Cage pulled up next to them. The reprimand at the end of his tongue died as she turned her to face him. Lady Caroline took his breath away. Her face was flushed pink from the ride, her hair pinned haphazardly, tumbled around her, and her chest heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath. He felt his mouth open and close reflexively as his brain tried to remember what he was going to say. She slowed her mount further to a walk and leaned down to pat the horse’s neck affectionately.
Cage finally found his voice. “Good morning, Lady Caroline. You are out early.”
“I am an early riser.” She shrugged her shoulders. She looked sideways at him. “I could say the same to you, Lord Wrotham. I don’t usually see anyone out at this time of the morning. In fact, that is precisely why I come to the park at this time of day.” Her eyebrows drew together in annoyance.
“I am just heading home from last night.” He reached up to tip his hat. Where had it gone to? He couldn’t remember where he had left it. It had been a long night. He dropped his hand back to the reins. Why did his normally easy charm seem to disappear around this particular lady? He tried again. “So you enjoy the solitude?”
She raised one elegantly arched eyebrow. “There is a certain amount of freedom in being out at this time of the morning. I love to ride, and there is so little chance to do so in London. I certainly can’t race down Rotten Row with the boys. No, ladies have to promenade.” She rolled her eyes, and he laughed at her pained expression.
“I would wager that you could beat any of those young bucks based on the riding I just saw. Care to race?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Lord Wrotham! Are you encouraging me to ruin? I couldn’t possibly chance being seen racing down Rotten Row.” Nevertheless, her smile belied her rebuke.
This lady was all spit and fire. If she had been anybody else, he would entice her into his bed immediately and see how hot that fire could get. But Jack Langdon was a good friend who had saved his life multiple times while serving the Foreign Office. Younger sisters were off-limits.
They came to a halt at Grosenvor Gate. A rider wearing Gilchrest livery waited just inside the gate. The man’s face clouded as he spotted Cage.
“Is this man bothering you, my lady?”
“No, William. This is Lord Wrotham. He is an acquaintance of mine.” Caroline turned back to him. “I must get back home before anyone realizes I’m gone. I hope I can again count on your discretion?” She bit her lower lip, drawing his eyes to its rosy plumpness.
“Lady Caroline, I agree with your family. It is not safe to ride through the park alone. Especially when you leave your groom at the gate.” He gestured to the servant.
“I never encounter a soul in the park at this hour. Besides, Lord Wrotham, I hardly think my coming and goings are any of your business. Good day.” She turned her horse and rode away with her nose in the air. Her man followed dutifully behind her.
Cage frowned. Keeping an eye on this girl was going to take more attention than he initially thought. Turning his horse south, they rambled toward his apartments on St. George’s Street. The only sounds to be heard were the birds waking up. He had to admit the park was deserted at this time of day.
Cage arrived at the stables where he kept his horse. It was a luxury to keep a horse in London, but he didn’t have anywhere else to leave Sullivan when he was in town, so he spent the extra money for the boarding and scrimped in other places. After brushing down his horse and making sure he had water and fresh hay, Cage strolled down the street to the bachelor apartment he had rented in The Worthington.
As he trekked up the stairs to the top floor, he already began to untie his cravat. His jacket went next. He draped it over his arm as he unlocked the door to his flat. Once inside, he dumped the jacket on the nearest chair. Sitting down, he worked his boots off. Finally, he padded over to the round dining table. Under a napkin, a plate of food left by his housekeeper contained several pieces of cold chicken, bread, and a slab of butter. He grabbed a half-finished bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet, slumped into his chair, and proceeded to devour his breakfast. Thankful to Mrs. Holden for making sure the fire was burning, he stretched his stocking feet toward its warmth.
