Which considerably muddled the other areas of contention.
On the fifth day, late in the morning, while they were still abed, temporarily reconciled on their treaty ground of sexual gratification, Simon withdrew for his orgasm, glanced down and suddenly smiled.
He’d not realized how profound his misgivings until he was struck with the full force of his relief.
Lying beside her a moment later, his heart still beating furiously, exhilaration inundating his brain, he murmured, “It started.”
There was no need to question the unspecified phrase after the contentious nature of the last few days. Sitting up, Caroline looked down, saw the minute streak of blood on the sheet and turned to her husband. “You owe me an apology.” Rapping him on the chest, she put a hand to her ear. “I’m waiting…”
“Yes, dear.” Which was all he was capable of saying with the image of Caro kissing that man at Netherton Castle still inciting an ungovernable jealousy. In his experience, grown men and women didn’t exchange single kisses. In his experience, Caro certainly didn’t exchange single kisses-regardless of her protestations. And her insatiable sexual appetite of the last few days hardly induced him to change his mind. “Get dressed,” he ordered, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “We’re off to London. You need some clothes. I need to get back to my life. And I haven’t fucked you in a carriage for years.”
“And you’re not likely to now, either, unless I hear an apology,” she retorted, not moving.
“You think I and my guards can’t throw you in the carriage?”
“I think I need an apology. And then I’ll consider whether I want you or your guards to touch me.”
He was standing beside the bed, his smile benign, all suddenly right with his world. ‘Tour father has much to answer for, darling. I’ve never known such a difficult, obstinate female.“
“My hearing is very good, however.” She put her hand to her ear once again.
“Good God, I apologize. Now, may we leave?”
“Why should I?”
Because he had no intention of allowing her out of his sight, he wished to say and he no longer had reason to stay. The unknown Will was now free to fuck whomever he pleased. It wouldn’t be necessary to kill him. “I thought you might like to pay Daphne a visit,” he said instead, his grin a flash of mischief.
“You do know how to tempt a woman,” Caroline murmured, a sportive light in her eyes.
“And then there’s mother. You two could discuss the disposition of the Hargreave jewels.”
She laughed. “Perhaps for that, I’ll harness the horses myself.”
“And as an added fillip, I could introduce you to the publisher, Bothwick. Gore knows him well.”
“Bothwick! You don’t mean it! If you’re teasing me, Simon, I’ll never forgive you. Do you know how many wonderful authors he publishes?”
“I have no idea, darling, but I’m sure Gore will know. Are we agreed then?”
“I don’t really have to see your mother, do I?”
“Not without me for protection. I promise.”
“Will you come with me to Daphne’s?”
“If you wish.”
“Why are you being so cooperative?”
He was quickly dressing. “I’m always cooperative,” he said with the perverse presumption of a man who bent the world to his will. “Do you want me to send up a maid?”
“I haven’t been to London in five years.”
“It looks the same.” He glanced at her. “You’re not worried about”-he made a dismissive gesture-“what would you be worried about?”
“Nothing, everything… I don’t know.”
Moving to the bed, he sat down and drew her into his arms. “You’ll enjoy yourself, darling. And I’ll keep the Daphnes away if you’re worried. And mother too.”
“I don’t know if I’m worried or not.”
And he didn’t know why he couldn’t live without her. But he couldn’t so he understood a measure of her incomprehension. “We’ll see Bothwick first thing,” he promised, offering her an indulgence sure to please. “What do you think?”
She nodded, jettisoning her apprehensions about the viciousness of the ton, and Simon’s patterns of amusement. He was offering her a lavish world and a place by his side. She’d be foolish to refuse on principle. And Bothwick. She couldn’t help but smile.
Twenty minutes later, they were traveling south.
Chapter 28
The news of Simon’s marriage had raced through the ton within hours of their arrival at Hargreave House. But all the curious callers were turned away until the new duchess had a suitable wardrobe-a process much accelerated by Simon’s wealth.
In the meantime, though, as promised, the publisher, Martin Bothwick was sent for immediately. And for the occasion, Simon presented Caroline with an at-home gown he’d had the modiste who made her wedding gown deliver to Hargreave Home in his absence.
“How did you know I’d be coming back?” Caroline asked, her life one of uncertainty and transience for so long, she still didn’t think in terms of the future.
“I was hopeful, of course.” The ultimate politesse from a man who would have abducted her from the dungeons of hell. Try it on. We can have some adjustments made before Bothwick arrives if need be.“
“Bothwick is really coming here today?” she said, still in awe. “Do you know how important he is- how influential?”
“He must have had time in his schedule,” Simon replied casually, more aware than she perhaps of a wealthy duke’s position in the hierarchy of influence. The moss green silk gown fit well, as did the matching kid slippers; and the cashmere paisley shawl that was all the rage was so delicate and fine it could be drawn through a ring.
“You look good enough to eat,” Simon said with a wolfish grin, lounging in a chair in Caroline’s dressing room while she finished her dressing with the addition of beaten gold earrings. “A shame we don’t have time.” He glanced at the clock. “Although…”
“Don’t you even dare think of it,” Caroline interjected, shaking out the folds of her shawl so they draped over her arm properly. “I’m not going to meet the important Mr. Bothwick with my hair all atumble and my face flushed from lovemaking.” She pointed a finger at him. “You stay right there.”
“Yes, ma’am. And if I behave, will you lift up your pretty green skirts for me later?”
“I may if you don’t embarrass me with Bothwick.” “Yes, ma’am, thank you, ma’am,” he murmured, grinning.
Her look was one of reproof. “I mean it, Simon. This is very serious. I don’t want any of your sardonic or disparaging comments.” “Me?”
“Simon!” She turned back from the mirror. “Promise me this instant or you’ll have to stay in your room.”
He laughed. “Now that I’d like to see.” Her answering smile was seduction incarnate. “And I know just what to offer you to have you
His mouth quirked. “I suppose you do at that. Very well. I promise to behave.” He had something to say to Mr. Bothwick as well, although his conversation would be by necessity, private.
The duke was extremely kind to their visitor when he arrived. He went to meet Bothwick in the entrance hall and personally escorted him into the drawing room to meet Caroline, a mark of distinction that didn’t go unnoticed by the publisher who was never invited to ducal homes.
Martin Bothwick was a plump little man, clearly nervous despite Simon’s amiability, but as he and Caroline began discussing several of the authors he’d published, his disquietude subsided. They spoke at length of various books that he’d brought to prominence; Caroline had read them all. They spoke of plots and dialogue and pacing through several cups of tea while Simon listened and occasionally offered a comment. Caroline was surprised Simon was so well read in terms of the newest fiction; she would have considered him too busy with carousing.