He only offered a grim smile, a forced smile. “Come along, ladies. Back to Hawthorne.” He sounded carefree, jovial. He even grinned, a soft thing just for Mrs. Smith. But something in the sword-straight line of his spine, in the bone-white of his knuckles spoke of tension. Of simmering emotion.Rage.
Caroline had spent the last two days avoiding her husband and pondering the answer to a single question: What would he do if he knew how she planned to use his house? She… wanted to tell him. The words seemed always on the tip of her tongue. But she held back. No one but her sister had ever been privy to her plans. And Garrett. Chloe’s husband.
What if Caroline’s husband knew as well?
Felix placed Mrs. Smith on Troy, and they walked back to the house in silence.
At the stables, Mrs. Smith said, “I cannot thank you enough.”
Felix bowed, keeping his distance, likely guessing she would not want a man so very close to her so soon. “Your husband will not—”
“He isnotmy husband,” the girl spat. “I am Ruth Farmer.” Ferocity turned the young woman into a Furie, shoulders shoved back as if she might battle an entire army on her own. “MissRuth Farmer.”
The girl had told Caroline her story the day she’d arrived teary-eyed at Hawthorne. She’d never expected her to feel comfortable enough with Felix to reveal the truth. Caroline held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
“Ah.” Felix bowed. “I stand corrected, Miss Farmer.” There went that soft grin again, and Caroline’s heart thumped like mad. Her fingers twitched to trace it, to kiss it. He was so kind and gentle, but a hard, battling knight—with an actual sword!—when necessary.
Now, he treated the fallen girl with the same respect he might show a queen.
Perhaps… Caroline could answer her question now.
With a grateful smile for Felix, she looped her arm through Ruth’s and led her back to the house and to the bed chamber she’d been sharing with Polly.
Polly was lying on her bed, swishing her feet, and reading a horrid novel. “I see yer back safe!” She tossed the book aside.
“Almost not,” Caroline said. “We met Mr. Smith.”
Ruth flinched. “Lady Foxton is terribly brave.”
“Ain’t she just.” Polly flopped onto her belly and propped her chin up with both fists. “Have you met the new footmen? Much bigger than your Mister Smith. And there’s two of ’em. When the viscount left for the village, they started looking about the house,making plans for locks and such. It’s about to be safe as a bit of lettuce in a fox den around here.”
Ruth relaxed, and Caroline slipped downstairs. She found Felix in the parlor with the new footmen. Or footgiants. They were huge, even bigger than Smith. They could have stepped right out of a fairy tale, and they were reporting to Felix, very businesslike. Fairy tale giants, apparently, had excellent manners and a keen eye for detail.
She waited in the doorway until they’d left, and then she approached her husband. He looked out the window, hands clasped behind his back. Very capable hands, strong yet gentle.
She picked one up as she joined him, drew it around to his side and her front, and blew on his slightly raw knuckles. “You, Viscount Foxton, are impressive.”
He snorted and shook off her hold. Her hand felt empty. “I’m lucky I did not kill him.”
She raised a brow. “He’s lucky, you mean.”
“Not at all. It would be an honor for him to die by my fists. I, however, do not wish to gain the reputation of an executioner.”
If she was stubborn, he was… marvelously cocky. “Ruth is not lying. She is not married to the man.” The young girl had spilled the whole sad story the day she’d first arrived at Hawthorne alone, with tears in her eyes. “She came to Dorking from London with a lord who promised to marry her. When he left her here unwed, she fell into the arms of Mr. Smith. He’d been a comfort at the time, promising to marry her.” The same old lie. The same damnable consequences. “But then she began to earn money with small jobs around town, and he began to… take her money. And then when she began to hide it away. For escape. He found out. Was not happy. That’s why she arrived here crying the other day. Had heard we were looking for servants and hoped we might provide more funds than she had earned heretofore.I promised to help her.” She straightened her shoulders. “And I will.”
“Of course you will. Caro—”
“You’ll be leaving now?” She tried not to sound small, disappointed, but the quiet of sorrow snuck in around the syllables. “Now that the footmen have arrived?”
He bit off a curse. “No, in fact, I will not. Won’t you reconsider? Come with me to—”
“Do not ask it.”
“Join me in London.” Not a question. A command.
Polly entered, bringing a noon repast, then leaving again.
Caroline poured them tea before answering. Calm. Unflinching. Resolute. “No, I will not. I am safe here, Felix. Particularly with the footmen you’ve hired.”
