Chapter 18

As far as Caroline was concerned, the Season was over, finished. There may be additional festivities, but the biggest and most prestigious event of this year ended with the spectacular fireworks display that took place at the Cromleys’ an hour after midnight.

She was up early the following morning. She and Daisy packed for the trip back to Crestwood. Caroline ached to be home again. The country called to her like a siren's song.

Antonio’s cruel remark at Covent Garden had pierced her core. Afterward, she’d made up her mind to find out what she’d missed. Last night’s incident at the Cromleys’ had her insides in turmoil even more so when she’d almost succumbed to his kisses on the balcony.

She hung onto that vow like a lifeline. Although she was dearly afraid she might lose her nerve, excitement bubbled through her veins. Anticipating another meeting with Antonio sometime soon, she had decided to allow him to make love to her. That way, she could get him—and it—out of the way, off of her mind, and soothe her tortured system.

She would purge the Spaniard’s handsome face and dark charisma from her heart and soul in one last face-to-face encounter. Banishing him would dismiss the silly longings about love or marriage with the Duke of Weston. Let Antonio keep his Maribelle and Isobelle or whoever his next ladylove was to be, she would not be his mistress. Caroline intended to keep that promise at all costs. It was not in her nature to share what she loved. One more magical interlude, and she and Antonio would go their separate ways without regrets. It seemed the best solution for both of them.

* * * *

Bundles and valises with which Caroline and Hal arrived were compounded by additional baggage containing new gowns, jackets, bonnets, and furbelows recently purchased in London. A carriage was waiting in Berkeley Square that morning. A gray pall that never completely disappeared from London draped itself over the Town like a damp cloak. The sun was a hazy orb behind the smoky mist when Caroline hugged both Genevieve and Simon Templeton and thanked them for their hospitality during the past two weeks. Hal, too, expressed his gratitude and promised they would soon get together again at Crestwood. Caroline and Daisy shared the carriage while Hal made the trip on horseback.

Caroline leaned back against the velvet squabs of the comfortable coach, took a deep breath, and released a sigh of complete relaxation. “Oh, Daisy, I'm so glad to be going home.”

“Are ye, milady? Did ye not enjoy the dancin' and the parties an' all? Like as not ye'll find nothin' of the sort in the country. I hope ye won’t be blue deviled agin when we get back to Crestwood.”

Caroline sighed and smiled contentedly. “Never fear, Daisy. I'll be so glad to work in my garden and ride Demon in the fields, I won’t be anxious to see London again for a long, long time. We’ve made good friends—the Templetons, the D'Arcys, the Wiltshires, Lord Major and Lady Rossiter. I can make do with their company. And, of course, they’ll catch me up with the latest on dits from time to time. No,” she concluded, relaxing in the carriage. “I won’t miss London, Daisy. Not one bit.”

“And what about the duke, milady?

Caroline straightened in her seat. She looked out the window so as not to hint at her feelings. “The duke, Daisy? The duke will be about his business, and we’ll be about ours. I shall, I hope, continue my friendship with Lady Briella.”

Daisy let any more questions fall by the wayside.

The trip to Kent was pleasant. The weather had been dry the past few days. That meant the roads were not muddy pig wallows. The coach reached Cresthaven in late afternoon in time for tea.

* * * *

There was to be a fete at Westhaven Hall. Briella planned it for her friend, Caroline, who would turn two and twenty, two days hence. The surprise party would celebrate her birthday.

Of course, Hal was in on the surprise, making it certain Caroline did not suspect the upcoming festivities were for her. She believed the party was a finale to Briella's come out Season.

The idea had been Antonio's. Hal had mentioned to him that Caroline was glad to be back in Kent on her natal day. Antonio merely dropped a hint to Briella that a party would be an ideal way to repay Hal and Caroline's kindnesses. Elizabeth was as enthusiastic about the idea as was Briella, although she sensed something else was going on between her grandson and Caroline. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. There was a tension of sorts between the two even the day Caroline visited Weston House in London. The wily old duchess concluded it might bear looking into.

To share their Spanish heritage with their neighbors, it was be a small fiesta, not a formal party. As long as the weather remained ideal, supper would be held on the large terrace at the rear of the hall. Guests would consist of Caroline and Hal, Briella, Elizabeth, Uncle Carlos and Aunt Mari, and, of course, Antonio—a small, intimate family gathering.

The thirtieth of June arrived—clear and bright but unseasonably warm for England—reminding Briella and Antonio of Spain’s hot weather.

Hal and Caroline were asked to come at seven o’clock.

