18. Caroline

18

Caroline

C aroline rested her hands on the railings at the ship’s bow. The wind dusted her cheeks with a rosy glow, taking possession of the few curls of hair that had escaped the confines of her neat coiffure. A coastline sat on the horizon, rugged and fair and green.

Home .

Hands slid over hers, larger and stronger. Hands that had caressed every part of her until she cried out for more. Hands that had cradled her as she writhed in agonising pleasure. Hands that swept over her skin whilst she slept, chasing away her worries.

But the sight of that coastline meant that their days of endless satiety were at an end.

“What happens now?” she whispered, her words carried away by the wind.

David’s broad shoulders engulfed her own, bolstering her courage. “What do you want to happen now?”

His voice by her ear was an endless comfort, as was the warmth he provided.

Part of her knew where she had to go—what she had to do —but the coward in her desperately tried to steer her off course. “I…” The coward won. “I want an annulment. ”

“We’ll need to go to London to speak to Harry. I’ll ensure it’s in his best interest to agree to it. Then we’ll go to my solicitors’ office together. I’m not sure how long the process will take, but I’ll expedite it to the best of my ability—and my finances.”

She pressed back against him, almost afraid to ask. “And…after that?”

The sharp expanding of his chest might have been an amused huff, but she didn’t have a chance to work it out before his lips met her neck, his tongue laving warmth beneath her ear. “What do you want me to say?” His teeth nipped at her. “That I want you? That I’ll take you any way I can have you?”

She sighed as his arms locked around her.

“You know how I feel about you, but the choice isn’t mine to make, Starling. It’s yours.”

He gave her enough room to spin round to face him, her hands cupping his stubbled cheeks. Did she know how he felt about her? Her childhood had her doubting many things—herself most of all. She swallowed, her voice coming out as a gush of breath. “Remind me how you feel about me again.”

David’s smirk was a roguish curve across his jaw. “I was always envious of Sian, did you know that?”

She shook her head.

“Not because of where she lives or the life she’s carved out for herself there, but she was barely 20 when she met Roscoe. The two of them come from different worlds, and yet the love between them burns so brightly that at times it’s almost blinding.”

The mention of love had her heart pounding against her rib cage. “They seem very happy together. ”

“They are,” he confirmed, his vast hands spanning the curve of her waist. “And for a long, long time I was envious. Envious of their happiness. They share something that I have always coveted: a great love.”

“Oh?” she murmured, the beating almost drowning out her thoughts.

His thumb drew circles beneath her chin. “I admit I never expected her to be hand-delivered at three o’clock in the morning, wearing someone else’s nightgown.”

A laugh burst from her before she could stop it—followed almost immediately by a sniffle. “ David. ”

“I am yours, Starling.” He lowered his lips to meet hers, caressing her until he teased a sigh from her chest. “As you are mine.”

She nodded, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked. He loved her. Happiness warmed her like a honeyed tea on a cold winter’s morning, soothing every wound her parents had ever made. “Yours.”

“Then London it is.” David glanced over her head towards the shoreline. “I’ll send a telegram to my solicitors when we arrive in Southampton. We’ll catch the fast train to London after that.”

Freedom .

How soon could the marriage be annulled? Would it be a months-long process, jumping through hoops like a circus lion? Or would it be simple? An annulment was surely easier to obtain than a divorce.

Her conscience tapped on the inside of her skull, eager to be let out. They were in Hampshire, after all. Or they would be when they docked. Scarlett Castle was an hour away.

The place she’d called home for the past five years. The place she’d fled from all those months ago.

Emmeline didn’t deserve that.

If now was the time to right her wrongs, then surely Emmeline was the first person she should be consulting .

Caroline quietened that small, cowardly part of herself; the part that her mother had created. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop first? I owe someone an apology.”

The sight of Scarlett Castle’s towers peeping over the horizon filled her with dread.

She hadn’t called ahead. No one knew she was coming. There was no way to know what kind of reception she’d receive. Emmeline didn’t seem like the type to slap her and throw her out, but then Caroline had never run away in the night before.

Her stomach was every bit as nervous as she was, cramping and writhing like an eel dropped in boiling water. Caroline pressed her hand to her lips, just in case her breakfast decided to make a reappearance.

