She gasped with relief. At least they’d managed to do that. “How do you know?”

“I sent Donovan to help them all. No one else would.”

Caroline couldn’t breathe.

Hollis squeezed her hands. “He told everyone the truth before he went,” she said low. “He called the Alucian ambassador to him as well as the men from the foreign secretary’s office. Mrs. Parker was at the Clarendon Hotel with her husband when it happened, and she said that he explained to them that he’d discovered a nefarious plot. She didn’t hear all the details, as her husband sent her from the common room, but she heard enough to know it involved young women. She said the government men didn’t believe him, and wanted to question him further, but the tide was going out soon and he said if they didn’t have cause to detain him, he was leaving, and that he did. He boarded a ship for Alucia with the rest of them. Donovan said he’s a hero.”

Caroline felt herself choking on her breath. He was a hero. He was kind and compassionate and he felt things, and made her feel things, and Caroline couldn’t breathe. “I’ll never see him again, Hollis. And if I do, he’ll be a man with a wife and children and I... Oh my God.”

“Darling, he tried to see you, but Beck wouldn’t allow it. He told him he’d done enough and it wouldn’t do.”

“He was here?” she cried. While she’d been sobbing herself sick, he’d come.

“But this morning, a man appeared at my door with a letter. One of his guards, I think. Anyway, he said the prince asked me to see it safely delivered to you.” She pressed the folded paper into Caroline’s hand. Tears began to fill her eyes, and she stood. “I must be gone. I mean to expose this corruption.” She leaned down to kiss Caroline’s cheek.

Caroline didn’t know what she meant by that and lacked the energy to ask. She stood woodenly and followed Hollis out onto the landing, the letter clutched in her hand. She watched her dear friend rush down the curving staircase, watched her speak to Beck, then surprisingly, watched them embrace. It was as if she’d died.

She returned to her sitting room and shut the door, staring at the letter. She drew a breath. Then another. And then she read it.

Darling Caroline, by the time you read this letter I likely will have set sail for Helenamar. Given events, I am obviously no longer welcome in England. I have agonized for you and regret that there wasn’t a moment to speak.

There seems quite a lot that should be said, but time restricts me, so I will write this: I never believed love would find me. I never believed that in my position, I would know the luxury of love. My world was a fog of pleasure and privilege, but then you came along and pierced that fog.

I never dreamed I would meet someone like you, much less love someone like you. I fear this love I hold for you will drive me to madness. I think of you every day and I will for the rest of my life. I will hold dear what we have shared. I will never have the strength to feel this way again, and I want you to know, no matter what else, I loved you beyond compare and will burn for you for the rest of my days.

So did she love him beyond compare. So would she burn for him until she was all burned up.

She didn’t care if she was sent to the country. She didn’t care about anything anymore.

CHAPTER THIRTY


Bibury, the Cotswolds

Everyone who is able has left the dreaded summer heat of London, but a few souls remain, including a peacock, who lost a few feathers this summer and reportedly hasn’t the energy to fly.

Lady Caroline Hawke announces she will not be taking orders for dresses, as she has decided the London air is unkind to her constitution and has determined to take some time to recuperate in the country.

After a scandalous departure of one maid, a certain lady whose husband is a rising star in politics has taken two more new servants into the fold. The lucky young ladies are Londoners.

Disturbing rumors of a slave ring operating at the highest reaches of British government continue to swirl, and we’ll be keeping our eyes and ears open to bring you more news of it.

Ladies, new studies in physical health suggest that calisthenics should be incorporated into every woman’s daily routine.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

THE THREE LADIES gathered in the drawing room at the Hawke country house had come from the parish village. Two of them were seated politely on the settee. One of them stood on a box, her arms held out as Caroline measured her.

She’d been in the country for four months now. Summer had long since departed and a cool autumn had taken its place. She’d taken to wearing her hair long and in a single tail down her back—it didn’t seem worth the effort to coif and curl when she had no society to impress. She likewise wore a plain skirt and one of Beck’s old shirts tucked into it, as well as one of his older sweaters that hung to her knees.

