11. David

11

David

“ D avid, darling .” Sian wrapped him in a tight hug, her dulcet tones a familiar blend of Welsh and American. “And this must be Caroline.”

On the steps of Sian’s Fifth Avenue brownstone mansion, Caroline somehow managed to look simultaneously endearing and irresistible.

“And, dear sister, I know you’re going to love her,” David said pointedly, angling his eyebrow.

“That sounded suspiciously like an order.” Sian smirked, kissing Caroline’s cheek. “I hope travelling with my brother wasn’t too awful.”

Caroline’s cheeks flushed as she glanced at him, and David knew exactly what she was thinking of. Fuck, he was never going to live that down. “He was the perfect travelling companion.”

“You’re only saying that because he’s in earshot.” Sian winked, guiding Caroline past David and deep into the bowels of her home. “I love your dress.”

“Thank you—David bought it for me. It was from Madame Sylvestre’s in Holyhead.”

As they passed beneath the chandelier in the entrance hall, Sian looked questioningly over her shoulder at David. “Did he? That was kind of him. I didn’t know he knew the shop existed. ”

Sian led them into one of the drawing rooms at the front of the house. Central Park could be seen through the ornately carved bay window, the full bloom of early spring a smorgasbord of colour in the midday sun.

This room had changed since he’d last been here. Before, the interior design had leaned towards a gold theme, but hues of green had overtaken them. David exhaled as he sat in a smartly-upholstered wingback chair, across from where Sian and Caroline seated themselves on a wide sofa draped in an identical fabric.

“I was surprised to hear of Harry’s marriage,” Sian said mildly, leaning towards a tea set arranged on a gleaming coffee table, its stubby cabriole legs bowing out at all angles. “Tea?”

Caroline sat with her spine as straight as a rod and her hands in her lap. “Yes, please. Two sugars.”

“A woman after my own heart.” She passed Caroline her cup before emptying three sugars into David’s. “Or has it gone up to four sugars nowadays?”

“I’m still at three.” Sometimes he added four.

“Why have I never noticed you heaping that much sugar into your tea before?” Caroline’s brows were creased with humorous disbelief.

“Because I tend to hide things I’m embarrassed of.” His smile was sheepish as their eyes locked. They both knew what he referred to. That night on the ship was easily the most embarrassing event in his life.

He hoped it would remain so, because what could possibly surpass that?

Their look didn’t go unnoticed by his hawk of a sister. “So how come Harry couldn’t make it?”

“He’s busy with work,” David replied swiftly. “Hopefully he’ll be able to come next time. ”

Sian pursed her lips before turning to Caroline. “How have you found living at Castell Du'r Arddu during the honeymoon period? I imagine it’s difficult to find time alone with your new husband.”

“Oh no,” Caroline countered. “The castle is certainly large enough for all of us.”

Sian threw a lazy arm over the sofa’s back, glancing out at Central Park as the clouds cleared. “Well, I’m glad to have another woman in the family. There’s been nothing but testosterone since my mother passed.”

“I saw a photograph of her at Madame Sylvestre’s salon.” Caroline smiled. “She looked very fashionable.”

“She was.” Sian’s response was soft. “But tell me about you. I want to know everything.”

Caroline blanched, resembling a deer finding itself at the end of a stalking rifle. “Um, well I was born at Holyhead. Near Edinburgh, I mean—not the Holyhead near Castell Du'r Arddu. My Holyhead is a castle, not a town.”

David took pity on Caroline’s nervous rambling. “Caroline’s father was a marquess, wasn’t he?”

She nodded gratefully. “The Marquess of Cambury.”

“The Marquess of Cambury ?” Sian’s head snapped to attention. “I see.”

Caroline’s eyes widened, until they were so doe-like it was a struggle not to take her into his embrace. “But I didn’t have that much contact with hi—”

Her voice faded away as Sian stood. “Why don’t the two of you get settled in upstairs? The servants should have brought your luggage up by now.”

