Chapter Four
I f one thing cowed Caroline it was her stepsister’s single eyebrow, raised almost to her hairline.
“Do not give me that look, Chloe.”
“Hm.” Chloe picked her way around a grave, wandering away from the Siswell chapel where Caroline was soon to be married.
“Nor that sound. And do not roll your eyes!”
Chloe scowled up at the chapel. Her thick black brows settled low over thickly lashed brown eyes grown speculative.
Her tightly coiled black hair had been pulled up in the back and fell in ringlets about her face.
“Back here , after all this time. Your father would love this. You and Felix marrying. Old Siswell is glowing. You’ve added a decade to his life by agreeing to marry his grandson.
It’s good to see Siswell happy. He was so despondent at Papa’s funeral. ”
They’d all been despondent at her father’s funeral. He’d been a good man, a passionate man, determined to improve the world one cause at a time. “Papa would want us to do this.”
Chloe huffed. “If he were alive now, he’d say he wants you happy.” She ran a fingertip across the top of a lichen-stained tombstone. “You are not required to marry for our scheme. Buy a house. Your father left you the funds. He left me funds, too. We are heiresses, and—”
“I paid the Black Widow less for her services than what I could buy a house for. And every pence we save prolongs our scheme. You know we’ll need it.
It’s an expensive enterprise. Besides, a married woman garners more respect.
Everyone thinks every decision she makes comes from her husband’s superior brain.
They do not question her because it would be questioning him.
” And she was terribly tired of being questioned.
Her body might be small, but her intellect was not.
Most days. She hoped. Shaking off cursed doubt, she said, “Additionally, a woman living in her husband’s house attracts less attention than a woman buying her own house.
People would talk. That is the last thing we want them to do. ”
A house, abandoned, forgotten, outside of London, where they could bring women in need of help, in need of escape.
A haven where abandoned and abused women could redefine themselves outside of the roles that chained them—daughter, wife, mother.
Not bad roles in and of themselves, but with no power to choose when and how they took on those roles… oppressive. Destructive.
Chloe’s attention locked onto the tall figure of a man waiting outside the chapel entrance. Her husband Garrett, a handsome man with adoration in his eyes who even now could not let his wife out of his sight.
Chloe sighed, picked her way around a low tombstone, and wrapped Caroline in a hug. “Is this truly what you want? It’s Felix . He’s too opposite you. What will you do with a man who always acts on impulse?
“Ignore him, as he will ignore me.” When she’d first met Felix, he’d been pale and thin and sickly, and she’d told him stories to help him pass the time he had to spend laying and sitting.
Her father had told her he’d lost his parents, though she’d never been told how.
And even after he’d become a strong, healthy young man, she’d not felt like she could ask.
He’d likely not have wished to speak of it if she had asked.
Too busy using that newly healthy body to do foolish things.
He’d jumped into a field with a bull once, taunted it, let it chase him before jumping back over the fence.
Nodcock.
Caroline hugged Chloe tightly back then marched toward the chapel. “It’s just Felix. He does not scare me.”
“ Just Felix will have more interest in you than another husband. Because he knows you.”
“He has no interest in me at all. In fact, marrying him is better than any other outcome. He will not pressure me for children.” A man who did not want heirs had been one of her requirements, but she’d worried.
Men with excess houses usually possessed titles, and titled men usually required heirs, even if they said they did not want them.
But Felix… “He’d rather cut off his hand than use it to touch me.
” No matter his teasing about her breasts. “Now. He is waiting. Shall we go?”
“Stubborn as a mule.”
“So they tell me.”
With a grumble, Chloe hooked her arm through Caroline’s, and they joined Garrett in front of the church. He escorted her in. Then with a kiss to Caroline’s cheek, Chloe joined the few guests gathered in the pews.
“Are you ready?” Garrett asked. His brown eyes were gentle, soft. He only needed three words to actually say, Your sister and I will help you run if that’s what you want.
Caroline patted his hand. “I’m ready.” She straightened her shoulders as Garrett led her down the aisle to the man waiting there.
When she reached Felix’s side, and Garret joined Chloe on a nearby pew, Caroline studied Felix’s profile.
He’d shaved, and he was not looking at her.
Stoutly not looking at her. His jaw seemed to pulse with the effort of not looking at her.