By five, the terrace had taken on a festive air, bedecked with pots of colorful flowers. Silken banners in tones of red, gold, blue, white, green and orange were attached to wooden poles and mounted along the terrace's rear balustrade. The flags fluttered as the slightest whisper of breeze wafted across the open greensward. Candles in glass chimneys lined up on the railing, to be lit when the sun sank behind the Kent hills.

A long buffet table, clothed in white damask, was not yet covered with victuals. A host of traditional Spanish dishes were specially prepared under the keen eyes of Aunt Mari. A dining table, this one in the shape of a 'U', was set with silver, crystal and china. It would seat family and guests. The unique arrangement permitted a view of the western sunset. Hal, Briella, Antonio and Caroline would fill the center section. Elizabeth, on one side, would face Carlos and Aunt Mari across from them.

Hal and Caroline arrived by carriage. “Are we early, Hal?” his sister asked, wondering why no other equipage was parked in the drive. Her brother just shook his head and said nothing.

A young groom took charge of the Crestwood equipage, and the siblings mounted the wide stone staircase to the impressive front entrance of Westhaven Hall. The entrance door was snapped open by Belmont when they reached the landing.

“Good evening, Lady Caroline,” the butler said. “It is a pleasure to see you again. And, good evening, also, Lord Crestwood. Please…step this way.”

Caroline glanced around the marble-floored foyer. Its graceful staircase led to the upper floors. To her eye, the hall’s décor hadn’t changed since James and Lorena were duke and duchess. It had always been, and still was, a magnificent manor. There was no need for an overhaul. Except, she mused, wasn’t it strange that Antonio made no changes and added no personal touches? It was as if he were a guest here himself and had not planned to stay overly long.

Belmont led the way down a side hall to the French doors that opened onto the rear terrace. “Lady Caroline Lockler and the Earl of Crestwood,” he announced, giving Caroline precedence over her brother’s title.

Briella started forward before the words left the butler’s mouth. “Caroline…Hal…please, join us. It’s a beautiful evening. We dine alfresco. You approve, si?”

“It's a wonderful idea, Briella,” Caroline agreed. “Are we the first to arrive? I hope we didn’t get the time in error?”

“No, no, in truth, we thought to keep this…a neighborly celebration,” she went on. “To thank you and Hal for making us feel welcome here in England.” Briella slipped a hand through Caroline’s bent elbow and led her forward. “But come, Caroline, you haven’t met my uncle.”

Another dark and handsome Spaniard stood at Aunt Mari’s side. Briella gestured toward him. “Lady Caroline, may I present my uncle, Carlos de las Torres, husband to my aunt.”

Carlos was dressed in a waist length jacket and tight pants that flared below the knees over high boots. His shirt was of white muslin. A crimson sash wrapped his lean waist and silver decorated the opening of his jacket. Caroline remembered the outfit Antonio wore on their first morning ride.

“I am happy to make your acquaintance, Senor de las Torres,” Caroline said, hoping she used the correct address.

Carlos did not take her hand, but bowed from the waist and said simply, “Con mucho gusto, Senora. My pleasure.”

Hal and Caroline greeted Lady Elizabeth and Aunt Mari.

Antonio was hidden by the shadows inside the hall. He paused, looking out one of the open French doors while observing the group. Tonight he dressed as he would for a fiesta in Seville. Only his black silk sash was different than his uncle’s. A glimpse of his curly, ebony chest hair peeked out of the “V” of his pristine, open-necked shirt. He had knotted a brilliant, red scarf around his throat.

He looked dashing and quite dangerous, Caroline thought, all somber elegance, as he stepped from inside the house onto the stone terrace and joined the party. His Spanish style clothes, bronzed face and smoldering eyes flashing beneath slashing ebony brows, combined with his powerful-looking, lean physique, and flaunted his male virility. He oozed heady, alluring, sexual appeal. Caroline’s excitement tripped on a rapid beat or two of her heart, anticipation rapidly working its way through her bloodstream.

Choosing her attire for the same reason Antonio had—to attract—Caroline wore a gown of deep green. The style was simple, but Antonio noticed how the color and design suited her elegant figure, hugging the generous curves of her breasts and waist before the skirt flared out in a bell shape. Her lady’s maid had entwined fresh flowers through Caroline’s swept up, sausage curls.

Already Antonio’s mental images of her naked had his body stirring at the sight of her, the thought of his lips sucking on her pink nipples. The taste of her woman’s core sweet and hot on his tongue. Nor could he forget the answering passion that met his ardent kisses that evening on the Cromleys’ balcony.

After the duke joined the group, footmen filled crystal glasses with a fruit-like, blood red, Spanish sangria, until everyone was served. No one drank, waiting for the duke to make a toast.

