The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(55)
*
As she stepped into the carriage the following evening, she made to sit as usual with her back to the horses, until Richard urged her to the better seat facing the direction of travel and sat beside her. Javan slouched on the bench opposite, his scar livid in the gloomy shadows. She was sure it was his gaze that made her skin burn, and yet she refused to glance at him to see. If he truly wanted her, why was he tolerating, even urging her engagement to his cousin? To punish her? For what? Even last night’s strange revelation seemed to have been made to drive her away rather than to ease his own soul.
Richard appeared unaware of the tension and conversed amiably for most of the journey without much response from either of his companions.
Caroline was almost relieved when Javan excused himself in the theatre foyer, leaving her and Richard to make their way to the box. As she took her seat, Caroline was only too aware of the scrutiny from many other boxes around the theatre. She was the governess who’d hooked a wealthy baronet’s heir—after failing to secure her earl, she was sure it was said. Being used to the unfairness of life, she wouldn’t have cared, except for the fact that she hadn’t actually “hooked” anyone.
Fortunately, the arrival of Lord and Lady Tamar reduced the stares, although they must have been intrigued beyond endurance when the tenant of Haven Hall himself entered the box with none other than Mrs. Gallini.
Sought after by the highest hostesses in polite society, the singer was in something of a unique position. The tarnish of the stage did not quite cling to her—in Blackhaven at least—as it would have to a mere actress or dancer, and yet she was an odd choice to chaperone Caroline, if that had ever been Javan’s intention.
Worse, just as the curtain went up, Caroline sensed a different kind of observation, and she glanced down at the pit to discover Thomas Swayle bowing to her. Her stomach jolted nervously, for she had no idea how Javan would react to his presence.
Although Caroline normally loved the theatre and rarely had the opportunity to indulge her passion, she could not enjoy this evening. Her nerves jangled too much and she simply wanted to go home.
Home. It seemed she regarded Haven Hall as home, despite Javan’s recent behavior.
At the first interval began the true purpose of the theatre—visiting each other’s boxes and comparing gossip. Tamar and Richard went off together, although Javan lounged in the back of the box, silent and brooding. While Serena exchanged conversation around the pillar with their nearest neighbor, Mrs. Gallini drew her seat closer to Caroline.
“Forgive me, Miss Grey, but I saw that man Swayle trying to attract your attention earlier. You must know he is the source of rumors against your employer.”
“I can imagine,” Caroline said with a sigh. “I can only hope no one believes such nonsense.”
The singer shrugged. “Those who know him will not. However, he is also saying that you became engaged to Mr., Richard Benedict in order to avoid the lascivious attentions of Colonel Javan Benedict, of whom you are afraid.”
Caroline’s jaw dropped. “That is ridiculous! He cannot say such things!”
“I am afraid your waltz at the castle was noted by many. After all, he did not dance with anyone else. And now you are engaged to his cousin. It fits Swayle’s story, which is always more interesting than the truth.”
“I wish I had the luxury of not caring what people say,” Caroline said intensely.
“So do I,” Mrs. Gallini agreed. “Women who must work are at the mercy of all.”
Caroline’s smile was twisted. “What comforting thought you bring me, Signora.”
Casting a quick glance behind her at Javan, the singer lowered her voice further. “I wanted to be sure you did not believe these calumnies against him. We are old friends, he and I, and after what he suffered at the hands of the French, it makes me angry if his own people abuse him, too,”
“He was a prisoner of the French, I believe.”
“For several months.” The singer’s gaze was direct. “They tortured him.”
The blood drained from Caroline’s face. “Why?” she whispered.
Mrs. Gallini shrugged. “The kind of fighting he did. They assumed he knew secrets.”
“Dear God…” No wonder he had nightmares from which he sought to escape. No wonder he had betrayed San Pedro or was afraid that he had.
And in reality, when he finally had escaped his terrible prison, when he reached home, he had found his wife with her lover, a daughter who couldn’t speak, and a lot of vile rumors and accusations. With the flood of pity came the beginnings of an understanding. He doubted his worth.
“He is a proud man, Miss Grey,” the singer said quietly. “But a lost one. I do not pretend to know what’s going on between the three of you, but please, please do not let him down.”
Whatever she had expected of Mrs. Gallini, it was not this. “How are you friends?” she blurted, for the first time doubting her assumptions of their past, if not present intimacy.
“In my profession, I travel,” Mrs. Gallini replied. “I sang in Spain for Joseph Bonaparte…and for Lord Wellington, which is where I met Javan. He escorted me safely out of Spain, when it was time for me to return to Italy. And we met again after I escaped to England.” She spread her fan, raising it to her face. “He is a fascinating man, Miss Grey, but he never loved me. And if I ever loved him, it was only a very little. I have a…weakness, it seems, for strong Englishmen.”