husband,” Caro cried passionately. “I find the thought of such attentions repugnant.”
Clearly startled by her vehemence, Levisham said softly, “But, my child, that is only because you have not yet met a man who has touched your heart.”
“And I never shall,” she cried impetuously. “If I must marry, I pray that it be a marriage like Lady Fraser’s.”
“You cannot mean that, Caro. They never see each other, and he lives with another.”
“I mean it most sincerely. It is precisely the kind of marriage that I want. I cannot bear the thought of a man touching me.”
Her father looked thoroughly alarmed. “What has given you such an excessive aversion to men?”
Caro longed to tell him, but she had given her solemn word to Tilford that she would not, and she could never go back on that. A month ago, while her father had been away on a two-day inspection of another of his estates, Tilford had appeared, thoroughly foxed, at Bellhaven. Caro had been in the deserted stables checking on a new foal, and he had trapped her there.
Before she had realized what he was about, he had crushed her to him, his odorous breath nauseating her. Then his mouth had ground down on hers with such force that her lip had bled.
For Caro, who had never before been kissed, it had confirmed her worst apprehensions about men and marriage. So this was what a man’s lovemaking was like, she had thought with revulsion. In that brief, brutal encounter, Tilford had sealed her determination never to marry and subject herself to a husband’s cruel, repugnant desires.
She had kicked and scratched and struggled until she had escaped his embrace. When he had started after her, she had picked up a bucket of water and thrown it over him. It had brought him to his senses, and he had begged her forgiveness.
She had told him bluntly what she thought of him.
To her amazement, he had begun to cry, begging her, with tears streaming down his cheeks, not to tell either his mother or her father. Caro, who had always before felt more pity than dislike for her oafish, slow-topped cousin, was incapable of resisting anyone’s tears, and she had given him her word that she would not tell. After all, informing her father, who hated having Tilford as his heir, would only make the marquess more unhappy.
“I repeat, Caro,” her father was saying in alarm, “what has given you such an abhorrence of men?”
Unable to tell him the truth, she cried, “I have only to look about me! I will never marry!”
Chapter 6
Dinner that night proved to be far livelier than it had been on the previous evening, thanks to the addition of Lord Vinson to the company. He frequently kept those around him in laughter, but Caro, seated at the opposite end of the table between her aunt and Tilford, could catch only occasional snatches of what Ashley said, and she found herself straining her ears vainly to hear more.
Vinson was flanked by Grace and Jane. On the other side of Grace was Lord Sanley, the duke of Upton’s son. Jane had drawn Lord Charles Harley, the earl of Wendover’s heir. Caro, who had been been uneasy with Tilford since the incident in the stables, had wanted to cry with vexation when she had discovered that she was again seated between him and her aunt, who was presiding at the foot of the table.
Sitting next to Tilford robbed her of whatever appetite she might have had. Her only consolation was that tonight he was not getting foxed, which always made him argumentative and loudly obnoxious. His wineglass remained empty, and the servant stationed behind him made no attempt to fill it. Once Tilford touched it as if to call the minion’s attention to it, but his hand dropped away hastily at a quelling look from his mother. He remained sullen and silent as a stone throughout the meal.
After dinner, the men stayed behind in the dining room to enjoy coffee and brandy with their host while Aunt Olive led the females into the drawing room. Although it was
Clearly startled by her vehemence, Levisham said softly, “But, my child, that is only because you have not yet met a man who has touched your heart.”
“And I never shall,” she cried impetuously. “If I must marry, I pray that it be a marriage like Lady Fraser’s.”
“You cannot mean that, Caro. They never see each other, and he lives with another.”
“I mean it most sincerely. It is precisely the kind of marriage that I want. I cannot bear the thought of a man touching me.”
Her father looked thoroughly alarmed. “What has given you such an excessive aversion to men?”
Caro longed to tell him, but she had given her solemn word to Tilford that she would not, and she could never go back on that. A month ago, while her father had been away on a two-day inspection of another of his estates, Tilford had appeared, thoroughly foxed, at Bellhaven. Caro had been in the deserted stables checking on a new foal, and he had trapped her there.
Before she had realized what he was about, he had crushed her to him, his odorous breath nauseating her. Then his mouth had ground down on hers with such force that her lip had bled.
For Caro, who had never before been kissed, it had confirmed her worst apprehensions about men and marriage. So this was what a man’s lovemaking was like, she had thought with revulsion. In that brief, brutal encounter, Tilford had sealed her determination never to marry and subject herself to a husband’s cruel, repugnant desires.
She had kicked and scratched and struggled until she had escaped his embrace. When he had started after her, she had picked up a bucket of water and thrown it over him. It had brought him to his senses, and he had begged her forgiveness.
She had told him bluntly what she thought of him.
To her amazement, he had begun to cry, begging her, with tears streaming down his cheeks, not to tell either his mother or her father. Caro, who had always before felt more pity than dislike for her oafish, slow-topped cousin, was incapable of resisting anyone’s tears, and she had given him her word that she would not tell. After all, informing her father, who hated having Tilford as his heir, would only make the marquess more unhappy.
“I repeat, Caro,” her father was saying in alarm, “what has given you such an abhorrence of men?”
Unable to tell him the truth, she cried, “I have only to look about me! I will never marry!”
Chapter 6
Dinner that night proved to be far livelier than it had been on the previous evening, thanks to the addition of Lord Vinson to the company. He frequently kept those around him in laughter, but Caro, seated at the opposite end of the table between her aunt and Tilford, could catch only occasional snatches of what Ashley said, and she found herself straining her ears vainly to hear more.
Vinson was flanked by Grace and Jane. On the other side of Grace was Lord Sanley, the duke of Upton’s son. Jane had drawn Lord Charles Harley, the earl of Wendover’s heir. Caro, who had been been uneasy with Tilford since the incident in the stables, had wanted to cry with vexation when she had discovered that she was again seated between him and her aunt, who was presiding at the foot of the table.
Sitting next to Tilford robbed her of whatever appetite she might have had. Her only consolation was that tonight he was not getting foxed, which always made him argumentative and loudly obnoxious. His wineglass remained empty, and the servant stationed behind him made no attempt to fill it. Once Tilford touched it as if to call the minion’s attention to it, but his hand dropped away hastily at a quelling look from his mother. He remained sullen and silent as a stone throughout the meal.
After dinner, the men stayed behind in the dining room to enjoy coffee and brandy with their host while Aunt Olive led the females into the drawing room. Although it was
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