Mrs. Whitlock put out her hand, hesitated, then decisively lowered it to Caroline’s shoulder, patting gently. “I thinkyouare a blessing to this household. We have long hoped for a duchess, and I couldn’t have dreamed of a lovelier individual to take that place.” She offered another of her kind smiles. “You are very welcome here, Your Grace. Don’t forget that.”
“I shall try not to,” Caroline replied, though she had never felt more out of place in her life, despite the housekeeper’s best efforts. In truth, she felt as if she was walking through a peculiar dream, the environment around her real and yet not.
“Will you be wanting to retire now?” the housekeeper prompted.
Caroline set her napkin down. “I am rather tired.” She stared down into her lap, cheeks blazing. “Is it ordinary to feel so exhausted when one has done nothing? Are… weddings usually so draining?”
“You are in some manner of shock, I expect,” Mrs. Whitlock said sagely. “That’s enough to make anyone feel weary to their bones.”
Caroline nodded. “Do you think the other members of staff will find it odd that I am the duchess here and not the duke’s sister-in-law? Will they think me a fraud?”
She had already considered what society would think of her when the news emerged that she had not married the right brother. She imagined sour-faced young ladies and their haughty mothers calling her all sorts of names—a deceiver, a schemer, a wily vixen who had always planned to steal the duke instead of the earl. More frustratingly, she would not be able to defend herself with the truth, as the truth was worse.
“They have all been informed of the situation, Your Grace, so don’t worry yourself about it,” Mrs. Whitlock replied. “Not one has batted an eye. As I said, they are all thrilled to have a duchess and that is all that needs to be said about that.”
Caroline slowly got to her feet. “Should I say goodnight to His Grace? Is that the proper thing to do?” Her strength wavered. “I am afraid I am quite at sea here, Mrs. Whitlock. It is an unfamiliar feeling for me.”
Why did I not listen to Mama’s instructions with every bit of my attention?She could have kicked herself for her misplaced confidence that her plan would succeed.
“Ordinarily, it would be proper to bid him a goodnight,” the housekeeper said, putting the dessert plate back down. “But he isn’t here. He left not long after you both arrived. I didn’t want to mention it, but as he still hasn’t returned, I think it is right that I do. I should hate for you to stay awake, waiting for no reason.”
A curiously twisting stream of relief and disappointment slithered through Caroline’s chest—the cold sting of being so brusquely abandoned, and the warmth of knowing that she would be alone on her wedding night, able to sleep soundly.Thatpart she had listened to, not merely from her mother, but from the Spinsters’ Club discussing it over the years.
“Do you know where he has gone?” Caroline was not sure if it was her business or not, but curiosity led her tongue.
Mrs. Whitlock flashed her mistress a knowing look. “I think you can guess, Your Grace.”
“Oh…” Understanding dawned on Caroline, as she sent up a silent prayer.
Let Dickie be far, far away. And when he returns, let him be welcomed back.
With nothing more to say, she made her way out of the dining room, allowing Mrs. Whitlock to guide her to her bedchamber. She knew the way, more or less, but it was nice to have agreeable company.
It was nicer still, knowing that no one would disturb her that night. With any luck, it would stay that way for the rest of her marriage.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Caroline stretched out her arms, yawning loudly. Almost half of the candle beside her had melted away as she had sat diligently at her writing desk, penning letters to her family and friends. Each one was a fairytale of how pleasant it was at Harewood Court, how surprisingly content she was, and how she was not at all upset anymore about the events that had come to pass.
Only her letter to Anna had some truth in it, explaining that she was ‘the tiniest bit’ lonely and might welcome a visitor if Anna was not indisposed. Max was her brother, after all, and Harewood Court had been home to her briefly too, before her marriage to Percival. If anyone could help Caroline learn to like the manor, it would be Anna.
“Goodness, is that the time?” Caroline murmured, rubbing her tired eyes.
She scraped back her chair, ready to retire for the night, when a gentle knock rapped on the chamber door.
Poor Mrs. Whitlock,Caroline mused, charmed once again by the sweet housekeeper.She must have been out there all this time, waiting for the candle to go out.
“Come in. I am not yet abed,” she called, picking up the candle holder as she padded over to the elegant four-poster, letting the candle light her way across the sturdy oak floor.
The door creaked open on ancient hinges, and as Caroline sat down on the edge of the bed, she immediately shot up again.
Her heart lurched into her throat, eyes wide in horror at the figure standing there. He held a lantern, and in that anemic light, the dancing shadows cast his ludicrously handsome face in an eerie, moving mask that made every fine hair on her body stand on end.
“I am not decent!” she yelped, grasping at the blankets to cover herself.
She had changed into her nightgown a few hours ago, but the fabric seemed too little and too flimsy to be any sort of armor against her husband on their wedding night.
Max frowned at her. “Youtoldme to come in.”
