Susan Johnson - Again and Again

That was why he was riding north in a storm. “He seems completely lacking in feeling,” Caroline replied, her mouth set in a grim line.

“I’m afraid he assumes no responsibility for anything but his pleasure. In a way, it’s very sad. Lord Blair has much to offer should he care to make the effort” Jane offered Caroline a rueful smile. “You must think me a false friend to speak of him so, but other than his dealings with women, Simon’s the best of men.”

“I understand.” More than you think, Caroline reflected, having experienced Simon’s selfish pursuit of pleasure firsthand. “I thank you for the warning. As a widow, I’ve learned to be wary of charming men. It was kind of you to be concerned.”

“I felt it my duty and now we needn’t discuss such rubbish again.” Jane picked up her teacup and smiled. “I much prefer talking about my children and horses and dogs. You don’t hunt, I suppose.”

“I haven’t for a long time.”

“Would you care to join us,” she grinned, “now that you’re suitably warned?”

Caroline glanced at the freezing drizzle on the window. “No thank you. The warmth of the schoolroom holds more appeal.”

Jane laughed. “Ian and I are quite mad, aren’t we? But we so love the outdoors. It’s impossible to describe our feelings to the uninitiated.”

“Nor should you have to if you’re content.”

“We are. I feel quite fortunate. Now then,” the countess straightened the napkin in her lap, “I’m done with my lecture. You’re excused. Tell the children I’ll see them at tea.”

As Caroline traveled the corridors and mounted the stairs to the nursery floor, all she could think of was how she would word her question concerning Lady Blessington when next she saw Simon. Damn his odious black soul.

Caroline found it difficult to concentrate on teaching French verbs with Simon’s latest iniquity bombarding her consciousness. The children noticed. “I already did alter, twice, Caro,” Hugh said, gazing at Caroline intently. “Aren’t you listening?”

“Me too,” Joanna interposed. “I did it too. Are you sick?”

“No, darling. I was thinking about something else. Forgive me.”

But after losing her train of thought twice more during the children’s French recitation, she decided her pupils could spend the rest of the morning working on their drawings for their Twelfth Night costumes. She would only be required to make appropriate comments of praise from time to time. But even that proved too much.

“You must be sick, Caro!”Joanna exclaimed when she inadvertently referred to the little girl’s angel costume as her fairy costume. There’s no fairies at Christmas!“

“Your eyes look funny,” Hugh offered. “Maybe you are sick.”

Caroline took note of his hopeful expression. “I suppose it wouldn’t matter if we took a day off from the schoolroom.”

“Mama says too much reading leaves wrinkles,” Joanna declared.

Hugh nodded his agreement. “And Papa won’t care.”

“It’s not a very nice day to be outside,” Caroline observed.

“Is too! My pony likes the rain!” Joanna had already jumped to her feet.

“Charlie will take us out,” Hugh said. “We could bring you back cakes from the village.”

How could she refuse such generosity? “I’d like that,” Caroline said.

A moment later, the children had run off to get dressed for the cold outside and she was left to wonder when cheerful, outgoing little boys changed into self-centered, dangerous men.

Although, it was pointless to take umbrage at Simon’s profligacies or waste a minute of her time on indignation. Regardless of her wishes, he would live his life as he wished; he always had.

Rising from behind her desk, she returned to her room and stood motionless for a moment, troubled, disconcerted, faced with hours of unoccupied time. What she needed was activity and distraction from her thoughts… or better yet, another life, she facetiously mused. Barring that unlikely possibility, perhaps today would be a good day to take out the manuscript she hadn’t looked at since leaving France. The novel she’d been writing intermittently for two years was her flight from reality. And if ever she needed deliverance and escape, certainly today qualified.

While Caroline was poring over her much edited pages and laughing from time to time at the foibles of her characters, the conversation during luncheon in the hunting field had taken a wayward turn.

“Since Lady Caroline is an acquaintance of sorts, why don’t we have her join us for dinner tonight?” Simon was saying. “As a gesture of friendship. You said she’d recently lost her husband.”

Ian looked skeptical, “Your gestures of friendship toward women generally take a different tack, don’t they?”

“I’d rather not have her join us,” Jane said.

“Why?” Simon inquired, taking note of Jane’s clipped tone.

“As a matter of fact, I’ve-ah-warned Caroline against you, if you must know. She may prefer not dining with us.”

Caro hadn’t mentioned it last night. “When did you warn her off?” He asked out of curiosity only; Jane had every right to caution her governess.

“I spoke with her early this morning. You’ve left more than your share of scandal in London of late. I thought she should know.”

Simon’s gaze turned cool. “You told her that?”

“No… no, not precisely,” Jane lied, his displeasure causing her to retreat “I simply said you could be dangerously charming.”

He surveyed the flush on her cheeks and wondered how much she’d actually disclosed. He’d find out soon enough, he suspected. If she knew,

Caro wasn’t likely to ignore the Lady Blessington scandal. “I hope you also mentioned I can be extremely well mannered,” he remarked, his urbanity restored. There was time enough before he saw Caroline again to consider his explanation.

“Yes, of course. I told her you were the best of men in a great many ways.”

“Ah.” He recognized the omissions; he also recognized he had his hostess on the defensive. “If I promise to be a perfect gentleman at dinner, will you allow Lady Caroline to join us? We are both from the same locale and it seems discourteous to keep her upstairs with the servants.”

Jane sighed. “Gentleman or not, you’ll turn her head and I’ll be left with a lovesick governess.”

