Chapter 3

Hal was already seated at the breakfast table when Caroline entered.

“’Morning, Caro. You’re a slug-a-bed today.”

“Good morning, Hal. Oh, I’ve been up, Brother, but I waited to share breakfast with you.”

“Ah well, too bad. I’m in a rush today. Have to ride out to the north corner to check on Tolliver’s cottage. Seems the roof needs replacing, and he wants me to take a look at it. While I’m over that way, I thought I’d drop my card at Westhaven. It’s only polite that we pay our respects to the duke.”

Not answering her brother, Caroline halted beside the sideboard and bent low to sniff and savor the delicious aromas wafting from several covered dishes. “Umm, everything smells wonderful. Have you tried the sweet buns?” Taking her time, she filled a plate with a hearty breakfast from Cook’s generous display of warm porridge, scrambled eggs, sausages, ham, hot rolls and sweet buns. Caroline’s wild gallop across the meadow had given her an appetite, something she’d lost for several months. Turning back to the table, she eased into the chair opposite Hal, smoothing the skirt of her black, high necked gown underneath her as she did so. “Yes,” she replied finally. “I suppose we must.”

“Quite soon, I should think, Caro. Now that Antonio’s been made duke, we must welcome him. Of course, we’d welcome him in any event, but his assuming the title makes it propitious that we be on good terms with the Spanish Thorndykes—close neighbors—and all that.”

Hal took a moment to chomp on his breakfast. Wiping his lips with a serviette, he glanced across the table at his sister. “What say, Caro, we invite him and his sister for supper, hmm? I’ve been thinking about it. It’s a good start. I’ll extend the invitation today. Would Wednesday next suit you?”

Caroline’s hazel eyes blinked in apprehension when she heard her brother’s suggestion. “Oh Hal, it’s really not proper for us to entertain yet. What I mean is—it’s certainly not proper for me to do so. Richard’s dead only five months, and even if Father…”

“I insist, Caro, on having a small gathering here. I’m well acquainted with Antonio, as you know, and I’m anxious to renew our friendship again. Not many people got close to him while he was at Cambridge. If you recall, he was rather standoffish. But he and I rubbed on well together.” Hal paused to wash down the rest of his meal with a long swallow of coffee. “He may have changed, but I’ll find out soon enough.”

Inviting her reply, he asked, “Well? What say you, Caro? Do you believe there’s someone better than me to introduce the duke to the rest of his neighbors?”

“Yes, perhaps…” Caroline paused, uneasy, but swiftly changed her mind. “Oh, I suppose, yes, then, Hal,” she agreed with a tiny nod. “But I shouldn’t be in attendance.”

Caroline fingered a tiny blemish, a dark mole near the left corner of her upper lip, a habit she had when contemplating something distasteful. “I’ll oversee the preparations, Hal, make sure everything is to your satisfaction, but I won’t partake in the festivities. Please try to understand that I don’t wish to go against your wishes. It’s only…well…”

With a somewhat strained smile, Caroline continued. “To tell the truth, I’m not ready to deal with guests quite yet.”

“Caro, dear girl, you know I’m concerned. I’ve seen you looking pale and listless these past months. What can I do to help?”

“Hal, just don’t badger me, please. I’m trying to conquer the blue devils, truly I am.”

“All right. I won’t, but neither will I allow you to ruin your life simply because of Richard or Father’s untimely deaths. Father was unable to do what he wished for you in his condition other than arrange that you wed. I suppose you would rather have waited to marry someone younger. However, Father did inform me beforehand what he proposed, and I agreed. The marriage was arranged quickly for your protection…”

“Yes, Hal. I know the reasons.”

“Since it’s up to me, now, I’ll make sure you’re happy again, Caro.”

“Thank you, Hal,” Caroline said, forcing a smile back at him. “Please, don’t worry so much, brother of mine. I’ll come around. Just give me some time, all right?”

Hal gazed briefly into the contents of his coffee cup.

Caroline watched his face as he remained silent. She could see he was marshalling his thoughts, probably searching for a softer way to pressure her. Hal would never act the ogre under any circumstances, but she realized he would no longer let her hide in her chamber like a hermit crab.

Finally, he said, “I think it’s time you gave up deep mourning, Caro. We both know your marriage to Richard was not a love match. Good God, sister dear! The man was ancient enough to be our father—with a son of his own older than either you or me!”

“Hal, Richard was…a dear…like a second father to me. When he died so unexpectedly…”

Hal shook his head vehemently. His cheeks grew ruddy, and he braced his forearms on the table beside his empty plate. When he spoke, his older-brother-tone firmed. “I won’t hear of it, Caro. I may go so far as to demand. None of our friends will dispute your presence at a small gathering of neighbors. And as earl, I need a hostess. Therefore, I expect you to act the pretty for me at the supper party. You may wear your mourning garments if you absolutely must,” he grumped, “but I want you at table with us.”

His expression, Caroline noticed, was unlike his usual open, smiling countenance, so she nodded and acquiesced.

