Chapter Thirteen

Society Tales

My dear readers, I am afraid that due to my declining health, I must end my time as your dedicated author and recorder of all things proper - as well as slightly scandalous - in society.  I must confess that this is not how I would have chosen to do so, especially with the season not yet at a proper end, but alas, the power to choose has been taken from me.

In the coming months someone might replace me.  If she - or he, for that is not out of the question - makes an indiscretion or two, please be kind, dear readers.  Know that she - or he! - has some very big shoes to fill, since I have made it my mission to only report that which is true and not that which is merely speculation.  In the beginning, I too made mistakes, though there was a much smaller audience to witness them.  Those that did read my follies forgave me.  I ask that you do the same should another come along to write in my stead.

It has been an enjoyable time, my friends.  Stay well.  And go with love.

- Lady X

Three days later, Caroline's face hurt from smiling so much.  Then again, if it was a genuine smile, she might not have had to try to hard to appear happy.  She would have truly been happy.  Instead, she was miserable.  She had been like this since the night of the Coleridge's musicale and, in her mind at least, the misery would never end.

From the moment she had stepped out into the ballroom on Marcus' arm, she had received nothing but felicitations and good wishes on her impending nuptials.  The fact that the groom still was not speaking to her was completely beside the point.  The two of them were still able to put on a good show for society, especially when Marcus had appeared at her town home the day after the musicale, not only to pay a call on her but to present her with the Breckenright betrothal ring.

The ring was a large and sparkling affair, a cluster of sapphires surrounded by an enormous circle of diamonds.  The thing weighed at least close to a stone or more and felt like a boulder dangling from Caroline's ring finger.  Still, she wore it because it was expected of her and pretended to be happy about it.

And, oddly enough, there was a part of her that was happy.  Though not under the best of circumstances, she was going to wed Marcus in a few weeks time on the grounds of Seldon Park.  She would finally be with the man she loved, even though she had not quite yet found the courage to tell him all of her secrets.  He knew she was Lady X but not the rest.

She was also secretly happy that her friends had rallied around her, providing her with public support, even when there were those in society who questioned the suddenness of the announcement.  Both Julia and her husband Benjamin did much to dismiss the talk, as did Nicholas Rosemont.  And if anyone dared to question the validity of the impending union in front of either Amy and Gibson or, heaven forbid, Enwright and his wife Lucy, the snarling Devil Duke was more likely than not to take someone's head off for what he termed "an impertinent question of no value."

It was Rosemont, however, who had done the most to publicly show support for the couple, though Caroline could not even begin to guess why.  She knew the man believed he owed her a favor or two for using her Lady X column to support the love match between Julia and Radcliffe, but she not think that a few scribbled lines in a gossip page was worthy of the use of the man's country estate - and staff - to host her wedding.

Yet he had insisted and Marcus had not refused.

Marcus' family's country home, Heatherton Abby, was otherwise occupied at the moment, and would not make for a suitable location for a wedding anyway, at least according to Theodosia, Marcus' mother.  So the offer of Seldon Park was much appreciated, if somewhat unconventional.

Now, Caroline had a wedding to plan, one that she was fairly certain her husband-to-be did not actually want, and very little desire to even select so much as a scrap of French lace for her bridal trousseau.  In fact, she had very little desire to do much of anything.  

The cloudy, gray skies outside of her window matched her mood perfectly as she sat flipping through a book of fashion plates that Madame LaVallier had sent over earlier in the morning.  Marcus had insisted that, as his wife, she would be clad in the only the finest garments, ones crafted by London's most famous and sought-after modiste.  He had informed her, by way of a letter of course since they were not presently speaking, that as the Viscountess Breckenright and eventual Countess of Evanston, she had to make certain that her appearance was above reproach at all times.

He had not needed to say that the new wardrobe was necessary in part because her reputation, to those that knew her well, at least, was a bit spotty.  That part was understood.

If only they had talked, even for a moment or two after he had burst into Lady Coleridge's private library, they might have been able to work out some of these issues.  They hadn't.  Marcus had simply issued his command that they wed and then pulled her to his side so that she might accompany him into the ballroom where they had made their announcement.  After that, there had been precious few words between them.

Not that Caroline had tried all that hard to confess the full extent of her crimes.  Marcus knew that she was Lady X.  Before they were wed, she would have to tell him the rest of the whole sordid affair.  Perhaps he already knew.  After all, both Julia and Amy knew, as did Gibson.  It stood to reason that Lord Candlewood knew as well.  And if he knew, what did Lord Enwright or even Lord Selby know?  And, of course, McTavish, wherever that horrid man was at the moment.

