Fitz, who had not written to his father as he felt he’d said all that he needed to say in Swinley Forest after the picnic, quirked a dark, wicked brow and finished, “at least, not for longer than it takes to walk down to the village for a pint and the latest gossip.Did you know Sir Charles’s daughter, Rose, is engaged to the brother of her childhood sweetheart?”
Caroline laughed, a trifle damply, and opened the letter.“So that’s where you were for so long, buying rounds for the old farmers at the Golden Goose!”
“For the price of a single pint of ale, I had a fully detailed account of the morals, abilities, eccentricities, and oddities of every Maclean going back a full century.Nothing could be more economical.”
She smiled and let his light, wry voice wash over her as she smoothed the crinkled paper and stared down at her mother’s familiar looped handwriting.
Dearest Caroline,
I hardly know what to write.I do not know when this letter will find you.I’m not even certain where you are—and that is an uncomfortable sensation for a mother, especially one who has never spent more than a night away from you since you were born!
I received your letter that stated you were not on your way to Gretna Green at all, but that you were most likely already married to Lord Fitzwilliam anyway by the time I read it.Despite what I said during that awful argument at Thornecliff, I have felt for some time that Lord Fitzwilliam might be just the right gentleman for you, and if he has indeed been lucky enough to secure your affections, I am extremely pleased and happy for you both!
Of course I always pictured myself actually in attendance at my only daughter’s wedding, but as it turns out, I can hardly be the one to cast the first stone because…I also am recently wed!
To Lord Alfred, your husband’s father.
You may well be shocked—I am hardly less so myself—especially in light of my sentiments on the matter of aligning ourselves with that family.But I have a small confession to make: Lord Alfred is the first gentleman I ever loved, before I met your father.We were not engaged; he did not commit himself that far, knowing as he did how his parents would object.With the impetuousness of youth, however, I threw myself into the relationship with my whole heart and was correspondingly entirely heartbroken when Alfred came to me one day, pale and grim and horribly resigned, to tell me that he was engaged to someone else and could no longer continue our friendship.
I was mortified and in deep anguish, certain that my love was returned and that if he would only be brave and fight for us, we could be together.I admit that when we encountered one another again this spring, I renewed those resentments for a time.Perhaps they were justified, perhaps not—with the benefit of maturity, I can concede that the situation was complex and that Alfred was perhaps not so free to choose his wife as I believed.
For what it is worth, that is not my dear Alfred’s view.He maintains that our parting was the single biggest regret of his life.I, for one, cannot find it in myself to regret any step along my own path that led me to the life I lived and loved with your father, and of course, dearest one, to you.
Given that, and given the flatteringly intense nature of Lord Alfred’s self-recriminations, apologies, and efforts to prove his steadfastness of affection, I found myself struggling, as time went on, to stoke the fire of my own anger.The more time we have had together, the more I have come to see the sensitive, intelligent, honorable man I once loved in Lord Alfred.Perhaps if we had not been thrown together quite so much in London, we should not have rekindled our connection!
And that brings me to a second small confession for which I hope you will forgive me: I must tell you that not only did I like Lord Fitzwilliam the moment I met him and think he might be your match—I…may have engineered matters, more than once, to give the best possible chance for that very outcome!
I certainly noticed you watching him from the start of the Season—did you never wonder that we consistently accepted invitations to balls and soirées where he was also in attendance?And that day at Hyde Park when I had my silly fall into the river, I immediately turned the situation to my advantage by shivering and looking as pathetically as I could at Lord Fitzwilliam, trusting in his innate gallantry to offer me a seat in his father’s chaise…and leaving him to accompany you himself!And of course that house party, which I should never have allowed you to attend had he not been on the guest list as well.That Lady Rosalie is not at all proper, you know, Caro.I’m afraid I took a very great risk there, but as you see, it has paid off!So I hope and trust you will forgive a meddlesome mama for a bit of matchmaking!
And then, my small schemes had the unintended consequence of putting me in close quarters with the man who once broke my heart, and now has mended it again.
I must close, as Lord Alfred is waiting for me; we are attending the opera this evening!He would like me to convey to you his very best wishes and a most sincere welcome to the family.He also asks that I tell you both that he is sorry for his part in that awful row the day of the Swinley picnic and he wants his son to know that he is, in fact, terrifically proud of the man Lord Fitzwilliam has become—but I have informed him that we are not to be his go-betweens in this matter, and he must write a letter of his own.When he does so, I imagine it will include an invitation to visit.Perhaps in the fall, once the shearwaters have concluded their business.
My dearest girl, I love you so!I hope that you are as happy as I am, and that you do not hold too much of a grudge about my interfering ways.Congratulations and felicitations, and give my handsome new son a warm, affectionate kiss on the cheek from me!
Lady Helena Drake
Marchioness of Huntingdon
Caroline blinked.Then she read the whole thing again, more slowly this time, attempting to make sense of it.
“What does she say?”Fitz asked, a note of anxiety creeping into his voice.“Is she very angry and hurt?”
Wordlessly, Caroline passed him the letter so he could read it for himself.She watched the trepidation on his face give way to shock, then merriment, and finally a thoughtful expression that became him very well.
Taking her in his arms, Fitz presented his lean, sandpapery cheek for a kiss, which Caroline provided.She asked, “Do you think we should tell her?”
“And rob her of the satisfaction of having masterminded happy endings for all of us in one fell swoop?Certainly not.And anyway, who’s to say she doesn’t deserve her share of the glory.After all, as Merrick, the gamekeeper on my father’s estate where I grew up, used to say, the rabbit doesn’t care who laid the snare.The rabbit only knows that it’s caught.”
“Mmm,” Caroline hummed, looping her arms around Fitz’s warm, tanned neck and nuzzling at the salty skin at the hollow of his strong throat.“I am so happy you caught me, Fitz.”
“I am the rabbit in this metaphor, surely.”
He wiggled his nose at her and she laughed and kissed him again, on the lips this time.“And I’ll never let you go.”
“Do you promise?”
His husky whisper grazed the shell of her ear, sending shivers of delight and joy and anticipation and love all through her.She pulled back far enough to look him in the eye and let him read everything she was feeling.
