23. Caroline

23

Caroline

W hen Caroline toed over the line between the entrance hall and the drawing room, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. She’d walked in on an unsuspecting Harry late at night once before, and wasn’t keen to repeat the experience.

But it had to be done.

She’d seen a hint of the periwinkle-and-rose interior on the rare occasions the door was ajar, but nothing more than that. To see it in its entirety was a first for her, but there was no scantily clad Florence on its velvet furnishings or marble-topped coffee table—though god knows it could hold her. In the day, when sunlight streamed through the windows, the drawing room would be positively breathtaking.

Her feet carried her through to the library, where there was a little more sign of life. Letters were stacked on a large desk, but her breath sucked in at the sight of bedding hastily strewn across a sage green camelback sofa. Plump pillows were stacked high at one end. As though someone hadn’t wanted to lie flat on their back.

Pursing her lips to the side, she kept walking. A door to the garden beyond held the answer she’d been looking for. Through the door’s glass panels, movement attracted her attention, like a predator stalking its prey.

Beneath an exterior light, Harry sat on the terrace, reading a curled magazine with a lit cigarette in his hand .

He didn’t look up as the door opened. “What is it, Arrowsmith?” he murmured calmly.

She said nothing.

Harry’s focus left the magazine as he raised the cigarette to his lips—before coughing out a cloud of smoke and clutching his ribs. “Jesus Christ, Caroline,” he wheezed, his expression pained. “Have you come to slap me again?”

“I haven’t yet decided.”

He sent her a dry smile. “Let me know when you do.” Stubbing out his cigarette, he eyed her carefully. “You’re never like this with my father.”

She scoffed. “I actually like your father.”

“Yes,” he drawled, something resembling humour edging into his voice. “I’ve noticed.”

A week ago, Caroline would have tiptoed around the subject. Harry had still been capable of fighting the annulment then; he could have very well been the sole obstruction in her and David’s relationship. But now? The documents were signed. The marriage certificate had been sent over to the solicitors’. All they had to do now was wait until the courts declared it official. Plus, with her discovery of Harry’s first marriage, the power had shifted from his court to hers.

“And what have you noticed?” she said coldly.

“I noticed he already had a visitor when I went to speak to him one night.” He steepled his fingers, a look of faux confusion on his handsome features. “Some very strange noises coming out of his bedroom.”

Oddly, she didn’t feel any guilt. Staring him down, she shrugged. “You don’t seem to be particularly heartbroken over it.”

“No.” He nodded, stringing out the word. Was that a hint of surprise on his face? “And I do suppose it puts us on even footing. But of all the people you could have slept with— my father ? If our marriage was a love match, that would have shredded me to ribbons.”

Caroline crossed her arms. “Oh no,” she replied, her voice too monotone to be genuine, “how will I ever cope?”

Seriousness pinched his brows together. “Are you fucking him because you want to hurt me?”

She stepped forward, until her neat little pumps stood right between his Oxfords. “I’m fucking him,” she snarled, bending down until their faces were an inch apart, “because I love him.”

His gaze assessed her, relieved amusement curling his lips. “I like you like this.”

Standing to her full height, she glared down her nose at him. “The feeling is not mutual.”

Harry gave an easy wave. “I don’t like you like that .” He winced. “Sorry. But, for what it’s worth, it pleases me to see you so confident. It suits you.”

“Was my lack of confidence why you targeted me in the first place?”

For the first time, his features tightened with guilt. “I didn’t target you, pet. The first time we met and I heard that…” His nose creased in a sneer. “That bastard insult you. I never intended to wed you, but my friendship was genuine.”

Him coming to her defence had been genuine, had it? Or so he says. “So what changed?”

Shame clouded his eyes. “Have you ever heard of the Lion’s Den?”

“No.”

“It’s a gaming hell serving only the upper echelons of society,” he explained.

Caroline snorted. “And they let you in?”

“Very funny.” A lopsided grin crossed Harry’s features. “It’s…an excellent place to drown one’s sorrows. ”

Despite how he’d wronged her, compassion stirred in her heart. Even at the start of their friendship, she knew Harry’s grief over his mother’s death ran deep. “How so?”

“The excitement of the place is unrivalled by anything. The spring in my step as I walk in. The scent of cigar smoke and expensive cologne in the air. The bright lights above me. Roulette wheels spinning, croupiers calling out results, the tinkle of ice cubes in drinks, fortunes being lost and won in an instant, the weight of the chips in my hand, even searching for an empty seat to play. The sheer potential of it all is just intoxicating. As long as there’s a chip in my hand, there’s hope in my heart.”

Her lips tightened. She couldn’t say she agreed. “Until you lose.”

Harry regarded her. “I’m sorry for what I put you through. What I took from you. I was so fixated on regaining all I had lost that I failed to consider I was destroying the real human being at the centre of it all.”

Caroline was pleased to hear his apology; he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t recognise the sheer reprehensibility of his actions. He’d led her to David, but that didn’t make the journey any less unpleasant. “I’m not going to forgive you, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he stressed. "In your position, I’d never even consider such a thing. I would hate me to the last.”

She didn’t think she’d go that far—but then she also knew what she came down here to demand of him. “Where is Florence?” There had been no sign of her around Menai House since Caroline had arrived.

“I sent her back to stay at her mother’s once I began to fall behind with payments to my tallyman. Tommy isn’t known for his kindness, and she’s not best pleased with me at the moment anyway.”

Here was her chance. She effected a casual sigh. “She must have been disappointed to spend your second wedding anniversary alone. ”

A brief nod was all the agreement she received before he sucked in a breath and met her gaze—before a wince of pain followed. “How did you…?” Harry trailed off, holding his ribs. “Shit.”

So he was still married to Florence.

Back in Mr Clarke’s office, Caroline had originally thought she had two choices: stay silent or prosecute Harry. On reflection, however, there was a third choice here.

“Shit,” she agreed, her gaze firing down on him from above. “But what are you going to do about it?”

Harry stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray next to him, despite the fact it had been out for several minutes. “Does David know?”

“No, but the solicitor does.”

He nodded, looking out into the darkened garden behind her. A ghost of a breeze shifted the trees around them. “Then I expect I shall be going to prison. As good a place as any to break a gambling habit. But…”

Her eyebrow hitched.

“Let me tell David. He deserves to hear it from me.” He let his head fall back against the chair, exposing his throat. “I have been a poor son, but the least I can do for him is tell him man-to-man.”

It was more than Caroline expected. “A letter should come from the solicitor over the next week. It’ll have confirmation of your bigamy within.”

“Very well.” Harry exhaled. “Let me know when it arrives. I shall tell him then.”