Chapter 7

7

London, 1874

Nine years later

The afternoon carriage ride to Lady Fairfax’s estate felt endless. Caroline was too aware of Julian beside her – the solidity of his thigh pressed to hers, his clean scent teasing her senses.

When the charged silence grew too much, she asked, “How long has it been? Since…”

Since you traced every inch of me with those elegant fingers until I was mindless with pleasure? Until I forgot everything but the taste of your skin beneath my lips?

“Since we sat together in a carriage?” he supplied.

“Sat together anywhere. Attended an event. Had a conversation.” She paused, then added in a softer voice, “Since I drew you?”

She heard the hitch in Julian’s breath at the mention of her art, the intimate charcoal portraits she’d made of him so long ago. Theirs had always been a relationship defined by the spaces left unspoken.

“Eight years. Or seven years, ten months, four days, to be precise.” Julian’s voice was low, almost rough. “And you didn’t draw me after our wedding.”

The specific accounting was a blade slipped between her ribs, sharp and unexpected. He’d been counting the days apart as diligently as she had.

“I drew you from memory,” Caroline confessed before she could think better of it. She gave a careless shrug, feigning nonchalance. “I can show you sometime if you’d care to see.”

“I would enjoy seeing your work whenever you wish to share it,” he said, his voice gentle.

“I’ll look for them,” she said, gathering herself. “They’re probably buried under dust by now.”

Where she’d once boarded up her tender feelings as one might shutter a crumbling ruin.

Sensing the need to redirect their discourse to less treacherous waters, Julian said, “We should prepare ourselves for scrutiny today. Have you heard the latest gossip about us?”

She gave him a wry glance. “You read the scandal sheets, Hastings? How shocking. What’s next, playing whist and gossiping over cake with dowagers?”

“On occasion, one does overhear tidbits over cigars and port.”

“I see.” Caroline tilted her head, considering. “Go on, then. What did you learn about the estranged Duke and Duchess over cigars and port? Have we grown horns and tails in each other’s absence?”

“They wonder if the duke keeps a mistress on the Continent to explain his long absences,” Julian said bluntly.

There it was. Their fragile accord cracked beneath the sharp spike of jealousy that lanced through her at the thought of Julian in another woman’s bed. She forced her tone to nonchalance. “And does he?”

“I thought I made it clear when we were young that I’ve no tolerance for infidelity or affairs outside of marriage. That hasn’t changed.”

The confession settled in her like a stone. Eight years apart, and he’d been faithful to her. The thought sunk deep, cracking open possibilities she’d long since boarded up.

“What about whispers regarding your duchess?” she asked, almost gently. “Has she taken someone to warm her bed while her husband was off on his adventures with the nonexistent Continental mistress?”

“No.” Something dangerously close to possession simmered beneath that one clipped word. “As far as the ton knows, we’re the picture of propriety and marital devotion. So very dull that we’ve lived apart nearly a decade with nary an unkind word between us.”

“I’m rather disappointed we haven’t been embroiled in any outrageous scandals during our separation. Maybe we ought to manufacture some for novelty’s sake.” Caroline gave him a playful smile. “Hurl insults in public. Overturn a tea table. Ravage each other on top of the petit fours.”

The corner of Julian’s stern mouth flickered. “Let’s refrain from debauching on the baked goods, if you please. I do have some standards.”

“Well, something salacious that won’t get us banished from society for lewd acts. Anything else would be permissible.”

Amusement warmed Julian’s eyes. “I’ll do my best to walk that fine line between scandalising dowagers and getting us exiled to one of my dusty estates.”

“That’s the spirit.”

A crush of carriages and ladies arrayed in frothy muslin crowded the drive of Lady Fairfax’s estate. Caroline gripped Julian’s arm for balance. There were too many eyes on them. Too many whispers behind fluttering fans.

They strolled through the elaborate topiaries flanking the garden path, ignoring the stares following their progress. Julian’s hand found the small of her back, spreading warmth even through layers of fabric as he guided her through the crush. The intimacy of his touch made Caroline’s breath catch.

“Smile, my duchess. We’re the very picture of connubial bliss.” His breath stirred her hair, and desire curled hot and sweet inside her.

She threw Julian a dry look. “I’m contemplating how much laudanum in my tea might make this afternoon tolerable.”

His thumb stroked a distracting pattern over her lower back. “Let’s refrain from drug-induced stupors until after the dessert course. I know how you love your sweets.”

“Oh, very well.” She heaved a theatrical, long-suffering sigh. “I’ll resist the siren song of drug-induced oblivion for the sake of the puddings. However—” A footman appeared bearing a salver with champagne. Caroline accepted one and gulped it down. “Champagne, I will have.”

“Pace yourself,” Julian said. “It’s a bit early to be in your cups.”

“It’s either this or fashioning myself a noose from the table linens,” she returned sweetly.

“Let’s refrain from hangings, if at all possible.” He plucked the empty champagne flute from her hand and passed it to a hovering servant. “It would put a damper on our performance of wedded felicity if you turn up dead in Lady Fairfax’s garden. As would a drunken scene, no matter how entertaining.”

“But aren’t you curious how many glasses it would take before I’m compelled to fling myself into Lady Fairfax’s garden fountain?”

“At this rate? I’d wager one more,” Julian said dryly. “Behave, and I’ll procure you a jam tart later.”

She considered that. “Very well. But I insist on another glass of champagne as compensation for good behaviour. And a generous slice of cake to go with my jam tart.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“I always do.”

