Page 39 of Bedding the Marquess
And now, years later, he’d come to darken her door once more. This time, however, Caroline would face him down. She would send him on his way and tell him in no uncertain terms that he was never to show his face there again, nor was he to ever approach her. As far as she was concerned, he was a ghost from her past, and he was meant to stay that way—an unfortunate shadow burned away by the glow of her future.
When she was reasonably sure of her composure, Caroline made her way to the appointed parlor and found Perry waiting outside the room. He was staring toward the front door and, as such, he did not immediately notice her approach. The man practically jumped out of his impeccably pressed black coat when she asked him if all was well.
“My, but aren’t you a bit tense,” she commented lightly.
“Apologies, my lady,” Perry stammered as he straightened his lapels and cast one more longing glance at the front door. His mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound emerged.
“What is the matter?” Caroline was growing more alarmed the longer this went on. The man was usually so unflappable.
Perry’s sigh was a mixture of resignation and discomfort. “I do not care for you to be in the presence of this man. It is clear that he makes you uneasy.”
Caroline was taken aback by his candor—so much so that it made the backs of her eyes burn. “Oh, Perry…” She willed the tears not to come. “I appreciate your looking out for me, but this is something I must do.”
“Can it not wait until the marquess returns?”
Caroline shook her head. “I will see to this and inform Lord Callbeck that a repeated appearance will be most unwelcome.”
The butler’s mouth narrowed into a grim line, but he nodded in agreement. “I will remain just here in the hallway should you have need of me.”
She shot Perry a grateful smile as she entered the parlor.
Her unwelcome houseguest stood at her arrival, the light glinting off his golden hair, and Caroline was instantly transported back to that horrible night nearly a decade ago.
Callbeck had convinced her to steal away during an uproarious reel at a ball and took advantage of the privacy to bestow upon Caroline her very first kiss. It had been different than she expected—lots of lips and wriggling tongue and very wet—but the cad had reassured her that she would improve with time. Before they’d parted ways, he’d asked if they might meet in secret again. Even back then, Caroline knew she shouldn’t have agreed, but how could she have been expected to resist when he swore he would not survive if they were parted for too long…that he would not ask something of her if he weren’t so desperate for her. She’d believed it all tragically romantic, like something out of a medieval play. She could not turn him down.
She knew Mama and Papa planned to attend the theater, so she and Callbeck made their hasty arrangements. He met her at the appointed time and place, the darkest corner of the gardens behind the Fischer townhouse. The building resided on a corner, so there were fewer opportunities to be seen.
His kisses had begun immediately.
The joy she’d felt at seeing him and being once more in his arms evaporated as his touch became more forceful. The bodice of her carefully chosen gown tore and she was exposed. Her mouth was bruised against her teeth from how hard Callbeck held his hand over it when he rucked up her skirts. He claimed repeatedly that she had wanted this, how she had asked him to do this to her, because she had agreed to meet with him.
What he did to her…it hurt.
Everything he did to her hurt, and she wanted none of it.
Though she’d cried and fought and tried to scream, he held her too tightly—so tightly that she nearly fainted from lack of air. None of her efforts mattered.
She didn’t understand.
She could not possibly have known what he was planning.
He took his pleasure and left her in a heap.
Mama and Papa had returned home early after the theater performance was canceled and had brought with them the Harrows and Bartsons. She and Callbeck had been discovered after her sobs were finally overheard by the kitchen staff.
Callbeck had been unable to retreat quickly enough to avoid discovery, so the vile man had concocted a story that she had seduced him with her poor morals and illicit promises.
The result?
Caroline’s parents had apologized tohim, and he had been allowed to leave without any recourse, while Caroline had been berated for her behavior and verbally abused for shaming her parents in front of their friends. Her scrapes and bruises went ignored and untreated. As predicted, news of the situation flooded London Society the very next day, and Caroline had been removed from the Fischer household, discarded and quarantined like a pox-infected blanket.
Because of him, she was ruined.
“Caroline. How pleasant—”
“You are too familiar, Lord Callbeck,” Caroline bit out, his name acidic on her tongue like a spoiled tomato.
He had the temerity to respond with a raised brow and a disarming smile. “We were once much more familiar.”
