His Compromised Countess
‘We cannot stay here tonight.’ She shook her head. ‘Everything will need to be cleaned and aired before we take up residence.’
‘Not by me.’ Parker crossed her arms in front of her flat chest. ‘I’m a lady’s maid, not a charwoman. I’d sooner swim back to Penzance than scrub all this.’
Caroline was too tired and cold to argue the matter just then. She cast the carter a pleading look. ‘Is there anywhere we can find lodging for the night? Did you say Tresco has an inn?’
‘Aye, ma’am. T’other side of the island.’
Parker and Albert groaned.
‘We can be there in half an hour,’ added the carter, ‘if we step lively.’
Though Caroline welcomed the news that the inn was not far away, it disheartened her to realise how tiny this island must be if it took such a short time to cross from one coast to the other. Tresco would be her remote, rustic prison—as different as it could possibly be from the luxurious, stimulating life she’d enjoyed in London.
How long would she be obliged to stay here? she asked herself as her small party trudged through the dark windy night to the inn. Just until the tattle about her and Fitz Astley died down? Or would she be stranded here for the rest of her life once Bennett divorced her?
Somehow she managed to keep going for another two hours, hiring them rooms for the night, ordering a modest supper and finally putting Wyn to bed. Once he had dropped off to sleep, she slipped out of the room. In the narrow hallway she encountered the innkeeper’s wife, a small, neat woman with a ruddy complexion and dark-brown hair, grizzled at the temples.
‘Are you ailing, my lady?’ the woman asked in a kindly tone. ‘Tell me your trouble and perhaps I can brew you a remedy.’
‘I’m not ill, Mrs Pender, only tired.’ Caroline contrived a poor substitute for a smile. ‘It has been a long journey from London and I have not slept well.’
‘I see,’ replied Mrs Pender. ‘Well, if it’s nothing worse than that, I reckon a cup of camomile tea would do you a power of good. Would you care to join me in my parlour?’
Caroline hesitated for an instant. What would her friends in London say if they knew she was keeping company with a rural innkeeper’s wife? Some of them might think worse of her for that than for being caught kissing Mr Astley at Almack’s.
But she was a vast distance from London now. And none of those friends were here to comfort or divert her. Indeed, she doubted any of them would have come to visit her if she’d still been back in London. They seemed to view scandal as some sort of contagious malady that might infect them if they ventured too near.
This woman was the first to have shown her any kindness since that awful night her world had come crashing down. Until this moment, she had not realised how starved she was for a bit of agreeable company.
‘That is most obliging of you.’ Despite her fatigue and all her worries, Caroline found herself able to smile more sincerely. ‘I would enjoy a little refreshment and someone to share it. I don’t believe I’ve ever had camomile tea.’
‘It’s fine stuff, my lady.’ Mrs Pender started down the stairs and Caroline followed her. ‘It has a mild flavour and calms the mind to help you sleep. I pick the flowers early in the summer from the meadows around Great Pool.’
There were meadows of wildflowers on this island? Caroline found it hard to believe after what she’d seen of Tresco’s rugged, inhospitable landscape so far.
‘It’s an honour to have you and your son staying here, my lady.’ The landlady beckoned Caroline into a snug little parlour, then called a servant to fetch hot water from the kitchen. ‘It does my heart good to think of family living in the Maitland house again after all these years. I mind your husband used to come here with his mother when he was about the age of your little fellow.’
‘Did he?’ Caroline sank on to an armchair by the hearth, gratefully soaking up the warmth of the fire. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Yes, indeed, ma’am.’ Her hostess beamed. ‘My auntie cooked for them and I used to help her out. The countess was such a kind lady and Master Bennett… I mean… his lordship was the picture of your son.’
‘Was he?’ Because Bennett never spoke of his mother, Caroline had always assumed she must have died when he was very young, as hers had. If he’d been old enough to remember, why had he never mentioned her? ‘Was my husband close to his mother in those days?’
‘Quite devoted, ma’am. And he was all the world to her. She was for ever taking him for walks and picnics. When the weather was bad, she’d play cards with him and read to him by the hour.’
