“And. . . ?” she asked.
“It has nothing to do with you. He’s not engaged to her. He’s not marrying her. He’s marrying you. You will be his bride and bear him his lawful children. You will have the respect and esteem that comes from being Mrs. Gregory Grey. Mrs. Starling will never receive any boons from Gregory that matter in the slightest.”
Caroline gaped at him, wondering if she’d stumbled into a strange world where up was down and bad was good. “Gregory has committed a hideous indiscretion and moral lapse. Are you claiming I should ignore it? Is that it?”
“Yes. It’s how wives deal with this type of situation, Caroline. They look the other way. They ignore the hurtful wounds that husbands regularly inflict.”
“So. . . I should let him philander with a strumpet and convince myself it’s not happening? What is wrong with you?”
“I’m clarifying how a clever girl thrives in trying circumstances. You’re not the first woman in history who’s faced this dilemma. The trick is to move beyond it, to not allow it to impede your happiness.”
“That just might be the most ridiculous comment you’ve ever uttered in my presence.”
“What option is there for you, Caroline? Your wedding is in four days, and our home is full of guests who’ve traveled here to watch you tie the knot. Honestly, you’re carrying on as if we should call it off!”
“Yes, it’s what I’ve decided. I’m calling off the wedding. You encouraged me to betroth myself when I was much too young to understand the ramifications. I consented to have Gregory as my husband when I shouldn’t have, and now, when I’m almost at the end of this road, I find out he’s not the man I assumed him to be.”
“He’s exactly who he’s always been. You simply weren’t paying attention.”
“He’s in love with someone else!”
She actually shouted the accusation, and they were both stunned by her volume.
In every instance, she was unfailingly polite and mild-mannered, especially to him. From the moment Samson had become head of the family, she’d been grateful to him, but gratitude could only take them so far.
He glared at her as if he’d never previously witnessed such a peculiar creature, then a hardness came into his expression.
“He is not in love with Mrs. Starling. She is a passing fancy, a bit of. . . of. . . fluff to keep him entertained. If he is pursuing this affair you’ve described, I’ve explained your position with regard to it.”
“I will not be shamed like this,” she seethed. “I want her out of this house! Immediately!”
“I’ll see if Gregory can arrange for her to pack her bags and return to the city.”
She threw up her hands. “And then what? She leaves for London, then Gregory and I will blithely march down the aisle—as if she doesn’t exist?”
“Yes, I expect that you and Gregory will walk down the aisle. You will have a poignant ceremony, followed by a delicious breakfast, then two days of celebration afterward. The whole family will rejoice.”
Her fury boiled over. It was the tenor of their relationship that he placated her. He humored her. He would pretend to listen, then ignore her. He was a man, so he thought he was smarter and more important than she was.
To him, she was merely the orphaned daughter of an unruly, unlikable brother. None of her kin had ever had a kind remark to offer about her father, and she was heartily sick of it.
Suddenly, a wave of umbrage bubbled up, and it was so powerful that it scared her. If she opened her mouth, she might flood the world with her rage. She’d swallowed down twenty years of snubs, slights, and affronts to her dignity, and she was finished being so meek and compliant.
How dare he discount the situation! How dare he belittle her objections! How dare he think he could coerce her into the union.
She wouldn’t be pressured! It wasn’t the Middle Ages, and he couldn’t force her. No one could.
In their prior interactions, he’d been able to mollify her with lies and half-truths. He’d coddle and calm her, would talk and talk and talk until he’d begin to sound reasonable, and she’d wind up capitulating to his point of view.
Not this time. Not ever again.
“I won’t do it, Uncle Samson,” she quietly stated. “I won’t marry Gregory.”
“Yes, you will. If I have to drag you to the church bound and gagged, that is what will transpire.”
“No. We’re changing course—today—so I suggest you get used to the idea.” She stood and stared him down like a judge decreeing a sentence. “Will you tell Gregory or shall I?”
“We are not telling Gregory this ludicrous news. We are not calling off the wedding.”
“I’ll be delighted to inform him myself, but you will have to confer with Mrs. Starling for me. I don’t believe I should have to converse with that doxy ever again. I demand that she vacate the premises first thing in the morning.”
She whipped away and stormed out.
“Caroline!” he bellowed. “Stop right there!”
She kept on without pausing or glancing back.
Caleb was in his dressing room, debating over what clothes to wear down to supper, when the door in the outer sitting room opened and closed. He was attired in only his trousers. He’d just washed, so his hair was damp, and he had a towel draped over his shoulders.
He was a tad anxious over who’d blundered in. It wasn’t a servant; a servant would have knocked. It wasn’t his brother; Blake would have hollered to announce himself.
Whoever had entered, the person was standing very still, and the stealth had him suspecting it was a female who shouldn’t have snuck in. Gad, but he hoped it wasn’t another guest. He couldn’t bear to endure the awkwardness of rejecting a romantic overture.
He tiptoed out and, somewhat nervously, peeked into the sitting room.
“Caro. . . ?” he said when he saw who’d arrived.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Thank goodness.”
With no more words
