During the rest of the evening Nicholas danced three more times with Carol. Since they were affianced, this caused only mild comment from the chaperones, but all the while she was in Nicholas’s arms for a waltz, or was handed from person to person during a more intricate dance, Carol could feel Lady Augusta’s eyes on her. She knew she would have some explaining to do for that kiss in the library, but she discovered that she did not much care if Lady Augusta did scold her. The kiss that never should have taken place had released in her a spurt of rare joy that lingered for hours afterward, so she was able to smile and laugh and talk as if- she belonged in the ballroom of Marlowe House— as if she were born to dance there.
She quickly discovered that the dances were not as complicated as she had feared. Once, when she was in her mid-teens, the parents of one of her girlfriends had given their daughter a square-dance birthday party, complete with instructors to teach the steps to the young guests. Now Carol found most of the dances being performed in Lady Augusta’s ballroom were similar to those square dances, and the steps she did not know she quickly learned.
“You look so happy tonight,” Penelope remarked during a brief interval between dances. “Caroline, I do not think I have ever seen you so lively.” Those soft blue eyes were a bit too penetrating for Carol’s comfort. She tried to deflect Penelope’s interest.
“Nicholas said much the same thing,” Carol responded, linking her arm through Penelope’s. “I told him it was the excitement of the evening. I hope you are also enjoying yourself. Has Lord Simmons arrived yet?”
“Oh, yes, and Nicholas was right. Lord Simmons told me he came here tonight especially to dance the waltz with me. He even asked Aunt Augusta if he might take me in to supper.” Penelope’s cheeks were bright pink as she glanced over Carol’s shoulder.
Curious, Carol turned to find Nicholas approaching with a man perhaps a year or two older than Penelope. Once again she was expected to know who an unfamiliar person was, but from Penelope’s reaction to him it was easy to deduce that this must be Lord Simmons. Carol studied the young man’s features intently. Despite the fact that he bore her family name, she could detect in him no resemblance to any relatives she could remember. Lord Simmons was tall, fair-haired, and good-looking. Since the two men were obviously on excellent terms, Carol could not help wondering if Montfort had made Lord Simmons aware of the dowry he was planning to bestow on Penelope and if it was that knowledge that made Lord Simmons so attentive to the girl.
When the next waltz began and she was in Montfort’s arms once more, Carol asked him about it. To his credit he did not laugh the question away, nor did he become angry when she insisted on an answer.
“I am sure Simmons does care for Penelope,” Montfort said. “However, I know him well enough to believe he would never displease his overbearing father by offering for a girl who would bring to her marriage only a small dowry. The settlement I will provide for Penelope will simply allow Simmons to follow his heart. It will also give Penelope what she most desires. You cannot disapprove of this arrangement, since you and I privately agreed to it weeks ago.”
“I just want her to be happy,” Carol said, “and not only for a few months or for a year or two, but for the rest of her life. She is such a lovely, sweet girl. I don’t think she has ever had an unkind thought about anyone.”
“I agree.” Montfort gave her a deliciously teasing smile. “However, I regret that I cannot say the same about you, my dear. I do believe you have, on several occasions, harbored unkind thoughts about me.”
“I cannot deny it, my lord.” This response was greeted by a deep, appreciative chuckle.
“Caroline, if you continue as you have been doing this evening, I will endeavor never again to give you cause to think unkindly of me.”
“Is that a promise, my lord?” She meant it as a joke, but the words came out more sharply than she intended.
“A most solemn promise,” he responded at once. “I find this new quality in your character to be most remarkably fascinating.” His eyes were a smoky green as they gazed into hers, and Carol could sense the leashed passion in him. She could tell that he wanted to kiss her again. And afterward he would put his mouth on her breast. … She shuddered in memory, and saw understanding in his face.
“As you are tonight,” he said, “you could easily fascinate me for all eternity and to the exclusion of all others.”
“Eternity is a long time,” she murmured.
