The Secret Love of a Gentleman

Caro instinctively leant back.

Robbie and Drew looked at her, but Robbie did not move back, instead he shifted forward on to his knees, leaned over and tickled George’s tummy, making him giggle.

It left Caro sitting two feet away from him.

When Robbie stopped tickling, George crawled to her, to escape his uncle, still giggling.

The attention of both men followed George. Heat burned in Caro’s cheeks as the rhythm of her heartbeat rose. She pulled George onto her lap and hugged him, perhaps a little too tightly, but it helped relieve her discomfort.

“I am sorry I missed you yesterday, Caroline.”

Robbie was being polite, nothing else, but yet again her senses revolted. He knew she’d avoided him on purpose.

“Caro,” Drew prompted, when she did not answer, as though she was a child to be corrected.

Her gaze lifted to Robbie’s eyes. They were blue, but a much darker blue than Mary’s.

Caro had never spoken to him before, never been this close to him. He did not have the imposing presence of his elder ducal brother, his body was relaxed and his appearance therefore more approachable as he smiled at her. But he was still a man, even though he was young and behaved with good manners, and she was still uncomfortable with him so near.

He leaned sideways, resting his weight onto one hand. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and she could see his forearm covered in a dusting of dark hair.

George broke free from her embrace. “Papa, I need the pot,” he declared with extreme urgency. He always waited until the last moment.

“I’ll take him.” Caroline moved to rise, but Drew pressed a hand on her shoulder as he did.

“You stay here, I’ll take him.” He rose.

She knew what Drew was doing—he was forcing her to endure Robbie’s company. He’d expressed his view over her “flighty nature” dozens of times and he was never cruel about it, but he’d insisted often that she should try harder to overcome it. He was stubborn.

“I will do my best not to discompose you when I stay at Drew’s.”

Caro’s gaze spun back to Robbie. Every one of her senses screamed.

Robbie had a physical energy about him, an aura that said he was an active man and he was athletic in build.

“I… I…” Her gaze turned to where his elder female cousins sat a little way away. They had their husbands beside them.

She had never felt more desolate.

The tears which threatened caught in her throat as she clutched her knees, holding them close, clinging to herself as if she were driftwood on a swirling sea.

A family group the other side of them laughed. Caro unfurled and rose instantly. She could not do this. She turned and began walking, uncertain where she was going, but knowing she could not stay there.

“Caroline.” her name was spoken quietly. Robbie had followed. She glanced back, her gaze apologising. It was not his fault. He’d done nothing wrong.

But then she turned away and fled, striding across the lawn in the direction that Drew had taken.

She had truly cast herself a gaol cell.

~

Rob was torn. Should I chase after her? He’d said nothing wrong and yet guilt gripped in his chest. Caroline had braved his company and he’d scared her off.

He cursed himself as he watched her ascend the shallow flight of stairs leading to the stone terrace and then disappear into the house, a phantom again.

He’d have to apologise this evening.

When they ate dinner he watched Caroline often, glancing at her across the table. Kate had pandered to Caroline’s insecurities, she’d been seated between his mother and Mary, disobeying the male, then female, structure of the entire group. But between the women who she knew and perhaps felt a little more comfortable with, Caroline had animation. Deep in conversation, she smiled at Mary on occasions and her hand gestured as she spoke.

She was beautiful, but not in the striking way of his family. Caroline’s beauty was almost indefinable—there was no particular notable element—but the elements put together…

Her hair was blonde, a golden yellow, her skin clear but not remarkably pale, and her eyes hazel. Her nose was slender and long, and her lips generous, but when they parted in a rare smile, it lit up her face, awakening her overall beauty. He was fascinated. He hardly spoke to his aunt Jane and his cousin Eleanor, who flanked him at the table.

Watching Caroline was like watching a wild creature. She required patience. To observe her in reality you must sit in silence because if you moved she would know you were watching and be scared away.

Her gaze caught on his, only for an instant. Then she looked at his mother. But in that instant something hard struck him in the chest.

The candlelight from the candelabra on the table made her skin glow, and the different shades in her eyes became darker as the light flickered.

