Rule's Bride (17 page)

Caroline released a shaky breath. “You're right. We are both of us resilient. And I shall be resilient in this.”

And there was one advantage.

Her curiosity would finally be satisfied. She would finally get to find out what it was like to make love with Lucas Barclay.

“I
t won't be as bad as all that,” Rule said to Luke three days later. “You like the chit and you want her. The rest will fall into place.”

With the use of a special license, a hasty wedding had been arranged. Beneath a warm May sun in the garden of Rule's town house, Luke stood next to his best friend, awaiting the arrival of his bride.

He stared down at his feet. “She didn't want to marry me. Half the women in London have tried to trick me into marriage and the one I'm forced to wed doesn't want me.”

“Give her a little time to get used to the notion. Court her a little, buy her something expensive. Give her some time and it won't be a problem.”

Luke scowled. “I intend to have her tonight. That's the only thing I've got to look forward to in this whole bloody affair.”

“She's a virgin, Luke. You can't just take her. You need to court her, seduce her into your bed.”

“She'll be my wife,” Luke argued. “That gives me certain rights.” But what if Rule was correct? Caroline was extremely independent. It was one of the things he admired
about her. But she was also naive. Perhaps if he waited, things would go better between them.

He glanced over to where his brother Christopher and his sister-in-law Jocelyn sat in the first row of chairs in front of the arbor. Before they had decided to marry, Christopher had been reluctant. Jocelyn was spoiled and selfish, a hellion of the very worst sort.

Luke had been certain his brother's marriage was doomed to failure.

But Christopher had been patient. And firm where his beautiful bride was concerned. In the end, his patience had paid off and they were happy. Blissfully so. With two young children and plans for another in the future.

Luke turned back to Rule. “Do you love her? Your wife—do you love her?”

Rule glanced away. “My mother died when I was born. Aside from my aunt and my sisters-in-law, whom I care for deeply, my only use for a woman has been in bed. To tell you the truth, Luke, I don't really know what love is.”

Luke grunted. “That's what I thought.”

“It doesn't mean you can't be happy. Married men have a great deal of latitude…if you know what I mean.”

Luke knew exactly what he meant. But somehow the notion of bedding another woman held little appeal. “I suppose.”

Rule looked toward the terrace where a silver-haired man wearing spectacles and flowing white robes walked toward them. “The bishop is arrived. I had better go and collect your bride.”

Luke clamped his jaw. “Let's just get this done.”

As Rule moved toward the terrace to escort her down the aisle, Christopher rose from the chair next to Jocelyn and took his place near the altar as Luke's best man.

“She's a beautiful girl,” Chris said. He was as tall as Luke, with the same dark coloring, dark hair and eyes.

“She is that.” And smart, Luke thought, undoubtedly the reason she'd had to be practically dragged, kicking and screaming, to the altar. He would make a lousy husband. Any woman with half a brain could see that. Aside from the desire she felt for him, she hadn't wanted him. In fact, she had intended to put four thousand miles between them. Why that bothered him, he could not say.

Luke forced his attention up the aisle. In a gauzy silk gown so pale a blue it looked almost white, her golden hair hidden by a sheer tulle veil, Caroline accepted Rule's arm and waited for the organ music to start. Her grandmother walked over and squeezed her hand and Caroline bent and kissed the older woman's cheek.

The organist rested her fingers on the keyboard. As the first chords began, Caroline turned and looked directly at Luke, and he felt the force of her gaze like a blow to the stomach.

Damn, he didn't like this. Didn't like that when they had been caught together in the library, part of him had been glad. He had been attracted to Caroline Lockhart from the moment he had met her. Not enough to offer marriage, of course, just enough to want her in his bed.

It looked like that was going to happen—sooner or later.

Luke sighed. If he followed his best friend's advice, it wouldn't happen tonight.

As he waited for his bride to join him at the altar, Luke silently cursed.

 

A deal was struck. Griffin Manufacturing would be sold to Charles Whitney with the provision he would not arm the states in the American South.