Her head pounding, Caroline pulled the drawing room bell and requested a tea tray.  She didn't have much of an appetite, but she had also not eaten breakfast and suspected that a lack of sustenance might be at least part of the reason for her wretched mood.  At the moment, she didn't know what sort of food might appeal to her lacking appetite, but one of Cook's raspberry tarts might be a good place to start.

She was about to turn her attention back to the fashion book when she heard Wilson, her butler, announce a caller.

"Someone to see you, my lady."  He bowed stiffly but did not offer her a calling card on a silver tray, meaning she was well familiar with the caller.  At Tuner-Carson House, they did not much stand on traditional ceremony unless someone of an exceedingly high rank called.  Given that she liked her privacy, few ever did.

"Thank you, Wilson," Caroline sighed and pushed herself to her feet.  She expected that it was probably Amy who had come to pester her further about the wedding details.  As a newlywed who was disgustingly in love with her husband, Amy could be something of a nag about details that Caroline didn't really want to think about - like flowers.  What did it matter?  This wedding was nothing more than a sham and all involved knew it.  It wasn't as if Marcus loved her any longer.  Caroline had killed his love for her the night - or rather morning - she had left his bed after refusing his proposal.

Then she laid a hand over her still flat stomach.  She might have another life to consider, she reminded herself sternly.  She would know soon, one way or the other.  Until then, she needed to stay the course.

"Picking out something seductive for our wedding night?"

Caroline froze at the deep, resonating male voice that cut through the room, making it seem far smaller than it actually was.  So.  He was finally coming to speak with her.  It was about bloody time.

Tuning, Caroline dipped into a low curtsey.  "My lord.  How nice to see you."  She hoped the expression on her face was more of a smile than a grimace.  It did not feel like it, however.

Marcus' expression was no better.  "So?  Are you?"  He looked at the book again which had been left open to a plate showing a woman wearing extremely scandalous - not to mention sheer - nightwear.  "Do you think that by sharing my bed, by tempting me with something so provocative, that will erase the memory of what you have done?"  There was a cruel note in his tone, one that cut Caroline deeply.

"What have I done, Marcus?" she asked, refusing to back down this time.  God, he was thickheaded when he wanted to be and she was tired of it.  All of it.  Yes, they were betrothed.  That did not mean he could use her as a whipping girl.  Especially since she might well be carrying his heir.  "Yes, I wrote a gossip column.  One, might I add, that eased your way back into society.  Was that so wrong?"

"Among our set?  Yes!  But I could have forgiven that had you been honest with me.  You should have told me!"  It was not lost on her that he had rather neatly avoided her question.  "You knew I was infatuated with the bloody chit.  You knew she captivated me and how much I longed to meet her!  More than that, you used that damnable column to promote matches with other women! Other women, Caroline!  When you knew perfectly well that I did not want them!  I wanted you!  How could you lie to me like that?  Or was it all a game to you, toying with me and my affections?"

He made it sound as if her actions had been an easy path to trod.  As if she had not suffered as well.  "You do not understand, Marc.  Each column I wrote, each word I penned was like a knife slicing at me.  I hurt each time I betrayed the confidences my friends shared with me."  She hadn't wanted to, certainly, but she had done it to survive.  And she had been so careful not to betray close confidences.  Surely he could understand the difference.  Couldn't he?

"So why did you?"  He was obviously bewildered now, his temper still simmering just below the surface.  "Why, Caroline?  Was it so necessary to you that you risked a lifetime of friendship, that your risked our friendship, for a few coins?"

"Yes."  She should tell him now.  Open her mouth and speak the words.  This was the perfect opportunity.  Yet she could not.  Something she could not define held her back.  A lesson from her past, perhaps.  One that had taught her to be wary of everyone, even those she knew she should trust.

"Why, Caroline?  Why in the bloody hell would you do something like that?"  He was roaring now, the way he had done at the Devonmont's and behind him, Caroline could see the maid with the tea tray.  She was quite literally quaking where she stood.  Caroline dismissed her with a small nod and she was gratified to see the maid hurry off.  The staff did not need to be witness to her humiliation.  They could hear it well enough, after all.

"I had no choice!" she finally shot back when she finally found her tongue.  "I had to, Marc!  I had nothing!  No one to turn to!"

