“I will see you tomorrow.”
Drawing his hand away from hers, he dipped his head in a bow and turned on his heel, forcing himself not to look back as he left the Assembly Rooms altogether.
On the way, he passed Phoebe and Ellen. The former narrowed her eyes at him, not with disapproval but with a regretful understanding, and as he reached the doors anddiddeign to glance back, he was relieved to see the two women making their way toward his wife.
Perhaps, with the help of her friends, Caroline would learn that this was all for the best. And perhaps he, in time, would remember what life had been like without her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was late afternoon by the time the carriage turned through a pair of intricate gates, the metalwork as delicate as filigree, depicting coiling vines and heavy bunches of grapes where butterflies perched as if they were just about to take flight. Two angels topped the gate’s pillars, wings tucked, and heads bowed.
If I see a real butterfly,Caroline mused, her head still pounding from the night before,then this will be my home.
The journey had been long and silent, the carriage rocked by the fierce wind that had whipped up as they traveled through the countryside. Not at all helpful for Caroline’s port-induced malaise, though she blamed Ellen for that. Whenever her glass had emptied, Ellen had replaced it, until the rest of the night had become a blur.
But what ached more than Caroline’s head was the fact that Max had retreated to the opposite side of the carriage, not offering to put his arm around her or hold her as he had previously done.And she did not have it in her to try and claw back the distance between them.
“Albert said we could stay for the night,” Max said, the sound of his voice surprising Caroline. It was the first thing he had said for hours. “There will not be any staff, other than the housekeeper.”
Caroline nodded. “I suppose that will help in the matter of discretion.”
“Indeed.”
She missed the softness in his voice. She missed the playful side of him that she had taken for granted at Harewood. She missed the man who had carried her across the reflecting pool to see what glinted in the water. She missed the illusion of a husband who might actuallybea husband to her, dangling the false hopes of not living apart, after all.
Fighting against the silly urge to cry, she pulled down the window and stuck her head out. The icy wind lashed at her face, hiding the sting of held-back tears with the more easily explained appearance of watering eyes.
Through the blur, she saw the house appear and her mouth fell open in astonishment.
It was the most beautiful house she had ever seen. Even in the gloomy weather, the sun blotted out by the swell of storm clouds,the sandstone walls gleamed like gold and the bay windows glinted a winking welcome. And though it was not in bloom, she knew that the swathes of green that climbed the walls and hung from the porticoed porch were wisteria. In the summer, it would be breathtaking.
They passed immaculate hedges that shielded pretty gardens from the wind, and a fountain the shape of a cherub sprinkled crystalline water into the air. And off to the right of the house, an old cedar tree spread wide boughs, perfect for clambering and summer sitting. Near identical to the one at Westyork.
But there was another tree that caught her eye, a short distance from the cedar. A cherry blossom, somehow in bloom. And the pink-hued petals, tossed by the wind, fluttered down like a blushing snowfall.
“You like it?” Max said in a quiet voice.
She looked back at him, startled to find that his eyes were fixed on her. “I have only seen the outside, and one cannot judge on the outside alone.”
In her lap, Powder Puff stretched out, fanged mouth gaping open in a satisfied yawn.
“What do you think of it?” Caroline asked, stroking the cat’s fluffy white fur.
Powder Puff chirped and turned three circles on Caroline’s lap, before curling up and falling asleep again.
“She is clearly enthused,” Max said, offering a smile that did not reach his eyes.
A short while later, the carriage came to a standstill outside the white marble steps of the porch. Max opened the door and offered his hand to Caroline but, with her arms filled with Powder Puff, she neglected to take it and stepped down of her own accord.
“It is certainly in better condition than Harewood,” she said, meaning it in jest. “Not so lopsided.”
Max did not laugh. “It befits you, I think. The sort of house that was made for gatherings and parties and such.”
“My brother has always said that you should see a residence when the weather is bad. He claims you cannot fully understand what it will be like if you only see it when the sun is shining,” she replied haltingly, resenting every bit of distance that stretched between them. For she still did not know what she had done to cause it.
Was it the mention of Dickie? Was it the dance with Mr. Forster? Was it because I kept up the ruse with Phoebe, though she knows everything?
She knew she should follow Anna’s advice and simply ask him, but he had rejected her inquiries that previous night, and she did not want to fight to get an answer that would satisfy her.