When the women rose and left the table, Rob spoke with his uncle James. They walked into the drawing room together later, once they had finished their port, and as they did, Rob’s gaze searched for Caroline.

She was sitting in the corner, beside Kate.

Every time he’d seen Caroline here over the years she’d hidden in corners.

“Robbie.” Rob turned at his ducal brother’s greeting. “I imagine you have been longing for this summer, to have your freedom and stretch your wings. I know I was excited at your age.”

“You did not just stretch your wings, you flew off.” John had been the ideal Rob aspired to when he was younger—but John was so damned perfect Rob would never match him. John irked him now. They were not particularly close. In Rob’s formative years John had been away at school and then abroad for years. When John had returned to take up the role of duke, he’d been a grown man and Rob still a boy.

“Yes, well, this country held no appeal when grandfather was alive, and I had a contrary nature. Leaving was the only way I could influence my life. You could do the same if you wished—go abroad. Your allowance is yours to do with as you will.”

Rob held his brother’s gaze as the words kicked him in the gut. Living on John’s generosity was not the life he chose. “I’ve no idea what I wish to do.” That was not true, but he would not share it with John because he knew one thing clearly, I do not wish to mimic you.

“Except escape Mama’s nest.”

“Well, yes, that, obviously.” Rob’s gaze swung away and reached across the room, only to find Caroline watching him. His heart thumped in his chest as he met her look. She turned away, and his gaze turned back to John.

“Will you run riot in town, then?”

“That’s Harry’s style. You know it is not mine.” Harry was the hell-raiser. Rob had never been that.

John gripped Rob’s shoulder. “Well, whatever you do, do not become a stranger.”

Rob nodded. John turned away. Rob looked back at Caroline. She was alone.

She was looking at her hands, which rested in her lap, trying to hide amidst a crowd. A phantom.

He walked over to her. “Caroline.” The muscle of her upper body jerked, her gaze flying to his for an instant. She hadn’t noticed him approaching. She looked down again.

Her hair was curled and coifed, with a few wisps trailing the length of her slender neck and kissing her cheeks. Those curls danced with her movement.

She was a slender woman, neither short nor tall, but fragile in appearance, and yet she had a generous bosom.

Rather than tower over her, he dropped into the seat beside hers.

She leant back a little.

“I am sorry for upsetting you this afternoon, but there was no need to run.”

Once more her gaze flew to him, before falling away.

“Look at me.” Rob urged quietly, sitting forward in his chair and leaning towards her. No one ever challenged her, no one. Everyone protected her.

The memory of his younger sister, Jemima’s, aversion to spiders came to mind. He’d caught one and kept it in a glass so that she could look at it, and eventually he’d persuaded her to touch it, now she could let one run across her hand. Fears ought to be faced.

Her gaze lifted to his, and her eyes shone from behind blonde eyelashes; her eye colour in candlelight was a dark amber. Her eyebrows arched as her fingers clasped more firmly in her lap.

“I am staying with Drew and Mary for the summer…” He searched for words.

“I know, Mr Marlow.”

Her gaze left his and looked for someone to rescue her, probably Drew.

“Rob, Caroline, not Mr Marlow. Look at me,” he said again. If she would look at him, then maybe he could begin to help break her fear.

She did, but her gaze raged at him, bidding him to leave her alone.

“Why do you not feel comfortable?”

She looked away. She was about to rise and run again. Instinctively he reached out and caught hold of her wrist. “Caroline…” But immediately he realised what he’d done. No one touched her except Drew, Mary and the children. Everyone knew Caroline could not abide to be touched.

It was as though a lightning bolt struck between them her reaction was so violent and sudden. Her gaze accused him of committing murder as his fingers opened. Her arm slipped from his hold when she rose from her chair and fled again, crossing the room to the safety of Mary.

Rob watched her flight and felt a heel. He should not have pushed her.

He looked at his sister and awaited a glance of condemnation. None came. Caroline did not tell Mary, and no one in the room had noticed that he’d approached Caroline.

He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his fist, still watching Caroline.

“You’re miles away, where are you?” Rob’s uncle Robert, the Earl of Barrington, occupied the chair Caroline had vacated.