Those were all things Caroline wanted to do with Wyn. But first she would have to get that deserted house cleaned so it would be fit to live in.
‘What sort of woman was my husband’s mother? I never had the pleasure of knowing her.’ Would Mrs Pender think it strange that Bennett had not told her about his mother?
‘Well…’ The landlady thought back. ‘I recall she was always polite to folks, no matter what their station.’
Caroline wondered if that was how Bennett had come by his political principles—his admirable concern for the enslaved and the working poor.
‘She was pretty as a picture,’ Mrs Pender continued, ‘though never very strong, poor soul. She always came here for the climate in the autumn while her husband was hunting.’
The maid returned then with a teapot, cups and a steaming kettle. Caroline watched as Mrs Pender brewed up their tea.
While it steeped, she continued to pump the landlady for information to appease her curiosity. ‘I suppose it has been quite a long while since they last came to the island?’
‘Laws, yes, my lady. It must be every day of two dozen years.’
‘That must have been when his mother died,’ Caroline murmured to herself.
In the process of lifting the teapot, Mrs Pender froze. ‘No, my lady. She came back once, a few years later, without him. Not to stay, but just for a few days to pack up some things from the house to take away.’
The woman looked as if she meant to say something else, then suddenly changed her mind. Instead she fussed with the tea, pouring it through a tiny strainer.
‘Is there something else?’ Caroline fixed the woman with a searching gaze as she took the offered cup. ‘Whatever it is, I should very much like to know.’
The landlady wavered. ‘I don’t like to gossip, ma’am. Especially not about her ladyship. She was always good to me.’
The woman’s evasive answer only intrigued Caroline more. What manner of gossip could she know about Bennett’s mother?
Taking a sip from her cup, she savoured the wholesome, mellow sweetness. The fragrance alone seemed to soothe her. ‘I appreciate your discretion, Mrs Pender, in not talking over the private matters of my family with strangers. However, since I am a member of the family, perhaps you could make an exception?’
The landlady sipped her tea in silence, clearly mulling over Caroline’s request. ‘Perhaps it’s no great matter, after all, ma’am. It’s just that when her ladyship came back that last time, she brought a gentleman with her. Fine looking, he was, and very agreeable. I can’t recall his name, now, but he… wasn’t her husband.’
Those last few words, Mrs Pender spoke in a scandalised whisper.
Caroline nearly choked on a mouthful of her tea. Had Bennett’s parents been divorced? He had never said so, but then again he’d never spoken of them at all. Could this be the reason—because he was ashamed of the family scandal?
‘Perhaps the man was some relative of her ladyship?’ she suggested. ‘A brother or a cousin?’
‘Aye, ma’am. He might have been.’ Mrs Pender sounded doubtful.
If Bennett was ashamed of his parents’ divorce, Caroline mused, why was he so eager to taint their young son with that same kind of shame?
Chapter Three
By taking flight with their son, his wife had banished Bennett’s few doubts about seeking a divorce. He’d pursued Caroline’s party relentlessly all the way from London, and might have caught up with them at Penzance if a lame horse had not delayed him. By the time he landed on Tresco, late the next afternoon, he feared he would find no sign of Caroline or his son because Astley had spirited them abroad.
Striding up from the quay at Old Grimsby through a spit of rain, Bennett was struck by an uncanny feeling that he’d journeyed back in time. Nothing about the island appeared to have changed in the past twenty years, from the stone cottages with their thatched roofs to the wheeled barrels for fetching water from Great Pool. As he approached the house, he half-expected to meet his younger self running out the front door.
Perhaps that was what stopped him from calling out, compelling him instead to lift the latch with care and ease the door open almost reluctantly. He found the parlour deserted, the furniture still draped in voluminous dust sheets. The room seemed so much smaller than he remembered it. The floor was covered with a layer of dust, soot and dead flies. Was no one tending to the place any more? Or had they stopped bothering after so many years? Perhaps they’d expected some message to warn them of an impending visit before they went to the trouble of cleaning. The only sign anyone had been there recently was a scattering of fresh footprints on the dirty floor.
Had Caroline come here, as he’d bidden her, only to flee from the place in disgust? He wasn’t certain he could blame her if she had.
