The Rescue

Oak Hill Manor, Sussex, England November 1815

The clock above the mantelpiece struck the hour and Caroline stifled a sigh of relief. Escape was within reach. She gently closed the book in her lap and stood. The gentleman in the opposite wing-chair looked up from his book.

“Going so soon?”

Caroline tamped down her impatience as she struggled to keep her face neutral. “Yes. Good night.” She moved quickly but he was faster.

He grabbed her arm, and dug long fingers into her flesh. His voice was low and sickly sweet. “You’re being rude, my dear.” He kept his grip firm on her wrist as he stood and pulled her close to him.

The cloying smell of cologne made Caroline’s stomach turn but she forced herself to stare into his black eyes. She refused to back down from him anymore. She kept her voice low but infused it with steel. “Let me go, my lord.”

“My lord?” He shook his head at her. “So formal, my dear Caroline. I have told you before to call me Stephen.” He looked at her full, soft lips. “In fact, I would enjoy hearing my Christian name on your lips.”

Caro bit back her revulsion and willed herself to remain calm. “I need to go to bed.”

His heavy black brows quirked in amusement. “Is that an invitation?”

Instinctively, Caroline raised her free hand to slap him, but he caught her arm easily. She immediately regretted her action. With both arms in his grasp her chances for escape were severely narrowed.

“Let me go,” she growled. “You are despicable. My sister, your wife, lies ill upstairs and you dare to accost me?”

“It is precisely because my wife is ill that I have need of you. I have not been with my wife for months and even when I am, she is a poor bedmate, always claiming to be tired or to have a headache. You, I think, would have more fire, more creativity.” He leered as though picturing her in his bed.

Caroline was speechless with anger for a moment. “If your wife is tired, my lord,” she ground out at last, “it is because she has been confined to childbed for most of the last four years. Bearing your children.”

“Yes, yes,” he sighed. “I cannot help being virile. But that only makes my need greater.” He pushed her arms behind her and pressed her against the length of his body. Caroline turned her head aside and his lips landed on her ear.

Stephen pulled back and closed his eyes in annoyance. When he opened them again, he smiled a cold, brittle smile. “Do not try my patience anymore, my dear. You have been seducing me these last seven months; do not be coy now.”

Caroline faced him, incredulous. “Seducing you, my lord? Fighting off your advances every day for seven months could hardly be called a seduction.”

He laughed. “Your words say one thing but your body says quite another, my dear.” He held both of her arms in one of his powerful hands and raised the other to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, immobilizing her. His eyes were suddenly full of deadly earnest. “I am not above using force, my dear. I would prefer not, but if I must, I will.”

Caroline’s heart raced and her mouth went dry. Any servants not yet gone to bed were too far away in the kitchens to hear her if she screamed. The only one who might hear was her sister, the very one she had sought to protect all along by not mentioning her husband’s attempts at seduction.

Stephen was a tall, heavily-built man, not fat, but ruthlessly strong and Caroline knew she had no chance of fighting her way free. Her only hope was a distraction or an interruption. She listened for the sound of servants in the hall or of hooves on the drive, but all was silence.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” a voice drawled from the doorway.

Stephen tensed and looked behind Caroline. He forced a smile onto his lips and slowly released Caroline from his iron grip. “Abernathy,” he called. He was attempting easy joviality but failed. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

“Evidently,” the man drawled. “The night was so fine I decided to push on through. You don’t mind, do you?”

Stephen moved stiffly to shake the man’s proffered hand. “Not at all. Glad to have you.”

Caroline slowly turned and faced her rescuer. He was Lord Abernathy, Viscount of Winterborne, Stephen’s cousin. He leaned in the doorway, the buttons of his military uniform gleaming in the dim firelight. His eyes rested on Caroline and she saw a flicker of surprise before he straightened and sketched a formal bow to her.

“Miss Weston. A pleasure to see you again.”

Caroline returned a curtsy. “And you, my lord.”

“You’ve grown up,” he observed with a friendly smile. Caroline knew that if Stephen had said that she would have felt soiled, but it sounded quite different from this man. “We have not met since my cousin married your sister, I think.”

Caroline was well aware of just how long it was since she had seen the handsomest man of her admittedly small acquaintance, but it would never do to show that. “So long, my lord?”

“Yes, I’ve been at war, I’m afraid.” He smiled and clapped Stephen on the back. “But now I am home and intend to take up the reigns of my estate again, although I thought I would stop and see a few friends and family members before I do so.”

The safety of Lord Abernathy’s presence lent Caroline strength and she smiled. “You two must have plenty to discuss. I will leave you now.” She avoided Stephen’s eyes, but caught the intense look in Lord Abernathy’s. She was certain that he knew precisely what he had interrupted. She gave a small nod to assure him that she was all right.

Stephen was already moving to the sideboard to pour drinks, but Lord Abernathy bowed over Caroline’s hand before moving out of the doorway.

“Good night, Miss Weston,” he said. “I was hoping that perhaps tomorrow you would ride with me over the estate. It has been a long time since I was here, but I seem to remember a number of very pretty views that I would like to see again.”

Caroline smiled, her earlier relief now mixed with genuine happiness. “With pleasure, my lord.”