“Thank you, Caro. Then I’ll hear no more about it,” he said.

She sighed, having given in. “Let me know which guests we should invite.”

Hal’s cheeks cooled. “Let’s see. Why not invite the Templetons? Simon was a class ahead of Antonio and me at Cambridge, but I believe they knew each other.” Hal’s mind worked rapidly as he tossed out names for possible guests. “What about Randall and Minerva, Caro? Any reason not to invite them? They’re your in-laws.”

“Of course not. I’d be pleased to see them again. But do you think they’ll come? I haven’t seen Randall since Richard’s will was read,” Caroline observed.

Caroline’s minor confrontation with Hal had dimmed her appetite. Now she pushed the food around her plate without eating. Her stomach felt unruly.

“I wonder how they’re getting on.”

“Very well, it would seem, Caro. Ran into Randall a month back.”

She glanced at her brother, puzzled.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he asked.

Caroline shook her head and pushed away her half-touched plate of food. The heavy silver utensils clinked against the Wedgwood china as she laid down the knife and fork. Drawing a saucer holding a full cup of tea toward her, Caroline sipped from it slowly, awaiting her brother’s reply. Perhaps, the tea would settle the nervous quivers inside.

“Sorry. I guess I forgot, Caro. But it’s no matter. Randall took his father’s death in stride, much better than you have,” Hal remarked. “It’s why I want you out in company again. Time to put aside the blasted megrims that have dogged you since Richard’s mishap.”

Caroline wanted to agree with her brother. She hadn’t liked the way she felt for months. Maybe it was time. Maybe her brother was correct. Would a diverting evening with friends help chase away what plagued her? Was it a good time to find out?

For some nebulous reason, acting hostess at a supper party for Antonio had Caroline’s insides tied in knots. Hal mentioned that he was difficult to know. Caroline had grasped his aloofness eight years ago, watching him cloak himself with a protective shield, distancing himself so no one got too close. When she’d thought about it later, she decided it was because he felt more Spanish than English. It was part of his mystique. He was as different as any English male she’d met in her youth. Her brother had been complacent and easy-going. But she read somewhere that Spaniards had fiery temperaments. Antonio had never displayed temper in her sight, but she couldn’t guess what he might do if something really annoyed him. He would probably be even more unfriendly, arrogant, and intimidating now that he had a title.

With thoughts of the duke invading her mind, Caroline took another swallow of her tea and asked, “Do you know if his sister came to England with him, Hal?”

“Antonio’s sister? Oh yes, she’s here. She’s to make her come out this Season. An untamed twit as I recall, almost the hoyden that you were, Caro.” Hal chuckled. “Remember?”

Caroline knew her good-natured brother was trying to tease a smile out of her after their small tiff.

“I wonder if the girl has modified her behavior since. Better have done so, or there’ll be plenty of on dits circulating in London for the old tabbies to chew on. I expect we’ll know more when we meet her on Wednesday.”

Finished eating and about to take his leave, Hal rose from the breakfast table and laid his napkin next to his empty plate. “I’ll be back in time for tea, Caro. We can discuss more invitees then. Let’s plan on Wednesday evening, five days hence, shall we? I’ll extend the invitation to Antonio later today.”

Hal rose, dipped his head, and gave Caroline a buss on the cheek. He left her sitting at the table as he strode out of the breakfast room dressed to ride. She lingered to finish her tea, hoping William wouldn’t tattle to her brother about her morning gallop.

* * * *

Caroline sat quietly for awhile, gazing out the breakfast room window, sipping tea. Twirling one loosened tendril around an index finger, her eyes glazed over with recent, very sad memories. Her eyes filled, and a rush of tears flowed over her cheeks as she swiped at the salty fluid. Her vision blurred, and she gulped a sob. Her father’s memory rose most vividly before her.

Sitting next to his sick bed, Caroline had watched the earl’s eyelids flutter open, certain that he recognized her if only briefly. He struggled to whisper out a few difficult words, fighting for air. “My…dear girl…so sorry…”

She bent toward him when he tried again. “W—a—i—t,” he gasped, gagging on saliva, his breathing more and more labored and erratic. Her father’s eyes were sunken deep in sockets above his cheeks. His balding head, ringed with a few wisps of silvery hair, rested deep in the plump, goose down pillows. When his lids closed again, Caroline was sure he had expired. She rose from where she sat in near panic, her heart pounding on the wall of her chest.

She waited, holding her breath, and listened, afraid to move or call for help.

Abruptly, the earl sucked in another desperate inhalation. “Wanted…you…find true love…”

“Oh, Papa.” She whispered, bending down again to put her lips next to his ear. Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s all right, Papa. I married the man you wanted. Richard is very kind, Papa…” She sobbed softly, unable to go on. Instead, she squeezed her father’s hand gently, hoping he heard her and understood since those were the last words she and her father exchanged before he lapsed into a silence from which he never emerged and quietly died.