Ignorant of her nerves, the cab driver trundled along the long driveway without a care in the world. The gravel crunched beneath the wheels, the sunlight dappled by the gargantuan cedar trees lining the approach to the castle.

David squeezed her hand, a moment’s distraction from her fretting. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.”

Not trusting herself to open her mouth, she let the bumpy ride persuade her into a nod.

The heavy iron front doors had been thrown open, allowing the warmth of the summer air to breeze into the castle—but movement on the lawn snapped her head to the side .

Jake, the family’s Border Collie, was running parallel to the car, his tongue flailing out of his mouth and his ears flattened. He easily kept up with their pace, eager to beat them to the castle’s doors.

Caroline knew Jake wouldn’t come onto the driveway itself, but it wasn’t him she was worried about.

It was the family clustered on the lawn beyond.

Emmeline and Michael were strewn near a tartan picnic blanket on the pristine lawn, their family clustered around them. She could tell most of them at a glance—the eldest girls, Josephine and Dora, swooping through the air on the garden swings, with Emmeline’s mother-in-law Mary pushing them. The twins, William and Dougie, were doing their best to keep up with Jake. She sucked in a breath at a development that had occurred whilst she’d been gone; Vincent, the youngest member of the family, was walking , his stubby feet churning through the grass, with Michael guiding him.

She didn’t, however, recognise the figure sitting beside Emmeline, other than that it was a man. Could it be Michael’s cousin George? It didn’t look like George, though. And the last she’d heard, he was up in The Fens after his older half-brother, the Earl of Loughborough, fell ill.

What was one more person to witness her dressing down?

The tyres skidded to a noisy halt on the gravel. The driver was prompt in getting out to open the door for her, offering a hand in assistance. Was it too late to change her mind? Now that she was all but a few yards away from everyone, terror shook her about like a ragdoll.

“Whatever happens,” David’s low murmur eased her like hot water over aching muscles, “I’ll be here for you.”

With that security behind her, she pushed off the seat and took the driver’s hand .

Jake was there before she’d even straightened up properly. Had he recognised her that quickly? He was a well-mannered dog, always giving guests a respectable berth unless invited. With his family, however, he offered no such reticence.

His ears pinned back with happiness, Jake’s feverishly happy whines at seeing her were enough to set her off. His bushy tail thrashed around, its white tip flailing from left to right.

Caroline clutched him close, ignoring the sharp pain of the gravel digging into her bare knees. Hidden behind the car, she peppered kisses onto his head, realising how much she had missed those soulful brown eyes.

A sharp whistle had his ears pricking up—Michael’s. Jake turned, darting back round the car towards the lawn, his feet throwing up tiny pebbles in their wake.

“Can I help you?” Michael’s voice came, a few moments before his footsteps reached the gravel.

Hidden behind the car, Caroline had left David standing alone, facing down the family she had abandoned. She rose, unearthing the gravel that had become embedded in her knee.

Michael’s uncertain frown disappeared in an instant. “ Caroline. ”

“I’m sorry,” she began tearfully, wincing as his heavy steps clinked across the gravel, consuming the distance between them. “I’m so sor—

“Are you hurt?” His silver eyes never seemed paler than when they blew wide with panic. When she shook her head, he clutched her to his chest in a strong, brotherly embrace. “Christ. We’ve been so worried.”

She felt his voice rattle through her ear. “I’m sorry,” she bleated again. “I should have come back sooner. ”

“Oh my god, Caroline.” A familiar voice rushed towards her, and before Caroline knew it, she was being peeled away from Michael and engulfed in a choking hug by Emmeline. “You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing she could offer them. “I was such a coward.”

“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart.” Emmeline squeezed with all her strength, until Caroline thought she was going to burst. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

“And you’re the husband, are you?” Michael’s voice was a low, biting growl. “The man who convinced a girl half his age to elope on a stormy night.”

She pulled away from Emmeline’s strangling hug. For whatever reason, a small smile curved David’s lips. “Actually,” she began, “this is David.”

Michael blinked at her, the disgust in his expression clearing. “Not the Harry you mentioned in your letter?”