Violet was surprised the man had agreed. It took any number of buyers to make a company profitable. If it weren't for the possibility of war looming on the horizon, it wouldn't matter who bought the armaments Griffin made. But Whitney was also opposed to the notion of slavery and, since there were plenty of customers for the high-quality weapons being produced, he agreed to the terms of the sale.

Over the next several days, Whitney's solicitors reviewed the contracts, his experts made a thorough inspection of the factory, and the profits shown in the ledgers were approved.

“And your man in America has given his tentative approval of the Boston facility?” Rule confirmed during a meeting at the office.

“That is correct.”

“We'll have to wait for final approval before we close the deal in America, but we should be able to finalize the sale here in London by the end of the week.”

“Jolly good,” said Whitney, grinning beneath his brown, silver-flecked mustache. “There are several fine points we still need to discuss. Once those are settled, I'll have my solicitor set us up for the final closing, if that meets with your approval.”

“It does,” Rule agreed.

Whitney turned to Violet. “My lady?”

“My father would approve of a man of your character taking over the business he worked so hard to build.”

After the meeting, in anticipation of reinvesting the profits from the sale, Violet took the balance of the day off from work. She carried home the information on the projects Rule wanted her to review and now sat in the drawing room poring over them.

She was engrossed in a proposal for a railway line that connected London to York when the butler's familiar light rap sounded on the door.

“What is it, Hat?” she said as he slid open the heavy wooden panels.

“My lady, your cousin Mrs. Barclay is here to see you.”

Mrs. Barclay.
It still had an unfamiliar ring. “Please show her in.” Violet wasn't certain if she should be excited to see her newly married cousin, or worried about why Caroline might have come.

One look at her cousin's teary expression answered her question.

“Oh, my goodness, what is wrong?”

As she sat down next to Violet on the sofa, Caroline pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed it beneath her eyes.

“Luke hates me. I told you he would.”

“I don't believe that—not for a moment.” Violet rose and crossed to the bellpull to ring for tea, which her cousin obviously needed. Before she could reach the cord, she heard the telltale rattle of the tea cart coming down the hallway and smiled.

Hatfield was truly a gem.

“Thank you, Hat.” She waited while he pushed the cart over to the sofa then quietly disappeared from the drawing room.

Violet poured tea into two porcelain cups, glad she had finally acquired a taste for the brew that seemed a necessity in the country she now called home, and handed one of the cups to Caroline.

“Now take a nice warm drink and tell me what has happened.”

Caroline sipped her tea, her face still pale, and Violet
wondered if perhaps she should have offered her cousin something stronger.

Caroline dragged in a shaky breath and slowly released it. The cup rattled as she set it back down in its saucer. “
Nothing
has happened. That is the problem.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand.”

“Except for that little kiss at the altar, Luke hasn't touched me. I'm his wife, Violet, but he doesn't want me.” She sniffed and fresh tears welled.

“Don't be silly. Of course he wants you. That is how the two of you got into trouble in the first place.”

Caroline raised her handkerchief and blew her nose. “Perhaps he is simply too angry—not that he lets it show. He is so polite I can barely stomach it. He has taken me for carriage rides in the park and bought me trinkets in Bond Street, all the while he barely says a word to me. At night, we have supper together, then he escorts me upstairs to my room and leaves.”

She ignored the tea that was rapidly growing cold in her cup. “Luke is an extremely virile man, Violet. If he isn't making love to me, he must be spending his nights with another woman.”

Violet shook her head. “That doesn't make sense. Luke has a wife he desires—whether you believe it or not. Why would he need another woman?”

Caroline started crying. “I don't know. I wish I did.”

Violet set her cup and saucer down on the table next to Caroline's. “Well, there is only one way you are going to find out. You are going to have to ask him.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You're going to have to ask him why he doesn't want to make love to you.”

Caroline shook her head. “I couldn't do that. I'm too afraid of what he might say.”

“You are never afraid of anything. You can do this, Carrie. You have to.”

