“I certainly am still mad. If Andrew had only told me about the threats, I would have been able to solve the mystery of who it was immediately. Instead, he and Wrotham thought they would protect me by leaving me in the dark.”
Grace spoke up from next to Caroline. “Don’t be too harsh in your censure. Your brother had your best interests at heart.”
“I agree,” her mother said. “Andrew’s heart was in the right place.”
Emma huffed. “He should have consulted me. I would have advised him that it was safer for Caroline to know of the danger than to traipse around London ignorant of it. She should have been on guard.”
Traipse around London? Caroline glanced over at Emma, who arched an eyebrow. Caroline sighed; yes, she had taken some risks the past few weeks. But all necessary in her opinion.
“And how is Lord Wrotham a part of this?” Caroline’s mother asked.
“Andrew asked him to help track down who the letters could be from because he has some connections in the Home Office. As we speak, Morgan is hunting down Valentine.” Caroline replied.
She had not spoken to Cage, but Andrew told her yesterday when he had come by to apologize. Cage had not sent her so much as a note of apology or an arrangement of flowers. ButAndrew promised that Cage would be at Stoneleigh as soon as he had taken care of Valentine. Whatever that meant. A vivid picture of Cage picking Devonshire up and tossing him into the rose bushes flashed through her mind. She shivered. She had no doubt Cage would punish Valentine appropriately.
“Dear,” her mother asked. “Are you all right after learning the content of those letters? I mean, how are you feeling?”
Caroline stared out the window. The streets of Mayfair opened to wider, bumpier roads as they left the city and headed east. She had tried hard not to think about the words the letters contained. The vile descriptions had flung her back to the terror she’d felt that day enclosed and tied up inside the carriage. Her anger at her brother and Cage distracted her from thinking about the letters themselves. She looked across at her mother. Her eyes filled with worry. Perhaps it was time that she explained the truth.
“Did Andrew show you the letters?” she asked.
Her mother and Emma shook their heads. Well, that was a blessing. She never wanted anyone else to read them. “The letters, as you know, contained threats against me, but more disturbing were the insults he weaved into the notes so casually. His obsession with me was evident and frightening.” She took a deep breath. “I know that day when Andrew rescued me, I told you that nothing more had happened beyond Valentine kidnapping me in the carriage.” She glanced at Emma. “He planned to take me to Gretna to marry, made it seem like a grand romantic gesture. But when I refused and demanded he take me home, he tied my hands and gagged me with his handkerchief. H-he mistreated me. He touched me…and he touched himself.” Caroline couldn’t say more; it was too horrible to describe to her mother.
Her mother gasped, a hand at her throat.
Caroline clasped her hands together. A hand covered hers with a gentle squeeze. She glanced over to Grace, who gave her an encouraging smile.
“I never said anything because I did not want what happened in that carriage to tarnish my future. I did not want Valentine as a husband.” Caroline wiped at a tear that escaped to roll down her cheek.
“I would have never let that man marry you!”
She smiled at the fury in her mother’s voice. Some of the weight on her heart melted at the telling of her secret. It had lightened when she shared it with Cage, but she had never kept such a secret from her mother before, and it felt good to be free of the guilt.
“So you see, that’s how I knew the letters were from him. When I read the lines that said he would tie me up and punish me for becoming engaged to someone else, I knew it must be him. He has clearly been obsessing over his lost opportunity for years.”
“Bastard,” Emma muttered.
All three of them turned shocked glances to the duchess. She shrugged. “I cannot seem to control my true feelings from escaping out of my mouth these days. Why is it so hot in here?” Emma unbuttoned the spencer she wore. She opened her fan and began vigorously waving it back and forth. Caroline and Grace both giggled at Emma’s long-suffering look, breaking the tension in the carriage.
Caroline’s mother reached over to push open the small window beside Emma. “Poor thing,” she clucked. “You need the fresh, country air. Perhaps you can convince your husband to take you swimming in the lake at night before sleeping. That’s what I used to do in the last months of my confinement before Jack was born. I would float on my back in the cool water, undermy husband’s watchful eye, mind you. I still think it is the reason why Jack loves the sea.”
Caroline sat back, content to listen to her mother and Emma change the topic of conversation to babies, the benefits of living at Stoneleigh, and the excellent midwife in the village who was the daughter of the woman that had helped birth Caroline and her brothers. It was all so very normal. The swirl of anger and uncertainty in her head quieted. Grace scooted closer and leaned her head on Caroline’s shoulder. She didn’t say a word, but her hand still held Caroline’s, and the strength of her silent understanding flowed between them.
Several hours later, Grace gasped and pressed her face to the window. Caroline lowered the copy ofThe Italianby Ann Radcliffe she’d been reading aloud to help make the time pass. “What is it, Grace?”
“Taitlands Park. This is Wrotham’s country seat.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “It’s where I grew up.”
Caroline leaned forward to peer out the window. A long stone wall led to a grand entrance gate flanked on each side with marble stallions rearing on powerful hind legs. Two neat rows of Aspen trees flanked the lane that led into the park.
“Why this is only half a day’s ride from Stoneleigh. I didn’t realize you would be so close,” her mother said.
“Nor I. Morgan never spoke to me about his estate.”
“The place does not hold fond memories for either of us,” Grace spoke quietly, still facing the window as they passed the last of the long stone wall. “The last time either of us was here was after my mother died. Cage came to fetch me away from our father. He hid me away with a family in the West Midlands.”
“How old were you?” Caroline asked.
“Twelve.” Grace splayed her fingers against the glass. “I wonder if there is anything left of my mother’s things. I wonder if he allowed them to keep up her garden.”