"You had me!"

"No I didn't!  When I returned to London, you were ill!  Dying!"  She swiped angrily at a tear that threatened to spill down her cheek.

He grunted, clearly not believing her.  "My family was still there.  They would have done anything for you.  All you had to do was ask."

"They were consumed with worry for you!" she shot back.  Couldn't the man be a bit less pigheaded for once?  Could he not at least try to see things from her point of view?  "What was I to say to them?"

"I don't know, but they would have found a way to help you!"  Of that, Marcus was certain.  Especially because he had informed his father only a few days before that he had thought about courting Caroline and intended to seek her out once he was well again.  Not that he had ever informed her of that fact.  At least he didn't think he had.  Would it have made a difference?  Most likely not, he decided quickly.

  "I didn't know that!  I was so alone with no one to turn to!  You wouldn't understand!"  Caroline knew there were tears streaming down her face at the moment and she hated herself for them.

"Then make me!"  A vein pulsed in Marcus' temple and Caroline prayed that he did not simply collapse in the middle of the carpet.  "For God's sake, Caro!  Talk to me!  Tell me!  You say that I would not understand, yet you offer me not a single detail as to why!  It's bloody infuriating!  I am here now, the man who will share your bed for the rest of our natural lives.  I am listening, but you must speak!"

At his words, her temper completely snapped.  "Because you have been so willing to listen these last few days!  You have all but ignored me, save for those missives you send every day, informing me of what I should do and how I should behave!  Oh, yes, Marcus, you have made it so very easy for me to speak with you!"

"Before that!" he roared, the panes of glass in the windows shaking with the force of his voice.  "We have had weeks since my return, Caroline!  You knew how I felt about you!  That it was you I wanted and you who wanted me as well.  I trusted you enough to tell you of my desire, yet you could not see fit to return the sentiment!"  At that, the fight seemed to go out of him, as if he had drawn some terrible conclusion.  "But it was not enough, was it?  I was not enough, was I?"  Something inside of him shifted as he spoke, his body going still and his tone softening until it was almost despondent.  Caroline decided rather quickly that she did not like this Marcus.  She much preferred him when he was bellowing.

"That has never been true, Marc, and you know it."  She softened her own tone to match his.  "I do trust you.  And you know that I want you.  After the other night, how can you question?"

He gave a snort of derision.  "But not enough.  None of it is quite enough.  Is it?  You trusted me enough to come to my bed, but you did not trust me enough to tell me your secrets."  At that, he shook his head.  "Did you think that I would betray you, Caro?  Did you honestly believe that I would somehow think less of you, whatever sins you are guilty of committing?"  He spread his arms wide, cane still in hand, to encompass his body.  "Me?  A man whom much of polite society runs from because they do not wish to see what they might have been with different medical care."

"There was too much at risk," she tried again but he waved her away.

"All life is risk, Caroline."  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  "I am not a perfect man.  I was not before you left, nor when I returned, and I am certainly not now.  But I was honest about who I was.  Who I still am.  Damaged.  Different.  Less than other men, at least to some.  But you?"  Softly, he snorted.  "You have never once been honest about who you are.  And I have to wonder why.  What is so terrible in your past that you cannot tell me?  I, who was once your best friend."

She should speak.  In her heart, Caroline knew she should.  Marcus was giving her every opportunity.  She knew it in the very depths of her soul.  But each time she opened her mouth, no words came out.  Did she trust him?  In truth, she did not trust much of anyone.  Not even those she considered her friends.  She acted as if she trusted them, certainly, but she didn't.  Not really.  If she had, she would have confided in at least one of them.  If no one else, she should have confided in Marcus.  The man who had never once wavered in how much he wanted her for his own.

This time when she attempted to speak, she at least managed a small squeak.  It wasn't enough for Marcus, however.

"No?" he asked softly.  "As you wish, Caro.  Keep your secrets.  Just know that in time, no one may be around to care to hear them."

Fear sliced through her at his words.  "Are you breaking our betrothal then?"

"No."  It was a statement and not a question this time.  "No, I will not dishonor either of us, nor or families, in that fashion.  We will wed.  But you have made it abundantly clear that you do not trust me.  To that end, I believe it is best that once an heir is born, if that is even possible of course, and perhaps another child as well, we lead separate lives.  Do not fear, Caro.  I will not make you suffer my presence any longer than is necessary.  I will not be around overly much for you to mistrust.  Merely to get you with child."  Then his gaze strayed to her middle.  "Given that I did not think to protect you from a babe the other evening, perhaps we are already on our way to that end.  If it is even possible, given my medical condition.  We shall know in a few month's time, will we not?"