Unpleasant smells issued from the direction of kitchen, but the faint sound of movement overhead drew Bennett to the stairs, which he mounted quietly. Following the sound, he peered into the bedchamber that his mother had occupied on their long-ago holidays here. The sight that met his eyes quite confounded him.
There was Caroline, down on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with violent energy. Though she was turned away from him, he recognised her golden curls and her gown. It was one of the simplest she owned, yet it still looked far more elaborate than any housemaid would wear to undertake such a task.
His elegant countess stooping to common housework? If he had not seen it with his own eyes, Bennett never would have believed it possible.
As he watched Caroline dip her brush into a bucket of steaming water, then drag it back and forth across the floorboards, his gaze was irresistibly drawn to her shapely bottom. Raised towards him and covered only with flimsy layers of linen and muslin, it swayed with a most enticing rhythm as she worked. He could picture it bare, those smooth, firm lobes fairly begging for the attention of his hands. His body responded to the imagined invitation with straining hunger. He ached to toss his wife upon the cold, musty-smelling bed and purge all the conflicting feelings she provoked in him.
Against his will, a growl of sultry yearning rumbled deep in his chest.
The sound made Caroline glance back over her shoulder. Catching sight of him, she shrieked as if she’d seen a ghost. Trying to rise while keeping as far away from him as possible, she scuttled like a crab, knocking over the scrub bucket. When she sprang up to avoid the gush of water, she struck her head on the steeply sloped gable ceiling.
‘Look what you made me do!’ She rubbed her head as a stream of soapy water poured over the floor. ‘Why did you sneak up on me like that?’
Her furious glare and accusing tone quenched his sympathy for her difficulties.
Bennett’s temper flared, fuelled by the volatile desire she’d ignited in him. ‘What did you mean by sneaking away from London with my son? I never gave you leave to take him!’
‘You never forbade me either!’ She stooped to tip the bucket upright, too late to do any good. ‘This was the only way I could get a final chance to spend time with my child.’
‘I would have forbidden it,’ he snapped, ‘if you’d had the civility to inform me of your intentions. Instead I was left to discover you’d made away with him without my knowledge or consent. For all I knew, you’d run off abroad with him and your… paramour.’
Her blue-green eyes blazed with the fury of a storm on the Mediterranean. ‘If you mean Mr Astley, he is not my paramour. Even if he were, how could you think I would ever steal Wyn away? It is you who are determined to deprive our son of a parent, with your threat of divorce.’
If she had snatched up her scrub brush and hurled it at his head, it could not have hit Bennett as hard as that accusation she seemed to pluck from the depths of his conscience. Never in seven years of marriage had they quarreled with such open animosity. Their preferred weapons had been frosty silences broken by the occasional waspish barb. Much as this raw hostility horrified his deep-rooted sense of self-control, another part of him relished the opportunity to vent some of the resentment that had long smouldered inside him.
‘How could I think you capable of absconding with my son?’ He hurled Caroline’s question back at her, heavy with sarcasm. ‘Perhaps because you have recently demonstrated the depths of impropriety to which you are capable of sinking. With Astley of all men—the choice does not speak well for your discernment.’
‘Why do you refuse to believe there was nothing worse going on between me and Mr Astley than what you saw with your own eyes at Almack’s?’ she demanded. ‘Is it because you don’t want to? Perhaps you have been waiting for a chance like this all along—a pretext to be rid of me now that I have served my purpose by bearing you an heir.’
Did she truly believe he was seeking an excuse to divorce her? Or was she only trying to deflect attention from her infamous conduct by casting aspersions on his motives? Beneath the passionate hostility that crackled between them, Bennett sensed the other kind of passion. In a plain gown, with her hair tousled by her exertions and a dewy glow in her cheeks, Caroline looked less like the pampered diamond of society and more like an earthy, sensual woman who appealed to him in far too many ways. Did she suspect what power she might hold over him if he let down his guard?
He must take care she did not.
Refusing to dignify her preposterous accusation with an answer, he changed the subject instead. ‘Speaking of my heir, where is Wyn? And what were you doing down on your knees, scrubbing the floor? I didn’t think you knew how.’
