15. Caroline

15

Caroline

B y sunrise, Caroline accepted it was pointless trying to sleep.

Even if she fell asleep now, the amount of rest she’d gain wasn’t worth it. She’d be half a corpse for the rest of the day if she had to drag herself out of bed after a meagre ninety minutes. She’d do better staying awake and having an early night on the ship.

Instead, she washed and dressed, ensuring her suitcases were as packed as they were ever going to be. Her bloodstained shoes from last night had been enthusiastically exchanged for her comfiest pumps, the leather supple and soft and the heels almost non-existent.

The staff were rather surprised to see her up and about—and there was no breakfast to be found, unless she wanted to eat last night’s leftover hors d'oeuvres.

“No matter.” She smiled. “I haven’t yet had a chance to visit the bakery Sian speaks so highly of.” It was apparently only a block away. Caroline didn’t know what a block was, but it couldn’t be that far. “I think a croissant on Bethesda Terrace is just the thing after the cocktail party. Would you mind, um, pointing me in the right direction?” She knew where the latter was, but not the former.

In the end, Sian’s maid Helena agreed to accompany her.

And so nine o’clock found her sitting on a stone balustrade in Central Park, lazily watching the flow of the fountain and the rowboats gently drifting in the lake beyond. The early morning sunshine was a warm companion, but Helena sat near the fountain below with her nose in a book and an apple turnover in her hand.

Once her croissant was finished, Caroline bit her lip, her thoughts swirling and her neck prickling under Helena’s gaze.

She was getting a divorce. Her mother would have fainted.

Part of her did feel guilty. She’d never imagined she’d be the sort of woman to stray from the marital bed, but then she also hadn’t ever visited the marital bed.

It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t told her to go out and do as she pleased. She very much doubted that he felt this kind of turmoil on their wedding night, or any of the nights since.

Divorce would come as a relief, but intimacy had been a shock.

David.

It wasn’t like Emmeline hadn’t warned her. Sex is consuming , she’d said, and so very, very wonderful . And last night hadn’t even been sex! It was…sex adjacent.

Caroline clenched her thighs together. Whatever it was, she had liked it a lot.

Would he expect her to return the favour? Emmeline had explained all about that as well—most notably how she should never feel forced to do it. But the urge to take David into her mouth to give him pleasure lit a fire in her veins. She remembered the sheer size of the length in his trousers. Was the whole thing supposed to go in her mouth? Would she not choke? What was she supposed to do if it went off ?

Caroline had so many questions, and the only person she felt comfortable asking was half a world awa—

“Caroline. ”

She spun around so quickly she was in danger of toppling over. That voice . She knew that voice.

And yet the man who had spoken didn’t match the picture in her memory. Instead of being monstrously thin, he stood proudly, broad and strong and healthy . No longer did his clothes threaten to drown him; they were meticulously, expensively tailored to suit his powerful frame. Even his face was different. Rather than being dominated by his slicing cheekbones and haunted eyes, it was graced by an affectionate smile.

Something that she had so rarely seen, even when they were children.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She found herself on her feet, clutching her hand to her breast. In a burnt-out gamekeeper’s shelter an hour from Scarlett Castle.

Oliver’s smile didn’t falter at the news of his death. “So I hear.”

Tears stung her eyes as she ran to him, throwing her arms around her brother’s neck. He caught her with such ease, it only made her sob harder. The last time he’d been able to do this was when they were young, before he’d been diagnosed with the death sentence that was diabetes. She pulled back, clutching his face in her trembling hands. “How are you alive?”

“Insulin.” He shrugged. As if that explained everything.

His response set off a chain reaction of incredulity that quickly morphed into anger, sending her hand flying into a stinging slap. “ Five years. You let me believe you were dead for five fucki—”

“It was safer to disappear than to try and contact you, Caroline.”

She stilled, her voice turning deathly quiet. The last day she’d seen him was branded into her mind. A day she had revisited hundreds of times in her memory, wondering if there was anything she could have done to stop it—to stop Oliver shooting Emmeline as revenge for Emmeline taking their father’s life. “And why is that? ”

Oliver’s lips twisted into a knot of sorrow. “Because I made a choice I will regret until the day I die.”

Despite her anger, tears slipped down her cheeks at the thought of what could have happened. It had been pure luck that Emmeline survived—although even Emmeline said that Oliver had been lowering the gun when it went off. “She was pregnant whe—”

“Lady Caroline?” Helena’s concerned voice sounded as though it was a thousand miles away, her book and half-eaten apple turnover abandoned next to the fountain. She gave Oliver a worried, mistrustful glance. “Perhaps we should be getting back.”

Caroline shook her head. “It’s okay, Helena. This is my…friend.” The words gritted through her teeth. If it somehow got back to Emmeline’s husband Michael that Oliver was alive and well, he was as good as dead. Her conscience battled against itself, debating over where her loyalties lie—with Oliver or with Emmeline. Which branch of her family would she betray? “He won’t hurt me.”