“Nevertheless…”
The dance ended just then, and Penelope and Lord Simmons were left standing right next to them, so Carol and Montfort were forced to break off their too-intimate conversation, but Carol had the impression that Montfort would pick it up again as soon as he could. The way he looked at her, and stayed right beside her when the four of them went in to dinner together, the manner in which he neatly cut off the attentions other men would have paid to her, all convinced Carol that the fascination he claimed to feel for her was no empty compliment. With a bravado completely out of character for Carol Simmons, and from what she had learned of the lady, a bravado that would have been beyond the comprehension of Lady Caroline Hyde, Carol decided that while she was in nineteenth-century London, she might as well enjoy the masculine attention.
The dining room was a large space that could have been coldly formal, but that was on this night made intimate with decorations of candles and greenery, and with white and red flowers in honor of the season. Instead of one long table, small tables for four or six people were set up around the room.
Carol, Montfort, Penelope, and Lord Simmons occupied one of these tables by themselves. The gentlemen brought plates of ham and roast beef and salad for the ladies, and then sat drinking wine while the women ate. Throughout the light, casual conversation, Carol was conscious of Montfort’s continuing attention. She was also aware of Lady Augusta’s piercing gaze, and knew that at some point in the near future she was going to have to account for her behavior in the library.
In spite of these concerns, Carol was having a wonderful time. Lord Simmons was witty and gallant, and within a few minutes of sitting down at the table with him, Carol was firmly convinced that he was in love with her sister. She caught herself in that thought. Sweet though Penelope was, the girl was not her sister, so why should she feel this tenderness and this need to protect her? It was an emotion that Carol could not put aside, though she tried her best to do so.
And then there was Nicholas. His attentions were flattering, and Carol could not deny her response to him. She sat through the supper hour in a state of heightened awareness of everything that was happening around her, wishing she could sink into Nicholas’s arms and experience the pleasure of his lips on hers once more. From the looks he cast her way she thought he wanted the same thing.
It was an impossible situation. Carol gathered that the real Lady Caroline had always held her fiance at arm’s length. Would he be hurt if Carol returned to her own time and Lady Caroline once more took over the body that belonged to her, and then proceeded to reject Nicholas when he tried to make love to her? The thought of hurting him sent a stab of pain into Carol’s bleak heart.
With the pain came anger at Lady Augusta. As a ghost who clamed to know everything important about her, Lady Augusta must have been aware of how much of Carol’s emotional energy over the last six years had been devoted to avoiding any feeling that might cause the least bit of distress. How, then, could Lady Augusta now subject Carol to the possibility of real anguish? It was a nasty thing to do, and terribly unfair.
And yet, despite her resentment toward Lady Augusta and her feeling of being misused, Carol had to admit to herself that there was no place else where she would want to be on that particular evening. Of all the changes worked upon her during the course of that astounding night, this was the most surprising change of all—that she was happy to be where she was.
The late supper was followed by more dancing, which did not end until the early morning hours. By the time the last of the guests were leaving, Carol was so sleepy she could hardly keep her eyes open. She gave Nicholas her hand and let him kiss her politely on the cheek while she tried to swallow the yawn she could not prevent. Of course, he noticed.
“I will assume it is the result of the late hour and not caused by my presence,” he teased, taking advantage of her distraction to place another kiss on her opposite cheek, this one a bit too close to her mouth for Carol’s peace of mind. “May I call for you during the afternoon and take you for a drive?”
“Oh, do, Nicholas,” said Penelope before Carol could answer for herself and before Lady Augusta could offer any objection. “I am sure Caroline would enjoy it, and we have no engagements before dinner because Aunt Augusta insisted we should be quite worn out after tonight. But I do not expect to be the least bit tired, and I don’t think Caroline will be, either.”
“Caroline?” Nicholas watched her with raised eyebrows.
How could anyone, even Lady Augusta, expect her to refuse his offer? Carol smiled and nodded her assent, and Nicholas took his leave.
“Caroline,” said Lady Augusta in a stern voice, “we must have a little talk.”
“Not now,” Carol retorted, surprising even herself with her firmness. “I am much too tired to get into a heated discussion tonight. We can talk later if you want. For the moment, I am going to bed.”
And if you take me back to the twentieth century before we get a chance to talk, she added silently to herself, then whatever you are planning to say to me won’t matter.