As Rob leant back, his ankle lifted to rest on his opposite knee and he smiled. Uncle Robert was his favourite uncle, his father’s brother. Rob had been named for him.

“I did not think you were coming. I thought you were going home to Yorkshire.”

“Jane wished to spend some time with everyone before we left. I gave in to her coercion.”

Aunt Jane was sitting at the pianoforte, in the company of his cousin Margaret, sorting through music.

Rob had been close to them from a young age. Their eldest son, Henry, was of an age with Harry, so Rob and Harry had stayed with them frequently as children.

Henry was more like Harry, though. They were both currently standing to one side of the room drinking and laughing with the others of their age group.

Rob looked back at his uncle. Robert had undertaken a grand tour, as John had. “Did you enjoy the continent when you were there?”

Robert smiled, then looked at his wife. “Jane grew up on a manor bordering my father’s land. We were close as children. I was in love with her, but she married someone else, an arranged marriage. She broke my heart. I left England because I was miserable. My time abroad was equally miserable.”

Rob shifted to sit upright, his leg falling from his knee. He’d known Jane grew up with his uncle and his father, but he had not known his uncle had loved her then. His father often likened Harry to their uncle Robert, but in that context there was nothing similar. “I thought you’d gone abroad for fun, like John.”

“No, I was sent there in disgrace by your grandfather. I’d dropped out of university and become an embarrassment.”

“I did not know. I’m sorry.”

“Why should you have known? What of you? Have you decided what you will do?”

“No, beyond finding rooms in London during the summer.” He’d told none of his family about his great plan. He knew if he spoke of it they would grasp upon the idea, and in the name of helpfulness take it over and manipulate it all so that the achievement would not be his. If he wished to take up a place in the House of Commons and speak for the working class he needed to first earn the people’s trust and win a true vote, not one contrived by his family.

“You know you would be welcome with us, if you wished to come. The tenants are due to leave the estate, which used to belong to Jane’s father. I’d be happy for you to take it over and cut your teeth managing that.”

Rob’s father had done that, he’d managed all of the Barrington Estate, while Robert had been abroad and, like John, Rob’s father set the bar high for any comparison. No, Rob wished to take his life in a direction that no one in his family had gone. Following in his father’s footsteps and relying on his uncle held no greater pleasure than living off his brother’s generosity.

“It is only an offer, Robbie…”

Rob’s gaze travelled to where Caroline stood. She had been looking at him; she looked away.

A spasm seized his stomach. It was odd to have her look at him.

“If you change your mind write and let me know. I’ll probably not re-let it for a few months; there is some work to be done on the house.”

Rob looked at his uncle. “Henry may want it in a couple of years?”

“Henry will have plenty to occupy him on my other estates and Henry is not you. My son is reckless and self-absorbed. He’ll not settle to anything that requires sobriety and forethought for years. The only thing he is currently interested in is racing horses. He spends more time with Forth than me.”

Lord Forth, who bred horses, was a neighbour of Uncle Robert’s and a friend of Rob’s father’s too.

“Racing is Henry’s passion and his weakness,” Rob stated.

“What is your weakness?” His uncle lifted an eyebrow.

His whole family believed he had no weaknesses, thanks to Harry’s mocking. His brother liked to taunt Rob for being staid. Or boring, as Harry put it. But Harry was so damned wild Rob had always been too busy hauling his brother out of scrapes to get into any of his own. Being the eldest boy he’d been forced into responsibility for his siblings.

Yet his peers in the family had never done the same.

It was true he had no vice, though. But he did not think himself dull.

He’d drunk excessively once, and woken up hating the fact he could not recall what he’d said and done. He’d played cards for money once and lost half his allowance, then considered gambling a fool’s game.

Perhaps his weakness was idealism. But in truth, now… “A lack of inspiration.” The look he shared with his uncle mocked himself. He had this great plan, but really it was no plan at all, simply fanciful, he did not have a method by which to achieve it.

“Something will come along to give you purpose. Wait and see.” His uncle looked away, turning as his eldest daughter, who was fifteen, joined them.