Around the drawing room were dresses in various stages of construction. She didn’t care to wear them anymore, but making them took her mind off...other things. “You will look lovely in blue, I think, Mrs. Carter. Do you like the blue silk?” she asked.

“Oh, but it’s beautiful,” the woman said.

“You may lower your arms,” Caroline said. She looked at her notes and smiled at the three women. “All right, then, I have three dresses to be made for the Yuletide. One red,” she said, pointing at one of the ladies on the couch. “One in the green-and-cream-striped silk, and the blue.”

The women all nodded their heads in agreement.

“Wonderful!” Caroline said, and nodded at Martha, who stood from her desk and walked over to the ladies. “Thank you all so very much for coming.”

“Thank you, Lady Caroline,” Mrs. Carter gushed.

Martha escorted the ladies to the door. She paused to chat with them, something about the new doctor in the village, and then saw them out. Martha liked it here, Caroline could tell. She’d taken to baking, and she and the cook who came from Bibury four days a week had become fast friends.

Caroline liked it here as well as anywhere, she supposed. Perhaps even more. Strangely enough, she didn’t miss society. In fact, she often wondered why that elite social circle had been so important to her. It seemed rather vacuous to her now. She had seemed vacuous. She’d allowed herself to empty out, to think of only her shell, too fearful to see what ticked inside her. Well, now she knew.

A lot had changed for her these last few months. It was as if being away from London and the constant swirl of parties and suppers, she’d finally come to terms with who she was. As if the cocoon of London she’d created had helped her avoid her true feelings about everything.

Since Leopold had left, she’d slowly realized that so much of her life was devoted to superficial things. Now she knew what she wanted. She wanted a love like she’d shared with him. She wanted her life to mean something. She wanted to make Beck proud of her. She wanted to spend her days doing something more important than dressing and being seen and admired. She wanted to help others. She wanted purpose.

She hadn’t heard from Leopold, which she’d expected. He was an honorable man and he would not correspond with her as he prepared to marry another woman.

Ah, but she’d heard plenty from Eliza and Hollis.

Eliza wrote that Leopold arrived in Helenamar as rumors swirled about his supposed treachery. But then he’d exposed the plot to sell the poor Weslorian women, and some Alucian women, too, Eliza believed, into slavery. He is a hero, Caro. Everyone says so. He risked his reputation and his engagement to expose that horrible plot. Eliza said he was being feted for his noble deeds. She said the entire court was talking about him, as he was not the person anyone expected to care so deeply about anything.

Caroline smiled when she read that part. She wondered what Leopold thought of it all.

Hollis brought her news from town when she came to visit one long weekend. She’d been very kind to Caroline in her gazette, but others had not been kind. All sorts of rumors had surfaced about Caroline and her loose morals. Whispers of the gentlemen she’d entertained, of trysts, of lies she’d purportedly told to hide these things. And the one that stung the most? That she’d not made the dresses she had so very graciously handed around to her friends, but had employed the secret services of a trained modiste.

Hollis had more news—Lord Ainsley had offered for a coal heiress, and once again, Katherine Maugham was left in the cold. Caroline felt a little sorry for her, really. Katherine desperately wanted a match and to be married. Hollis also told her that Mr. Cressidian, the Alucian gentleman, would be tried for his crime of slavery. She said that facts came to light indicating that not only had he profited from brokering the sale of women, but he’d also offered to slander the prince for a price. “It’s so disturbing,” Caroline said.

“It’s horrible,” Hollis agreed. “Do you know what I think is the most remarkable thing about it?”

Caroline shook her head.

“That Prince Leopold would allow his standing to suffer as he did for the sake of those women. Eliza said he has vowed to find all the young women sold into slavery if it’s the last thing he does.”

“I always knew he was a good man,” Caroline murmured.

Hollis laughed. “No, you didn’t, darling. You despised him.”

Caroline smiled wanly. “I mean I always knew he was after I despised him. Oh God, Hollis, I miss him so.”

Hollis had moved to sit beside her and laid her head on Caroline’s shoulder. “I know, darling. I still miss Percy.”