“Marry me instead. I’ll find a way to help your father. My brothers say I have a great deal of potential when it comes to business and investing and that sort of thing.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“But you love me.”
“I know! And that’s the tragedy of it, isn’t it?” She stared at him for a long moment. “If you had come back when you were supposed to, if I had received your letters, if all sorts of things had happened differently . . .” She shook her head. “But they didn’t. And now, well, now it’s too late. I will not hurt him. I have tasted the kind of pain one feels when one has been abandoned and I will not inflict it on someone else. He’s a good man, Lawrence, and he does not deserve that.”
“I will not give up, you know.” Determination showed in the young man’s stance, in the tone of his voice and the look in his eye. It would have been most admirable had it not been that said determination was in regard to the woman Win was to marry. “I have been an idiot. I have made any number of mistakes, but this is one I will not make. I’ll be back, Caro. Tomorrow and the day after and every day until your wedding. And I will protest at your wedding as well if I need to. I will not lose you.” He nodded, turned and strode toward the far end of the field and the opening in the south wall of the hedge.
Caroline stared after him. Her manner resigned, her eyes touched with sorrow, she was the very picture of heartbreak. Win’s heart twisted. There was nothing to be done about it then.
He waited until Lawrence had disappeared through the hedge, then straightened and walked through the archway.
Caroline turned, caught sight of him and gasped. “Winfield!”
“Caroline.” He smiled. “I suspect we have a great deal to talk about, don’t we?”
Her gaze searched his. “Dare I ask how much of that you heard?”
“More than enough.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Caroline.” He took her hands. “In four days, you are to become my wife. I would like nothing better than that.”
“Good.” She raised her chin. “As I have no intention of not becoming your wife.”
“And yet I find it, oh, awkward to wed a woman who is in love with someone else.”
“Winfield, I—”
“We are going to have to do something about this.”
She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze directly. “I am still fully prepared to marry you.”
He raised a brow. “Fully prepared?”
“Dear me.” She winced. “That sounded awful, didn’t it?”
“Fully prepared is not exactly what one wishes to hear from his bride.”
“I am sorry. I never meant . . . that is to say . . .” She heaved a heartfelt sigh.
“Perhaps I can assist you.” Amusement sounded in his voice. “My first fiancée said she could not marry me because she had a better offer.”
“How very shortsighted of her,” Caroline said indignantly.
“I thought so. As it turns out, I suspect she would now agree.” He chuckled. “My second decided I was too amusing—frivolous was the word she used.”
Caroline stared. “What utter nonsense.”
“You, however.” He brought her hand to his lips. “You are in love with another man. And while you are fully prepared”—she grimaced—“to go through with our wedding, I’m afraid I cannot allow that.” He released her hand and shook his head. “I had planned to make you happy, Caroline. And it now seems the best way to do that is to allow you to follow where your heart leads.”
“Winfield, I—”
“I shall lend your father my assistance, of course. That will make this easier for your mother. However—” He paused. “It also seems to me that while your young man has at last realized his mistakes, one questions whether he has learned his lesson.”
“One does wonder,” she murmured.
“Winning your hand too easily might not be the way to begin a lifetime together. Perhaps he shouldn’t be allowed to walk back into your life and sweep you away without some sort of, oh, amends being made.”
She stared at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”
“Do you trust me, Caroline?”
She gazed into his eyes and grinned. “Why I believe I do, my lord.”
He explained what he had in mind and her eyes widened. “You are a wicked, wicked man, Winfield.”
“I do try,” he said in a modest manner.
“And a good man as well.” Her gaze met his and she smiled. “I quite envy the woman who at last becomes your wife. She will be a very fortunate creature.”
“Fortunate or not”—he cast her a wry smile—“she is apparently a difficult creature to find.”
She laughed. It struck him that he would not hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life. The thought would have been unbearable had he been in love with her. Had she been the love of his life. As she was not, he rather liked the idea of uniting her with the love of hers.
Once again, he had planned a wedding at Fairborough Hall and, by God, this time there was going to be one.
Chapter 6
Win threw open the library door and stalked into the room in his best Viscount Stillwell, heir to the Earl of Fairborough manner. He did so love playing viscount and heir to the hilt.
Caroline’s Lawrence paced the floor and pulled up short when Win stepped into the room. His eyes widened. “My lord, my apologies. I received a note.... I did not . . . that is, I expected—”
“You expected to see Miss Hibbitt.” Win strode to his father’s desk and sat down.
“Yes, sir.” Caution sounded in the young man’s voice.
Win gestured for him to take the chair directly in front of the desk. Lawrence reluctantly sat down, the expression on his face no doubt exactly the same at that on Win’s face whenever he had sat in that chair to face his father’s wrath at some indiscretion or misdeed. Odd, Win had sat in his father’s chair any number of times, but he’d never noticed that it was slightly higher than the chair it faced. And whatever miscreant sat in that chair. Indeed, this subtly elevated position gave whoever sat behind the desk a distinct advantage. How very clever of whichever earl had discovered this.
“I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.” Win pinned the younger man with a hard look. “I am Viscount Stillwell.”
Lawrence swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“And you are Mr. Royce, I believe.”
Lawrence nodded.
“The youngest son of the Earl of Thadwick.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have four older brothers do you not, Mr. Royce?”
“I do, sir.”
“What are your prospects then, Mr. Royce?” Win leaned back in his chair and studied the young man. “Unless a dire disaster strikes most of your family, you will not be the next earl.”
“No, of course not. I do have ambitions and plans, however. I am said to show great promise in the area of investment.” He stopped and stared at Win. “Forgive me, my lord, but what business is this of yours?”
“You intend to steal my fiancée, Mr. Royce.” Win narrowed his eyes, leaned forward and met Lawrence’s gaze sternly. “I wish to know if you are worthy of her. Or perhaps I should simply assume you are not and demand satisfaction. You should know I am an excellent shot with a dueling pistol.”
“Dueling is illegal, sir.”
“That would indeed make it more of a challenge.” Win cast him a wicked smile. “I have always enjoyed a challenge.”
“Well then, sir.” Lawrence got to his feet and squared his shoulders. “Is it my understanding, as you issued the challenge, the choice of weapons falls to me. I too am an excellent shot and—”
“Oh, sit down, Mr. Royce.” Win rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “Nobody is going to shoot anyone, although make no mistake, I would be the victor in such a confrontation. Now, sit down.”
Lawrence sat.
“But were I to shoot you, no doubt one of your brothers would feel it necessary to do the same to me. Then my cousin would, of course, have to dispatch him and then another one of your brothers would do him in and so on and so forth. The next thing you know, it is the Montagues and the Capulets all over again.”