Chapter Five

  

Society Tales

It is rumored that one Lord M.C. has hastened his search for a lovely young thing to become his bride.  Why?  I can assure you that this author does not know, but can hazard a guess.  After the health scare his family has endured as of late, it is quite clear that while time does go on forever, human lives do not.  The future of two titles - not just one - is dependent upon the Viscount of Mystery making a successful match, something I do believe that he does not take lightly.  As it should be, I think.

To that end, the dashing man has been seen out and about around town quite often in recent evenings, from putting in an appearance at Lord and Lady R's fête to a night of quiet enjoyment at Almack's where he was seen in the company of Lady D.S. for much of the evening.  Could a potential match be brewing between the two?  They do make a striking couple and it has long been rumored that the lovely Lady D. longs for a man of both beauty and brains.  The same could be said for many young ladies of the ton, could it not?  Not that many would ever admit to such a thing, of course.

Or is he favoring the much more sedate Lady J.A.?  Though not quite so lovely, it was rumored that at one time, the handsome if somewhat removed Earl of C. was in pursuit of her also.  Dare we, the unmarried ladies of society, hope that finally - finally! - the men have taken note of more than just beauty and are in search of a companion with a brain as well?  One can only hope.

- Lady X

Caroline heard the whispers about Marcus and his search for a bride as she navigated her way out of the small retiring room at Lady Carlyle's annual Grand Summer Ball.  Her work as Lady X to fan the flames of interest in Marcus seemed to be working as well as she could have hoped.  So why did the idea of him finding a wife leave a sick feeling in the depths of her stomach?  It was what she desired, after all.  Was it not?

Perhaps she had some bad kippers at breakfast, she decided as she waved at Lady Ursula Saintwood who was at that very moment having a maid repair the hem of a ghastly, over-decorated peacock blue gown.  Though the color suited the matron, the entire thing was overdone with bows, ribbons, flounces, and lace, almost to the point of being gauche.  If Caroline were a different sort of gossip columnist, one could be certain that the fashion atrocity would be remarked upon in the next morning's paper.

However, Caroline was not that kind of gossip.  She never had been and had no plans to do so now.  She knew how words could hurt, having seen her friend Lady Jane savagely ravaged by other columns, including dubbing her "Plain Jane" and worse, essentially leaving her unmarriageable.  All while celebrating Jane's half-sister Elizabeth, a beautiful but horribly spoiled chit that Caroline could not abide in the least.  Rumors, lies, and unkind words, once spoken, could not be undone.  The damage they wrought often could not be reversed.  She refused to be a part of that sort of gossip.

Caroline remembered well the rumors that had spread about her when she had reentered society only three years ago, how the dragons had tittered behind their fans, wondering what she had been doing for the three long years she had been in Northumbria.  So far away, the vicious harpies had gossiped, so far removed from the proper and polite world.  There was no telling what sort of depravity the sheltered daughter of an esteemed peer had indulged in, especially considering her uncle, the previous Lord Redwing, had died so scandalously.  A duel.  In public.  Over a woman most considered a trollop of the worst kind.  There might also have been gambling debts involved.  And some sort of forged document regarding property.  Most shocking.

Did Caroline know of her uncle's activities?  Had she been a part of them?  After all, she was somewhat of a hoyden, was she not?  Being seen about with Lord Breckenright, Lord Candlewood, and their assorted friends so frequently.  She had few female friends, after all.  Not proper at all that so many men called upon her, even if she never precisely did anything scandalous.  It simply appeared improper, especially to the matchmaking mamas who hoped to snare men like Marcus, Candlewood, Selby, Hathaway and the others as wealthy, titled husbands for their precious daughters.

Caroline knew that it was only through the hard work of her cousin Norbert, who was now the new Viscount Redwing, and his wife Fanny, that her reputation had been salvaged.  An effective gossip in her own right, Fanny was something of a marvel.  She had secretly penned at least two Gothic novels - at least as far as anyone knew there were only two - but she also wrote a fashion column for The Ledger of London, a sort of daily scandal sheet and fashion guide that most of society read but few would admit to.

