“You just did.”
“Again, then.” Dumbly, Caroline nodded. Ian brushed
his lips against hers, and she closed her eyes, her heart
overflowing.
There was a knock on the door, and Caroline jumped
back as if scalded.
“Tea, Miss.”
“Yes. Th--thank you.”
She was blushing and stammering like a schoolgirl,
and she couldn’t help herself. Ian smiled at her, eyes
twinkling.
“Shall I pour?” he suggested, and
Caroline recovered herself to say sharply enough, “I think I am
quite capable, thank you, Mr. Campbell!”
The maid had left, and Ian chuckled softly. “You
delight me, even when you’re cross.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Caroline replied a bit tartly,
and Ian’s eyes were warm as he replied,
“I would never. I have too much regard for you, Miss
Reid.”
Breathlessly she handed him a cup, relieved that her
fingers did not tremble and slosh the tea into the saucer.
The next half hour passed pleasantly enough, with
the conversation far less charged, although Caroline started to
feel uneasy about her uncle interrupting them.
She was almost relieved when Ian finally took his
leave.
“I regret to say I cannot stay, as much as I want
to. I have business to take care of out of town, but as soon as it
is concluded, I intend to see you again... if you’ll allow me.”
“Yes.” Caroline swallowed, her throat felt so dry.
“Yes, I will.”
“Till, then.” He kissed her fingertips once more,
and then he was gone.
Several hours later, still in a haze of happiness,
Caroline decided to beard her uncle in his library. Blinded by her
own delight, she convinced herself that he would understand the
affection between her and Ian, and want her happiness. The feud
between Ian and her uncle was a decade old... her marriage to Ian
could finally put it to rest.
Filled with such happy daydreams, Caroline went to
open the library door, only to be stopped by the sound of low
voices.
“You’re sure?”
“She’s a young girl, give her time.” James Riddell’s
voice was unctuous, almost wheedling.
“She did not seem very happy in my company at the
party.” Caroline recognized Dearborn’s raspy, strident tone.
“She’s shy, retiring. I promise you, you’ll have her
affections.”
“I could choose another wife, you know, Riddell,”
Dearborn warned. “You seem to think the chit is a pawn in your
possession, but I assure you it’s not so. I’ve taken a liking to
her, it’s true, and I need a wife. But I could find others, just as
I could find other... business partners, if the present ones don’t
seem to be satisfactory.”
“I don’t like threats,” Riddell said coldly. “But I
assure you, my niece will marry you... whether she likes it or
not.”
CHAPTER TEN
The words echoed in Caroline’s mind, making her feel
faint and dizzy. She leaned her head against the study door frame,
listening for Dearborn’s response.
He chuckled, an unpleasantly indulgent sound. “I
don’t want an unwilling bride, Riddell,” he said. “I’m not a
monster, you know.”
“Unwilling? I think not.” Riddell laughed as well,
but it was without humor. “You know how silly young girls can be.
They are liable to get all sorts of notions into their heads. No,
all my niece needs is to see sense. A marriage to you, a prominent
business man, will, of course be advantageous for her in every way
that matters.”
“I should think so.” A pause, and with her heart
thudding wildly, Caroline heard footsteps coming towards the door
she was pressed against.
She stumbled backwards, crashing into a planter
which rocked on its legs. Then, without a backward glance, she
turned and fled upstairs. She barely saw where she was going,
tripping over her skirts as she ran blindly, her fist pressed to
her mouth.
She only felt safe when she was in her bed chamber,
the key turned into the lock with shaking fingers.
She flung the key on the bed. Dear God! Marry
Dearborn, a man old enough to be her father? She thought briefly of
his glittering eyes, his gaunt face, and shuddered. Never! She
would never do it...
And I don’t have
to
. Caroline thought of Ian, and the vision
of his smiling face, his eyes warm with affection and even desire,
gave her some much needed calm. She needn’t act like a pitiful
heroine from some gothic melodrama. No one could force her to marry
Dearborn, no matter what her uncle thought. He could not drag her
to the altar.
I loved once
. Her uncle had admitted as much. Perhaps if he could not see
reason, she could appeal to sentiment. He didn’t know she loved
Ian, but if he did... if he understood...
