Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

C aroline stared up at the drawing room ceiling from the floor, the fire crackling in the grate beside her to fend off the morning chill. Powder Puff lay curled up on her chest, but the poor cat had not been herself for several days, prowling and pacing the entrance hall and refusing to eat. Caroline knew how the cat felt—she, too, had been waiting for Max to come back. But, unlike Powder Puff, she knew that he was not going to.

"It will just be me and you," she whispered, absently scratching between the cat's ears. "At Westyork, I suspect, to keep Mama company. That will not be so terrible, will it?"

The cat slept on, and Caroline wondered if heartbreak had turned her toward madness. Talking to herself surely had to be a bad sign.

Just then, a knock came at the door.

"I really am sorry, Mrs. Whitlock, but I still am in no mood for breakfast," Caroline replied. "Apologize to the cook for me."

"You will upset her if you do not eat what she prepares for you," came a low, husky voice that did not belong to Mrs. Whitlock at all.

Caroline shot up into a sitting position, disturbing Powder Puff as she did. The cat chirruped in annoyance, the sound of displeasure transforming into a hearty purr as the white feline darted toward the legs of the man who had just entered. She weaved herself in and out of Max's ankles, bumping her soft head against his calves, mewling with happiness all the while.

I wish that I could welcome him like that, Caroline lamented, hurriedly attempting to school her face into a blank expression.

He looked so very handsome, his cravat loose, his waistcoat open, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a triangle of sun-browned skin. Caroline would have given anything to be able to run into his arms at that moment, even if it could not change the annulment that was surely coming. She just wanted to be held again, so she could remember the feeling.

"I have not had much of an appetite of late," she said stiffly, lurching to her feet. All of a sudden, her legs felt unsteady.

Max took a step forward, his hand following the movement, as if he thought she had been about to faint. She considered pretending to keel over so that he would catch her and hold her once more, but that would surely have taken the last scrap of dignity that she had left.

"To what do I owe the honor of your presence?" she said drily, as she brushed the delicate cat hairs from her skirts.

She loathed the coldness in her voice, finding it quite bizarre that, not so long ago, she had kissed him with lips that could not even smile at him anymore.

Max padded over to the armchair that she had never seen him use before. During their first weeks in London, he had always taken the right-hand side of the settee, while she had taken the left. They had talked or joked or read their respective books, with Powder Puff wandering between them, deciding who had the more comfortable lap.

There was no such ease between them anymore.

"I have the papers from the archbishop," Max said, placing them on the low table that sat in front of the settee. "The annulment will be granted, but the papers require both of our signatures."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why would I need to sign anything? Indeed, why is it that the church has no qualms about ladies being forced into marriage without any say, but demand a signature when a marriage is to be ended?"

"That is almost exactly what Dickie said." Max got up and went to the writing desk in the corner, bringing back an inkwell and quill. "The two of you already have so much in common. I imagine that will help when you wed each other."

Caroline stood perfectly still as if the slightest movement of a hand or a foot or a blink of her eye might give her away. She had barely told a soul about her plans to be an outcast, in case it somehow reached the archbishop or Max himself. Indeed, the only two people who knew were Ellen and Matilda, and she had sworn both to secrecy.

"And you are ready for that vast amount of disdain?" Matilda had asked bluntly. "You will be persona non grata."

"I am ready," Caroline had replied, meaning it.

"What of Phoebe, Olivia, Daniel, and Evan?" Matilda had pressed. Not unkindly, but with the insistence of a governess, to ensure that Caroline really did know what she was doing.

"I will perform the equivalent of disinheriting myself in society," Caroline had said. "I hope to still live with Mama, but as far as everyone else will know, I have been sent away. There will be no repercussions for anyone I care about."

But she had not thought that she would have to see Max again, nor have to lie to him again.

I do not have to lie… It was the one small mercy to come out of her decision—she no longer had to behave as expected.

"I am not marrying Dickie," she said abruptly. "I am not marrying anyone."

Max sat back in the armchair, Powder Puff resuming her place in his lap. "What do you mean? Of course, you are marrying Dickie. That is the point of this entire thing."

"No, it is not." She walked to the settee and perched in her usual spot. "The point is for us to be separated. I can agree to that, but I cannot agree to marry your brother. I told you once that I have dignity, and I have honor, and I would not be a traitor to the vows I made. Even if our marriage is annulled, that will not change. I will be no one's wife, ever again."

Picking up the cat, Max stood and wandered back across the room to the garden doors, looking out as Dickie had done a few days before. He said nothing for what felt like an eternity, his hand lightly stroking Powder Puff's fur as something beyond the pane held his attention.

"You realize that is madness, do you not?" he said, at last, in a cold tone that chilled her to the core. "I married you to spare your reputation. I agreed to this annulment for the same reason. Yet, at every turn, you act rashly and stubbornly, as you have always done."

Caroline sniffed. "Well, I agreed to this annulment to spare your reputation. If I am rash and stubborn, so be it. I am not marrying anyone, so do not begin to try and persuade me. It will not work; my mind is made up."