“Very well, I will expect to see you in my boudoir shortly before noon.” Lady Augusta began to climb the stairs to the upper floor. “I absolutely insist on speaking to you before you go out for your drive with Montfort. Now, it is time for both of you to be in your beds.”
“Yes, Aunt Augusta.” It was Penelope who answered, Carol being occupied with another large yawn. Laughing at Carol, Penelope added in a whisper, “Dear sister, I want to talk to you, too, and hear everything that Montfort said to you this evening, but I am nearly asleep where I stand. Aunt Augusta sounds remarkably irritated, so in contrast to the lecture she no doubt plans for you, I shall cheer you up with the most delightful news.”
“Let me guess,” Carol retorted. “Is it something to do with Lord Simmons?”
“You will have to wait until tomorrow,” said Penelope. She embraced Carol warmly and then all but danced down the corridor to her own room, which Carol only now discovered was just next to the chamber occupied by Lady Caroline.
When she awakened the next morning Carol was surprised to find herself still in the lovely blue and white bedchamber, and thus still in the nineteenth century. She had fully expected to open her eyes to the dreary, bare room in which she had slept and taken most of her meals for more than five and a half years.
After the maidservant pulled the draperies back to reveal the pale sun of a late December day, Carol lay quietly, looking around the room. There was something remarkably soothing about her surroundings. The blue and white porcelain vases on the mantel were so pretty, the blue brocade chair was comfortable, the rug was designed with a pleasing pattern of roses and ribbons, and the taffeta and sheer lace curtains at the windows were fresh and crisp and let in a softened light.
“Good morning, my lady.” The maid presented a small tray containing delicate pieces of china in a pink and blue pattern, including a fat little teapot. “A plain roll and tea, just as you like your morning meal.” Pushing herself up to a sitting position, Carol accepted the tray, letting the maid place it across her lap.
“I never noticed what a nice room this is,” Carol said. “Or how sleeping in such comfort can improve even the most irritable disposition.”
“Oh, my lady, no one could ever call you irritable,” the maid responded. “Quiet and mild you are, and a great favorite with all the staff, if I may say so.”
“Am I?” Carol did not think the staff who maintained Marlowe House in the twentieth century would say the same about her.
“Oh, yes,” said the maid, “and we’re all so pleased to know you will be marrying such a great nobleman. He’s a lovely man, Lord Montfort.” Her sigh made it plain that she fully appreciated Montfort’s manly attributes.
When the maid was gone, Carol stayed in bed for a while, sipping her tea and thinking over the remarkable events of the previous day. Apparently there were still more to come; otherwise she would have been returned to the twentieth century.
Nicholas. The thought of him propelled Carol out of bed and across the room to the wardrobe to pull out a dress she hoped would be suitable for daytime wear. The maid had brought a pitcher of hot water as well the breakfast tray. Carol was washing her face when the chambermaid returned.
“Oh, my lady, I didn’t know you were getting up so early. No, don’t try to dress yourself. That’s what I’m here for. Don’t you remember when you first came to London and thought you ought to take care of your own clothes and brush your own hair, and how we agreed that you would let me take care of you as the maid of a great lady ought to do?”
“You do have a point. I can’t seem to twist my arms around enough to button up the back of this dress. Is it the thing for morning?”
“Exactly right, my lady. Now you just stand still and let Ella take care of those buttons.”
The dress was yellow and white striped muslin, scarcely warm enough to afford protection from the winter cold, but Ella did not appear to think her mistress ought to be wearing a more substantial garment. She did drape a flower-patterned yellow and green shawl around Carol’s shoulders. From its warmth and softness, Carol decided the shawl must be woven of cashmere.
“Now, my lady,” Ella said when Carol was clothed to her satisfaction, “I know Lady Penelope is waiting for you in her own room. I finished helping her to dress just before I came in to you.”
Penelope’s bedchamber was much like Carol’s, except that it was decorated in pink and white. When Carol entered, Penelope was sitting at a dainty lady’s desk, using a quill pen. Catching sight of Carol, she threw down the pen and rose, hurrying forward.
“Oh, Caroline, I gave my solemn word I would tell no one but you, so you must promise to keep my secret,” she exclaimed.
“What secret?” But Carol thought she could guess. She was immediately proven correct.
