Once they spoke the vows, she would formally bind herself to Grey’s Corner. She loved her home and wanted to stay in it, but bubbling just below the surface, she had her father’s wanderlust.
On occasion, her world was so small that she yearned to scream at the fetters shackling her to it. She yearned to run away and experience the kind of escapades her father had relished. Why, he’d even journeyed to Africa with the notorious explorer, Sir Sidney Sinclair! But it was madness to think she could have a bigger life than what had been provided.
Females weren’t allowed to travel and engage in wild antics, and she’d had plenty of dangerous adventure when her ship had sunk in the Caribbean. She had to remember that there was great solace in the quiet passing of the decades, where there were no huge swings of circumstance.
She was glad she was finally marrying. She was relieved. Wasn’t she?
“I will admit to being the bride-to-be,” she said, “but I won’t admit to blushing. I’m not the blushing type. I’m much too confident and composed.”
“Wonderful. I can’t abide trembling maidens, so I’m sure we’ll get on famously.”
“Since you’ll be at my wedding, I should probably learn a bit about you. How are you acquainted with Gregory?”
Mr. Ralston paused for an eternity, then said, “We’re friends.”
“It took you long enough to select the term to describe your relationship with him.”
“I’m not exactly a friendly person. Gregory and I frequently socialize. Does that make us friends? I’m not certain.”
It was a peculiar reply. Their wedding guests would be neighbors, the larger tenant farmers, and the important merchants in the village. There would be several pews filled with distant cousins and their spouses too. The only attendees who would raise her curiosity in the least would be Gregory’s companions from London.
He’d distributed invitations to his London circle, but Caroline didn’t know any of them. In fact, she had scant notions of how he carried on in the city—except that he spent money like an aristocrat. Considering the fiscal condition of the family when her Grandfather Walter was still with them, it was bizarre to see Gregory with money and to watch him fritter it away with such a reckless abandon.
Grandfather Walter had been exhaustively pious. As a result, he’d eschewed frivolity and ostentation so, under his iron thumb, they might have been monks laboring under vows of poverty. Once he’d died though, her Uncle Samson had quickly proved that he and Gregory didn’t subscribe to his father’s parsimonious ways.
They’d both inherited fortunes from her grandfather, and they were happy to use them so all their lives would be more pleasant. They often scoffed at how her grandfather had been so determined to be miserable. They didn’t intend to be.
She and her cousin, Janet, hadn’t benefited from the inheritances though. Janet had a small trust fund from her maternal grandmother, but no bequests had been delivered to them from their Grandfather Walter. They blundered on fairly much as they always had, although they were now able to buy a new gown or slippers when the mood struck them.
She’d even been permitted to have a dress specially sewn for the wedding. Gregory had sent a modiste from town to take her measurements and show her fabric samples. It was a sweet gesture and one that was surprising from a man as self-centered as Gregory had always been.
Obviously, he wanted them to get off on the right foot. Perhaps he even felt a tad guilty about the lengthy delay between proposal and ceremony, and the gown was his method of telling her that he was delighted to proceed. She had to cease being so negative about every little issue.
“How long have you known Gregory?” she asked.
“A few months.”
“Months? I assumed it would be years. Gregory told me his London guests were his dearest chums.”
“Gregory doesn’t have chums. I met him at a faro parlor that’s run by a good friend of mine.”
She scowled. “Faro is gambling.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Gregory doesn’t gamble.”
Mr. Ralston stared at her with a pitying look that indicated he deemed her a naïve fool.
Was Gregory a gambler? She had no idea. He received quarterly disbursements from his trust fund, and he regularly overspent and had to borrow from the next disbursement. He and Uncle Samson repeatedly argued about it, but she’d figured he wasted his money on ordinary expenses such as food and clothes.
Was he throwing it away in the gambling hells? Excessive wagering was a scourge among a fast crowd in town, with men losing their properties and fortunes. For many, it was like an addiction that couldn’t be controlled.
Was Gregory addicted? Was that it? And if he was, had she the right as his wife to have an opinion about it? Then again, since he would continue to reside in the city and rarely visit Grey’s Corner, did it matter how he carried on?
It wasn’t as if she’d ever have to be confronted by his mischief. If he disgraced himself, why would she care?
A thousand questions flew to the tip of her tongue, and she was anxious to pry into the details about Gregory’s life in London. It seemed Mr. Ralston knew secrets to which she desperately needed to become privy. If she inquired, would he reply candidly?
He realized he’d revealed a fact he shouldn’t have. He pointed down the lane, cutting off her chance to delve into several topics that ought to be addressed.
“Is the house close?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, and I’m preventing you from arriving. Let me show you the way.”
They walked side by side, his horse plodding behind and nudging him in the back as if urging him to hurry.
It should have been a companionable stroll, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by problems she should have