A piece of her wilted slightly. The girl who’d written that letter hadn’t yet had her heart shattered beneath Harry’s boots. “No.”

“Harry is my son.” David’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Although it does me good to see you as displeased by the idea as I was.”

Michael’s frown loosened a tad. “And where is your son? Or does he only meet with impressionable young women in the dead of night?”

“In London, I expect.”

“All this time, and you’ve only been an hour away?” Emmeline took her hand, clutching it like her life depended on it.

“Um, not exactly.” Caroline slid her gaze over to David. “It’s a long story.”

Michael opened his mouth, but Emmeline got there first. She pulled Caroline closer—away from David. “But you are unhurt? In…in any way?”

It didn’t take a genius to interpret the frantic, meaningful look thrown at her. Emmeline had been intimately abused by a man when she was a girl. “I’m unhurt,” she confirmed, saturated in a different kind of guilt altogether. With her history, of course Emmeline would worry for her like that . The risk of such a thing hadn’t even occurred to Caroline. “In any way.”

She may have lain with David, but every second of it had been consensual. Every second of it had been wanted.

At last, Emmeline relaxed, a visible sigh shuddering across her frame. She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “I think there’s quite a few people waiting to say hello.”

Caroline followed her path. Mary, Michael’s mother, had herded the children back to the picnic blanket, clearly doing her best to distract them. For that, Caroline was grateful. It had given her a chance to clear the air with Emmeline and Michael.

The man she hadn’t been able to identify earlier hovered on the edge of the driveway, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. “Alex,” she blurted, doing a double take. From her conversation with Oliver, she knew that her godfather was aware that she had married, but Scarlett Castle was the last place she’d thought to see him. “What are you doing here?”

Gravel crunching beneath his polished Oxfords, Alexander, the 8 th Marquess of Lakenheath, strolled towards them. “I have a meeting in London next week and stopped in for a visit beforehand.” His arms came around her shoulders, his strength sheathed in a protective coating. “And apparently I picked a good time. Thank Christ you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry for causing everyone so much worry.” Caroline blinked up at him, his white forelock standing out in stark contrast against his dark brown hair; a feature inherited from his late mother.

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters.” Emmeline waved over her children, her lips curving as she looked upon her growing brood. “It’s okay, darlings. Come say hello to Caroline. ”

Children descended upon them. Phina and Dora were the first to arrive, then the twins—both as mischievous as the other—before Mary brought over little Vincent.

An hour later, Caroline must have apologised a hundred times over to them all. They had been ushered into the morning room, where Michael’s medals gleamed on the wall, proudly displayed for all to see.

David sat across on the pale blue sofa, bouncing Vincent in his lap with a smile. Had he ever held a baby before? Sian didn’t have children of her own, and he’d never mentioned any cousins. Wherever he’d picked up the skills, he was so good with little Vincent.

Michael sat next to him, the two of them deep in conversation. They had been in the same year at Eton, it turned out—albeit in different boarding houses. Or the same semester, in David’s case, before his father had brought him home.

She didn’t know how she felt about that. Michael had always been an odd mix of father and older brother to her. She’d never desired him, or even considered it. He was too old. Too paternal.

And yet she’d fallen in love with a man his age.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Emmeline standing at the drinks table—presumably refilling her drink. Discomfort bubbled in her stomach like Mrs Kirkpatrick’s raspberry soda water. This was the first chance she’d had to get Emmeline alone.

Intending to tell Emmeline that Oliver was alive was one thing. Actually working up the grit to tell her was another.

Once the secret was out, there was no going back.

Caroline had just taken that first step when Emmeline turned around, her glass fully replenished, to approach her with a warm smile. “I shall have to send Effie a telegram to tell her you’re home. She’ll be made up. ”

“How is she doing at Oxford?” Caroline enquired. “I expected her to be here, with it being the summer holidays.”

“She’s on an expedition—to Madagascar . She promised the children she’ll take lots of photographs though, so that’s going to be exciting to see. Phina told Effie she simply must have a picture of an elephant. Thankfully they’re stopping off on the mainland before heading home, or that could have proved disastrous.”

Doing her best to laugh politely, she summoned her nerve. “Do you mind if we have a word in private?”

