‘You are quite right about the employment. And I had meant to open it up for you as I imagine you would be happier down there when the children come along.’ Now it was her turn to stiffen, but he judged it unwise to ask why. ‘We did not have very happy childhoods there, that is all. A familiar enough tale, I suppose. Our mother died when I was fourteen. Ben was eleven, George ten and Louis only four. Our father was not an easy man.’ And that was all he was going to say on the subject.
‘And I suppose it is entailed, so you cannot sell it,’ Caroline mused as they entered Croydon. ‘But as I assume you did not intend depositing me, and our hopeful family, down there and never visiting, we must change it enough to reconcile you to it.’
‘As you say,’ he temporised, choosing to ignore the soft snort that produced. ‘Tell me why you have never been to Brighton. I would have thought your father was entranced by the Pavilion.’
‘Oh, yes, he much admires it. But he did not believe in taking the family on holidays when we had a perfectly good country house for fresh air and recreation. Tell me all about it. Where will we stay and what is there to do?’
‘I have taken a house overlooking the Steine. We were lucky to get it at this date, but apparently Lady Maltravers, who was renting it, had a violent quarrel with her bosom friend Lady Feldrake over a young man and has flounced off to Weymouth, declaring that the company there is far less vulgar.’
Gabriel talked about assemblies and libraries, drives and public breakfasts, the dubious aesthetics of the Pavilion and, of course, the opportunities for sea-bathing, until Crawley was behind them. ‘This is Pease Pottage,’ he said, expecting a murmur of amusement at the name. ‘We will change horses at the Black Swan.’ A soft, ladylike snore greeted this intelligence so he made no move to get out, instead settling Caroline more comfortably against his shoulder and gesturing away the landlord who came busting out while the grooms changed the horses and the postilions vanished into the taproom for a hasty pint of ale.
She was exhausted, and no wonder, he thought, surprising himself when he realised he was feeling no impatience at being trapped in the chaise instead of being able to get out, stretch his legs and take refreshment. It was a novelty to have a woman to take care of, one that he was discovering an unexpected tenderness for.
* * *
Caroline woke with a start and found they had drawn up abruptly because a young man was struggling to turn his gig and half-blocking the road. ‘I am so sorry.’ She sat up, uncomfortably aware that the shoulder of Gabriel’s coat was creased where her head must have rested, that her hair was in disorder and that she had slept at a time when any other bride would have been wide awake and paying close attention to her new husband. ?
?Where are we?’
She had expected Gabriel to be irritable with her, but his smile was the rare one that reached his eyes and made her want to hug him. The smile she had seen at the altar. ‘Hand Cross, thirty-three miles from London. We’ll stop at the Red Lion, I expect you would like some tea.’
‘I would, definitely. I am sorry I went to sleep.’
‘Why be sorry? You are tired, which is no surprise, given what has transpired over the past few days.’
‘It is not very wifely behaviour,’ she said primly, which made him burst out laughing as the chaise turned into the inn yard.
‘And what do you know about wifely behaviour?’
‘About as much as you, I imagine. Or were you in the habit of driving down to Brighton with young ladies in the guise of Mr and Mrs Smith of Scandal on Thames?’
‘Ladies? One at a time, Lady Edenbridge, please. You have a flattering notion of my stamina.’ When she shook her head at him he smiled. ‘I am not in the habit of travelling with females.’
‘Are you not?’ she quizzed him, but he got down from the chaise and helped her out. She did not like to tease when there was the chance they might be overheard.
To Caroline’s surprise, Gabriel returned to the subject when she joined him in the private parlour after seeking out what the landlady coyly referred to as, ‘The amenities, ma’am.’
‘Did you think I travelled with a bevy of light-skirts and opera dancers?’ he enquired as she poured tea.
‘I have no idea.’ Caroline passed him his cup and surveyed the assortment of dainties that had been brought in with the tea. ‘I have no knowledge of that sort of thing, but you do have a reputation.’
‘For a sequence of chères amis, all of whom were, shall we say, ladies rather than professionals. And note I did say sequence. One at a time is quite adequate.’
Caroline digested this along with a cake that was turning to sawdust in her mouth. ‘Who is the current one?’
Gabriel choked on his tea. ‘No one!’ He recovered himself and added with his old, mocking half-smile, ‘Terribly bad ton for a newly married man.’
‘So you gave the lady her congé?’ She tried to gain some comfort from this, although the implication of his words only confirmed his earlier remarks about the likelihood he would stray from his vows.
‘I did. All very amicable, I assure you.’
Caroline almost believed him, but she was beginning to be able to read Gabriel, just a little, and there had been a betraying tightness about his mouth for a moment. So, the mistress of the moment had not been pleased. She repressed a little shiver, then assured herself that pride, if nothing else, would prevent whoever it was from making an unpleasant scene when she next encountered Gabriel in public. All the scandals about this marriage were going to be the ones she was responsible for bringing with her.
I will be a good wife, she promised herself. I will make him happy if it kills me. And I will not give him any excuse to chase other women, she added grimly. If he does then I will not be a complacent wife, even if Gabriel thinks that would make me a good one. I love him and I do not intend to share.
‘This is an excellent inn,’ Gabriel observed, looking round at the warm glow of the polished panelling. ‘It has been a long day. Shall we ask if they have a decent room available to go with this parlour? We could break our journey here.’
‘But we are only about twenty miles from Brighton, surely?’