She nudged him in the ribs. “I wondered if you’d show up.”
“I do not go back on my word.” He spoke without looking at her. Each word seemed to produce a tic in his jaw.
True, he’d not gone back on his word. But he’d also disappeared for the three weeks while the wedding was being planned.
The ceremony passed without incident, and if her heart sped up when he said his vows, if it raced when he took her bare hand and slipped a ring on her finger, what did it matter?
It was the racing heart of a woman close to the goal she’d been working toward for years.
The impossible dream was so very near, thanks to… her husband .
As he escorted her outside and up into a waiting carriage decorated with white blooms, she couldn’t calm her heart. He settled into the seat across from her, his hard jaw still tic, tic, ticking. Boom. He’d soon explode.
“My darlings.” The Earl of Siswell wrapped both hands around the top edge of the carriage. His white hair was hidden beneath his hat, but not his grin. That stretched as wide as the sea and happy as the sun. “You have made me happier than I’ve dreamed of being.”
Felix’s face softened. “Grandfather. I’m glad. I thought marrying Caro might make you happy.”
Caroline patted the old earl’s hand. “I am pleased to please you, my lord.”
“None of that!” Siswell held her hand tightly within both of his. “You call me Grandfather , just like Felix. I’ll accept nothing else.”
“Of course.”
The old man stepped back and grinned, shaking his head, his eyes misty. “I’ll have to send Palmerson a gift for crying off. And something to show my appreciation to the Black Widow as well.”
Felix met Caroline’s gaze. The same wheels working in her head were working in his, and she saw the moment he realized they’d been set up. They returned their attention to his grandfather. The old man’s grin widened.
“You did not meddle, did you?” Felix inspected his cuff, likely not as calm as he appeared.
He was different from how she remembered him that last summer they’d spent at Siswell Abbey together, both on the cusp of adulthood.
He’d been wild then, striking out at life as if he hoped to hurt it.
Control ruled him now. If he’d retained any passion, he hid it well.
“Of course he did,” Caroline said, everything clicking together with ease. “You old busy body!” The man could have ruined her plan! But she could hold no ill will when everything had worked out well after all.
Grandfather snorted. “You’ll thank me one day.
Now off you go! See you at the abbey soon.
” He gestured to the coachman, and the carriage lurched forward.
Caught off guard, Caroline lurched forward, too, landing with her palms flat on the cushion of the bench opposite her.
And on either side of her new husband’s fawn-encased thighs.
Thick thighs. Her nose butted against his chest. A hard chest. And when she inhaled a sharp gasp, she inhaled him , too—soap and cologne with the bite of something citrus, something she remembered from summer days of grass and sun and him .
“Lovely,” she whispered.
“ Erm , Caro… planning to stay there the entire ride?”
She blinked up at Felix, past his snowy cravat and diamond pin blinking in the sunlight, past his chiseled jaw and firm, pink lips, and into the blue oceans of his eyes where annoyance flashed like lightning.
“Can’t be comfortable.”
She jerked backward and away from him, bouncing back into her seat. “Apologies. Not my fault.”
He waved away her concern.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“I spent the last three weeks walking through the Lake District.”
Her mouth dropped open. She’d have to search the carriage floor for her jaw. “All three weeks? Why?”
He shrugged. “I wished to be alone.”
“Did you have a plan? A route?”
“No and no. It’s less… challenging with those things.”
“You planned out which inns you were to stay at, of course.”
“Not at all. I took no money. I slept out of doors.”
Good heavens. She’d married the very personification of chaos. “But… but…” She was sputtering, so she closed her mouth, licked her lips, and took a few steadying breaths before speaking again. “What did you do for food?”
“I worked for it when I needed it. I was on foot, and the inns do not approve of foot travelers. It’s easier to avoid them altogether.”
“Easier. Ha. Excellent joke.”
He did not laugh.
“You could have died ,” she said.
“That was the point.”
Once more, her jaw met the floor, and this time she didn’t bother to pick it back up. “You would rather die than marry me?”
He peered at the sky. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“It does not matter.” He rested an elbow on the edge of the open carriage. “Did I ever give you my condolences? For your father?”
He was changing the subject, and not gracefully. “No, you did not.”