Caroline bit her lip, pondering Violet's words. She stood up from the sofa. “You are right. I shall talk to him tonight after supper—before he goes off to his mistress or whatever it is he does.”

“Good for you.”

“And if he doesn't tell me the truth, I shall give him a piece of my mind.”

“Of course you will.”

Squaring her shoulders, Caroline headed for the door. “Wish me luck.”

“You don't need luck—you have courage.”

Caroline managed a halfhearted smile as she disappeared out the door, and Violet leaned against the back of the sofa. What ill wind had forced Caroline to marry a rogue like Lucas Barclay? Perhaps it was the same ill wind that had whisked Violet into marriage with Rule. Both of their husbands had outrageous reputations and would likely tire of their brides.

Perhaps Caroline was right and Barclay was already involved with another woman.

Violet recalled the night of the soiree when Luke and Caroline had been caught in the library. That same night, she had seen Rule talking to a woman in the hallway outside the main salon. At the time, she hadn't known the identity of the beautiful laughing brunette with the sky-blue eyes.

Later, when Violet had been talking to Lily, she had seen her again.

“Do you know who that woman is?” Violet had asked. “I don't believe I've seen her before.”

Lily's gaze followed hers. “Why, that is Juliana Markham, Countess of Fremont, widow of the late earl. Beautiful, isn't she? She is just out of mourning, I gather, and recently arrived from the earl's country estate in Buckinghamshire.”

Violet surveyed the statuesque young woman in her mid-twenties. “She is young to be widowed.”

“Yes, well, her husband was quite old. An arranged marriage, I'm told, and not a particularly happy one. Perhaps Lady Fremont will find a man more to her liking the second time 'round.”

Violet had watched her floating among the ladies and gentlemen like a magnificent butterfly and thought that indeed the young widow was on the prowl.

Now, as she sat in the drawing room remembering the woman with Rule, the two of them laughing together in the hallway, a shiver moved down her spine.

 

Caroline made it through another supper with Luke, a strained affair with no more than a dozen words spoken. Luke stood up as the meal came to a close and helped Caroline rise from her chair.

She had dressed with special care tonight, in the same pearl-trimmed, amethyst satin gown she had worn the night of the soiree. He had wanted her that night. Perhaps she could make him want her again.

For an instant, Luke's gaze drifted to the swell of her breasts, then jerked away. He cleared his throat.

“I shall leave you to entertain yourself,” he said as he ushered her out of the dining room. “I have some paperwork to go over, then I'm going out for a while. If you will excuse me…”

Caroline squared her shoulders. “No. I won't excuse you, Luke. Not tonight.”

His eyebrows went up. Then his jaw firmed. “Since when do you tell me what I can and cannot do?”

“
Since when
does a newly married man not wish to claim his husbandly rights? Who is she, Luke? Obviously you are involved with another woman. At least be honest enough to admit it.”

His eyes widened. “That is what you think? That I am spending my nights with another woman?”

“Aren't you? I thought you wanted me, Luke. You certainly acted that way the night they found us together. You made it clear you didn't want marriage, but I thought…I thought that at least we shared a…a…mutual attraction.”

His gaze darkened to nearly black and his nostrils flared. “There is no other woman.”

“What, then? Are you so angry with me for what happened—”

“What happened wasn't your fault. I knew the chance I was taking when we stepped into the library.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “But you did it anyway and now we are married. I don't understand why you don't want to make love to me.”

For several long moments, Luke just stood there. He seemed to be fighting for control. “You didn't want to marry me. You were forced into it. I was trying to give you some time.”

She blinked and the tears in her eyes spilled onto her cheeks. “Truly?”

Instead of answering, Luke bent down and swept her up in his arms. Her satin gown flowed over the sleeve of his coat as he strode toward the staircase. With an urgency that made her breath catch, he climbed the stairs, strode into his bedroom and set her on her feet beside the bed.

“I've never been a fool where women were concerned—
not until you. You think I don't want you? I want you more than I want to breathe.”