“I don’t want her near you.”
“I know.”
He inhaled, looked away for a moment, trying to decide how honest he should be. His mother had written to him twice since they’d returned to London; neither note had contained good wishes on his marriage. “Why don’t I have Gore go down and see that mother leaves in a day or so.” He’d buy his mother the very expensive villa in Florence she’d been wanting. With the stipulation she stay away from Monkshood. He’d throw in all the belongings she’d taken from his house in the bargain. “We could plan on driving down the end of the week? How would that be?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“You’ve been wanting to get away, haven’t you?”
“I so dislike society,” Caroline murmured. “I always have.” “As do I.”
“You’ve been very patient, escorting me about.”
“My pleasure, darling,” he replied with the effortless charm that was his hallmark. “Now, tell me, how do you feel? How do you know for certain we’re having a baby? And what can I do to help?”
Stay with me at Monkshood, she wished to say, but knowing better, she said instead, “Once this nausea has passed, I would very much like a-”
“Piece of chocolate cake, no doubt,” he said, grinning.
“Actually, a dish of macaroni.”
His grin broadened. “Am I going to be obliged to hire an Italian chef?”
She shook her head. “Bessie knows the kind of macaroni I like.”
“And Mrs. Tiffen knows how to cook it, I suspect” As children, they’d spent a great deal of time in the kitchen at Monkshood when their parents were away.
“She makes the most perfect creamy macaroni with the local cheddar and lots of butter…”
He heard the note of longing in her voice. “I’ll have mother out by nightfall. Just say the word.”
“No… no, I can wait.”
He laughed. “As long as I find you that perfect macaroni.”
“And perhaps just a very tiny piece of beef roast, sliced very thinly… no fat-or I’ll throw up… with maybe a very small dollop of horseradish sauce on the side.”
Simon was chuckling as he rose from the bed with his commission. “And I suppose by the time I return, you’ll have some other item of food on your mind.”
“A servant can do this, Simon. You needn’t fetch and carry for me.”
“I don’t mind, darling. Now rest. I’ll be back directly.”
But on the way downstairs, he found himself thinking about the play at Brookes and then the play afterward that had nothing to do with cards. Quickly repressing those images, he descended the stairs to the main floor, but there was a new lightness to his step.
Chapter 30
Caroline was welcomed with open arms at Monks-hood, all her servants from Maple Hill along with Simon’s staff lined up to greet her. Rose and Bessie hugged her first with tears in their eyes. Then Caroline and Simon moved down the ranks of servants, exchanging words with each member of the household, the full measure of happiness at the duke’s marriage evident in everyone’s smiles.
“I knew you’d be back, my lady.”
The phrase was repeated so many times Caroline felt as though her exile abroad had been no more than an intermission in her life. “It’s grand to be here,” she’d reply each time, truly feeling as though she were back home.
But the moment the last greeting had been exchanged and the final expression of good wishes had been delivered, Rose and Bessie-exerting their prerogatives as long-standing family retainers-dismissed Simon and bustled Caroline upstairs to bed. Fussing over her like mother hens, they took over the tasks they’d long performed for her, helping her undress and put on her nightgown, brushing out her hair, helping her into the large four-poster bed.
“There, now, dearie, you’re back where you belong,” Rose murmured, tucking in the coverlet around Caroline.
“And we’re here for any little thing you need,” Bessie affirmed, shaking out Caroline’s gown.
Rose smoothed the hair back from Caroline’s forehead, like she’d done countless times before. “Everything’s going to be right fine now.”
Rose had helped raise Caroline since birth, while Bessie had offered her a home away from home at Monkshood.
The old duke-perhaps motivated by dislike of his wife-had allowed Caroline the run of his house. Simon’s mother had always objected to the little girl next door, wanting a more illustrious marriage for her son. Although, in truth, it was more often the servants who were in charge of the young Hargreave heir and Caroline. The duke and duchess were rarely at Monkshood and more rarely together. And while Caroline’s father was devoted to her, as prisoner to his addictions, he wasn’t always able to discharge his fatherly duties.
Simon and Caroline had been hoydens of sorts, although there were tutors aplenty at Monkshood and Maple Hill who encouraged the youngsters to explore their intellectual interests. And outside the schoolroom, the thousands of acres on the two estates offered outdoor amusements in all seasons to the two wild children.
It was an unconventional life, but not an unhappy one.
They had each other.
Simon was reminded of those carefree years as he waited in his study for permission to visit his wife. Relaxing before the fire, he smiled over his brandy. Now that his mother had vacated the estate, it was good to be home. And between Bessie and Rose, Caro would be coddled and cosseted to the point of obsession.
No doubt, he had become relatively insignificant, he reflected, drolly. Having done his part, he was expendable-being shunted off to his study a case in point He glanced at the clock, drank another brandy and then feeling he’d been lenient enough, rose from his chair. Surely, they had Caro settled in bed by now.
But he was forced to wait outside in the hall for some minutes more before Bessie finally ushered him in.
“Now, I don’t want you upsettin‘ her,” she said, speaking to the duke as though he were eight. “It’s a right long drive from London and the sweet girl is almost done in.”
“It’s twenty miles, Bessie. Not halfway to Egypt.”
“Humph, as if you’d know anything about how it feels to be in the family way. Didn’t I just say as much, Rose?” she noted, huffily, glancing at her cohort who was fluffing the pillows behind Caro’s head.
“Men!” Rose snorted, the single word impugning the entire gender. “Drink and gamble too much, they do, and that’s not the worst o‘ it”
Caroline and Simon exchanged glances but held their tongues until the two ladies had fluffed the last pillow and poured the last glass of water and were finished arguing about Caroline’s preferences in food.
“And stay off the bed,” Bessie ordered at the last.
When the door finally shut on the housekeepers, Simon dared move from his position just inside the entrance to the room. “I can see that I’m going to have to reassert my authority here at Monkshood,” he said, amusement in his gaze. “I was very much afraid Rose was going to sound a peal over my head on my drinking and gambling habits.”
“Not to mention those unspeakable ones,” Caroline noted, lightly.
He grunted in reply, not likely to respond to that rejoinder. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I have no intention of staying off your bed.”
Caroline grinned. “Thank God. I didn’t relish having to become celibate.”
“Not likely that,” he murmured, beginning to strip off his coat as he moved toward the bed.
She nodded at the door. “You might want to lock it”
“I’m thinking it might be more prudent to attempt personal contact in small stages.” Tossing his coat on the chair, he began unbuttoning his vest. “I’m trying to avoid being sent to bed without my supper,” he added, with a roguish grin. Dropping his vest atop his coat, he kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed beside Caroline. Although, not too near.