so they all went into the taproom.
Frederick went in search of Mrs. Tonkin, and it was a few minutes before they were all seated together so that Caroline could explain what Mr. Redworth had conveyed to her.
Mrs. Ashby interjected to ask further explanation of the voting landscape in Trelowen, but Caroline was otherwise able to relay the information without interruption.
The duke was regarding Frederick, whose brow was creased in a deep frown.
“I have made a great muddle of everything,” Caroline said.
Frederick’s gaze snapped to hers. “What?”
“I encouraged Oswald in his dislike of you—and made him feel as if the seat was owed him. If I had not done so, perhaps he would not have gone out of his way to look into your affairs.”
Frederick shook his head. “I am not eligible, Caroline. That has nothing to do with you.”
“You could be,” the duke said.
Frederick shot him a tight-lipped look.
“What do you mean?” Caroline asked.
It was silent for a moment.
“William offered Freddie enough land to put him over the requirement,” Mrs. Ashby said. “Freddie refused it.”
“What?” Caroline asked, turning back to him. “Why?”
Frederick was quiet, but the way he fiddled with his ring was enough to make her understand.
“None of it makes a difference,” he finally said. “I do not mean to accept your offer, Will—kind though it is. And even if I did, Caroline has promised her votes to Oswald.”
“Pooh!” Mrs. Ashby said.
Frederick shot her a flat look. “Would you have her break her word?”
“I would!”
Frederick let out an aggravated breath and looked away.
Caroline took his hand. “She is right, Frederick. I have been thinking on the matter a great deal. If I still believed Oswald had the best interests of the borough at heart, I would feel the full force of my promise to him. But not only has he concealed things from me, he has shown he is more interested in winning than anything else. My loyalty is first and foremost to Trelowen.”
His eyes held hers, intent and searching, before he broke them away. “I cannot accept Will’s offer.”
Caroline swallowed her disappointment. “I understand. And, even if I did give them to you, with this fifth vote, Oswald has what he needs to win.”
“I thought there were ten votes, not counting the absentee fellow,” Mrs. Ashby said. “That would make it a tie.”
“In that case,” Lady Radcliffe said, “the returning officer would cast the final vote. Oswald has gone out of his way to become friendly with Hannaford. I imagine he anticipated he might come to need his support.”
It was quiet as everyone reflected upon the impossibility of the situation.
For her own part, Caroline was coming to a realization that made her stomach swim. She could not vote for Oswald, and because there were no alternative candidates, there was only one choice: she could not vote at all.
All her best intentions to utilize her power for the good of Trelowen would come to naught in the end, then. But the only other option was to cast her votes for someone she could not in good conscience support.
“I am sorry you made the journey all the way here for this,” Frederick said to his brother and aunt with a rueful smile.
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Ashby looked at Caroline with a twinkle in her eye. “I came for the society.”
Caroline gave a small laugh, but it was short-lived.
“I shall attend the election as planned,” Mrs. Ashby said. “As will you, Frederick.”
Frederick shook his head.
“You would leave me to brave the wilds of a Cornish by-election without a male chaperone? Do not be ridiculous! You came here for an election, and you shan’t hide from it merely because you cannot win it.
You are a Yorke.” She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, and he jolted upward.
“Stand tall. If this Oswald fellow means to swindle his way into a parliamentary seat, force him to look you in the eye as he does it.”
Frederick listened with a hand rubbing his ribs and a growing, reluctant smile on his face. “Very well. I shall accompany you.” His gaze moved to Caroline and warmed.
She reached for his hand again.
This election would not be what either of them had hoped, but she took solace in the fact that she had him, at least, for Frederick Yorke was something beyond even her dreams.