She didn’t answer.
And he hated that her silence hurt. “I’m off to the village, Caro. Care to join me?” Miracle he’d been able to pry himself away. But he needed to think, and he couldn’t do that so damn close to her. He wasn’t here to seduce her or reconsider their arrangement. He was here to keep her safe, to bring her back to London. Anything else was inadvisably dangerous. And for a man like him to admit that… it meant something.
Her cheeks paled, and her jaw set like stone. She shook out her skirts, trying to hide the frustration in the rise and fall of her chest, in her pink cheeks. “You go. I’ve much to do here.”
Oh, he’d upset her well and good.
“Very well.” He set off toward the stairs, throwing an arm in the air. “Prepare the servants quarters while I’m gone. As best you can.”
“Felix,” Caro barked from behind him. “You cannot simply stomp about doing as you please! This may be your house, but our marriage settlement—”
Two steps down he turned, anger burning in his belly. “Is void as long as you are unsafe. I made a deal with Mrs. Dove-Lyon for a wife, not a widow. If you wish to return to the relationship we agreed upon, you’d do best to let me have my way in this.”
“No!” Not a stomped foot. But close.
“I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied you are safe.”
With her shoulders thrown back and her chin high with dudgeon, she looked… magnificent.
Danger.
Oh yes.But he’d always enjoyed flirting with danger.
“My dear,” he said. “Your husband will remain in residence until further notice. And if you keep remonstrating so vociferously, I’ll think you have nefarious reasons for wanting me gone.” He fixed her with as stern a look as he could. A husband-like look he hoped.
“I… I simply wish to be alone.” Her little hands fisted into her skirts. “Besides, you seem… uncomfortable here. No wonder, considering the state of the place. I think only of you.” She fluttered her lashes. They were butterfly wings, pretty, innocent. She meant to blow him over with that wide-eyed act!Ha.She’d never looked so sweet and naïve in her life.
It was his turn to investigate how wide a circular path his eyes could make. “I thank you for your concern,wife, now you’ll allow me to express my own concern for your comfort. And safety. In the way I see fit. By staying right bloodyhere.” He spun and stomped the rest of the way down the stairs—careful not to step on any particularly cracked and creaky boards.
He was outside in seconds, striding for the stables. He did not run from fluttering lashes and wide whisky eyes. He retreated because of the damn house. Hewasuncomfortable at Hawthorne. Not because of the lack of a bed or any convenience. It was the ghosts that bothered him. The rooms he’d toured just now brimmed with them. Echoes of his brothers’ boisterous laughter. His sisters floating from one chamber to another, followed by their mother’s voice, raised in song. His father’s strong footsteps marching down the hall until he caught his wife and whirled her around for a kiss.
The imprints of Felix’s own hand against the windowpanes on a cold day when his breath fogged the glass.
His palm was cold, as if he’d just experienced it.
Not ghosts.
Unexpected demons. Thought he’d flung them to hell long ago.
They’d risen from the grave.
Chapter Eight
Caroline’s husband wasrepulsed by her. It did not take a genius of observation to come to that realization. Evidence? She had much.
He’d sent a footman at the age of seventeen to kiss her when she’d askedhimto.
He’d not kissed her on their wedding day.
He’d not kissed her two days ago when she’d done her best to encourage him in that direction.
He’d fled like a cat with a fleet-footed hound on its tail.
Humiliating to be the dog in this situation. Something else, too. Some deeper emotion, hollow yet hurting. She felt like a fifteen-year-old girl crying in a dark garden, alone and unwanted.
Caroline shook the girl away, held steadfast to the woman who knew a thing or two about life.
First fact—she didnotwant a husband. Not one she could see and touch at least.
