Well, gentle readers, this is getting more difficult to write, for obvious reasons, but…

The Long Shadow

Authors: dancesabove and jewell

Chapter 12

Sir Charles Devereaux knocked on his wife's bedroom door.

Caroline was not listening; her memory was replaying the way Christopher would kiss his way back up her body and take her lips, capturing her quickened breaths from the ecstasy he had just given her. They were in a world apart there in his bed. Of course they could walk back and forth in his tiny garden, or sit and read to each other in the sunlight of the parlour, or dine on something they'd prepared together. But they were not a couple who could tell anyone else how in love they were with each other, or walk arm in arm in the village, nor in town. They had talked a little about travelling to Cornwall or even heading further north.

"Maybe I could stop and see for myself whether Mum is all right," he'd mused. But they both cast their eyes down after he said it, knowing that he couldn't introduce her to his mother, and that time away would have to be elaborately planned so that Lady Devereaux's absence for more than a day or two could be explained...

"Caroline!" Charles rapped sharply on her dressing room door, shaking her out of her deep reverie. "What the blazes are you doing? We'll be late!"

The young woman started and leapt to her feet, patting her hair neatly into place, fluffing the tulle-and-lace pigeon breast of her pale green silk gown; smoothing its full skirt over her hips. The Devereaux family diamonds sparkled at her neckline and the lobes of her ears. She looked beautiful, but gone was the glow she could see in the looking glass whenever she was near the man she loved.

The party was a see-and-be-seen affair at Lord Winningham's, complete with ice swans and aspic and dancing and bridge. Caroline thanked heaven they weren't staying the weekend as a great many of the guests were; Charles had meetings next afternoon in London, so his wife told him she would probably volunteer at the hospital this Saturday, too.

"Lady Devereaux!" boomed Lord Winningham once Charles and she had drinks in hand and had greeted their hosts. "You look lovelier than ever. How can that be, when you are working so hard at the field hospital?"

Caroline looked at him with surprise. She had not known he was aware of her work with the Voluntary Aid; she was sometimes uncertain that even Charles internalised her volunteer work.

She could not help but smile then, and tried to calm the blush that came with a mental image of some of her "work" of late—the true reason for her radiance. It made her slightly uncomfortable to see how intently Winningham's sharp eyes were regarding her, and she wanted to change the subject, but in not-too-obvious a way.

"I am glad for the chance to help the unfortunate soldiers. But it is rather nice to be here; it's important for us to rest as much as we can, the better to care for them. Ah, Madeleine! What an exquisite necklace!"

But Thomas Winningham pursued his line of inquiry. "Dorrie said she could have sworn she saw you in Hastings last week."

Caroline cursed her easy blushes again. She pressed a hand to her temple. "Do forgive my flushed face; I've been feeling peculiar since noontime. Would you mind very much if I sat down for just a moment?"

The Winninghams exchanged glances and summoned the first footman to fetch a chair for Lady Devereaux, whose husband was already simmering with annoyance at his wife's embarrassing behaviour. Beneath a seemingly calm exterior Caroline's mind raced. Had young Lady Delores seen her alone in town, or had she seen her outdoors with Christopher? And which day last week? She had spent Sunday, a few hours on Tuesday, and Friday with him. Wasn't it Friday that she went into a Boots just before her train home? It wouldn't be so very odd for her to be visiting Hastings, as her favourite milliner was there.

When seated and sipping a glass of water, Caroline employed her fan for a moment and then smiled sunnily at her small audience. "Again, I beg your pardon. Perhaps I am not as rested as I assumed."

Observing from their eyes that they expected an answer to Lord Thomas' comment, she added lightly, "I was in Hastings to see Miss Soanes for a new hat. Did Dorrie call to me? May have been a bit preoccupied…"

Mercifully the answer was no, as Lady Delores had seen Caroline from a taxi, and downtown, not in St Leonards. The men were still peering at her oddly, but Lady Winningham seemed unperturbed, and as soon as Caroline could excuse herself for a moment she asked Larcher for a brandy. She was in need of a bit of liquid courage and it helped her appear vivacious—or so she was thinking as she and Charles were driven home.

Drink made him more surly than lively as a rule, and he was in a fine state tonight.

"You seemed to recover precipitously from your little spell," he observed in an ominously challenging tone. "Well enough to flirt with nearly every man there." It was the sort of comment that some husbands or suitors might have made teasingly or proudly. Clearly Charles was neither joking nor proud.

"Don't be a fool." Her lips twitched at the irony of it. Charles was irritable because he suspected her of flirting with other men, which she wouldn't dream of doing—because her heart and body belonged to another.

Caroline was rattled when Charles seemed to read her thoughts and said, "I'll show you to whom you belong." She knew this meant she could expect him to join her in her bed that night.

She had known this would have to happen in time, and yet she panicked. No—I can't, I can't be unfaithful to Christopher! She struggled to look levelly at her husband. How could she refuse him? He would suspect something was amiss if she did.

Caroline's mind didn't know where to go when Charles embraced her. Such a contrast from Christopher's tenderness and concern for her pleasure; such a lack of arousal on her part that she knew it was going to be physically painful as well as emotionally. Tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes, wetting her face, but Charles was never aware enough of her emotions even to notice. It was the first time Caroline was glad of that.

Thankfully it ended quickly, as it always did with Charles.

Until Christopher I didn't know I'd ever want it to last longer. She knew now there were sensations in her body that her husband had never stimulated. But Charles has never cared about that, any more than he's cared about my feelings. The "act" is about him and about children—in that order—and that's all.

To her relief Charles silently left her bed and returned to his own rooms.

She tried to think pleasant thoughts; thoughts of her and her darling together. But she was unable to think of her sweet Christopher while the smell of Charles was on her. She wanted nothing more than to take a bath, but in this household that would not go unnoticed; she would have to wait until morning. In pain in every sense and feeling desolate, she gave way to her tears and sobbed herself into a restless sleep.

TBC...