25. Caroline

25

Caroline

C aroline had never thrown a dinner party before.

She’d certainly never thrown a dinner party to simultaneously celebrate an annulment and an engagement, no matter how small it may be. The invitee list was restricted to Emmeline’s family, including her sister-in-law Annabelle and her husband. Alex had also confirmed he’d be attending, in addition to his younger sister Lily. Emmeline’s other sister-in-law—and Caroline’s best friend—Effie, was on her Madagascar expedition, but Caroline hoped she’d make it back in time for the wedding.

Considering she didn’t know where to start with a dinner party, Caroline had roped in some assistance. Given that Scarlett Castle was only an hour away by train, Emmeline had been a regular visitor—and the first to learn of Caroline and David’s upcoming engagement.

Caroline had half expected an inquisition, but her cousin’s reaction had surprised her.

“Oh.” Emmeline’s laugh had been coloured in relief. “I was so worried he wasn’t going to commit once your marriage was officially annulled. But you’re happy?”

She’d nodded. “Very. And…” Caroline chewed over her words. “Harry reported himself to the police. They didn’t hold him, but he should have a court date in a few weeks, apparently. David has managed to keep things out of the newspapers for my sake as much as Harry’s. ”

It had been a relief to know she wasn’t going to be an object of public ridicule—or worse, scorn. Despite the marriage being void, Mr Clarke had pushed through the annulment as intended. “It never hurts to be safe rather than sorry,” he’d told her.

Caroline was grateful for it. The day the official decree of nullity had arrived on the doorstep of Menai House had brought with it a flood of relief.

The proof that she was able to move on to the next chapter in her life.

“You look as nervous as I feel.” Harry sidled up to her, cocking his hip against the column and crossing his arms. His eyes were constantly on the move, but Caroline didn’t blame him for that.

There were several people here who wanted to do him harm.

“I’m surprised you even came,” she replied. “I’m pretty sure both my cousin’s husband and my godfather are waiting for an opportunity to drag you into the shadows.”

Harry sipped his drink casually—an elderberry cordial. “Do point them out to me.”

“My godfather, Lord Lakenheath, is the man over there with the white streak in his hair.”

His brow furrowed. “Does he dye it?”

“No, he’s had it since birth. I believe it’s genetic; his brother and sister both have it as well.” Had their mother had it too? Caroline couldn’t quite remember.

“Strange,” Harry mused. “And your cousin’s husband?”

“Lord Foxcotte. One of the tall men near the door talking to your father—the one without a kilt.”

“And the one with the kilt?”

“My cousin’s sister-in-law’s husband, Lord Aylesbourne.”

Harry shook his head. “Strewth, that’s a mouthful. ”

A footman came over to them, and Caroline accepted the drink she’d requested—the Bee’s Knees cocktail she’d discovered in New York. Or Oliver discovered for her. “As much as I hate to compliment you, you’re brave for even being here.”

Harry hesitated for a split second, but decided to come right out with it, his voice lowered into a murmur that only she could hear. “My father asked me to be his best man at your wedding.”

“I know,” she replied, as though he was daft. “I’m the one who suggested it.”

That surprised him. “I didn’t know that.”

She effected a Gallic shrug. “He loves you, Harry. Whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to deal with you for the rest of my life.”

“You lucky devil.”

“If the circumstances were different, I have no doubt he would have chosen you anyway. In these circumstances, symbolically it feels like we’ve come full circle.”

He twitched a doubtful eyebrow at her. “So you forgive me?”

“Absolutely not. I think you’re an imbecile.”

Harry’s snorted guffaw had several heads turning in their direction. “To get back to the original point, pet, I’m here tonight because this is the only chance I’ll get to meet your family before the wedding. I don’t want to spoil the ceremony by stealing all of their attention. If I meet them tonight, they get it out of their system.”

The logic hadn’t occurred to her, but she was touched it had occurred to him. “That’s really kind of you,” she said quietly, patting his arm in a motherly manner. “You’re going to make such a considerate stepson.”