Antonio’s eyes flicked over family members then came to rest on Caroline when he finally spoke. “I’m so glad you’re here with us tonight, Caroline…and Hal.”

He smiled that irresistible half smile—the one she must learn to forget while his gaze scarcely left her face. “Briella and I wish to thank you, Hal.” He gestured to the earl. “And Caroline.” Antonio’s chocolate-colored eyes captured hers. “Thank you for making us feel welcome here in England. You’ve been the best of friends and neighbors. Mucho gracias!”

Antonio still didn’t drink, but continued. “Caro—if I may…” he said, pausing for permission as if he weren't already accustomed to using her pet name.

She nodded. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t upbraid him for using it.

“This evening is for you,” Antonio announced in low, caressing tones.

Caroline was startled.

“Me, Your Grace?” she asked, her brows lifting. “I don’t…”

“Tonio,” he reminded her with a sly wink and a wicked grin.

She stuttered in confusion. “Really, Your Grace, I-I don't understand.”

“We learned a secret of yours tonight, Caro.”

Oh, for good heavens!

Caroline didn’t catch his meaning unless he was going to taunt her again about her trespass in the meadow. Caroline looked and felt…baffled.

Gazing deep into her puzzled eyes, Antonio hesitated while his lips twitched with mischief. “Tonight, we celebrate!” he exclaimed. “Feliz compleanos, Caro! Happy birthday!”

Omigod.

Caroline felt a rosy blush tinting her neck and cheeks although her greenish eyes shone with pleasure.

Everyone raised their glass and drank to her health. Hal grinned from ear to ear. Antonio hadn’t taken his eyes off of her yet.

To learn tonight’s festivities were in her honor was very unsettling. He, Antonio, was very unsettling—as always—surprising her anew when he did things she thought so out of character for him.

When Caroline looked at him, he tipped his glass to her in an individual salute. Slowly savoring a long draught of wine, rolling it around in his mouth, she watched him run the tip of his tongue between his lips. She was unable to pull her gaze off of his sensual mouth, remembering how those lips felt caressing hers, his tongue dancing and teasing inside her mouth and driving her to the edge of submission. Flushing hotter, Caroline had read a similar gesture in the meadow. This time, he promised more than simply good wishes.

Covering up her discomfiture, Caroline turned to her brother and scolded, “For heaven’s sake, Hal! Why didn’t you warn me?”

Her brother just laughed.

Caroline threw a flustered smile at those facing her. All of the others smiled back. “Thank you so much, everyone…er… Gracias,” she answered in tentative Spanish. Friendly laughter carried on the evening air; the Thorndykes and de la Torres were pleased at her simple attempts at Spanish.

Briella spoke next. “Caroline and Hal…we want to show you,” she said, turning to include Elizabeth, “and you, too, Grandmama, the other half of our cultural upbringing. So tonight you’ll dine on Spanish food, drink Spanish wine, and listen to Spanish music! Perhaps, we may even show you how to dance our flamenco! Eh, Tonio?” She grinned at her brother, a hint of mischief shining out of her brown eyes.

Two of the young Spanish caballeros that were part of the Andalusian training staff made their way up the stone steps and onto the terrace with guitars. They, too, were in native attire. As they strolled slowly around the perimeter of the terrace, ten talented fingers strummed soft, haunting melodies on the strings.

By now, the sun was a hot, red ball in the purple sky as it slid slowly behind the western hills. An orange glow burst into flame, mirrored in the twelve-foot high windows of the hall and reflecting the sun’s dying rays. Darkness fell rapidly after that, and servants hurried to light the candles in the glass-chimneyed holders resting on the railing and tables. Gently cooling the night air, the faint smell of new grass and flowery perfume was borne by a mild breeze teasing the senses and flapping the silken banners.

Aunt Mari herded everyone toward the hot buffet delivered by a dozen liveried servants. Tantalizing aromas crept from underneath the silver lids. Everyone was hungry enough to choose hearty portions. Antonio stood by Caroline’s side, explaining what was in the unfamiliar dishes so that she might make her choices. She elected to try everything.

The supper conversation was general; mostly about the London weather, the theater, and incidents that occurred at various balls, musicales and soirees that many of them had attended.

Caroline was seated to the right of Antonio in the seat of honor, close enough that his jacket sleeve brushed her bare arm as he handled his eating utensils or napkin. Her skin prickled, and she tensed each time it happened. He bent close to her ear and spoke softly so only she could hear. “Are you happy with your party, Caro?”

“You’re all being very kind, Tonio,” she replied.

“For you, yes. For me…umm, perhaps, it is not a kindness but something else.”

