Page 11 of The Secret Love of a Gentleman
Albert was a dozen years older than her. His maturity and strength of character had seemed a blessing to her younger self. She felt safe, then, protected, when he was adoring and attentive.
‘I shall not be home for dinner,’ Albert said as soon as his plate was empty. He put his napkin on the table and stood.
He was saying he would be with his mistress.
He walked to her, she turned her cheek for him to press a quick kiss there, then he left the room.
Her torn heart bled. She had tried to be a good wife. She had tried to give him children. She had failed.
He had beaten her more than a dozen times in the last month.After she lost their last child, she was unable to move for three days, while her face was grotesquely swollen.
If I lose another child, will he kill me?
Her brother, Drew, said Albert would kill her eventually if she did not leave him.
Like her, Drew was a cuckoo in the Marquis of Framlington’s nest. Her mother liked younger men – but not the children her affairs produced. Caro and Drew were unwanted and unloved children, but the origins of their birth had formed their unbreakable bond. Drew was the only person who genuinely cared for her.
Drew regularly begged her to leave Albert, but he had recently married a woman with money and that made it possible. He had promised to buy Caro a property to hide in. But how could she escape the influence and power of the seventh Marquis of Kilbride, and how could she leave when she still loved him? Yet…How do I stay?
The blood about her heart congealed and the bruises in her soul throbbed.
If she stayed more children would be conceived and die.
Drew had promised to keep her safe.Could he?
She lay her knife and fork on her plate, and rose, her breakfast barely touched as her mouth was too sore to eat. She left the room.
Her fingers slid along the stone banister as she climbed the stairs in the hall.
If she stayed nothing would be better, it could only become worse. She would always have to look into the eyes of the man she loved and see how she disappointed him.
As she stepped from the last stair on to the first-floor landing, she knew in her heart she had made a decision that would change her life, for better or worse. She must leave Albert. Thiswas a poisoned marriage. Yet she would leave a part of herself here. Her wounded heart and soul would remain with the man she loved, and she would always be grateful for the first year of their marriage when she had known what love might be.
If she did not leave, Drew was probably right; Albert would kill her in the end.
5
Caro descended from the coat-of-arms-embossed carriage her husband provided for her, holding the hand of a footman.
Her foot touched the pavement of Tavistock Street, the address of her modiste, and her heart raced, its rhythm running through her veins. The air petrified in her lungs, yet she refused to let her hold tighten about the footman’s hand or tremble. He must not sense her fear. Her husband may not love her, but he had her watched like a hawk.
Her family’s reputation for setting up intrigues, her own birth being evidence of it, meant Albert did not trust her. He would not have a cuckoo in his nest. He had his mistress – but Caro must be devotedly his. So, his most trusted staff went everywhere with her.
The street was busy, a throng of people flowed past, even though it was still relatively early. She hoped the crowded pavement would help her.
The footman led the way into the shop, raising a hand to stop passers-by so she could cross. The bell above the door jangled as he opened it and she followed him in. The broad bow windowdisplay showed off some of the fabrics and fashions that lined the shelving and counters inside the shop. Half a dozen customers were looking at lace, ribbons and fabrics on the counters, and fashion plates for the styles they wanted made.
How long would it take the footman to realise something was amiss?
Caro’s eyes scanned the occupants through the netting of the veil she wore to cover her identity as much as the bruising. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She knew no one, and she hoped no one, bar the modiste, would know her.
She held her reticule carefully as she crossed the room, hiding the weight of the jewellery in it, trying to make the purse appear as light as usual. She had taken the jewellery from its boxes and put all the gifts he gave her in their first year into her purse. It would help pay for her keep. She did not want to be entirely dependent on Drew, and she would live quietly and spend little so she hoped the money from these things would last.
‘May I see some fabrics for a ballgown?’ Caro asked the modiste’s assistant. The woman lifted some folds of fabric off the shelves. This was the last time Caro would look at such fine things. She picked a very delicate pale pink, then thumbed through the fashion book, her heartbeat racing. She left the book open on a page and leaned forward and asked the assistant discreetly. ‘May I use your convenience, please?’ Her voice trembled. She coughed as if clearing her throat. She must not appear nervous.
When Albert’s footman attempted to follow Caro through a door at the back of the shop, the assistant shooed him away.
She was led through a workroom, and then outside to a cold closet that looked more like a coal store. The small space contained a chamber pot. Caro had used the closet once before, so she would know if an escape was possible.