‘It is not Greek or higher mathematics. I’ve watched servants scrub floors all my life.’ Caroline pushed a fallen lock of hair off her forehead. ‘Wyn is with Albert, back at the inn. I was trying to get this room fit for us to sleep in tonight. It hasn’t been easy, considering the place has not been cleaned in years. Now it’s a worse mess than ever.’
Gazing down at the drenched floor, she shook her head and heaved a weary sigh. She looked so thoroughly discouraged Bennett could not suppress a secret pang of shame. ‘I had no idea you would find the house in such a state. I thought there was still someone taking care of it.’
Caroline cast him a look that made it clear she did not believe his excuse any more than he believed she’d been a faithful wife. Did she think he had sent her to such a dirty, deserted old place on purpose? Not that it would harm her to do a bit of honest work and learn how ordinary folk lived. Still, after seven years of marriage, she should know he took his responsibility to provide for her seriously—even when she neglected her duty to be faithful.
‘But why were you scrubbing the floor,’ he persisted, ‘while Albert plays nursemaid?’
‘Because Albert is in no fit condition to do anything else at the moment.’ Caroline told him how the footman had injured his ankle. ‘Parker flatly refused to scrub floors and I didn’t dare press her for fear she might leave on the next boat. She agreed to do the marketing and cooking, both of which take more skill than this.’
By the smells rising from the kitchen, Bennett had grave doubts about Parker’s culinary abilities. ‘Why did you not stay a few more days at the inn and engage some local women to set this place to rights?’
Caroline reached around to rub the small of her back. ‘Most of the money I brought with me was spent on our journey. Since I didn’t know when I might get more, I was obliged to be careful with what I had left. Keeping four people at an inn with meals can add up quickly, you know.’
Under other circumstances, it might have been amusing to hear his wife preach economy. Those inn charges of which she complained would not have equalled the cost of a single gown or an elaborate fan she’d have purchased on a whim last week.
Still, Bennett’s conscience troubled him for ordering Caroline so far away without making certain she had sufficient funds to supply her needs. ‘I am here now and I have brought plenty of money. You can stay at the inn until this place is fit to occupy. Before I leave, I will hire some local folk to serve you.’
If he provided his wife with plenty of servants to cater to her needs, perhaps he might feel less guilty for leaving her here—even if this was by far the best place for her, under the circumstances.
‘How soon do you intend to leave?’ Caroline’s question carried an unspoken plea.
Bennett steeled himself to resist it. ‘Tomorrow. The boat I chartered from Penzance is anchored in the cove. I must get back to Parliament.’
He’d had great hopes for Lord Liverpool after the earl spoke in favour of Abolition at the Congress of Vienna. But lately Liverpool’s ministry seemed more inclined to deprive ordinary citizens of their freedoms than to free the enslaved.
‘I suppose you will be very busy with your work when you return to London?’
‘Of course.’ What in blazes did Caroline care about his work?
‘Then why not let Wyn stay here with me? You will have no time to spend with him, while I will have nothing else to do with mine. Besides, we just arrived last night after a long journey. It cannot be good for the child to make another again so soon.’
She expected him to reward her for going behind his back to spirit his son away? Next the woman would demand a medal for her adulterous affairs! ‘Perhaps you should have thought of that when you dragged the boy away from his nursery under false pretences.’
‘I didn’t think you would come so soon to fetch him back.’ Caroline’s winsome pleading gave way to indignant anger. ‘Why can you not give me a little more time with him if you are determined to part us for ever? Is it because you care more about punishing me and exercising ownership over your heir than you do about a small child’s feelings?’
The charge infuriated Bennett. She made him sound like the most heartless slave master. ‘When did you begin to care about the boy’s feelings or anything else to do with him? I’m certain if this island had a pleasure garden or assembly hall to keep you amused, you’d be only too happy to be rid of him. I will not let you use my son for your plaything, then cast him aside when you grow bored. Motherhood is not a game!’
Carolyn reeled as if he’d boxed her ears. However vigorously she might deny the charge, it was clear his accusation had struck a nerve.