“Alwyn—that is, Lord Simmons—has declared himself,” Penelope announced. “He says he loves me.”
“Has he asked you to marry him?”
“Of course not, dunce!” Penelope began to laugh. “You know he cannot in honor ask for my hand until he has his father’s permission. Alwyn is always perfectly correct where his father is concerned.”
“Then I am surprised hear he was incorrect enough to speak to you before discussing the matter with his father,” Carol said.
“Alwyn told me that Montfort did advise him to wait, but he was afraid someone else would ask for me in the meantime, so he revealed his feelings to me while we were waltzing last night. You do recall that he came to the ball specifically to waltz with me?”
“I remember Montfort saying that Lord Simmons would be there.” Carol began to wonder what part Nicholas was playing in this particular romance.
“Well,” Penelope went on, “Alwyn wanted to be certain that my affections were as firmly engaged as are his.”
“And you assured him they were?”
“Oh, yes.” Penelope’s face was aglow with excitement. “I know we cannot make a public declaration of our betrothal until Alwyn’s father has agreed, and Aunt Augusta, too, but at least we can each be certain of the other’s love. Alwyn says Nicholas is strongly in favor of the match, and has promised to go with Alwyn when he speaks to his father about me. With someone like Lord Montfort supporting his cause, Alwyn has every hope his father will approve.”
“It would seem as if Montfort and Lord Simmons have our lives neatly arranged between them,” Carol murmured.
“Well, of course they have. Men are supposed to arrange these things. You cannot object, Caroline, since you wanted a good marriage for me, and now both of us have found wealthy and titled husbands. What noblewoman could ask for more? You are happy, aren’t you?”
“Divinely happy.” Penelope missed the dry tone of Carol’s voice and went on cheerfully talking about her plans for a blissful future as the wife of Lord Simmons.
Carol was unwilling to spoil Penelope’s happy mood by discussing what she knew about Penelope’s dowry. Since she wasn’t sure whether Penelope knew of this arrangement or not, a certain amount of discretion seemed to be advisable.
After her revealing talk with Nicholas on the previous night, Carol was aware that he was using her sister’s dowry to exert a subtle pressure on Lady Caroline. He would not actually make that all-important settlement on Penelope until after Caroline had fulfilled her part of their bargain by marrying him—and, Carol was sure, by allowing Nicholas to consummate their marriage so he could have at least some hope of an heir. The Earl of Montfort was far from being a mustache-twirling villain, yet he had Lady Caroline exactly where he wanted her.
“Excuse me, my lady.” Lady Augusta’s personal servant, Marie, stood in the doorway. “My mistress would like Lady Caroline to attend her in her chamber at once.”
“Oh, dear,” said Penelope in mock terror. “Caroline, shall I go with you to protect you from the dragon?”
“I think I ought to handle this one by myself.” Carol gave the girl a quick hug and a kiss. “We will talk more about your plans later. If you are happy, and if you are sure of Lord Simmons’s affection, then you have my blessing and I wish you all the best.”
Carol was halfway down the hall to Lady Augusta’s room before she realized what she had just done. She could not remember the last time she had hugged someone out of pure affection. But hugging Penelope felt good. There was an unfamiliar warmth around her heart as she knocked on Lady Augusta’s door. Unfortunately, it did not last long.
“I have been waiting for more than an hour to speak to you.” Lady Augusta did not waste time on small talk. “Kindly explain to me just what you thought you were doing with Montfort last night.”
“He wanted to kiss his fiancee. I could hardly object, could I?”
“What I saw appeared to be considerably more than a mere kiss.”
It had indeed been more, and at the memory of Nicholas’s demanding mouth on hers, Carol began to feel again some of the tumultuous emotions she had experienced on the previous night. There seemed to be no way for her to prevent her own reactions to him. The realization of her own susceptibility made her angry. Telling herself the anger was for Lady Caroline’s sake, she attempted to explain the incident to Lady Augusta.
“Lord Montfort believes he is in complete control of his relationship with Lady Caroline,” she said. “He is apparently loaded with money, so he thinks he can do whatever he likes. Did you know he is providing a dowry for Penelope? But only after Caroline marries him.”
