Caroline grimaced. “Yes, yes, Andrew and Jack are dear, but every time I think about those women at the brothel, it makes me sad that they are forced into that position to survive. Perhaps if it weren’t so socially acceptable to frequent such places, there would be less demand. Don’t you agree?”
Emma shrugged. “I don’t think it’s so much socially acceptable as widely ignored. It’s easier to pretend it’s not happening.”
“Exactly. You are exactly right!” Like a lightning bolt, Caroline knew just what she would do. She must publicly embarrass the gentlemen who frequent these vile entertainments. She knew everyone in society. It would just be a matter of catching them in the act. Well, not the actual act…but coming and going anyway. But how did one find out where these gentleman’s entertainments are?
“Caroline…Caroline! I can practically see the gears turning in your head. What are you scheming?”
“Oh, nothing. Just stewing, I guess.” Caroline lied. She didn’t want to worry Emma in her delicate condition or put her in a hard spot where Emma had to keep secrets from her husband.“Well, thank you for hiring Alice. I must get going. I have afternoon tea at Lady Hunt’s.” She turned to hurry from the room.
“Just don’t do anything risky. No more visiting brothels, anyway.” Emma called out. But Caroline hardly listened as she tried to figure out how she might learn about the world of gentlemen’s entertainments.
****
A few days later, Caroline mulled over her plans during her ride in the park. As she turned the corner, she spotted Lord Wrotham’s large mount grazing by the edge of the Serpentine. Hardly surprising. This past week, every time she turned around at a social function, Lord Wrotham was there; his sharp gaze seemed trained on her. Caroline shook her head. No, that was silly. Why would he give a hoot about her when he had women like Lady Tolbert making fools of themselves to garner his attention?
However, she was surprised to see that the horse’s owner slept on a bench nearby like some common vagrant. Lord Wrotham sat with his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. His chin lay on his chest, and his beaver hat sat low over his eyes.
“Late night?” She called out loudly. Instead of startling as she hoped, his head lifted slowly, and that suggestive grin spread across his face.
“Early morning.” He unfolded himself slowly from the bench to stand. Leaning back, he stretched. The superfine wool coat stretched across his broad chest. She again thought how much he resembled a prizefighter. Most of the gentlemen she knew were thin and elegant or short and a bit soft around the middle. Wrotham stood tall and solid as English oak.
He walked over and tipped his hat. “How do you manage to look so fetching at such an ungodly hour?”
“Sleep. I actually reserve the nighttime hours for sleep.”
“Ah well, I will have to try that sometime. I hardly sleep at all. Force of habit from being in the service. There is not a lot of nights of good sleep on the battlefield.” He shrugged. “Care for a race this fine morning, Lady Caroline?”
He had been a soldier? He didn’t strike her as a military man. Far too casual in attitude. She thought about his indecent flirting with Lady Tolbert. A real rake this one is; don’t be taken in by that smile. She tilted her head. “Will you be intruding on my solitude every morning, Lord Wrotham? Or just on the weekends?”
He tilted his head in a mirror of hers, his smile never faltering. “So, a race then?”
The truth was a race sounded fun. At their estate, Stoneleigh, she had the freedom to race across the fields to her heart’s content. In London, she needed to keep herself in check. There were very few freedoms afforded to young ladies of the ton. She glanced around, but the park was as quiet and empty as usual this time of day.
“All right. We’ll race to the keeper’s cottage, down and around to the Reservoir, and back to this bench.” She nudged Penny with her knees and took off without giving him a chance to mount his horse. She knew from last week’s encounter how fast his horse could gallop. She’d take any advantage she could get. As she and Penny flew across the grassy lawns, the feeling of freedom that blew through her along with the crisp morning air helped to restore her soul. Out here on her horse, she could breathe freely.
Thundering hooves grew louder as Lord Wrotham began to catch up. She leaned low and gave Penny’s neck a pat of encouragement “Let’s go faster, darling.” She passed the cottage and turned right to slip between two tall oak trees. As they hit the lane, the sound of the pea gravel under the horse’s hoovescrunched. The sun peeked from behind the clouds, slanting through the branches of the trees that lined the lane. Then from her left, she heard the labored breathing of Wrotham’s horse. She turned to find them right at her flank. As he rode up beside her, he reached up and tipped his hat, then the behemoth and his great big horse rode past. Blast!
He stayed ahead of her by a horse length the rest of the way. But by the time they approached the stopping point, she was having so much fun she didn’t even feel miffed about losing…too much. Wrotham sat and let his horse drink from a small stream, and Caroline moved next to him to let Penny have some water as well.
She glanced sideways at him. “Your horse is very fast, Lord Wrotham.”
He pulled his hat off his head and ran a hand through his blonde locks. His eyes stared out toward the trees. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. Call me Cage.”
“I couldn’t possibly be that familiar.” She observed his frown and the rigid line of his shoulders.
“Then call me Morgan; that’s what my friends called me before I came into the title.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to use your title? Being the Earl of Wrotham is nothing to sneeze at. Most men are overly proud of such things.” God knew that was true.
He turned to face her, finally. “Let’s just say that the title is something I never wished to have as part of my identity. Apparently, it’s something I cannot escape from.”
That she could fully understand. She reached over and patted his horse’s neck. “What’s the name of this fine fellow?” She peeked up at Lord Wrotham through her eyelashes. His face cleared, and his sunny smile bloomed again.
“This is Sullivan. Shall we walk them to cool down?”
“Yes, let’s.” She followed him down to the wide road that ran through the park, known as Rotten Row. “Penny is my town horse. My horse at our estate is a real gem. She is far faster.” She threw him a grin.
“So you are a competitive soul, I see.”