But he had pulled her into his web of lies.

Now she knew he was alive, didn’t she have a duty to tell Michael? Oliver had very nearly killed Emmeline and the twin boys she was unknowingly carrying. Emmeline and Michael had given Caroline a home. A family. Even after Caroline’s own brother had nearly taken everything from them.

Yet telling Michael that Oliver was alive would be as good as signing Oliver’s death warrant.

And outside of Emmeline and her family, Caroline had nothing.

“Are you sure?” Helena touched her shoulder, her brow still furrowed. “I could always fetch someone for you.”

There was no mistaking who she meant .

The thought of David gave her the clarity she needed. She wasn’t alone anymore. She wasn’t the lonely, terrified girl that turned up on Scarlett Castle’s doorstep after her mother died.

Because now she had David.

“I’m sure, Helena. I apologise for disrupting your morning so much. My friend and I need to discuss the ramifications of his actions,” she bit out, staring daggers at Oliver. And she had more shouting to do.

And was that nail polish on one of his thumbnails?

Oliver waited until Helena had descended the stairs leading down to the fountain before speaking. “There is nothing I can do to undo what I did. Yes, I went to her bedroom. Yes, I had a gun. Yes, I intended to kill her. I was driven by rage and resentment—diabetes was killing me, and I wanted to avenge Father’s death before my own. But when it came down to it…I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. The shot was accidental.” Glassy-eyed, he looked away.

His words lined up with Emmeline’s memory. It came as a relief to know he hadn’t gunned Emmeline down in cold blood, but Caroline just shook her head. She was so incensed it was difficult not to strangle him.

“You left me,” she whispered, her voice shaking with rage and grief both. She wanted to shout, but to her mortification, her tears weakened her voice. “Mother had just died. Emmeline hated me because I reminded her of Father. You were all I had , Oliver. I was 16, and you were all I had in the world. And I still wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

Oliver’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“I can’t forgive you,” she realised aloud. “You tried to avenge a sadistic monster. Emmeline gave him a far quicker death than he deserved.”

“I know that now,” he vowed, sincerity and regret tracking heavy lines across his brow. “Before I came here, I returned to Holyhead—if only briefly.” Was that a hint of sadness in his gaze? “The things Father did, the harm he inflicted…”

She didn’t want to imagine. Learning what Father had done to Emmeline was bad enough.

His mouth opened and closed as he hesitated. “I— we have a sister.”

Caroline stepped backwards, bumping into a stone column. “ What? ”

Oliver scooped up the pocket watch hanging off his jacket, clicking it open and holding it towards her.

She drew nearer, bringing it closer to her face. A photograph of a young girl was displayed in the inner case cover. She was dressed in far more expensive clothing than Caroline would have expected, but her resemblance to Oliver was uncanny.

“What’s her name?” she croaked.

“Violet.” Oliver turned the pocket watch towards himself, a fond smile curving his face as he gazed at the photograph. “She’s nine. You wouldn’t believe how clever she is. But she’s kind too. Headstrong. Fearless.”

“Does she live around Holyhead?”

“No,” Oliver admitted quietly. “She lives with me. Her and her mother, Hettie, came to New York with me.”

Oh .

“When did you come to New York?”

“We arrived in January 1922.”

A thread of something curled within her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Was it jealousy? She couldn’t be jealous of a nine-year-old girl , could she? Not even that. If Violet was nine now, she would have been five then.

But something about it unsettled her. Oliver had abandoned her, and almost immediately replaced her as a sister.

Or was she reading too much into this ?

Her attention caught onto his clothes; her brain sparked by the fine dress little Violet had been wearing in the photograph. They were as splendid as anything David and his family wore, despite the fact that Caroline and Oliver’s parents left them nothing but debt and unpleasant memories. “What do you do for work?”

Looking around, Oliver came close, his voice a low whisper. “I own the Crypt.”

Realisation almost choked her. The cramped elevator ride. Almost kissing David. Talking about their feelings. Crying in David’s arms. “Were you there that day? Were you listening ?!”

“Yes to the first, no to the second. I have no wish to listen to your private conversations with…I’m presuming your husband?”

Caroline laughed. She couldn’t help it. How could she have been so close to her brother and never realised? Emotions overwhelmed her, dripping down her cheeks in a hot wash. Jealousy. Anger. Abandonment. Tiredness. Rage. Betrayal. Guilt. “Why didn’t you say anything? You just…let me leave.”

“I sent you a drink.” He wiped away her tears, one by one. “I wasn’t sure how well it would go. You have plenty of reasons to be angry at me.” She snorted. “And I didn’t know if your husband was armed.”

“He’s not my husband,” she admitted, half expecting a lecture.

Oliver froze. “Didn’t you get married recently?”

“How do you know that?”

He swept a hand through his dark hair. “Through the grapevine. Hettie, my—Violet’s mother is still friends with one of the tenants on the Lakenheath estate.”

Oh goodness.