“Yes, I do know. It is not an entirely uncommon arrangement, not when a man is as rich—and as generous—as Montfort. Do you expect me to believe that what you were expressing in the library last night was gratitude for his consideration of your sister’s happiness?” The hint of sardonic amusement in Lady Augusta’s voice made Carol wonder just what this irritating ghost was really up to.
“I was trying to show him that Lady Caroline has some backbone,” Carol retorted. “I was hoping he might treat her better.”
“I am not aware that he has been treating her badly.” Lady Augusta’s eyes bored into Carol’s. “I very much doubt that your motives were as altruistic as you pretend. Montfort is, after all, a devastatingly handsome man.” She paused, still watching Carol.
“I am not interested in handsome men,” Carol said. “I had my fill of them six years ago.”
“In more ways than one,” Lady Augusta agreed.
“If you intend to stand there and throw that old incident with Robert Drummond in my face again,” Carol told her, “then I am going to leave.”
“Carol, you must learn to be honest with yourself. It is the very first requirement for the success of my project. Admit to your true feelings for Montfort.”
“I don’t have any feelings for him,” Carol declared. When Lady Augusta sadly shook her head, Carol threw up her hands. “All right. If you want me to say it, I will. He’s handsome. He’s sexy. He is also manipulative and demanding. Is that why Lady Caroline has been cool to him?”
“Has she been cool to him?” Lady Augusta tilted her head to one side, apparently fascinated by this disclosure.
“That’s what he said.”
“Why do you suppose that is, Carol?”
“How should I know? You’re the one who has all the information on this situation. And you are the one who hasn’t told me what I need to know about the relationship between those two. I had to talk Nicholas into revealing what little I do know about their arrangement. It’s just a business deal. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“What do you intend to do about it?” asked Lady Augusta.
“Do?” Carol stared at her. “You tell me. This is your mission, not mine.”
“I suppose it is too much to expect you to understand all of it at once,” said Lady Augusta.
“I don’t understand anything, because you aren’t telling me what I need to know,” Carol cried. “You haven’t really explained what our purpose here is, you only set me down among strangers and left me to figure things out for myself. It isn’t fair. Look, do me a favor. Just send me back to my own time.”
“Neither of us can return until we have accomplished what we were sent here to do.”
“What were we sent here to do?” If there were something at hand to throw, Carol would have thrown it at the older woman in outraged frustration.
“We will know it when we have done it,” Lady Augusta responded with infuriating calmness. “Now, you must excuse me, Carol. There are household duties to which I must attend.” She waved a hand in dismissal. Carol refused to move.
“Is this all you wanted to say to me?” Receiving no answer, Carol asked another question. “How long will we be here?” she demanded.
“As long as it takes,” was the cryptic answer. Lady Augusta turned away, thus discouraging any further probing on Carol’s part. As if by magic, the servant Marie appeared to hold the door open and stand waiting until Carol passed through it.
This interview left Carol, once she calmed down a bit, with the sense that in spite of the tart inquiries Lady Augusta had made, she did not really disapprove of what Carol had done in the library with Montfort. Why she did not disapprove, Carol could not guess, and she was pretty sure that Lady Augusta was not going to supply any more clues. What Carol needed to know about Lady Caroline, she was going to have to find out on her own. The only fact of which she could be certain was that she would remain in the nineteenth century for a while. Which meant she would see Nicholas again, when he came to take her for a drive that afternoon. The pleasant anticipation she felt at the prospect frightened her.
“I don’t know what to wear,” she said to herself as she made her way down the corridor toward her bedchamber. “More important, I don’t know what to expect or how to behave.” When she reached Penelope’s door she stopped and knocked on it.
“Help me,” she begged as soon as Penelope opened the door. “What shall I wear when Nicholas comes?”
“I knew you would ask,” Penelope said, laughing. “You always do. And I always give you good advice, don’t I?”
With Penelope’s assistance, and by pretending to be a bit distracted and sleepy after the ball in her honor, Carol got through a morning and early afternoon that included calls by three young women who claimed to know the Hyde sisters well. These visitors were full of the latest gossip about betrothals, marriages, and social events amongst the aristocracy. Carol listened avidly to their conversation and tried to remember everything she heard. When her responses weren’t right, Penelope was there, gently laughing, to supply sisterly aid. Carol discovered that though their visitors were a bit silly and giddy, Penelope was dependable. She was beginning to treasure Penelope.
