His Compromised Countess. Deborah Hale

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      An indignant scowl clenched the nurse’s sharp features. ‘I thought it seemed most irregular, but her ladyship insisted she was acting on your instructions.’

      It was true he had bidden Caroline away. But he had not given her permission to take Wyn, let alone ordered it. ‘Did she say where they were going? How long ago did they leave?’

      ‘This morning, my lord, earlier than I’ve ever seen her ladyship out of bed before. She said they were going to your house on the Isles of Scilly.’

      Suddenly Bennett found himself teetering on the edge of a precipice. Just because Caroline had told Mrs McGregor they were going to the islands did not mean it was true. What if his wife had run away with her lover and taken his son with them—to the Continent, perhaps, or to Astley’s accursed plantation in the West Indies?

      The very notion threatened to push Bennett over the edge into a bottomless abyss, but he stifled his panic to concentrate on action. Wherever Caroline had gone, he would track her down and fetch his son home, where the boy belonged.

      Five days after their precipitous departure from Sterling House, Wyn Maitland tugged on the sleeve of his mother’s pelisse. ‘How much longer until we get to that silly place, Mama?’

      Wyn had asked that question at least once a mile on the three hundred of their journey to Penzance, and even more often since they’d boarded this ship for the islands. With each repetition, his words grated harder and harder on Caroline’s frayed nerves. A sharp answer burned on her tongue, demanding to be spit out. Or perhaps it was the bile that rose in her throat every time the ship lurched in heavy seas.

      One thought alone kept her from bidding the child to hold his tongue. He had not asked to accompany her on this long, tedious, uncomfortable journey. She had taken him from his safe, snug nursery, dragging him into the wilds of Cornwall and out to sea. If either of them had reason to be irritable with the other, it was her son with her, not the other way round.

      ‘Quite soon, now, dearest.’

      ‘I hope you’re right, ma’am,’ grumbled her lady’s maid, who sat on the bench opposite them in the cramped, dimly lit cabin. ‘When we boarded, they said it would be no more than eight hours’ sailing with fair winds. How long has it been now?’

      ‘Nearly twelve hours.’ Caroline heaved a dejected sigh. ‘I hope the servants will still be awake by the time we reach the house.’

      It was all that had sustained her for the past few days, as she’d discovered the difficulty of travelling with a young child and caring for him day and night—the vision of a pretty country house with its friendly staff of caretakers to welcome them. The first thing she would order was a warm pot of chocolate for her and Wyn to sip in front of a crackling fire. Once her little son was tucked in for the night, she would soak away the chills and kinks of her journey in a hot bath.

      ‘I don’t care if they’ve gone to bed,’ grumbled Albert, the young footman who made the fourth member of their travelling party. ‘Somebody had better stir themselves to fix a poultice for my ankle.’

      He had taken a fall a few hours ago, when the ship pitched sharply.

      ‘I’m sure they’ll be glad to.’ Caroline sought to lighten the footman’s sullen temper. It was clear both he and Parker were disgruntled about accompanying her on this journey. Once the servants realised they might be in for an extended stay on the island, she feared they would desert her. ‘How is your ankle?’

      ‘Getting worse by the hour, ma’am,’ Albert replied in a reproachful tone as if he blamed her for his misfortune. ‘Swelled up and paining like the devil.’

      ‘How much longer until we get there?’ Wyn asked yet again. ‘I miss Greggy. Why could she not come with us on this holiday?’

      Caroline had asked herself that same question. How much easier would this journey have been for both of them if Wyn’s capable nurse were there to look after him and answer his endless questions? But Mrs McGregor’s presence would have been a double-edged sword, she reminded herself. How could she hope to make good her vow to become a more attentive mother to her son while his nurse lurked about, always coming between them and subtly criticising everything she tried to do?

      ‘Mrs McGregor is long overdue for a holiday of her own.’ It was the truth. Caroline strove to stifle her protesting conscience. The woman did deserve a holiday, whether or not she chose to take one.

      ‘What about Papa?’ asked Wyn. ‘Why didn’t he come with us?’

      Her son’s question tore at Caroline. She wondered if Wyn would ever ask for her after she had been wrenched from his life. And if he did, how would Bennett respond to his son’s pleas? Would he even care?

      ‘I’m sure your father would like to be with us.’ She uttered that well-meant falsehood with all the sincerity she could rally. ‘But you know he is terribly busy in the House of Lords, passing laws for the good of the country.’

      That part was true, at least. Unlike some of his fellow peers, the earl took his duties in Parliament very seriously. Because he did not align himself on every issue with one particular faction, he was often able to cast a deciding vote or broker a compromise. But there was one matter on which he would never compromise—the abolition of slavery. Much as Caroline resented her husband’s mistrust and feared his threat to divorce her, she could not help but admire his integrity and his devotion to such a noble cause.

      ‘How much longer until we get there?’

      Fortunately for Caroline, she was spared the need to answer. At that moment, from the deck above, came the distant muffled call, ‘Land ho!’

      Those were two of the most welcome words she’d heard in weeks. ‘Very soon, my love. Before long we will be warm and fed, with solid ground beneath our feet and no more miles to travel tomorrow.’

      Wyn gave a cheer while Parker and Albert exchanged a look of relief.

      An hour later, they found themselves ashore on a dark, moonless night. It might not have been so very cold, but the damp wind gusted hard enough to penetrate every layer of clothing, chilling the flesh beneath.

      ‘Where are ye bound for, ma’am?’ asked the young man who heaved their luggage into a cart pulled by a small dark horse. ‘Dolphin Town? The inn at New Grimsby?’

      How large was this island? Caroline wondered. On a globe it had looked like one of a cluster of pebbles kicked into the sea by the long-toed boot of Cornwall.

      ‘We’ve come to stay at a house that belongs to the Earl of Sterling. Do you know the place? Is it far from here?’ She was beginning to sound like Wyn.

      ‘Please?’ the carter asked in a tone as if begging her pardon for not having understood. ‘There’s no earl that lives on Tresco, ma’am.’

      ‘The earl doesn’t live here.’ Caroline shushed Wyn who was dancing about, pestering her with more questions. ‘I’m certain he has not been here in the past seven years at least. But he told me he owns a house on this island.’

      The young man shook his head slowly. ‘Only local folk lives here, ma’am. Unless… you mean the old Maitland place?’

      Caroline’s sinking СКАЧАТЬ