She climbed the rest of the way to her bedchamber, and once she and Lavinia were safely inside, she leaned against the door. She felt even more ill than before. Lightheaded, dizzy, on the verge of casting up her accounts. The degrading insults Lady Starling had lightly tossed her way were nothing compared to the thought that her husband was in the drawing room right now with that seductive woman and he was calling herdarling.
She had thought she would be able to bear it. She was wrong. But she must learn to, mustn’t she? She must learn to accept her husband and everything about him. Even this.
She needed to escape before she screamed.
She quietly opened the bedchamber door she had just closed. She and Lavinia went down the servants’ staircase. She burst out of the back of the house, lifting her skirts, almost running. Through the stable yards, not into the lane where anyone might see her and her dog, but this meadow here. Across two stiles, there were woods and she could lose herself in the trees as she used to do in Sudbury after one of her father’s rages about her mother’s death.
Rain began to fall as she crossed the meadow.
Before her mother died, Caroline had wanted the fairy story of a husband who loved her. That was before she realized how childish her dream was. And how unlikely it was that any man would either love her or marry her.
And it didn’t bother her now that Phineas didn’t love her, couldn’t possibly love her. Because it didn’t matter if her husband loved her. What was important was not to love him back. Because someone who loved you could easily hurt you, but you wouldn’t be damaged unless you loved him back.
The only thing keeping her in her right mind at this moment was her certainty that she didn’t love her husband.
She didn’t love his comforting voice, his smell, his touch, the tender look in his hazel eyes when he called herdarling. She didn’t love his silver hair on his head and his chest. His strength, his muscles, the way he filled his breeches.
She didn’t love his mischievous playfulness in bed that quickly turned into mutual heated need and want and urgency.
She didn’t love his kindness. His sweetness. She didn’t love his smile, his laugh, his affection.
She didn’t love how much he loved to talk. How much he loved to live.
She didn’t love Phineas Edge. And she must make sure she never did.
“Lady Starling, what is this visit about?”
Phineas turned from the drawing room door. Every animal instinct in his body told him to go after Caro, but he needed to send Horatia on her way in a final and definitive manner. And he needed to find out what this bitch had said to his wife to make her so shaky, so stammering, so hesitant to meet his eyes. Because he didn’t believe Caro would tell him herself.
Lady Starling sniffed. “A nice way to greet an old friend, Phineas.”
“What did you say to my wife?”
“We were discussing what you owe me. Although the poor woman thought I meant money. She didn’t realize I meant her brother.”
“I thought you had forgotten all about that. Given up the idea.”
“First, how wrong of you to let me persist in believing the marquess’ sister was his mistress. I admit when I realized your dalliance had been with Lady Caroline Haskett, I had second thoughts about our little agreement. After all, the pair of you had not just been caught by me, but also by Lady Huxley. Everyone knew you were entangled. And then your engagement was announced. I thought I had nothing to hold over you. But I came to realize your wife still likely wouldn’t want her brother to know about your licentious behavior in the bookseller’s. So I thought to pay a little visit to you on my way to see my dead husband’s brother, the current Viscount Starling.”
“You told my wife you knew about . . .”
“Your tryst on the top floor of Hatchards? Oh, yes. And I tell you, Phineas, she did not welcome that news. You’ll have a lot of work to do, soothing your giantess once I leave.”
Yes, he needed to get to Caro. “I think it’s best you leave now.”
“You don’t want me to go to Sudbury and tell Edmund all about this, do you?”
“He’s in town as you damn well know.”
“Yes, I suppose that gives you a little more time to figure out how you are going to get the marquess to fall under my spell.”
“I will do what my wife wants. Not you, Horatia.”
“Oh, Phineas. You really are in her power, aren’t you? Tamed by that horribly protruding and lisping tongue she has. Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to saythat lithping tongue she hath.”
Phineas opened the door. “Good day, Lady Starling.”
He went in search of his wife. She was not in her bedchamber. She was not in the morning room. None of the servants, including Jones, knew where she was. And there was no sign of Lavinia.