She did not even mind Penelope’s teasing over the arrival of a huge bouquet of flowers sent to Lady Caroline by Nicholas. Carol was able to respond with a pointed comment of her own when, a short time later, a slightly smaller offering was brought to the door for Penelope from Lord Simmons. It was so delightful to have a companion to whom she could talk, whom Carol knew cared about her, that for an hour or two Carol almost forgot she was not Lady Caroline Hyde.
Thanks to Penelope’s suggestions, by the time Nicholas called for Carol in late afternoon she was properly dressed in a gray and blue striped gown with a long, dark blue woolen pelisse buttoned over it and a matching blue bonnet that had a large bow arranged beneath her chin.
She had not the faintest idea what kind of carriage Nicholas was driving, but the single seat to which he handed her was by Carol’s standards a high and precarious perch and she held on tightly at first. He drove with such assurance and ease that after a while she began to relax, understanding that this light, sleek conveyance was the early nineteenth-century version of a young man’s sports car. Before long she could even begin to enjoy the ride.
Taking her cue from Nicholas, she bowed and smiled at the people they passed. As they rode along she also watched Nicholas out of the corner of her eye, waiting to catch the right moment to raise an important issue with him. She was planning to strike another blow for Lady Caroline. In the meantime, she could admire the imposing figure he presented in his bottle-green, many-caped greatcoat and beaver hat.
Nicholas turned into the park, where he slowed the horses and moved into a line of carriages of various types, all of them carrying people who were out to see and be seen while enjoying the fine, cold day. This, Carol decided, was as good a time as any to speak her piece.
“I have a bone to pick with you, sir,” she announced.
“I beg your pardon?” He sent a surprised glance her way. Carol bit her lip, wishing she had been more careful in her choice of words. Nicholas had probably never heard that particular expression before this day.
“What I mean to say,” she corrected herself, “is that I believe you and Lord Simmons are manipulating Lady Caro—manipulating me and my sister in order to force me to marry you.”
“Caroline, have you gone mad?” He gave her another quick look before turning his attention back to the horses. “Simmons and I are attempting to provide Penelope with the happy future she wants and deserves. You cannot object to my efforts in her behalf, because you have repeatedly endorsed them. As for you, our betrothal is publicly known. I have no need to manipulate you into anything.”
“Doesn’t a woman have any right to make her own decisions?” Carol cried.
“Certainly, she has,” Nicholas replied. “You could have refused to marry me.”
“I see.” Carol spoke sharply. “Case closed, then. There is nothing more to discuss.”
“On the contrary, I think there is a great deal more to say,” he responded in a low, compelling voice. “We will marry. The kind of marriage we have is up to us. I do confess that I began by expecting the usual polite arrangement we see so often in society. After last night, however, I have begun to hope for more.”
“More, my lord?”
“I have begun to dream of a marriage in which my wife expresses the warmest feelings toward me,” he told her. “I know it is not fashionable for husbands and wives to care deeply for each other, but I now believe that you and I could do so, once we learn to know each other completely. Are you willing to try, Caroline? Will you trust me not to betray your heart?”
In the instant when he leaned toward her to look into her eyes, Carol saw beneath the veneer of dominant male and calculating man of the world to a reservoir of kindness and tenderness that lay hidden deep within the man. Nicholas wanted to love Lady Caroline, if only she would let him. But Carol was not Lady Caroline and could not answer for her.
“I—I don’t—I’m not sure—” In vain she fumbled for the right words. She could not find them. With grief she watched him pull back and saw his eyes turn cool again.
“I am aware that the idea is new to you,” he said. “Perhaps you will think on it and give me your answer at some later time.”
Before Carol could make any further response, they were hailed by a voice from a carriage moving past them in the opposite direction. Nicholas pulled his horses to a halt, and the other carriage stopped, too.
“My Lady Falloner. Lord Falloner.” Nicholas raised his hat. “Good day to you.”
In the carriage now halted next to them Carol recognized the elderly lord with the gouty toe and his wife who had been at Lady Augusta’s ball. Carol bowed to them in imitation of the nobles she had been observing during this drive.