Cage reached for the newspaper and perused the headlines. The public appeared to be tiring of Addington. The cartoon that graced the second page of the paper showed Addington bowing and scraping at General Napoleon's feet. In his hands, Addington held out a miniature of England as if he offered the country to the French. Cage chuckled and turned the page. His blood froze at the next headline, an obituary which detailed the death of Fiennes Harlow in an early morning duel, the fatal gunshot wound a consequence of an insult to honor at the Georgian’s gaming tables the night before. The article went on to discuss how the laws against dueling had not been doing the job to decrease the number of duels in London. Blah, blah.
Harlow, a dead man. Cage’s last link to Grace had just slipped through his fingers. Damn it! He had been staking out the wrong damn gaming hell! He reread the article with thehope that perhaps something about the man’s widow would be mentioned. Or perhaps an address to where the man had resided. But the information about the participants of the duel was brief, the article in large part a rant about politics.
Cage lowered his head to his hands. He may have lost Grace forever. London was a large city and finding one woman in its midst had proven to be much like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. He thought about Grace, her fine-boned features and delicate frame so opposite from his hulking one. Why hadn’t she contacted him before running off with Harlow? Had the man been so persuasive? Had she been that unhappy?
What would have caused her to run from the safety of the Smethwicks? Only one thing, their father. The bastard might have found out where Cage had hidden his sister. His father’s temper had been legendary, and his large hands, that struck out in punishment or to grip and control, were forever imprinted in Cage’s mind. He would never be able to erase the terror that his father had elicited in him as a child. The terror his younger sister shared. Only that fear would cause her to make such a rash decision to run away.
He reached for the bottle of wine and took a long swallow. He was so tired all of a sudden. Hauling himself up from the chair, wine in his hand, he stumbled to the bedroom. Taking another deep drink, he set the bottle on the nightstand and then fell face-first onto the bed, the ropes creaking under his weight. Sunlight streamed through the window. He grabbed a pillow and tugged it over his face to block the light. Pinning it in place with one arm, he slept.
Chapter 9
“You did what?!” Emma choked on her tea.
Caroline winced as her sister-in-law, eyes watering, set down her teacup with a clatter. She sat across from Emma in the duchess’ private sitting room. “I went down to the brothel and bought her back from the vile Mrs. Gwyn,” Caroline told her the whole story about George and Alice and how the girl ended up at the brothel. She sat calmly, her hands folded in her lap, but inside she worried that it was a mistake to bring Emma into her confidence. What if Emma felt obligated to tell Andrew, or worse, Mother? But if Alice were to stay at Gilchrest House as part of the staff, it would have to be Emma’s decision.
“Oh dear, Andrew would kill you if he knew.” Emma glanced around furtively as though expecting Andrew to pop up at any moment. “The girl’s father sold her?” Her lips pursed into a thin line. “How long was she there, at that place?”
“Perhaps a week at most. I don’t think Alice was put into employ yet, but the things she must have been exposed to…” Caroline shook her head.
“A narrow escape then. You did the right thing, and nothing less than I would have. I also had a narrow escape as a young woman. My father sold me to the highest bidder. A very wealthy but cruel man. The man died before we could be married, but I vowed that I would never let myself or my sisters be put into a similar situation.” Emma stared down at the ring on her finger, twisting the circle of gold and rubies around and around. When she looked up, there was fire in her eyes. “Of course, she can stay. She certainly deserves a chance to have gainful employment. I will tell Mrs. Bloom during our daily meeting today.”
“Thank you.” This piece of Emma’s past upset Caroline even further. No longer able to sit calmly, she rose. She paced to thewindow to gaze out the perfectly manicured lawns of Gilchrest House. Emma’s status as a daughter of a peer had not saved her from being reduced to a commodity used by her father, making Emma’s father not so different than Alice’s.
She swiveled around to face her brother’s wife. “Why are men in charge of the world? All they do is use women and abuse our status as second-class citizens. This is exactly why I never wanted to get married. Why should I give up my money and the modicum of freedom that it allows to some domineering man?”
“They are not all evil, Caroline, as you well know. What about your brothers, your father? Domineering, yes, sometimes. But that can be handled by a strong woman, I assure you.” She smiled serenely.
