shifting to George.
“He is asleep,” Drew answered. “Because he had a wonderful time and needed to rest.”
Mary clucked her tongue and made a face at Drew. She knew her husband well. There was no point challenging Drew, she would not win the argument.
“He did have a wonderful time,” Rob assured her, “Everyone made a fuss over him and he spent his first hour laughing his head off with glee at the opportunity of such a long ride, and he has been given a dozen biscuits.”
Mary frowned at him, reprimanding him for siding with Drew.
“Don’t turn your wrath on me,” Rob stated jokingly, “I am not to blame. But George did enjoy it.”
“Will you hand George to me, Drew? At least then we can get him home sooner, and securely.” Caroline stood. Of course she must know Drew best of all.
Drew smiled at her, let go of his reins and lifted George, then leaned over. Caro put down her parasol to receive the sleeping child.
Yellow suited her colouring. It gave her freshness and made her look younger. She sat, as though George was heavier than she’d expected, and settled him across her lap, cradling his head on her arm.
When she’d been married she must have had to organise a huge household, the size of John’s probably. The other day Rob had sensed wounded pride within her distress. When she’d left her husband, she’d also left the position of marchioness, with respect and finery to the style that Katherine had, to then become a penniless dependent of her brother. It must have tilted her world upside down.
Another hard, sudden feeling gripped at his gut as Mary pulled away and he watched Caroline. It was pity.
What she’d left behind was another signal of how much she’d suffered. It would have taken a lot to make her choose to leave that life.
But he was certain that Caroline would abhor pity. Perhaps that was a part of her discomfort, that she must be reliant on others, and therefore be in need of pity. Perhaps she was embarrassed by her reliance on Drew as much as by her husband.
The pity in his gut swelled to admiration in his chest as Drew turned his horse off the track and kicked his heels, rising into a canter. Rob followed, racing the trap back to the house.
The first night he’d met Drew, Rob’s family had applauded Drew when he’d entered the room, out of respect because he’d helped Caroline escape her marriage. They should have applauded Caroline because she had survived years of cruelty and then had the courage to leave Kilbride.
When they reached the house Rob dismounted and handed the reins of his horse over to a groom, then waited for the trap beside Drew. It was a few yards away.
A groom came to hold the horse’s head as the trap pulled up. Drew lifted his hands up to take George from Caroline.
Another groom helped Mary down. Rob stepped forward, offering his hand to Caroline, forgetting entirely that she’d never taken anyone but Drew’s hand in all the years he’d known her. But he could not retract the offer, that would look crass, and so his gloved hand hovered in the air a foot away from where she stood in the trap.
Drew’s arms were full, the grooms were not near her, she accepted Rob’s hand, or rejected it and climbed down unaided; those were her choices.
She looked at him, her eyes gilded gold in the sunlight.
“Caroline.” He bowed his head, slightly.
She took a breath, which lifted her bosom. Then her fingers gripped his. They’d been trembling, but her firm hold denied it as she stepped down.
She immediately let go, when her feet touched the ground. But it was another step they’d taken towards friendship.
He turned to see Drew and Mary walking towards the house. They had not even noticed. He glanced at Caroline. “If you like, we could walk about the side of the house across the lawn and go in through the French doors of the morning room, to stretch our legs a little. Drew and Mary will be going up to the nursery anyway. Then we can call for tea.”
She looked at him, challenge bright in her eyes, but he guessed the challenge was to herself. “Yes, if you wish.” She was being brave today.
He turned and began walking. She fell into stride beside him.
He clasped his hands behind his back, refusing the instinct to offer her his arm.
It was not only Caro who felt awkward; he felt awkward too. He was not overly used to spending time with women outside of his family. Again, women were Harry’s forte, not his. There were many years to be lived before the time came for him to think about a wife, and he was not interested in mistresses, or casual liaisons. He was happy as he was. And unlike his peers in the family he believed in morality.
Rob had seen how the whores his brother and his cousins favoured lived. He pitied them. He had no desire to lie with them, and if he held a seat in the House of Commons then he would be speaking out for the safety of those women. His brother and cousins used the brothels, but there were many women on the streets who were only there because they needed food. It was not right.
But if Caroline were to be a friend, he supposed he ought to treat her as he would his friends—he would not offer his arm to a male friend.
A humorous sound escaped his throat.
She glanced at him, but said nothing as they walked on, side by side, in steady strides, she gripping the handle of her open parasol, while his hands were held together behind his back.
He ought to say something. “Did you enjoy your day?”
“Very much.” There was a slight quiver in her voice.
“You know, Caroline.” Rob glanced sideways at her as they walked around the corner of the house on to the lawn. “I respect you immensely.”
She did nothing to acknowledge his comment.
He liked her hair. It was in a loose knot and a whole swathe of it had been left to fall and curl across her shoulder and over her bosom.
“I was thinking, after we saw you in the trap, how much you must have had when you were with the Marquis of Kilbride. It only really occurred to me today what a big step it must have been for you to leave.” Perhaps it was not the best of topics to choose, and yet he did not wish to walk in silence and this was what was on his mind. “You gave up a life like Kate’s… ”
He stopped walking as they neared the open French doors of the morning room. He wished to complete this conversation.
She stopped too, and her hazel eyes widened as they became darker in the shadow of the parasol.
“I want you to know, I admire your courage. To experience such things and then to walk away and leave that life behind.” She’d been wrong. She was brave, braver than anyone else he knew.
Her skin pinked across her cheeks, then tears made her eyes appear fluid. “Excuse me…” She turned and then was gone again, his phantom, hurrying towards the house, her fingers clutching her dress to lift the hem.
“You are a