Harry let out a guttural noise of disgust, but Caroline was already walking away, a mischievous gleam dancing across her lips .

Up ahead, Arrowsmith entered the room. “Dinner is served,” he murmured, his voice low and dignified.

There was a skip in her step as she crossed the room to join the procession heading into the formal dining room. Protest as she might, she didn’t hate Harry. They shared a complicated past, and no doubt a complicated future. Had he shirked responsibility for his actions, then perhaps her opinion would have been different, but he was owning up to his mistakes.

And she enjoyed insulting him.

The rich dining table stretched out before them, the walnut varnish amplifying the warmth of the hanging candelabra above it. Pretty arrangements of perfect pink camellias spilled across the room; of all the bouquets that had been delivered to Castell Du'r Arddu before their New York trip, camellias had been her favourites.

Apparently David remembered that detail too.

Caroline sat in her assigned seat—in the centre of the table, directly across from David. Had the table not been as wide as Tower Bridge, she would have been unable to resist a game of footsie. As it was, she was restricted to excitable glances, safely nestled between Michael and Alex.

Her nerves were on high alert throughout dinner, constricting her stomach into a shadow of its former self. She ate little, picking at her dinner rather than eating it. Even though she knew David wouldn’t make the announcement until after the main course had been finished, the butterflies in her stomach danced a jig every time he shifted in his seat.

Finally, after the footmen had finished clearing away the plates formerly occupied by duck, David caught her eye to pass her a look laden with meaning. Ready ?

She nodded, the edge of her lips curling excitedly .

David cleared his throat, rising to his feet as the conversations around the table stuttered. “If I might have your attention for a moment,” he began, waiting until all discourse had ceased. “Thank you for joining me at Menai House tonight. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you all, especially given the rather rocky start between our families.”

Unbidden, Caroline’s eyes drifted to Harry, and judging by his pained smile, hers weren’t the only ones.

“However,” David continued, “now that issue has reached a satisfactory conclusion, I’m delighted—and exceedingly proud—to announce that Caroline has agreed to become my wife.”

The words hung over the table, a tangible presence that could burst at any moment. To her right, Michael had stilled. Caroline was under the impression that Emmeline had told Michael something , but his lack of reaction made her panic.

At the end of the table, Harry was the first to stand, Emmeline on his heels. He raised his glass of champagne. “To David and Caroline.”

Relief coursed through her as the table followed suit, glasses rising in a wave of crystalline toasts. She beamed at her dinner guests, buzzing with happiness as both Alex and Michael hugged her congratulations—but she reserved the bulk of her adoration for the man across from her.

The great love she’d always wanted.

“And you’ll be happy?” Michael murmured in her ear, laying a protective arm around her shoulders.

Caroline nodded. “Ecstatic.”

Her second wedding couldn’t have been more different to her first.

Instead of being squirreled away in the night to marry in the middle of nowhere, Michael escorted her towards the church. A church she’d selected. Whitewashed in lime to protect it from the elements, it stood bright against the endless blue sky above—and the endless azure sea beyond.

Perched on the cliff edge a mile from Castell Du'r Arddu, Caroline thought it might have been the prettiest church in all of Christendom. She paused to take in the sight of the sea. On any other day, the wind would have made mischief with her hair, but Sian had brought a mountain of hair accessories over from New York, clipping and pinning Caroline’s curls to perfection.

Caroline’s flower girls, Phina and Dora, followed them up the path. Their footsteps were muted, far from the thundering, giggling migrations the girls used to make past Caroline’s bedroom at Scarlett Castle, especially when she was trying to sleep.

She gave her dress one final check—but it was as flawless as it had been during her final fitting with Madame Sylvestre. Caroline had designed every inch of the streamlined silk, with silver beading shooting out from her middle to highlight the curves in her figure. It paired perfectly with the delicate white camellias in her bouquet.

Months after David first asked her, she’d made her mind up; white camellias were her favourite flower.