If only there wasn’t this feud! Caroline pressed her
fingers to her temples, as if she could induce a solution from her
own thoughts.
“Very well,” she said aloud, her voice not quite
steady. “They simply will have to put this feud of theirs aside. It
is old, pointless now--there are more pressing matters.”
If her uncle could see that she
loved someone, even if it was Ian Campbell, he would surely not ask
her to marry another man! She knew he had some finer feelings,
beneath his cold demeanor, the veneer of contempt.
Dusk was falling before Caroline saw Dearborn take
his leave of her uncle’s house. She watched his black carriage pull
away, the leaves fluttering and swirling in its wake, and then turn
the corner before she tidied her hair and dress and went
downstairs.
“Taylor, do you know where my uncle might be
found?”“He’s in the library, Miss. I don’t know if he
wishes...”
She shot him a cool smile, hoping she looked more
confident than she felt. “Never mind, Taylor. I need to speak with
him.”
“Of course, Miss, but I should advise--”
Caroline felt a prickle of irritation. To be
thwarted by the butler...! “I tell you, he will want to hear what I
have to say.” Actually, she feared the exact opposite, but she was
not going to confide in Taylor of all people.
With a swish of her skirts, she opened the library
door and closed it firmly behind her, her heart beating like a wild
bird trapped in a cage.
Her uncle was looking at some papers on his desk,
his back to her. “Put the brandy on the table, Taylor, and leave
me.”
“It is not Taylor, Uncle James, but Caroline. Your
niece.” Caroline was relieved to hear her voice sound steady,
almost normal.
He whirled around, his face suffused with ready
anger. “What! You are not to enter without knocking, you brazen
chit!”
Caroline had meant to be calm, meant to be the
mature young woman she knew she could be, that she hoped Ian
believed her to be, but somehow her temper escaped, flew out of its
cage, surprising them both. “And you are not to auction me off like
a slab of meat at the butcher’s!”
“What did you say?” Riddell’s eyes narrowed
dangerously. “Did you eavesdrop, you nosy minx?”
“I was coming in here to tell you--something,”
Caroline said, suddenly not wanting to play her trump card, her
love for Ian. Who knew what her uncle would do with that
information in his current mood? “I could not help but overhear!
And I was disgusted by the pair of you, bartering for me like a cow
or ox.”
Riddell smiled unpleasantly. “You may choose to draw
such comparisons, my dear, but the truth remains. It behooves you
to do as I wish and marry Matthew Dearborn.”
Caroline threw her head back. “And why on earth
would I consider such a deplorable thing? As if I loved him--or
even knew him!”
“You have been too long carried away with ridiculous
romantic notions. Marriage is not about love. It is not even about
knowing someone! It is a business contract in which both of you
come away with something satisfactory.”
“Oh, indeed?” Caroline retorted. “Then tell me what
Dearborn gains from such a contract! My dowry, I’m sure, is hardly
bait for which he’d dangle.”
“Don’t be crude.” Riddell’s nostrils flared in
distaste. “I know not why he cares for the alliance except that
he’s taken a liking to you. You divert him, amuse him, although you
would hardly do so in your present state, scowling and shrieking
like a misbegotten shrew.”
“If I behave in such a fashion,” Caroline snapped,
striving to regain her calm, “it is because I have been goaded
beyond all resistance.”
“Then you need to develop a bit more moral
character.” Riddell smiled in triumph, as if he knew he’d
successfully retrieved the upper hand.
Caroline drew in a long, shaky breath. She knew she
needed to stay calm, strong, if she wished to win this one
skirmish. There would be other battles. “I amuse him. Very well.”
She nodded, accepting the fact, repellent as it was. “What is in it
for you, dear uncle? For you obviously desire the match very
strongly.”
“Ah, now you’re trying to be clever, I see.” Riddell
nodded, almost admiring of her deduction. He decanted the brandy
and poured himself a generous amount. “I’ll tell you as much. I
have business with him, important business, and your marriage would
seal our bargain nicely.” He paused and took a sip. “You might have
noticed I had not been as generous to you with your dress allowance
and such amusements when you resided at Lanymoor House. It was not
spite, Caroline, but economy. My investments and properties have
been hard hit in these dangerous times, and so I turned to America
for new opportunity. Dearborn has provided it admirably, and I
would hate to see all our newfound wealth--your newfound
comforts--disappear in a trice.”
