All About Seduction(113)

She shrugged away from him.

“You have to understand,” he said. “Last night, you took my dreams of being with you and spit on them.” He smoothed the dark hair away from her nape and pressed his lips there.

Her shoulders straightened and she leaned forward, away from him. “I’m sorry it was so horrible for you.”

“I wouldn’t have left the village without telling you.” He’d dreaded talking to her. “Besides, I made the appointment long before I agreed to get you in the family way.”

“You could have told me.”

“Yes, but would you have agreed to be with me if I had?” He pressed another kiss to the back of her neck.

She shivered.

He touched his lips lower, between her shoulder blades. Her head tilted back and she moaned softly. His blood stirred, but he knew better. Even if he hadn’t caused it, she was sore. Pulling her back against his chest, he wrapped his arm around her middle.

How could he bear to leave her? “I want to stay with you too.”

“It will be best for you to go as far away as possible—” Her voice broke. “If it proves necessary, I can find you in London.”

He would have to leave her here with a man who’d killed at least one wife, perhaps two. That, and just being without her, wrenched at him. Even though he’d skated all around declaring his feelings for her, he couldn’t hold back the plea. “Come with me. Let me take care of you.”

Hell, he didn’t even know if he could take care of himself. Certainly he’d be a far cry from providing for her in a manner she was accustomed to. But he’d find a way. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” He might have to beg, borrow, or steal. He closed his eyes. He’d be in dire straights before he’d resort to thievery, no one he knew had enough to borrow from, and that only left an emasculating choice. “Beg, if I have to.”





Chapter 22



Caroline returned to her room just after dawn. She could no longer hold back her tears as she slipped through the door.

Mr. Broadhurst snorted and startled from the chair where he must have fallen asleep waiting for her return. If he ever suspected she was with Jack . . . well, urging Jack to go to London was the right thing, even if it ripped out her heart.

The time with Jack was magical, but it couldn’t continue indefinitely. And it broke her heart to tell him she didn’t want to think about what could or couldn’t be. She rumpled the covers on the unslept-in bed and punched the pillow to create indentations as if two heads had resided there for the night.

Mr. Broadhurst stood with a low groan and shuffled toward her. She stiffened.

“I’ve already rung for my maid.” Caroline planted her hands on her hips. “You should return to your own room.”

If she were to go with Jack, live in sin with him, her family would help, but would be tainted by her choice. Until and unless Jack could be successful, the two of them would be poor relations, an embarrassment. If he had to beg, or depend on her family, he would hate it, and perhaps grow to hate her. She would be so little help to him. The scandal would destroy her brother’s aspirations. If there were illegitimate children, they would suffer. The list of reasons why it was a bad idea went on and on. But she had desperately wanted to say she would follow him to the ends of the earth.

“Have you been crying?” asked Mr. Broadhurst.

“I hate this. You know how much I hate it.” She swiveled so her husband couldn’t see her face. She hated that she couldn’t be with Jack, now and forever.

He patted her shoulder. “There there. No need to cry, Caroline. It will all be over soon enough.”

She didn’t want the affair with Jack to end. Now that she found love, she wanted to bask in it forever. Jack’s tender touch, his gentle hold, his whispered entreaties, all contrived to make her feel whole, as if she had been nothing but an empty shell for twenty-nine years of her life.

She wished love was the only thing to consider, but to encourage Jack to believe they had a future was foolish. Even if she weren’t married, there were still so many reasons they couldn’t be together. But she was married. A sob bubbled out.

Mr. Broadhurst folded her in his arms, but it was a hollow embrace. She was neither comforted nor warmed by it. Now she knew what a man’s hold should be like. When Jack held her, she felt cared for. With Mr. Broadhurst she counted the seconds until she could back away.