“You look stunning,” Michael assured her, in the same fatherly tone he used for his daughters behind them. The polished elegance of his grey waistcoat and jet-black morning coat brought out the ethereal quality of his silver eyes. “Doesn’t she, girls?”

Phina nodded. “You do! ”

“Simply marvellous,” Dora emphasised, before her tone changed. “But you must be sure to throw your bouquet to me . There’s a boy in my class in the village scho—”

“Dora.” Michael winced, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “At least wait a few more years. For my sake, if nothing else. Let’s just be happy for Caroline today.”

“I’m very happy for Caroline.” Unperturbed, Dora’s lips quirked into a girlish smile. “Just like I’m very good at catching things.”

Caroline turned away from the girls to hide her own amusement, meeting Michael’s eye.

Poor man. The girls were barely ten and the boy-chasing was already starting.

Michael squeezed her hand. “Ready when you are, poppet.”

Notes of a haunting melody began to play when they neared, drifting towards her like a gentle summer wind.

As they entered, light flowed in through the church’s arched windows. Row after row of guests had attended—from her family and David’s, to the servants working in Castell Du'r Arddu, and everyone in between. Madame Sylvestre was amongst the first to look back, nodding appreciatively at the dress. Caroline spotted a few familiar faces from the village—the florist who’d filled Castell Du'r Arddu with arrangements of camellias in varying shades, the Holyhead postmaster, even Arrowsmith had made the trip.

Another guest she now recognised was the director of David’s mining company, Mr Davis. As she’d returned to Castell Du'r Arddu, her role as quality control for the company’s so-called numbers man had begun. True to Mr Davis’s word, every Friday a packet of papers arrived with a list of calculations for her to verify—and every Monday she sent them back with any corrections.

It wasn’t much, but Caroline enjoyed it .

Passing the violinist, Caroline slowly made her way up the aisle, her heart relentlessly thumping in her chest. She came out from beneath the loft at the rear of the church, knowing she would now be in full view of all of her guests.

Just like her first wedding, Major Harry Burton waited for her at the altar.

Unlike her first wedding, however, his only role was to pass the rings to the groom, and in a few short weeks, he would begin his 20-month prison sentence.

David turned as she reached him, his eyes softening as they devoured her appearance—but they always returned to her face. His morning suit outlined the strong lines of his body, and it took all her willpower to keep herself from running her palms along them. He was… magnificent .

The first time she laid eyes on David, she’d thought him to be a raider. A brutally handsome man with the capacity to end her life as she knew it.

Caroline gave him her hand, taking her place at the altar beside him and thanking her lucky stars that she’d crashed into him.

Even if it did mean “marrying” Harry first.

As they exchanged vows, Caroline could feel the collective gazes of their congregation—both the visible and the hidden. When the reverend finally declared them man and wife, she disregarded them all, rising up onto her tiptoes and sighing into their kiss.

“You know,” Caroline murmured to him, an air of mischief surrounding her, “this ceremony is far better than my last one.”

David pressed his lips against hers in a sweet, chaste kiss. “Thank Christ for that.”

They left the altar as one. Caroline’s cheeks ached from smiling, but she couldn’t stop. Everywhere she looked, she was surrounded by people she loved—plus Harry. Happiness spread through her body like the warmth of the sun’s rays, making every step feel lighter than the last .

Mother and Father might have raised her, but this was her family.

Just once, though, her gaze flicked up to the loft at the back of the church. There, shadowed amongst the spare pews, ladders, and nativity decorations, stood Oliver, his dark eyes gazing down at her affectionately. He wouldn’t be joining them for the reception, but—with Emmeline’s permission—David had arranged for him to be allowed access to the loft before the other guests had arrived, and let out after they’d departed.

“Thank you,” she whispered in David’s ear, “for ensuring everyone I love can be here.”

The happiness behind his smile made the sun seem dim by comparison. “You’re my wife, Starling. It’s my job to make you happy.”