Caroline felt a ripple of unease at her uncle’s
vague words. She almost asked what kind of business, but she did
not want to be diverted from her purpose. “I don’t care about such
things,” she said after a moment, and Riddell laughed.
“Oh, indeed not? You might think differently if that
dress were stripped off your back, and you were handed a char brush
and pail and told to work for your living as a skivvy!”
Caroline’s eyes widened at the image. She shook her
head. “You exaggerate to shock me.”
“If only I did.” Riddell turned to face her, his
expression suddenly savage, something like fear in his eyes. “What
if I told you that a marriage to Dearborn is the only thing that
keeps this roof over your head, the clothes in your wardrobe, the
slippers on those pretty little feet? What if I told you that such
a marriage is the only thing standing between you and humiliation
and scandal in front of all of Boston society?”
Caroline stared at him, her mind frozen by such a
pronouncement. She was not afraid of scandal, at least she didn’t
think she was, but bankruptcy--poverty--those thoughts chilled her.
Her father had been a gambler, her mother impoverished, and she was
close enough to the pauper’s state, kept only by her uncle’s
variable generosity, that the poverty her uncle threatened her with
seemed all too possible.
And yet...
Surely her uncle was exaggerating. They lived in
comfort, they moved in nearly the best society. There could not be
such a thin line between respectability and despair! Not now, not
ever.
“It cannot be,” she said, shaking her head. “You are
trying to frighten me into agreeing. I know it!”
Riddell shook his head slowly, his expression bleak.
He looked suddenly old, old and tired, his hair white, his face
haggard. “If only, dear niece,” he said wearily. “If only that were
true.”
For the first time, Caroline gave credence to his
words, and she felt cold all over, as if she’d been doused in ice
water. Just what kind of trouble had her uncle got them both
into?
“Are you saying,” she said in a whisper, “that if I
marry Dearborn, he will save us from ruin?”
“Yes, if it is possible.”
“And if I don’t? What will he do then?”
Riddell smiled grimly. “The opposite, of
course.”
“But then he is a monster. A monster you would have
me marry!”
“He is selfish, certainly,” Riddell answered. “He is
concerned with his own gain and prosperity, as any merchant would
be.”
“But why,” Caroline nearly wailed, “has he taken
such a liking to me?”
“Be glad he has. It is the only thing which saves us
from debtor’s prison.”
“There are no debtor prisons in this country!’
“What would you prefer? To flee out West and live in
a mud hut? Or worse, be scalped by a savage?”
Caroline’s hand clawed at her throat. She felt
breathless. “Don’t say such things.”
“I’ve spared you the worst of it, for your own sake.
You could do far worse than Matthew Dearborn, Caroline. He is
wealthy, he is respected in his trade, and he would, I believe,
treat you kindly. He is not a monster, and neither am I to
encourage this match.”
“What if...” Caroline bit her lip. She wanted to
speak of Ian, yet she feared to mention his name now would be near
ruinous.
“Leave me now,” Riddell said tiredly. “There is
nothing more to say. Nothing that we will not regret, at any
rate.”
He turned away from her, shoulders slumped, and
Caroline knew there was no point in finishing the conversation. For
now, it was a very short reprieve. At least there were no plans to
see Dearborn... at least no plans she knew of.
She walked slowly back to her room, her mind
spinning. She did not know what would happen.
Would her uncle truly expect her to suffer
Dearborn’s attentions? If what he said was true, and she now feared
it was, he would certainly not leave it at that. It could only be a
matter of weeks--perhaps days--before her dilemma returned
afresh.
And, she realized hollowly, her uncle would not take
kindly to the fact that she loved another, especially if it
jeopardized Dearborn’s interest. No, he would likely fly into a
rage instead.
Caroline shivered. What on earth should she do? Then
it came to her. She would write Ian. He always seemed so certain,
so wise.