"But why would you do such a thing to yourself?" He turned and stared at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you care about my reputation when I have told you time and again that I do not?" he pressed, taking a few steps forward.

Her throat tightened, so many words dancing on her tongue at once that they became a tangle that allowed nothing to pass. It was too late to tell him that she loved him. He had the papers on the table, ready to be signed. But what else could she say that would be reason enough for getting herself cast out of society?

"You will not answer me?" Max said as the silence stretched between them.

Caroline folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, not trusting whatever might come out of her mouth.

Max shrugged and came to stand by the low table, pointing his chin in the direction of the annulment papers. "Very well, if you have nothing further to say to me, then you ought to sign. I cannot understand you, but then I never could."

Shuffling further forward to the edge of the settee, Caroline grasped the inkwell with shaky hands and lifted the lid. Next, she picked up the quill and held it poised in the air for a moment, cursing the fact that she could not get her fingers to stop trembling. Ink dripped onto the papers and, fleetingly, she wondered if she could ‘accidentally' knock over the inkwell to get it to spill all over those wretched documents.

"Caro?" he said quietly.

She glanced up, startled by the sudden softness.

"Why do you care?" he repeated, his brow furrowing as if he had an ache.

If he asks for a third time, I must confess the truth.

It was not so much a barter with fate, that time, but a promise to herself.

"Caro… why do you care?" he murmured, his voice thick.

She set the quill down and met his gaze once more. "Because I have fallen in love with you. Because you are the man I dreamed about for so many years, and if it is a choice between my ruination or yours, I choose mine. But what I will not choose is marriage to someone else. It is you or no one. Yes, it might seem like madness, but one ought to expect a touch of madness from a girl who has broken her own heart."

He was on his knees before her in an instant, grabbing the wretched papers and ripping them apart. With hope shining bright in his eyes, he tossed the fragments aside, where they drifted down to the floor like snowflakes.

A moment later, his hands came up to cradle her face, and his lips were on hers. He kissed her as if it was the very last time, deep and slow and passionate, and as she tipped forward off the settee and into his arms, she prayed with all her might that it was not the last time.

She kissed him back with all the desperation and anxiety and shattered hope of the last few days. She kissed him as if she was weaving a spell that could hold them together, her mouth meeting the ebb and flow of his, dancing a dance that only they knew. She kissed him like he was everything she had ever wanted and could ever need. She kissed him like they had forever, with golden years stretching ahead of them.

Her arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer as he kissed her in kind. She ran her hands through his silky, golden hair and brushed his cheek with her thumb. She caressed his neck and gripped his arms, reminding herself over and over, with every touch, that he was real, and he was kissing her, and all hope was not lost after all.

However, there was one thing she needed to be sure of before she could let go of the last thread of her nerves.

"Does this mean you do not want to be parted from me?" she gasped, pulling back for a second.

He smiled. "It would be rather hard for us to proceed unless you have an abundance of glue to stick those papers back together."

"Do not tease me," she urged, twisting a lock of his golden hair around her finger. "What does this mean, my love?"

He gazed into her eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "I love you, Caro." The hint of a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Truly, I believe I started falling in love with you the moment I heard you play that awful violin music."

He loves me… Her heart soared, but her mind still raced.

"Then… why did you agree to the annulment?" she whispered, trying not to laugh at his jest. She could laugh once she knew everything, and could feel the anchor of him grounding her once again in the only place she wanted to be—his arms.

"I think we were both trying to do the righteous thing while ignoring our own feelings," he replied. "Dickie informed me that it would be the best outcome for you, and I believed him. Perhaps, I also wanted to let him do the right thing for once, but I was a fool to think I could ever see you with another. It would have destroyed me. Why, I was already inquiring about buying at least three dogs if you would like to know how addled my brain was."

She allowed herself a chuckle. "You were not."

"I assure you, I was."

She tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear, as he did so often for her, and just smiled at him for a moment, savoring his handsome face. "From the first spill of port on your shirt, I think I wanted to be loved by you. Indeed, I no longer think it was any accident that I found your room that night." She leaned in close to his ear. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"You can," he replied.

"It was the first time I ever felt butterflies," she whispered.

His fingertips trailed down the curve of her waist and across her stomach before he rested his hand there. "What about now?"

"They are wilder than ever," she told him, turning her head to place a kiss on his cheek.

Tracing his fingertips back to her waist and around to her back, he pulled her against him. "I love you."

"As I love you," she replied in earnest, the butterflies flapping with a fury in her belly. "But you must promise me that you will never ask to be parted from me again, no matter what we might face from society. You must promise to consult me before you behave righteously."

He grinned. "I promise. But what if I do not want to behave righteously? Must I consult you then?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what it is you wish to do."

He grazed his teeth across his lower lip. "That is interesting to know."

"What do you?—"

He dipped his head and kissed her again, answering her question without a single word. And as she melted into his embrace, she thanked the heavens and the fates for the day she had stepped into the church to find Dickie absent. After all, her husband had been waiting for her, just in the wrong place.

Smiling against his lips, she sent one last barter up to fate.

If he keeps kissing me, we will be the happiest couple that ever did live and loved.

Fortunately, he showed no signs of stopping.