Chapter 7:
Caroline Burleigh
FIONA WAS STARTLED to find Caroline waiting for her, but she had known that a confrontation at the ball was possible. Caroline had been scowling at her every time Fiona made the rounds and greeted other guests at the party; Giles’s presence beside her had been the only thing preventing Caroline from approaching her.
Before Fiona could answer Caroline, Jeremy moved Fiona safely behind him and said, “Lady Caroline, please let us by.”
“You’re Baron Bergman’s son, aren’t you, boy? Well, I must speak with that woman behind you,” she insisted.
“I am escorting Miss Clayburn somewhere. We are in a hurry, so if you’ll excuse us…”
Caroline did not yield. In fact, she blocked the path further.
Lady Caroline looks so pale, Fiona thought. And has she lost a lot of weight?
In fact, it might have been more apt to say that she looked gaunt. For all her stubbornness, Caroline had always been a beautiful noblewoman brimming with confidence. But now, in her determined gaze, Fiona saw no trace of her former spirit.
Her makeup was thicker than usual, perhaps to hide her pale complexion, and the deep red dress that complemented her hair color so well gave off a menacing, rather than flowery, impression. Fiona’s heart ached to see her transformation. This is my fault. Our fake romance did this to her.
It was common knowledge that the Burleigh family, at Caroline’s emphatic request, had sent Giles multiple requests for an arranged marriage. It was also well-known that Caroline could not take no for an answer. Even after Giles and Fiona became an item, Caroline held strong.
Were her romance with Giles genuine, Fiona might have still had an inferiority complex, but she would not have felt any guilt over Caroline’s situation. Unfortunately, reality was a different story. Fiona had prioritized herself and Giles, even knowing it would hurt people, and she needed to atone for that.
Caroline eyed Jeremy up and down as he stood protectively in front of Fiona. Her gaze dripped with scorn. “How nice it must be to always hide behind men.”
“My lady, do pardon me, but I must insist that you withdraw,” Jeremy said.
“Oh my, and now you’ve seduced this humble son of a baron! You country girls have no shame, do you? I could never stoop so low.”
“Ignore her, Miss Clayburn. Let’s go.”
“The audacity,” Caroline hissed bitterly. “You’re just the puny son of a baron.”
Not taking the bait, Jeremy gestured for Fiona to walk. Fiona knew Caroline wanted to discuss her courtship with Giles and was open to hearing Caroline out, but her escort would reprove her if she stopped to listen. Jeremy was one of the crown prince’s trusted servants, and he was also under Giles’s direct order to protect Fiona; he had a duty to carry out. With great reluctance, Fiona walked away.
“I hear your little sister comes of age next year,” Caroline said as she passed. Fiona stopped cold in her tracks. “Do you suppose she’ll be able to function in high society with a deplorable older sister like you? Well, never fear. I’ll look after her. I’ll take good care of your sister, just as I’ll take care of Jessica Bergman.”
Jeremy gasped under his breath. It seemed he had a younger sister of his own.
Caroline glared at the two of them. “As the esteemed daughter of an earl, I shall teach your little sisters how to behave properly as dignified ladies and instill in them the knowledge necessary for success in high society. And I shall do so most diligently.”
“Fine,” Fiona said. “Let’s talk.”
“Miss Clayburn!” Jeremy grunted with suppressed rage.
Caroline’s red lips curved in a smile. With unimaginable strength, she wound her wiry arm through Fiona’s and yanked, nearly making Fiona wince in pain. “See? You should have agreed from the start.”
“But I have an obligation to this fellow here,” Fiona told her. “He needs to know everything, including who I’m with and where I am.”
“Do as you like,” Caroline spat. She proceeded to tell Jeremy where she was going to take Fiona. Fiona nodded at Jeremy, who still looked fretful, and he withdrew in bitter defeat, turning on his heel and quickly walking back the way he came. He was probably going to report straight to Giles.
As the guests began to return to the hallway, Caroline gave Fiona’s arm a firm tug.
“Please let go of me,” Fiona said. It wasn’t just that her arm hurt; Caroline’s grip on it made it difficult for Fiona to walk. “I promise I won’t run away.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. Homewreckers are fast runners.”
With Fiona limping, they made way to a corner of the palace Miranda had told her about, which hosted some of the resting rooms. Along the way, they crossed paths with plainclothes guards, but the guards recognized the Earl of Burleigh’s daughter and waved her past unquestioningly, likely picking up on Caroline’s desperation. Spats between daughters of the nobility were frowned upon, but they were not at all a rare occurrence. If anything, the guards were probably grateful that Caroline and Fiona were going somewhere private to quarrel rather than causing a scene on the dance floor.
In time, they reached a room with an “occupied” marker on its door. Caroline unceremoniously opened the door and said, “Get in!” She released Fiona’s arm and pushed her from behind, sending her stumbling into the room. Fiona barely stopped herself from falling, and she remembered the same thing happening to her back in the little garden at the prince’s party.
The room was unoccupied. Caroline had probably put the “occupied” marker there herself. Fiona braced herself for the worst, her spine stiffening with dread. A quick glance around the room revealed a sofa, a canopy bed, and a low-set chest of drawers. It was an ordinary guest room. The window by the bed had floor-length curtains blocking their view of the outdoors, but there was nothing else unusual about the room.
Caroline slammed the door shut and locked it, staring accusingly at Fiona. “I think you know what I brought you here to talk about.”
“I do. Lord Gil and I—”
“Don’t call him that, you whore!”
Fiona clamped her mouth shut in the face of Caroline’s enraged shriek. Caroline’s shoulders were heaving violently in indignation, her malice stabbing Fiona like a knife—yet it seemed that she was working desperately to suppress her emotions. Fiona held her tongue and remained cautious and watchful, knowing it would not be wise to go on the offensive.
Caroline’s heeled shoes clacked loudly on the marble floor as she approached Fiona. “I am far better suited to be the Countess of Bancroft than you. What dirty trick did you use to steal him?”