Page 31 of Every Rogue Has His Charm

Reluctantly, Mrs. Horn agreed and brought a loose-fitting gown of fawn-colored poplin and a rose-pink cashmere shawl, “so you don’t take a chill.” The dress was hardly more confining than a nightgown, but in it, Caro felt a step closer to normality.

Strong enough, at least, to ask, “And where is my husband, this morning?” They’d reached the top of the stairs, and she found that her knees wanted to wobble.

“Sea bathing, Your Grace.”

Automatically, Caro made a noise of surprise, though really, she did not know the duke’s habits well enough to express any such thing.

“Leastways, I think that’s what his servant was trying to say,” Mrs. Horn went on. “I can’t understand a word of that babble he speaks, but he does a fair pantomime. Ah, and speak of the devil.” A meticulously but not expensively dressed young man with narrow features and dark hair and eyes was ascending the steps in front of them. “I can’t make him understand that he ought to use the servants’ stairs.”

“A gentleman’s valet is a law unto himself,” Caro told her in a low, laughing whisper. Then, she addressed the young man in French. “You must be Mr. Leclerc.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he replied in the same language, making a willowy bow. The rest of his speech came so rapidly she hadn’t a prayer of understanding half of it—her governess’s French really had been abysmal—but she caught a word here and there. “Lovely” and “pleasure” and “health”—an effusive string of flattery, as best she could tell.

“See?” Mrs. Horn opined dismissively, not troubling to lower her voice. “Babble.”

Nevertheless, Caro graciously inclined her head and smiled, and Leclerc pressed himself against the wall so that she and Mrs. Horn might pass. She wished him a good morning, and he did the same before hurrying the rest of the way up the stairs and disappearing into the back bedchamber.

Mrs. Horn continued to natter about Frenchmen and the likelihood that His Grace would catch his death of a cold, but the descent required all of Caro’s focus. Though her head no longer throbbed, neither was it perfectly clear and steady.

After what seemed an eternity, they reached the first-floor landing and passed through the door to the drawing room. Fanny, waiting just inside, leaped to her feet and came forward, hands outstretched. “I’ve been so worried,” she said, and if her face had not made the fact plain, the sob in her voice would have.

Mrs. Horn surrendered Caro to Fanny and backed out with a curtsy, closing the doors behind her. “You needn’t have been,” Caro tried to reassure her friend, in spite of a wobbly exhale as she sank into a chair.

“With all due respect, you weren’t there. Not really. I’ve never seen someone fade away so quickly. Your skin was gray, my dear, absolutely gray, and you went from talking rationally to insensate as quickly as if you’d fainted.”

“I’m sorry to have made such a spectacle of myself over a bit of dyspepsia.”

“Dyspepsia?” One of Fanny’s pale, delicate brows arched.

“Dr. Trefrey said…”

Fanny pressed her lips together as if trying to hold back her doubts.

“What else could it have been?” Caro tried to sound dismissive.

Pale blue eyes searched her face. Fanny opened her mouth as if to speak and then shook her head. “Let’s not dwell on it, shall we? You’re better now.”

Suddenly Caro wasn’t willing to let go of the subject. “Why did you say you feared for my safety?”

“Pardon?”

“In your note—you did not ask me to send word that I was well, but rather that I was safe. As if you had reason to think I might not be.”

“Oh, I—” Fanny, who had been seated opposite her, rose and stepped to the window, as if to study the view. “I suspect I was distraught. Don’t, please, read too much into a hastily scribbled letter.”

“Did…” The question caught in her throat, and dislodging it required her to press her fingertips into her breastbone. “Did my husband…threaten you?”

Fanny spun around. “Whatever would make you ask such a thing?”

“Mrs. Horn said that when he insisted upon staying with me, you were displeased. I thought he might have said…something.” She caught her lower lip in her teeth, hardly knowing what she wanted Fanny to answer. If he really were the monster the world believed him to be, threatening a lady would only be further proof.

“He…” Fanny knotted her fingers in front of her. “He all but accused me of poisoning you.” The awful words hung on the air, punctuated by a nervous laugh. “With a peppermint drop.”

It was indeed a terrible allegation.

It was not, however, the only terrible allegation that had been made.

“Meanwhile, you…” Caro struggled to make sense of the fragments of conversation. “You must also have feared that someone—that he—that my husband—”