The Lakenheath estate bordered the Holyhead estate. Indeed, her mother’s sister had married one of the late Marquesses of Lakenheath, producing her cousin Emmeline. The families had been so close that her godfather, Alexander, was the current Marquess of Lakenheath.

Of course Emmeline would have involved Alex. He would likely have been the first person she’d call, worrying whether Caroline had travelled back up to Edinburgh.

There was that guilt again.

“I’ve been foolish,” Caroline’s confession was a whisper. “And selfish. And unfaithful.”

He frowned, looking so much like Father that it was like going back in time. But Father had never looked so compassionate, and his hands had never been this gentle. Oliver guided them towards the balustrade, taking a seat beside her. “Tell me,” he murmured, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

The last few months came pouring out of her. Caroline was still fuming with him, but once she started explaining, she couldn’t stop. Her courtship with Harry. Her wedding day. Her disastrous wedding night. The utter devastation that the morning afterwards had brought. Harry abandoning her—and David picking her up.

David most of all.

She didn’t realise how many memories she had with David until then. Baseball games and walks into Holyhead, jazz clubs and elevator rides, dancing on the ship and reading in the music room. Every memory made her smile—or blush.

And then there had been last night.

Caroline kept that memory to herself. It was hers .

But Oliver had always known how to read her, and his raised eyebrow told her that she’d told him enough. “Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s good to you? ”

She smiled, a rosy blush unfurling across her high cheekbones. “Very.”

“And you’re completely certain you want to divorce Harry?”

“Of course.” She frowned. Was he about to try and convince her to forgive her husband? Caroline would no more do that than forgive Oliver .

“It is easier to be a widow than a divorcee.” Oliver chose his words carefully. “If you’d like for that to be…arranged.”

Caroline was sure her jaw was in danger of unhinging itself. “No!” she choked, storming to her feet. Even if she despised Harry, he was still David’s son.

He grabbed her hand to stop her. “For god’s sake Caroline, don’t walk awa—”

She dropped her voice to an outraged whisper. “What is wrong with you?! Not every problem in your life needs to be solved by killing someone , Oliver! Or did you not learn that back at Scarlett Castle?”

“What I’ve learnt since Scarlett Castle is that I took you for granted.” Oliver cradled her hands. Was it possible for even his hands to have grown? They’d always been spindly things before, but now they were large and wide enough to smother hers. “You were the person I loved most in all the world, and I abandoned you when you needed me most. I’m sorry for that.”

He could be as sorry as he liked…but it wasn’t going to change anything , was it?

“You should be,” she maintained. “But do not go anywhere near Harry. Don’t try and avenge me as you did Father, because we both know that only leads to grief and regret. Promise me, Oliver. Or I swear to god you’ll wish you were as dead as you pretend to be.”

A warm, unexpected laugh burst from her brother. The kind she used to see when they were children. “I promise I won’t go anywhere near Harry,” he said obediently, sizing her up with a smirk. “Living with Emmeline has brought you out of your shell. ”

“I love her like a sister.” Caroline wouldn’t be the person she was today without Emmeline and her family.

“Then do not feel you have to keep me a secret.” Oliver’s expression was full of remorse. “Because I know you. I know you’re going to agonise over it. Jesus, you probably already are. Tell Emmeline and Michael you saw me here. Tell them I’m alive.”

His words took the weight from her shoulders, but not the guilt from her heart. “What?”

“I’m a big boy, Caroline. I’ve made some colossal mistakes, and I deserve to pay the price for them.” He hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. “Just tell them to leave Violet and Hettie out of it.”

Craning her neck to glance up at him, she nodded.

Oliver slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a wad of business cards and handing one over. “Here.”

She clutched the little black card tightly in her hand. “Your contact details?”

“For help. For money. For advice. For someone to always be in your corner.” Oliver’s smile was so affectionate it hurt. “Now go. Your beau has been waiting for you behind the stone wall for the last few minutes.”

Caroline swivelled around. My beau? But then David appeared, climbing the stairs behind the stone wall until he took the final step onto the terrace. She managed to choke out his name, not knowing how to act around him after their last encounter. He knew her so… intimately now. “What are you doing here?”

“Helena came dashing into the house like a frightened mother hen.” He levelled a glance at Oliver. “Although I can understand now why you slapped him.”

Had he heard Oliver threaten Harry? Or—her heart stopped—had David heard her say she loved him? Caroline could feel the heat surging to her cheeks.

“But we do need to leave,” he told her quietly, his hand brushing against her waist. “The Berengaria is departing in an hour.”

She sucked in a horrified gasp. In all the hubbub, she’d completely forgotten that she had a ship to catch this morning. How long had she sat out here with Oliver? It felt like hours. She rushed to throw her arms around Oliver’s neck, jumping in surprise when he lifted her off the ground.

“Be safe,” her brother told her. “Write to me.”

“I will.” She sniffed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Oliver winked. “I can only try my best.”

David waited until she’d returned to his side, putting her hand in his. He spared her a soft glance before turning to her brother, his expression hardening. “Stay away from my son, Oliver.”