The atmosphere had transformed from casual to glacial in the blink of an eye. He knew only too well what would happen if Caroline was left alone in a room to settle in . She’d worry herself into knots.

“Sian.” He took her arm gently, preventing her from leaving. “What’s wrong?”

She waved him away with a look that said later , but—

“Whatever terrible things you’ve heard about my father are probably true.” Caroline’s voice was a strange amalgamation of terrified and determined, drawing him ever closer to her.

David touched her elbow. “Like bullying your brother for his trouble with reading and writing?” In his peripheral vision, he saw Sian give him another questioning look, but his focus remained with Caroline.

“Like sexually assaulting the maids in his house whenever he drank too much port,” Sian countered quietly.

Caroline’s tone was sharp. “The maids and his family both.”

The wind left Sian’s sails just as it fired David’s into life. It took him a moment to digest the meaning of her words, but when he did there was no turning back. “Starling,” he whispered, forgetting Sian entirely. Her angelic blonde curls tumbled around her face, framing those enormous blue eyes. Her hand was held within his, but he had no recollection of taking it. “Do you mea—?”

“I escaped unscathed.” Caroline’s fingers were as soft as her eyes. “My mother always slept in a bedroom connected to mine to ensure he wouldn’t.”

Revulsion churned through him. Judging by Sian’s expression, she wasn’t far behind. The idea that a daughter needed to be protected from her own father was a kind of twisted he’d never even imagined.

Other than her deceased brother Oliver, Caroline had shared little and less of her family. The vague impression he’d formed of Caroline’s mother wasn’t a kind one, but right now he was grateful for her.

At least she’d done her basic, most primal job .

“I’m sorry,” David murmured. A child should never be scared of their own father, nor need to be protected against them. It was only now he was beginning to understand just how fortunate he and Sian had been.

“Where did you hear about my father?” Caroline asked, her chin held high.

Sian looked every bit as deeply uncomfortable as him. “There’s a club I frequent. I believe one of the owners is a servant who was once a maid at the Cambury estate.”

With a sad nod, Caroline grimaced. “She may be interested to know that my father was eventually murdered by one of his victims. Neither myself nor my mother mourned him.”

“I shall pass on the news.”

“Please do.” Caroline nodded, squeezing David’s hand. “I hope it brings her some comfort to know how he met his end.”

A blast of noise from Sian’s telephone made them jump, attracting all the eyes in the room. “Why don’t I take Caroline upstairs to settle in?” he proposed.

Sian nodded, moving towards the ringing. “Good idea. I put you in the Lloyd George and Caroline in the Glynd?r.”

Keen to leave the vicinity of the shrill cacophony, David led Caroline out of the room, passing through the wide wooden entryway and towards the central staircase. “Ladies first.” He finally let go of her hand. “We’re going up to the third floor.”

Ahead of him, Caroline’s hand smoothed over the richly grained walnut banister. “What’s the Glynd?r?” she asked, only slightly mangling the pronunciation.

He swallowed. It was then that he realised the torture his chivalry had wrought. Letting her go first brought her tantalisingly short skirt directly level with his eyes. “Um.” David cleared his throat. He wouldn’t look up her skirt. No matter how much he wanted to. She was his daughter-in-law, and he was not a roué. “Glynd?r was King of Gwynedd. He was also Prince of Wales—the last Prince of Wales actually born there. All of the bedrooms here are named after Welsh figures.”

“With the Lloyd George being after David Lloyd George?”

“Correct,” he told the walnut balustrade, steadfastly refusing to look upwards. “The first Welsh prime minister. Sian and Roscoe’s bedroom, for example, is the Y Seryddwr, named after the astronomer John Jones.”

“Did they not think about calling it the Jones?” Caroline queried.

“Sian’s mother tongue is Welsh, as is mine—this is our floor.” He turned off the stairs, glad to finally be able to look Caroline in the eye again. “I think hearing Welsh spoken in the house reminds her of home. Plus, she thinks it’s amusing to torment her guests.”

