“Yes, yes, they are fine.” Louise’s face softened at the mention of her sons, who were currently away at school. “They’ll be home soon, and ready to have Leo down to Berkshire to romp and play.”
“He’ll be happy to come.” Louise invited Caro and Leo every year in June. Caro looked forward to the month in the Berkshire countryside, a place she could forget her troubles for a brief interval.
This year, however, she’d have to leave Eamon to join Louise and her boys, something she was not certain she wanted to do.
“Caro, I don’t quite know how to tell you this.” Louise leaned forward in a rustle of skirts and pressed Caro’s suddenly cold hand. “Rudyard is putting it about that you are having a torrid affair with Mr. Stone. He is claiming that Mr. Stone is endangering Leo’s safety, and he is bringing suit against him—and you—to have Leo removed from his influence.”
Chapter 22
Caro realized she’d ceased breathing. She tried to draw a breath, but she’d gone numb, her ribs constricting. “How?” she choked out. “How could he know?”
She wasn’t sure why this question slipped from her, but Louise’s gaze sharpened. “It is true, then? Rudyard isn’t simply putting slander about?”
“If he’d said it yesterday, it would be slander,” Caro croaked. “Today …”
“Oh, my dear.” Louise squeezed Caro’s hand, though Caro could barely feel the attempt at comfort. “After your supper? He seduced you?”
Caro’s face flamed. “I seduced him.”
She found herself confessing all, from the note she’d slipped Eamon to helping him steal away in the wee hours of the morning.
Louise listened in sympathy, interest, and some dismay. “This is all our fault. Jo and me, teasing you about becoming his lover. It seemed romantic, in theory.”
Caro regarded her in surprise. “Of course it isn’t your fault. I chose to invite Eamon to my chamber, knowing full well what we’d do there. And it was quite wonderful.” She emitted a breathless laugh. “I have no regrets, Louise. I’d do it again. In fact, I hope to.”
“I thought Mr. Stone looked rather pleased with himself when I passed him downstairs,” Louise said, her good humor restored. “I am glad to see him still here. He didn’t simply take what he came for and disappear.”
“Take what he came for?” Caro repeated incredulously. “You make it sound so sordid.” She stilled. “Oh, dear. Is it?”
“I don’t think so.” Louise bathed her in a rare smile. “Jo and I weren’t teasing when we said you deserve happiness, Caro. You’ve sacrificed so much and ought to be showered with pleasure.”
“But I’ll have to keep sacrificing, won’t I?” Caro rose abruptly. “If I have a dalliance with Eamon, Rudyard will force me to give up Leo.” She shook her head with adamance. “I will never, ever let Leo go to Rudyard. But that means I have to give up Eamon.” She faltered, her heart hurting.
When faced with the choice, Leo would win, without doubt. But Eamon’s absence would put a hole in Caro’s life.
“I am so sorry, darling,” Louise said in distress. “I did not want to bring you this news, but I preferred you to hear it from me, not Rudyard or someone taunting you with it. Rudyard is being less than discreet.”
Caro swung from where she’d paced in her agitation, her anger rising. “Rudyard has already threatened me. He is a horrible man, and I will not let him endanger my son. I will keep Rudyard from Leo, and I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll sacrifice my entire world, including Eamon if I must, to keep Leo from him.” Tears stung her eyes, but Caro held herself stiffly, refusing to give way.
“Excellent.” Louise jumped to her feet. “I knew you wouldn’t crumple and surrender to Rudyard’s bullying. What shall we do?”
“I don’t know.” Caro put her hands to her head. “When I received the letter from Rudyard’s solicitor, Eamon promised to help, but I don’t know what he’s accomplished. If nothing else, we must work to prove Rudyard would be a horrible guardian. Perhaps you can ask some of Geoff’s friends if they’ve heard any dire rumors about him.”
Louise flinched slightly at the mention of her deceased husband, but she nodded. “I’ll also call upon the most gossipy wives of our old circle. Jo knows everyone in London—she can pry out information as well.”
“I wonder …”
Caro gazed up at the landscape painting of Mayfield Hall, the Aylesmore estate in Kent, near Tunbridge Wells. This picture was genuine, painted by an unknown artist hired by Leo’s grandfather, worth little to anyone but the family.
“You wonder what?” Louise prompted.
“So much of our artwork has gone missing, and Rudyard boasted that he ran tame in this house when Leopold was alive. I wonder if Rudyard has been robbing us, little by little, over the years.”
Louise’s brows rose. “Possibly, but I think Singleton would have noticed if Rudyard had tucked a painting under his coat on his way out.”
“I don’t mean that, exactly. Though there are smaller items to take—books and little statues, gold boxes and things of that nature. Eamon explained that someone might send a painting to a gallery to be cleaned, and the gallery returns a copy while keeping hold of the original. Perhaps Rudyard suggested to Leopold that he should restore the grimier paintings. Suppose the gallery Rudyard chose did the copying, paid by Rudyard, and Rudyard absconded with the real painting and returned the copy? Leopold wouldn’t have known the difference. He was quite trusting, and knew little about the value of what he had.”
Louise nodded sagely. “Yes, I can imagine Rudyard taking advantage of poor Leopold that way. There must be records of the paintings being sent out—you or Mr. Stone could discover to which galleries and whether Rudyard had anything to do with it.”