“We are going to dance, will you dance with me, Papa?” She gave Rob a smile. Julie had her mother’s unusual green eyes.

“Julie.” Rob nodded.

“Robbie,” she bobbed a shallow curtsy. It was unnecessary but the girl was already practising for her debut. He smiled more broadly and she smiled brightly.

“I shall be honoured, young lady.” Uncle Robert stood.

Rob looked across the room. Caroline was standing beside his sister, looking at him. Before she had chance to look away, he smiled as he had just done at his cousin. Red stained Caroline’s cheeks when she did look away.

Rob rose. It would be crass of him not to offer to escort one his female cousins in the dance.

They danced a string of over half a dozen country dances, and he participated in every one with one of his cousins or sisters, but as he did so, he noted Caroline watching him frequently. If he’d been more courageous he would have offered to partner her, but she never danced.

He wondered if she wished to dance, if perhaps she was trapped by her fears and they were just as disturbing for her as they were for those trying desperately not to upset her.

Idealism was certainly his fault, because in his mind’s eye he saw her dancing. She’d come to life when she’d spoken with Mary. How much more would she come to life if she danced without fear.

I shall dance with her by the end of the summer. The promise whispered through his soul. He abhorred dares, dares were another thing that was Harry’s forte—but if Rob wished to achieve something, when he set his mind to it, he did so with determination. He would see her dance because he firmly believed, from the amount of times she had looked at him this evening, she was not happy to be withheld by her fear. She wished to dance.

If I wish to achieve something, when I set my mind to it, I do so with determination… He’d hold that thought fast through the summer, and find a way to win himself a seat in the House of Commons without the assistance of his family.

Chapter 6

“Aun’ie Ca’o, look.” Caro turned her gaze from the window to her nephew, who held out the wooden horse his grandfather had given him the day before. He was playing with his ark full of wooden animals.

“I can see, darling.”

His nanny was kneeling on the floor beside him, while Iris lay sleeping in a cradle across the room. There was no need for Caro’s presence in the nursery other than that she wished to be here.

“It’s nearly three, ma’am. Will you stay here for tea?” the nanny asked, rising from the floor.

Caro turned fully away from the attic window. Robbie had been due to arrive at two. He was an hour late. Drew would expect her to go down for tea once he came, but Caro was a coward to the core. “Yes, I will. I have nothing else to do.”

Caro walked over to George, who was galloping his horse across the rug, she bent and caught hold of his waist, then lifted him an inch or two off the floor. He laughed and wriggled. “Aun’ie Ca’o.”

“Tyke, you will be a monster when you are grown.”

“Papa, says I’ll be a ‘ogue and I’is a diamon’.”

“You’ll be a star and outshine everyone, and Iris will be sunlight, too bright for anyone to look at.” Caro lifted him up and balanced him on her hip. From outside came the loud sound of an arrival, carriage wheels turning on the gravel and horses’ hooves crunching in the stones.

“Uncle Bobbie!” George bellowed, pointing to the window with his horse.

Caroline’s heart thumped in her chest.

“Let me see, Aun’ie Ca’o.”

She wished to look as much as George did. She crossed the room and leaned to the window. She could still feel the sensation of Robbie’s fingers brushing against her skin last night when he’d touched her arm, and then she’d risen and her arm had slipped from his hold. His grip had been gentle. He’d not held her hard.

Robbie’s fashionable phaeton stood below and two thoroughbred chestnuts shook out their manes in the traces, while one of her brother’s grooms held their heads to stop them bolting.

Robbie jumped down as Drew walked forward. She’d watched Robbie moving last night as he’d danced. His slender, athletic build gave his movement grace. He’d not meant to disconcert her yesterday. She knew it. He was simply being thoughtful, and she had watched him dance with his sisters and his cousins, displaying the same thoughtfulness, while his brother and his male cousins stood to one side of the room talking amongst themselves and laughing frequently.

“Uncle Bobbie!” George cried again, his legs straightening, expressing his desire to get down as he wriggled to be free.

Caro set him down. Immediately he ran to the door and tried to reach the handle.

“Master George!” The nanny reprimanded, but George would never be deterred from the thought of someone new to play with.

