Page 54 of For a Lady's Fiery Heart
She wrung her hands as she paced, tears springing to her eyes. Caroline threw her hands up in the air, unable to mask the frustration any longer. “He does not love me. He never did, and he certainly never shall,” Caroline lamented. “He only went along with the plan so he could get his hands on Pembroke—“
Grace raced over to her side, took her by the shoulders, and gave her a sound shaking. “Stop this, Caroline. You are rattling like a mad woman.”
Caroline bit her lower lip, squeezing her eyes shut. “I know. I am sorry. I cannot help but think that James regrets marrying me. I am nothing like Lady Beatrice. She is so refined and beautiful. And what am I? The daughter of a penniless spendthrift who was forced into marriage to save her family.”
Grace took her hands, her face filled with concern. “That is not what I see. He regrets nothing. In fact, when I look at him, there is hardly a time when he is not looking at you. He loves you, Caroline.” Grace sighed. “It cannot be easy to go up against Lord Highclere. He is so used to getting his way, I think.”
Caroline pursed her lips. “Yes, I agree. However, I think it is high time he learns to put his own selfishness aside and think of what is best for his family.”
“And he will do. Perhaps you will need to help James stand up to his father?” Grace suggested. “No matter what, you must not leave. You will be just as miserable at home with Mama and Papa and me as you would be here—perhaps more so with worry over what was transpiring here while you were gone. It would be far better for you to stay and work things out with your husband.”
Caroline nodded, sighing heavily. She gave a tight smile and hugged her sister again, hanging on as if she were a lifeline. “How did you become so wise, little sister?” she whispered.
Grace squeezed her back. “I had a lot of practice watching my older sister.”
Chapter 31
James sat in the library, stewing until late into the night. His tiff with Caroline earlier that evening had set him in a foul mood. However, he knew he only had himself to blame. Caroline was right. He had to work up the courage to go up against his father's wishes and fight for what was best for his family.
A single candle burned on the side table nearest him. It flickered as the gentle breeze snuck through the window to his right. He looked up at the sky through the glass panes, watching the clouds float lazily by the full moon. It would have been a perfect night to spend in Caroline's company. But he had ruined any chance of closeness with her because of his reluctance to go against his father's wishes.
James's stomach growled, and he shifted grouchily. He had not gone to dinner that evening. He had been too upset to eat or to stand the sight of Lady Beatrice. He sighed but quickly held his breath as a light flickered out into the corridor. James tried to hide in the shadows, but someone came in, seeing the light from his candle, no doubt. He was relieved it was only the butler.
"My lord, forgive me," the butler said in alarm. "I saw the candle burning and thought to put it out if no one was in here. I apologise for the intrusion," he said and started to back out of the room.
"Wait!" James said, standing. "Has the rest of the family finished dinner?" he asked.
"Yes. They have retired to the drawing room now." The butler stood to attention in the doorway, waiting to see if further instructions would be given.
James hesitated. "Was Lady Caroline among them?" he asked.
"No, my lord. She sent a note to the cook via her maid, saying she had a headache and would remain in her room this evening. Lady Grace, Lady Beatrice, and his lordship were the only ones present in the dining room."
James nodded. He had expected as much. How much longer would Caroline lock herself in her room? She had expressed a wish to spend some time apart. He assumed she would continue to avoid him by taking her meals in her room and only venturing about the house when he was out at the club or seeing friends. He did not foresee him doing much of either, things as they were.
"Shall I bring you something on a tray, sir?" the butler asked.
"Perhaps a cup of tea," James said, feeling bad that he had left the man standing there during his awkward pause. "Thank you."
The butler was soon gone, leaving James to his gloomy silence once more. James began to pace about the room, worrying over what he should do next. If he went to Caroline's room, would she agree to see him? More likely, he would be turned away in shame. He raked a hand through his hair and gave a frustrated sigh. "What a mess," he said aloud.
"Oh, dear. It is worse than I thought." A voice drifted to James from the corridor, and he instantly swung around on his heels. Lady Beatrice stood with the light from the hall haloed around her. However, he knew she was anything but angelic.
He narrowed his eyes at her, straightening. "Lady Beatrice. Good night," he said, hoping she would take the hint. She had caused enough trouble for him as it was.
"Good night? My goodness, you have turned into an old, comfortable married man, haven't you?" she teased. Unfortunately, she stepped into the room and sauntered toward him.
He raised a brow, a warning voice screaming at the back of his mind that he should run and not look back, just as Joseph from the Bible ran from Potiphar's wife. This situation was a recipe for complete disaster. "Please, Lady Beatrice. It is not proper for you to be here with me, alone," he said. However, she kept on.
"We are old friends, are we not? What harm can there be in a little chat? Really, James, you have been avoiding me since I first arrived."
She gave a little pout. But her antics did not work on him anymore. Not as they had when he had been young and foolish. He cringed to think at how he had followed her around, utterly spellbound by her beauty and charm. Little had he known then what a viper she would turn out to be.
James was sure to keep the couch between them, and as she entered the sitting area, he headed for the door. He stood a good ten feet from her. She gave a short laugh and sank gracefully into one of the plush reading chairs near the window.
The candle flickered. Shadows danced across her face, which was still lovely in the daylight. However, right at that moment, her face stood out in jutting angles, like something from a horrific painting of the Dark Ages. He had seen such paintings as a boy, depicting the immense suffering and starvation of the people.
He shook his head, and when he opened his eyes again, she had leaned back, allowing the candlelight to fall full on her face again. Gone were the dark shadows, but the feeling that he was in the presence of a dangerous enemy still remained. What game was she playing?