She wasted no time striking back. ‘How dare you question the sincerity of my feelings for Wyn? I have never seen you show him the least sign of affection.’
‘I care for my son!’ Bennett raised his voice to drown out the traitorous whisper of doubt in his thoughts. He knew he loved his son, but did Wyn know it? ‘All his life I have watched over him and made certain he had everything he needed to be safe and well and content. I dropped everything and travelled all this way to fetch him home. Actions like those speak far louder than your lavish, hollow gestures.’
Caroline flinched. ‘If I have been more effusive in showing my affections towards him, it was not for my own amusement, but to make up for your coldness. I know I have not been as constant and attentive a mother as I should. That is why I brought Wyn with me—so I might have an opportunity to make it up to him. Please, let me keep him here a while longer.’
‘Why should I? So you can make him so deeply attached to you that he will be devastated by our divorce?’ Striving to keep the sparks of hostility between them from blazing into something far more dangerous, Bennett encased himself in a crust of frosty disdain that had served him well in the past.
But even that stout armour was not impervious to Caroline’s next strike. ‘Devastated? Was that how you felt when your father divorced your mother?’
How much did she know about his family? Bennett struggled to regain control of his vocal organs. Not all the sordid details, obviously. But her guess about his feelings was far too close to the truth for his liking.
‘Who told you about my parents’ marriage?’ He forced out the words in a headlong rush.
‘What does it matter?’ Caroline countered. ‘Don’t you think I should have heard it from you long before this?’
Talk to her about such an intimate and painful subject? He’d never even considered it, least of all after their marriage had begun to go as disastrously wrong as his parents’. ‘What would have been the point of telling you? It was ancient history and not any business of yours.’
‘I think it is very much my business when you intend to tear Wyn away from me just as you were torn away from your mother when your father divorced her.’
Her words dealt a sharp blow to an old wound that had never healed properly. ‘I was not torn away from my mother! She abandoned me for her paramour, in spite of all her protestations of maternal devotion. So you must excuse me for looking upon yours with a jaundiced eye.’
His revelation clearly struck a blow to Caroline’s hopes. She reeled, as if buffeted by a violent gust of wind that stole her breath away.
Had it been a mistake not to tell her what his mother had done? If nothing else, his shameful family history might have provided a cautionary tale about the consequences of a woman breaking her marriage vows.
Bennett had not intended to utter another word on the subject of his past. But now that the stopper had been pulled from the jug, he found it hard to contain what came pouring out.
Bennett’s mother had deserted her son to run off with another man? A confused cascade of thoughts rushed through Caroline’s mind. Almost as many and conflicting as the emotions that scoured her heart. She found herself torn between sympathy for what her husband must have suffered as a child and indignation that he believed her guilty of repeating his mother’s mistakes.
How could a woman abandon her child and bring such shame upon him? Unhappy as her marriage had been in recent years, she’d never seriously considered taking a lover, let alone running away with one. There was only one man she’d ever loved, one man with whom she’d been happy, however briefly. She had lost his affection, if indeed she’d ever inspired more than physical desire.
Bennett’s sudden arrival had thrown her into confusion. When she’d glanced back to find him standing in the doorway, Caroline felt as if she were seeing someone she barely recognised. He had grown into his height since the days when he’d visited her girlhood home to confer with her father. Where he’d once been lanky and a bit awkward, he was now broad-shouldered and imposing. There was a becoming maturity about his crisp patrician features as well. The full black brows that had given his younger face an almost comical severity now suited him all too well.
The dark eyes beneath those brows had not changed, though. They still radiated fierce intelligence that shielded their enigmatic depths. In all their years together, Caroline had never succeeded in divining her husband’s feelings by gazing into those well-guarded eyes.
Today, however, she was not obliged to guess. For once, Bennett was more than willing to speak his mind. ‘For your information, my father did not divorce my mother. No doubt she’d hoped he would, so she could salvage some shred of her reputation by marrying the scoundrel she’d run off with. Father refused. He believed she deserved to suffer the full consequences of her folly. You do not seem to appreciate the service I would do you by seeking a divorce.’