Wide-eyed, she lowered her voice. “Please help me say everything properly before she asks me.”

“Always.” He touched his hand to her lower back, guiding her towards where she’d be sleeping. “This is the Glynd?r here. I’ll show you where everything is.”

“You seem to be very protective over Caroline,” Roscoe observed, leaning forward in his seat as he watched Babe Ruth stand up at the bat, readying himself for the oncoming pitch.

Around them sat thousands of fans of the New York Yankees, turning the stadium into a roaring echo chamber of noise and cheers. David couldn’t count himself as a fellow fan, but Roscoe had long since converted Sian into one. The seats they sat in were better than the hard wooden bleachers at least, thank Christ.

The thwack of the bat striking the ball pierced the crowd; a starting gun for the outfields to begin their mad dash to catch it. David had attended enough of these games to have a vague idea of how they went—hitting and catching balls, mostly.

From his point of view, it was similar to cricket.

He didn’t like cricket.

On his last few trips to New York, he’d sat out the baseball games, but he wanted to make an effort with Caroline here—to give her all the experiences he could. Even if it meant sitting through a baseball game.

David fiddled with his little yellow entrance ticket, folding it until it was a shadow of its former self. “Her parents are dead.” Although that’s perhaps for the best . “Her brother is dead. The only other family she has is on the other side of the Atlantic. Someone needs to be protective over her.”

His brother-in-law didn’t take his eye off the game. “I’m sure Harry’s grateful.”

The fabric of his shirt pulled against his shoulders as he exhaled. David was sure of nothing where Harry was concerned. He couldn’t figure out why his son had married Caroline in the first place. And then to leave her at Castell Du'r Arddu?

The game played on before him, but David saw none of it, too preoccupied with the issue that had been foremost on his mind in the two days since they’d arrived—his relationship with Caroline.

The Glynd?r and Lloyd George bedrooms were next to one another, with Sian and Roscoe’s bedroom being on the floor below. It meant that every night, he and Caroline climbed the stairs together, parting at the last second to go into their respective bedrooms .

David needed to finally admit it to himself. This had gone past simple attraction now.

An achingly familiar laugh distracted him from the game he wasn’t paying attention to. His lips curved as he turned to see Caroline and Sian making their way back up the stairs. They hadn’t said where they were going, so he presumed it was to the ladies’ room.

Caroline looked radiant today, wearing a dress of pale blue dotted with yellow flowers that matched her hair. David caught her eye as she approached, their glance laden with the feelings he’d left unsaid.

For a moment—just one moment—he let himself feel them.

All of her secret smiles, the light touches of their hands at the end of the night, the way her eyes would always gravitate to his, the way he’d wait to escort her downstairs in the morning, and, more than anything, the way her expression would brighten when she saw him.

He was falling in love with his son’s wife.

A resounding crack echoed around the stadium as Ruth’s bat connected with the ball, and David was glad for it—because it covered up the noise of his heart breaking.

Caroline took her seat next to him, but he didn’t miss the way Sian’s brow hiked up as she took the one next to Roscoe. Had she noticed the way he was looking at Caroline? He hoped not.

“Are you having fun?” he murmured in Caroline’s ear.

She nodded, leaning in until her blonde curls brushed against him. “It’s certainly jolly well exciting. I can’t believe there’s more people here than there were visiting the Statue of Liberty yesterday.”

“It’s ‘cause Babe is at the bat,” Roscoe interrupted, his accent cutting across their own. “People come for miles just to see him.”

Caroline nodded sagely, but she sent David a little smirk once Roscoe had turned back to the game .

Fuck, how was it fair that Harry simply got to discard her like this?

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself,” he murmured, lowering his voice so Roscoe and Sian wouldn’t hear.

“Of course I’m enjoying myself.” Caroline was similarly quiet, leaning in until her hair tickled his cheek once more. “I’m with you.”