“I—I thought you were quite vexed by my foolish…”

“I was, but all that is forgotten. Instead, I need to see you again very soon, querida.” Antonio stared at the food on his plate for a brief moment then whispered, “I want to be with you. Will you meet me under the willow by the stream…tomorrow? I have something of yours I must return. In private.” He brushed his lips with the serviette. “I’ll be waiting for you at noon.”

Antonio returned to his meal, leaving Caroline to wonder what it was he meant to return—and if she had the courage to meet him in the meadow.

The wine flowed quite readily, and Caroline found herself growing woozy. Gently rubbing her cheeks, she knew they must look as if she rouged them. But it wasn’t only from the wine. It was because when Antonio was near, every fiber of her being seemed to spring alive.

The party must have been his idea; Caroline was almost certain of it. It was another of his sudden, unlikely, and touching gestures, like producing Elegancia for her to ride in the Park. Antonio’s behavior was often incomprehensible. He was arrogant, intimidating, and irritatingly demanding. She could easily complete a longer list. But, he was also tender, caring, mischievous, and at times, gentlemanly. No word of her fall from grace had leaked to the London gossips that she knew of. The Spaniard was indeed a paradox.

Now, she wondered if she had more surprises in store.

The night was alive with the chirping sounds of insects carrying a tune along with the soft melodies of Spanish guitars. A brilliant, full moon had climbed from behind the horizon, spreading silvery beams over the rolling parkland beyond the terrace. The incandescent glow of candles left soft shadows at the ends of the terrace farthest from the diners.

Soon Lady Elizabeth made her excuses and left to retire, claiming with a playful grin that she needed her beauty rest. Those who stayed drifted away from the dinner table to a shadowy area on the terrace. The young caballeros began to hum and sing some of the Spanish melodies while family and guests listened. Soon after, Aunt Mari and Uncle Carlos excused themselves, which left only Hal, Briella, Caroline, and Antonio listening to the music.

“Tonio, why don’t you play for us?” Briella encouraged her brother. “You’ve not done so in ages.”

“Perhaps, that’s a good reason not to do so,” he answered her with a wry smile. “But, if you like, I will try.”

Luis was quick to hand his guitar to Antonio. Strumming a few chords, Antonio leaned his buttocks against the balustrade and began to play. Hal and the ladies drifted nearer. The first song Antonio chose reminded Caroline of a love ballad. It was hauntingly slow, and he played it very softly, without words, humming the tune in his rich baritone. Watching him, she thought he seemed lost in the music as if he played for himself. The second guitarist played counter to Antonio's lead.

When the first song ended, Antonio paused then quickly started strumming a tempestuous flamenco complete with staccato drumming on the front of the guitar. His long fingers flew across the intricate fingering while his nails plucked the instrument’s strings.

Caroline’s senses matched the fiery melody and the wild rhythm of Antonio’s strumming. Excitement had her blood flowing in a steady rush through her veins, her eyes locked onto the magical fingers of the devastatingly handsome Spaniard. The duke played with the same intensity and concentration he seemed to invest in everything he did. His magnetism sent quivering, searing heat up Caroline’s spine, bubbling to other parts of her body. A new facet of Antonio's makeup, his love of music, was another thing of which she’d been unaware. Now she was even more enraptured by both him and his music.

Antonio didn’t look up until he ended his performance with a final chord. His eyes burned into Caroline’s as their gazes fused. She saw the same flaring excitement in his eyes and understood his emotions mirrored the feelings that coursed through her tingling nerve endings.

If Hal and Briella were aware of undercurrents between their siblings, they chose to ignore them. Caroline’s breathing came hard and fast; her breasts swelled. She felt her nipples tightening, and she knew she would meet Antonio at the stream. Had they been alone, she believed nothing could have kept her from surrendering to him.

Antonio handed the guitar back to Luis. His usual control replaced the passionate, musical outburst of moments before. Hal and Briella applauded his performance, and finally, Caroline had the presence of mind to clap.

Hal was the first to indicate it was time for the evening to end. Having been absent from Crestwood for a lengthy period while in London, he knew affairs of his estate needed tending. Tomorrow, he and his steward, John Crowley, would be away for most of the day. Calling for the Crestwood carriage, Hal and Caroline prepared to leave.

Briella and Antonio walked their neighbors to the hall’s front entrance.

Both men kissed the ladies' hands in farewell.

Antonio's breath was warm on Caroline's fingers as he squeezed hers gently. When he looked up, his lips formed the silent words, “Until tomorrow.”

Excitement, anticipation, and the unknown ran rampant through her system. Caroline nodded, giving him his answer.