Again and Again

of birth dates bringing a contentious matter to mind.

The front door opened and a butler came hurrying out, curtailing Simon’s disconcerting thoughts.

As the elderly man approached them, his expression took on a note of concern. “Is the lady ill, my lord?”

Simon had been wondering as much himself, both Caroline’s silence and compliance unusual.

“She’s fatigued,” he said, hoping Caroline wouldn’t say something outrageous.

“I am tired,” Caroline remarked. While she had no scruples about venting her spleen on Simon, she didn’t wish to embarrass the old butler.

“Why don’t we get you inside where it’s warm?” Simon offered, moving toward the door. “By the way, I’m Hargreave,” Simon added, turning to the butler who was keeping pace.

“So we assumed, my lord. I’m Eaton, Your Grace, and this is my wife, Mrs. Hopper,” he added, beckoning to a woman who was hanging back at the entrance. “She’s been housekeeper to Viscount Manley for some twenty-odd years.”

Stopping just short of the door, Simon smiled at the plump woman bobbing a curtsy. “I’m hoping you can serve me as well. I presume the staff is still all in place.”

“Yes, sir.” The undercurrent of trepidation disappeared from Eaton’s voice.

“Good. Excellent. Well, then.” Simon smiled again, the relief on his butler’s and housekeeper’s faces revealing. He should have had Gore assure them of their positions long ago, he reflected with a small twinge of guilt.

“Yes, sir, this way, sir. Everything that you wished for has been done. If you’ll follow me.”

Caroline felt de trop and overlooked, like part of the baggage. If she resisted, she would only make an awkward situation more awkward. The servants didn’t know them. Apparently, Simon had never been here before. Nor were they likely to help her; she too had seen their expressions of relief when Simon had told them they could stay on. No doubt they’d spent a lifetime on the estate.

And if anyone understood the uncertainty of employment, she surely did.

But was she required to marry their master because she didn’t wish to put them in a position that might endanger their livelihoods? Or more realistically, would anything she did have any bearing on Simon’s attitude toward his staff or their marriage?

The answer, of course, was unpalatable.

And nonplussed, she wondered what her next move might be.

“Will you behave?” Simon whispered as they crossed the threshold.

“Do I have a choice?” she whispered back.

“Good girl.” He set her on her feet as though it had been his intention from the start

“We’ll see about that,” she said under her breath. “I’m hungry,” she announced, in a carrying voice.

Simon cast her a suspicious look, but only met a bland smile.

“What would you like, my dear?” His voice was smooth as silk, but his gaze was wary.

“Cake,” she said. “And tea to start with.”

Her implication that there might be some mysterious more to follow, added to Simon’s unease. “We’ll have tea in my apartments.” Perhaps a defendable position wouldn’t be out of order. “And brandy for myself.”

“Yes, sir, this way.” Bowing to Simon and Caroline, the butler led them to the stairway.

The rooms in the master’s apartment were large, a fire lit in each chamber, the furniture new and fashionable- perhaps one of the reasons besides gambling that Viscount Manley had decimated his fortune. Eaton showed them through the suite, shut all the drapes and with a courteous bow, left them to go and fetch Caroline’s tea.

Walking to where Caroline stood in the middle of the sitting room, his cape so long on her it dragged on the floor, Simon unwrapped the layers of black wool and lifted it from her shoulders. Then he lightly touched her cheek with the back of one finger. “You look tired.”

“After twelve nights of parties, I have a right to be.” It was a deliberate remark, meant to provoke.

He tossed his cape on a chair before replying, needing the moment of delay to curb his temper. “Perhaps I won’t be as demanding as your opera-loving beau.” His eyes had turned cool. “Does he like to fuck all night?”

She realized she’d made a mistake when he looked at her like that “I wouldn’t know,” she said, aware retreat was called for. “He only kissed me once.”

“You expect me to believe that? Maybe when you were thirteen or fourteen I might.” His drawl was pronounced. “But we both know you were a precocious little girl after that, don’t we?”

“Not as precocious as you,” she snapped, taking exception to his remark when it had been he who had prompted her precociousness. “Was it your nanny or governess? I forget.”

“Both.” He smiled. “Which makes me doubly suspicious of governesses.” Reaching out, he gently stroked her throat. “I’m going to have to keep my eye on you after we’re married.” His long fingers slowly circled her neck. “Knowing you as well as I do,” he added in a whisper before releasing his light hold. He plucked at the azure velvet of her sleeve. “I brought you something to replace this,” he said in a normal tone of voice, as though he’d not just given her warning. “I hope you like your wedding gown.”

“And I hope you have some plan other than coercing me into marriage,” she replied tartly, having been his playmate for so many childhood years, she was the last person he could intimidate.

A hint of a smile played across his mouth. “Sorry. That’s my only plan.”

“You’re completely, bloody mad, of course. I don’t suppose you’ve once considered how grossly unfair this dragooning of yours is? Not just to me, but think how it will look to the outside world.”

He didn’t care about fairness although there was no graceful way to say that “Come, Caro, is it so awful?” he asked instead, his tone cajoling, since he understood her objections even if he chose to overlook them. “You can have your freedom. You know I’m not an ogre. I missed you, that’s all.” The degree and scope of that deprivation indeterminate and highly problematic.

“And what of your freedom? Tell me about that.” Her words were barbed.

He searched for a mollifying answer, not sure the truth would serve. But in the end he chose candor. “I’ll try to be faithful. Will you settle for that?”

“Why do I have to settle for anything?” she asked bitterly.

Because he had all the power, he wished to say. “Because I found I was miserable without you and I’d rather not lie and say I’ll be faithful forever. But I’ll really try.”

“That’s not good enough.”

His brows rose. “Do you think you have a choice?”

“Do you think you can lock me up forever?”

He grimaced. “Jesus, Caro. You’re asking a lot. No men I know are faithful.”

“Then you should marry someone like their wives who are willing to sell their souls and honor for a wedding ring and a title! I’m not for sale!”

He abruptly turned and walked away, passing from the sitting room through the dressing room into the bedroom where he dropped into a sprawl on the bed. Staring up into the pleated silk of the canopy, he debated how best to reconcile his wishes and hers and whether he even wanted to compromise on so ridiculous a point. Men of his class were rarely faithful; he actually didn’t know any who were.

But the word, rarely, refused to be dislodged from his brain and he was forced to confront the uncompromising reality that some men were faithful. He’d heard of men who loved their wives to distraction, although those husbands had not been the standards of conduct among his friends. Could he deal with the possibility that he might become such an anomaly?

And how much did it matter if he were?

He heard her footfall and waited, still not certain what he’d choose to do. Although marry her, he would. With or without force.

She came to a stop in the bedroom doorway; he could hear her breathing. Her perfume drifted into his nostrils, but he still didn’t move, his gaze unfocused on the canopy overhead.

“Whoever wins two out of three hands has their way? What do you think of that?” She was feeling lucky with that piquant flush of excitement she’d known since childhood. She was going to win.

He turned his head and looked at her. She was smiling and she wasn’t objecting to the marriage anymore, only the manner of it.

“My cards,” he said.

“A new deck,” she countered.

He sat up and grinned. “Done.”