All evidence of humour vanished from Emmeline’s face, replaced by wide-eyed uncertainty. “Of course.”

Once they had left the morning room, Caroline had trouble keeping up with Emmeline’s frantic pace. “I’m not hurt,” she promised, but Emmeline hurried her along nonetheless.

“In here,” Emmeline took them into Michael’s office, slamming the heavy door shut behind them and directing them over to the plump scarlet armchairs around the empty grate in the fireplace. Caroline’s skirts hadn’t even touched the fabric before the question barrelled towards her. “You’re pregnant?”

She blinked, recoiling slightly. “No! At…at least I don’t think so. He used protection every time.”

Emmeline’s alarm deflated a little. “I’m glad to know your husband has some sense.”

Caroline tried not to react. Her husband . Because who else would she be sleeping with?

“But he didn’t hurt you? Or force you? Or coerce you?” Emmeline ticked off each one on her hand.

She shook her head. “If anything, he made me wait. For weeks.” Cheeks pinkening, she looked away. “It was…very frustrating. ”

Emmeline’s shout of laughter sliced through the tension clouding the room. “I can imagine. So what did you want to talk about?”

Caroline opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out save for the noise of her throat constricting. It was easy enough to say in her head.

“It’s all right,” Emmeline’s murmur was soft, a gentle comfort she’d so often used with her children. “Whatever it is, we can tackle it together. As a family.”

The first tear fled her cheeks at the final word. Family. Oliver was her family—and so was Emmeline. Caroline was simply caught in the middle, doing her best not to come between them, not to betray either one.

“I mentioned going to New York.” Emotion strangled her voice into a poor imitation of its usual self.

Emmeline’s eyes flicked between hers. “And something happened there?”

Teardrops crowded her jawline like salty stalactites, threatening to drop at any moment. “I was in Central Park on the morning we were supposed to leave…and I heard someone say my name.” Did she think her heart had shattered on her wedding night? It was nothing compared to this. She unstuck her throat. “Oliver is alive.”

Emmeline’s concerned apprehension dissolved into outright shock. “ What? ”

Caroline looked away, tears falling freely. She didn’t want to say it again. She had already lost her brother once. Was she about to lose him for a second time? And worse still, this time she had to be the one to pull the trigger .

“How is he?”

It took her a second to process Emmeline’s question. “He…he looks healthy. I almost didn’t recognise him.”

Emmeline stood, the pleats in her skirts swaying as she walked over to the office window, dodging a large toybox to the side of Michael’s desk. She pulled her arms around herself, worrying her lip beneath her teeth. A long, terse silence passed, before Emmeline finally broke it. “Do you remember much of your father?”

“Not…not much.” Caroline was taken aback by the abrupt topic change. “I was only 11 when he died.”

For whatever reason, Emmeline smiled at that, but there was no humour in it. She swallowed, wiping away a tear. “Fate may have favoured you there. I was 12 when your father first visited me in the night. Did you know that?”

Caroline shook her head. They’d only discussed Emmeline’s abuse once before, but there had been no mention of age. Now she had experienced intimacy to its fullest, her father’s crimes sickened her all over again. “I never realised you were so young.”

“At the time, I thought I was the only one being abused.” She shook her head, her profile silhouetted against the low sun. “But the older I get, the more I realise just how insidious our upbringing was. Your father was always so hard on Oliver. Every memory I have of the two of them together is tainted by your father hitting or humiliating Oliver for his perceived slights. His perceived weaknesses. He would arrange situations just to watch Oliver fail in them, like taking him high up in the hills to try and cure his fear of heights—and then punish him when it inevitably failed.”

“I remember him taking us up Blackpool Tower,” Caroline admitted. The memory was hazy, but her father’s anger was clearly visible. As it always was.

Emmeline nodded. “He set Oliver up to fail that day, as he did every day.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at the closed door. “Does anyone else know that Oliver is alive? ”

“Only David.”

Emmeline retook her seat in the armchair, leaning forward to take Caroline’s hands. “Then let’s not speak of it again. Michael would think otherwise, but you and I know that growing up with your father was punishment enough. We all deserve a chance at happiness, Caroline.”