Then he turned and walked away, his cane thumping on the floor as he went.  Caroline could only watch his retreating back for a moment or two before he turned the corner to go down the hall and was gone.

She had lost him.  After his words, there could be no doubt.  Marcus, her one true friend, was lost to her because she did not trust.  Then she shook her head.  No, trust went both ways.  He was as guilty as she.  He had not told her everything, either, not the least of which was that he might not be able to sire children.  Then there was the small matter of his infatuation with Lady X and his desire to find her, though to what end Caroline did not know.  To take Lady X as a mistress, perhaps?  Marcus not breathed a word about that scheme either.  He had also hired a Runner to investigate Caroline's past.

To be fair, those things were perhaps not quite the same as her omissions.  His were relatively minor.  And really, he had only hired Harry Greer because Caroline herself was not precisely forthcoming with details about her past.  Her lies?  Well, hers were a bit different, and despite everything, she should have revealed the truth.

Now, she and Marcus were to be married.  She would have the protection of his name.  They would share a life together.  She should have spoken up.  It was only right.  He might have been angry at first, but in time, he would likely have understood that she had not been given a choice.

Except that she hadn't spoken, not a single word, and now she might have just condemned herself to a life apart from the only man she had ever loved.  The truth was, Caroline did not know how to love - at least not really.  Oh, she knew her father had loved her, but he, too had not told her the truth of things.  She hadn't known, for instance, that her mother had indulged with a string of lovers after Caroline had been born, certain she would never give birth to the requisite Redwing heir.  It was on a carriage ride home from one of those very assignations that Lady Frances Turner had fallen getting out of the coach and punctured her hand on an errant nail.  The wound had become infected and she had died a few weeks later.

For much of her childhood, Caroline believed her mother had died of a fever brought on by early childbirth with a male child - the much-longed-for Redwing heir.  It was only after she found her mother's diary that Caroline had discovered the truth.  No one had ever thought that she deserved to know the truth.  The lie was easier to live with she realized now, but that didn't necessarily make it right.  That was not love.  It was control.  And it was all she had ever known.

Her Uncle Lewis had been no better.  He was a lying scoundrel from the beginning, lying not just to her but to others including local lawmen, peers of the realm, creditors and just about every living person under the sun.  In turn, he had forced Caroline to lie as well.  Her cousin Norbert?  He lied so that no one would know how truly awful his father had been, how he had been beaten so often and usually so savagely that once he had almost died at his father's hands.

That beating had been the catalyst for Caroline's introduction to both Dr. Hastings and Gibson Blackwell.  Those men were upright and honest.  They did not lie, at least not as her family did.  They had, in many ways, reminded her of Marcus.  Perhaps that was why she adored them so much, why she had confessed to them as much as she had about her situation with her uncle.  She had told them the truth.  Why could she not do so with Marcus?

Because she loved Marcus, she decided.  With Marcus, that singular emotion was the difference, the only one that counted, really.  She did not love Gibson or Dr. Hastings.  She cared for them certainly, especially Gibson who had remained behind in Northumbria to care for Norbert when Dr. Hastings had been determined to return Caroline to her rightful place in London society.  But it was not the same.

Caroline had loved Marcus enough to defend him from certain death.  She had never told him that either, again a failure on her part, afraid that he would not accept her gift for what it was.  It was a gift of love, her way of offering him words that she did not trust herself enough to speak aloud.

Then Caroline realized that she had never told Marcus that she loved him.  She had never trusted either of them enough to say the words, fearful that he might fling them back at her, unwanted.  Afraid that he might put her aside, inform her that he was in love with Lady X.  Even after they had shared a bed and their bodies, she had not told him.  That morning, just as today, fear had paralyzed her.  Fear of everything.  Fear of trust.

Well, no longer.  With new resolve Caroline dried her eyes, determined to set things right.

Marcus had loved her for longer than he could remember.  She had loved him before she knew what love truly was.  She had to believe that a few short days had not completely destroyed that love.  She needed to trust that it still existed between them.  Damaged certainly, but not irretrievably broken.  She had to trust that if she told him the truth, he would forgive her.  Maybe not today, but in time.

If nothing else, she owed him the truth.  And her trust.  Nothing less would do.