Just then, Lady Fairfax bustled forth in a froth of violet silk. “Duchess! Here you are, and with your husband after all this time!” The countess’s attention shifted between them. “We had quite despaired of your wanderings to the Continent, duke. I do hope you’ll stay longer than the Parliamentary session. I confess I’m most eager to hear of your travels.”

Julian’s expression remained coolly polite. “I’ll consider it. I’m finding much to enjoy in London after my travels.”

“Wonderful.” Lady Fairfax’s calculating stare bounced between them. “You really must join Horace and I for dinner soon. I’d love to hear how you’re both getting on.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “And whether you have any happy news to share in the coming months.”

Happy news. Caroline’s emotions turned the simple statement into a blade that pierced deep. She blinked around the sudden tears, taken off guard.

But Julian didn’t pretend to misunderstand. His hand came to rest again at the small of her back. “Should we be so blessed,” he answered smoothly.

Oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside Caroline, Lady Fairfax beamed approval. “Lovely. Do come join us in a few minutes for a bit of sport. We’re about to commence an archery competition.”

And with that, she bustled off, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

“Come with me.” Julian tucked Caroline’s hand into the crook of his elbow and drew her towards a secluded little alcove tucked behind an artful screen of roses. Safe for the moment from prying eyes.

Caroline sucked in a lungful of air. Still, it couldn’t fill the hollowed-out space left by Lady Fairfax’s words. Children. A simple concept most husbands and wives didn’t have to think twice about. But for her and Julian, it was a wound that would not stop bleeding.

“Are you all right?” Julian asked gently.

She focused on a point just beyond his shoulder, throat tight. “I should have expected that question eventually.”

Julian shifted closer. “Expecting it and it not hurting are very different things.”

Caroline gave a jerky nod of agreement.

“Would you like me to come up with an excuse? We could slip away early.” His knuckle skimmed her cheek in a caress that made her pulse stutter.

Stubborn pride had her shaking her head. “No. We still need to make a good showing. Give them something new to gossip over besides whispers of estrangement.”

His expression shuttered. “Of course.”

Damn it all, that had come out wrong. She grasped for the right words. “Just… just let me catch my breath.”

Julian moved closer, rubbing his hands over her arms, the friction chasing away the chill.

“You were always good at knowing what I needed most,” she admitted softly.

“I did once possess a singular talent for being your friend before I made a mess of being your husband.” His tone took on a rueful note, though his gaze remained tender.

She turned her face up towards his. “You weren’t terrible. We just… hurt.”

Pain flashed in his eyes. “Yes. And I made terrible mistakes in how I handled that hurt.” His knuckle grazed her cheek once more, touch achingly gentle. “Are you recovered now, do you think? We could stay behind the roses and drink champagne if you’d like.”

Caroline straightened, shoring up the cracks in her armour. “I’m fine. Not blotchy, am I? Hideously splotchy and swollen?”

“Your face is lovely as ever.” His lips curved as he held out his palm. “Was that in doubt?”

“A lady must always be assured of these things before presenting herself in public,” she said, taking his hand.

Soon, a line of targets was erected along one edge of the garden for an archery competition. As Julian shed his coat and moved to take his turn, a ripple of appreciation went through the assembled ladies. The white linen of his shirt pulled taut, displaying the breadth of his shoulders. He took aim with flawless form and loosed the arrow. It struck the outermost ring with a solid thunk .

Ignoring the avid stares that clung to Julian, Caroline stepped up and selected her bow. She nocked an arrow with fingers that trembled. So many eyes on her. Too many whispers swirling.

She struggled to recall the cadence of air in her lungs, the proper stance. But her limbs had locked, every motion forgotten.

And then Julian was there, pressed against her back, his heat surrounding her. Strong hands framed her own, holding them in place. “Relax your shoulders,” he murmured low in her ear. “You’re fighting it too hard.” His free hand traced down her arm in a whisper-soft caress that skimmed along every nerve ending, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. “Feel the tension here? Breathe through it.”

Caroline shivered. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be helping. I’m your competition, remember?”

“They’re all watching us.” His breath stirred her hair, warm and intimate. “And we’re meant to give them something scandalous that isn’t debauching on a dessert table, remember?”

Heat scalded her cheeks at the words. “Oh, I think they’ll be whispering about us over breakfast tomorrow.”

“Good.” Julian’s voice dropped to a rough purr. “Now, just focus on my touch. Inhale…” His fingers flexed where they covered hers on the bow. “And loose the arrow as you exhale. There’s my girl.”

His husky praise sent heat curling through her veins. As she released her breath, the arrow sprang free in a silent blur.

Dead centre.

A smile curved her lips as applause and shouts erupted from the crowd. Lady Fairfax’s voice rang out above the rest. “A perfect bullseye! Well done, duchess!”

Caroline barely heard it over the roar of her pounding pulse. For a suspended moment, Julian’s gaze held a glimmer of unguarded warmth.

“Nicely done,” he murmured.

“I’d nearly forgotten what an exceptional instructor you make.”

Everything he had taught her – waltzing across meadows, nude portraiture, archery lessons stolen away from prying eyes… it all lingered still in muscle memory.

Something strained and raw flashed in Julian’s eyes. But before Caroline could decipher it, he took the bow from her numb fingers and handed their equipment to a footman. Then he guided her back towards the gathering.

The afternoon wound down. As Julian handed her up into the waiting carriage, his fingertips seemed to linger at her waist.

“You were magnificent today,” Julian said into the quiet space between them.

“So were you,” Caroline returned softly.

I don’t want you to leave again.

The words echoed unspoken inside her as the carriage rattled along the lamplit streets.