“Well, well,” cried Lord Falloner to Carol. “You are as rosy and pretty as ever, I see. Late hours never do seem to affect the young. Tell me, my dear, are you planning to attend Lady Lynnville’s ball tonight?”
“Aunt Augusta, my sister, and I will all be there,” Carol replied.
“I wish I could ask you to save a waltz for me,” Lord Falloner said, “but my gouty toe will not allow me to dance. Would you inform your aunt that I hope to partner her at the whist table this evening?”
“Of course, my lord. I will give her the message. Do you also intend to play cards, Lady Falloner?”
“I shall be busy serving as chaperone to my niece,” the lady replied.
When the other carriage moved on, Carol returned her attention to Nicholas. She was grateful for the interruption. It had given her a chance to catch her breath so she could turn the conversation to less intimate subjects than the future marital relations between Nicholas and Lady Caroline.
“Will you also be at Lady Lynnville’s ball?” she asked.
“I am planning to attend.” Leaning closer to her Nicholas added, “I wish I could ask you to save every dance for me.”
“If you want me to, I will.” Good intentions or no, she could not help her response, not when he was looking right into her eyes. He really was remarkably handsome when he smiled in that teasing way.
“It would be most improper.” Taking the reins into one hand, Nicholas used the other to cover her fingers. Through the leather of his gloves and hers she could feel his warmth. The sensation left her weak. “Lately, Caroline, you have become the most tantalizing woman. Is it your intention to create a scandal?”
“Could we?” She grinned at him. His hand tightened over hers. “I mean, can an engaged couple actually become social outcasts just for dancing together too often?”
“I begin to think that for your sake I would gladly flout all propriety,” he said. When she curled her fingers around his, he added, “Have a care, Caroline, or you will drive me mad.”
“I don’t know how long I will be here,” she murmured, thinking out loud. “This won’t last forever, and when I am gone, I will never again have the chance to learn what this life is like, or what it’s like to know you.”
“I hardly expected philosophical speculation from you,” he responded, looking surprised.
“I want to discover everything I can about you before it’s too late,” she said. “Nicholas, where will we live once we are married?”
“In my house, as we have already decided,” he said. “At Montfort Place.”
“Is it here in London?”
“Yes, Caroline, you know it is. Has this something to do with our earlier conversation?” She could tell he was perplexed by her odd questions. She was also aware of the flare of renewed hope in his eyes. It was painful to remind herself that the hope was for Lady Caroline, but having made up her mind to learn as much as she could about him, she would not stop.
“I want to see your house.” She took his hand in both of hers and held it against her bosom. “Please, Nicholas. I want to know what it looks like so I can imagine you living there when I’m not—” She caught herself and stopped speaking just in time to avoid revealing too much.
“Very well,” he said. “But you must release my hand before we cause any more raised eyebrows amongst the ton. People are staring at us.”
“Is everything we do food for scandal?” she asked.
“You know how you ought to behave in public,” he replied with just a touch of severity in his voice. “While I welcome your expressions of warmth in private, I do not want us to become the subject of gossip. This caution is for the sake of your reputation, my dear.”
“Of course. I should have realized.” What she had seen and heard while in the drawing room of Marlowe House with Penelope and her friends earlier in the day ought to have taught her that young women were expected to be more restrained. Letting go of Nicholas’s hand, Carol folded her own hands together in her lap. “I am sorry, Nicholas. I wasn’t thinking. But will you show me your house?” she asked again.
“If you wish, we will drive past it,” he said. “You know I cannot take you inside without a chaperone.”
“I understand.”
The house was in Mayfair, an ornate white wedding cake of a place. Nothing about it struck a chord in Carol’s memory, though she had walked along that particular street many times during her ramblings around London.
“It’s huge,” she whispered.
“I feel certain you will know how to manage it,” he told her. “Your mother raised you to be the competent mistress of such an establishment.”
By the time Nicholas returned her to Marlowe House, Carol felt as if her brain would burst from all the information she was trying to sort out. As she watched him drive away, she was certain of only one thing. She could scarcely wait to see him again that evening at Lady Lynnville’s ball.