“I shall go with him,” Caro stated as George managed to turn the handle and run out. “Forget the tea. I doubt we shall be back,”

Caro’s heart raced as she followed, but it was not with fear. She felt inexplicably excited. Why was she excited?

“George!” she called, as he ran along the hall. He always looked like a little caricature of Drew when he ran. “George!” He did not stop. “George! Wait! Or I will tell your papa you misbehaved and you shall not see Uncle Robbie!” Her heart thumped harder as George neared the top of the narrow stairs leading down from the attic. “George, stop!” She clasped her skirt and held it high as she ran too, terrified he’d fall.

The child was an absolute nightmare when he chose to be, but thank the Lord he stopped and turned back, waiting for her as he grasped a spindle of the banister.

“Good boy, George, darling,” she praised breathlessly when she reached him, dropping to her haunches to hug him in relief. “Remember, you are not to run near the stairs, nor near horses or water, they are the three things you must never do.”

He nodded, his face twisting in a look of concern over her distress.

“Good boy,” she gave him another squeeze as love spilled from her heart into her blood. Drew’s children were her life. Without them she would have nothing to hold her together.

When she rose she lifted him to her hip and kissed his cheek, then said near his ear, “Come along, then, let us find your Uncle Robbie.”

She carried him down, with one hand sliding along the stair rail.

“May I see Uncle Bobbie’s ho’ses?”

“They will be in the stables. You may see them another day.”

“Will Papa let me ‘ide them?”

“One day, yes, I’m sure he will.”

George’s short-sentenced conversation continued down the stairs. He so rarely ran out of enthusiasm or energy.

When they reached the first floor, Caro heard loud, masculine voices echoing along the landing. Robbie was already upstairs and he and Drew were heading towards the drawing room. She stopped on the stairs, looking down through the stairwell and saw the servants carrying in Robbie’s luggage on the ground floor.

She’d hoped for a moment more of obscurity, but her hopes wilted as George shouted loudly, “Uncle Bobbie!” and then he fought for freedom. She finished her descent and set him down. He charged off in the direction of the voices.

Caro did not follow. Her excitement ebbed as she saw them.

“Uncle Bobbie!”

They looked back.

Foreboding crept over Caro and then the familiar discomfort—panic. Her lungs emptied of breath. Rob was looking at her not George, his gaze briefly skimmed the length of her body, then lifted back to her face. She felt hot as well as uncomfortable. The recollection of his touch now gave her a sense of self-consciousness. Her discomfort with other people had been her companion for too many years.

“Oh!” The cry came from George. He’d caught his toe on a wrinkle in the carpet and he tumbled forward, still gripping his wooden horse.

Caro lifted the hem of her dress and ran as the poor child’s head hit the floor with a bump. Thank the Lord it was wood and not stone.

Drew reached him first, but George was now howling, the broken wooden horse still grasped in his hand. It had lost a leg, but it was also covered in the child’s blood.

“What has he done?” she asked, stopping before them, breathing hard.

Drew wiped his thumb across his son’s swollen lower lip as Robbie held out a handkerchief.

“He bit his lip when he fell. No real harm, Caro,” Drew answered.

Caro’s fingers pressed against her chest, then reached to brush through George’s hair. He was crying still. She sensed Robbie watching her, but she did not care. George was everything to her. “Poppet,” she whispered, “did you break your horse?”

“Grandpa will buy you another,” Robbie said, his fingers brushing across George’s brow. They touched Caro’s. She pulled her hand away as she met Robbie’s dark gaze.

Her heart raced into a gallop, calling her to flee.

But if Robbie was to be here for the whole summer she must force herself to feel easier with him. “I brought him down because he wished to see you.”

George’s wails had turned to quieter sobs and sniffs. Robbie held his hands out and George reached for him in return. He set his arms about Robbie’s neck as Robbie took him.

Robbie’s ease with George moved something within Caro. If she had given Albert a son he would not have held the child, he would have probably looked into the nursery for a few moments each day and no more. It was more evidence that Robbie’s actions towards her had been nothing more than kindness. He was simply a good-natured young man.