Or worse, Ian thought “Jane tells me Caroline’s interested in seclusion. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen Yorkshire. She may not wish to dine with us.”

“Can it hurt to ask her?” Simon persisted. “I’ll be gone in a day or so anyway. I’ve decided to buy Kettleston Hall.”

Ian’s gaze sharpened. “When did you reach that decision?”

“This morning. I sent Viscount Manley a note and received an immediate reply. You were right about his need for money, apparently. He readily agreed to my offer.”

“But you haven’t seen the estate.”

“You said it was an excellent property. I’ll take your word for it. Which direction is it from here?”

Ian pointed. “You can see the house from our tower. It’s scarcely a mile cross country, although it’s farther by road. Would you like to walk over?”

Simon shook his head. “That’s not necessary. My requirements for a hunting lodge are flexible.” proximity to Netherton Castle the first consideration. “Now, is there something I can do to change your mind about having Lady Caroline for dinner?

Jane frowned. “You won’t be deterred, will you?”

“It’s a harmless dinner.”

“Humph. Don’t look at me with those guileless eyes. Such determination makes me question your motives.”

“I have no motives.” About dinner at least, he could say without perjuring himself. “It’s simply four people dining together.”

When he said it like that, Jane didn’t have much choice unless she wished to look exceedingly foolish. “Very well, but you must absolutely promise not to captivate my governess… or try to do anything,” she blushed, “seductive.”

Simon nodded. “I will keep my remarks strictly impersonal… the weather, the state of the roads, the success of our hunting-nothing I wouldn’t say to your children.”

Jane and Ian exchanged dubious glances.

“Lady Caroline used to hunt with the Beaufort Hunt. As I understand, she’s a bruising rider.”

Jane’s eyes lit up. “She never said a word.”

“That world, perhaps, is quite distant for her now.”

“Ian, you must find her a good mount,” Jane quickly declared. “She might enjoy the jumps near Hungerford.”

“Yes, dear.” Ian shot Simon a censorious look and met one of imperturbable calm. “But if Caroline decides to leave because of you,” he said, holding

Simon’s gaze, “I swear, I’ll call you out. And don’t think I won’t”

Simon grinned. “No need for that. I’ll be on my best behavior, tonight Wait and see.”

It looked as though Simon’s best behavior would be unnecessary because Caroline refused Jane’s invitation. If the Carlisles had wished her company at dinner, they could have invited her anytime before Simon arrived.

They hadn’t.

Simon was behind this invitation.

And the last person she wished to see right now was the father of Lady Blessington’s child.

Shortly after refusing Jane’s invitation, Caroline responded to a knock on her door and found Simon’s valet outside. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, my lady.” He held out an envelope.

“And you as well, Bruno.” When had he arrived? She smiled at the man who had been taking care of Simon for as long as she could remember. “Although Simon wasted your time sending you up here.”

“You know the master, my lady,” he replied, tactfully. “I have orders to wait for your answer.”

“One moment.” Shutting her door, she opened the envelope and pulled out a card that was embossed with Simon’s ducal crest COWARD, he’d boldly scrawled. I won’t bite.

Damn him. She’d refused the dinner invitation because of his unsavory, profligate life, not out of cowardice. Taking the card to her writing table, she sat down and wrote on its back: You are the coward in not facing your responsibilities! She underlined responsibilities twice, slid the card back into the envelope, and returned it to Bruno. “Tell Simon, he’s wrong.”

“Yes, my lady. I told him if you said no, you meant no.”

“Exactly right, Bruno. He’s had his way too often.”

“Yes, my lady.” Although he’d known Lady Caroline from the cradle and she and his master were well matched when it came to willfulness.

“I wish no more correspondence from him. Make that plain.”

“I’ll tell him, my lady. And Bessie would want me to give you her greetings. She waits for your letters.”

“Thank you, Bruno. Tell Bessie I miss her.” Bruno’s wife had been like a mother to her. “If all goes well, perhaps I’ll have time to come and visit next summer.”

“We’d like that, ma’am.” He knew better than to say Simon would like it too. “If’n you ever need something… you make sure you let us know.”

“Thank you, Bruno. I’m doing well at the moment.”

“The Carlisles seem right nice.”

“Yes, yes, they are. You see that Simon understands.”

“Yes, ma’am.” And with a bow, he walked away.

* * *

Caroline was back at work on her manuscript when she heard the heavy tread of footsteps moving swiftly in her direction. She quickly piled her pages together and began to slide them in the table drawer when her door opened with such force, it crashed into the wall.

She squealed, and dropped the manuscript.

Simon held up the card with her message. “What the hell does this mean?” Striding across the scattered manuscript pages, he tossed the card on the table.

“Shut the door,” she hissed. “Do you want the entire nursery staff listening?”

“You think they don’t know?”

“They’d better not know,” she snapped, and glaring at him, she jumped to her feet and ran to the door. Jerking the knob out of the shattered plaster, she closed the door, and turned back, quivering with rage. “Say whatever you came up here to say and then get the hell out!”

“No one calls me coward.”

“But you’re allowed to do so to me?”

“Mine was in jest.”

“Mine wasn’t.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “If you were a man, I’d call you out and kill you.”

“But then men are exceedingly stupid.”

“Really,” he surveyed her room with a derisive glance, “and women aren’t?”

“I’m here because my father chose to drink himself to death-not exactly a model of wisdom… and my husband was enticed by avarice.”

“Rather than your beauty.”

“That’s your specialty isn’t it-beautiful women.

Although, I hear you’ve left one such beauty in London somewhat the worse for your company.“