Fanny knew the gossip columnist for The Ledger and made certain that well-placed on-dits appeared with some frequency, leaving no doubt that Caroline had both been in mourning for her beloved father but had also lived in an entirely separate wing of Dunlin Castle, the ancestral home of the Turner family, well away from whatever scandals her uncle was embroiling himself in.

The ploy had worked and Caroline's reputation had survived and perhaps even improved a bit, the paper gracing her with the label of "The Woman of Mystery," which was quickly shortened to simply The Mystery.  That connection had also spawned Caroline's own career as a gossip columnist.

When the original columnist for The Ledger had decided to retire and focus on her family, no longer wanting to risk discovery, the woman - whom Caroline had never actually met - had approached Caroline via letter about taking over the writing of the gossip column.

At first, Caroline had refused.  It was not proper and she had just barely escaped a scandal that would have ruined her.  Then, she remembered Norbert's dire words that the Redwing coffers were rather empty and that Turner-Carson House might have to be sacrificed to pay off some of Caroline's father's outstanding debts, ones that her uncle had blithely ignored during his brief reign as viscount.

So it was with trembling hands that Caroline had penned her response, accepting the job offer but with her own conditions, ones she was under no illusion the paper would accept.  She would write but under a new name and do things her own way, not using the column to viciously gossip about others as had been done to her and her friends, but rather to advance certain members of society, those who might otherwise be overlooked.  And above all, whatever Caroline wrote would be the truth.  It might not always be pleasant to read and it might be slightly embellished, but it would always and without question be the truth.

Caroline had spent the previous four years of her life lying to just about everyone she came in contact with.  She was not about to do so again.

Now, with her affairs in order and her fortune steadily growing once more, Caroline was comfortable, if not completely secure.  There was always the chance that someone, however unlikely, might find a way to connect her with Lady X.  If that information was known, all she had worked so hard for would be lost and she would be cast out into the streets.  Perhaps not literally, but socially, and that would be bad enough.

She knew she was skirting dangerously close to discovery with all of her recent columns about Marcus but she could not help herself.  She wanted to see him happy, despite their disagreement a few nights ago.  It was her mission from now until the end of the season.  She would find him a suitable wife whether he wanted her help or not.  He had suffered so much and each time she thought of that last day in his bedchamber at Cheltenham House she wanted to cry.

What if she had not been there?  What if she had not essentially bullied Towson into allowing her to see Marcus?  What if he had died?

Still, he had not and she knew she had to push those thoughts aside.  There was work to do and with Marcus being so horribly stubborn, she considered the possibility that she needed to change tactics a bit.  However, she would find him a wife.  Then, perhaps, she would seriously consider retiring as Lady X.  She had been writing the column for nearly three years now and she was getting older.  Her finances were a bit more secure.  Perhaps it was time to pass on the column to someone new.  Someone younger.

She was still thinking the entire, frustrating situation over when she saw Lady Diana Saintwood conversing rather animatedly with Lady Eliza Deaver, the daughter of the Marquess of Framingham and Lady Sophia Reynolds, sister of the Duke of Hathaway.  She did not know any of the women particularly well, but in that moment, she longed for some female company that might take her mind off of Marcus.

Caroline also wanted to discover for herself if Lady Diana was as perfect of a match for Marcus as she appeared to be.

Diana Saintwood was not a woman that Caroline would have immediately selected for Marcus' potential bride.  At least not until she had seen them dancing at Almack's, their heads tilting towards each other as they conversed, their bodies a bit too close for propriety.  Then, the more Caroline thought on the matter, the more she thought they might, in fact, be a perfect match.  The very next day, under her guise as Lady X, Caroline had begun her campaign to match the two of them.  Perhaps if Marcus saw that Lady X endorsed the union, he would up and marry Diana quickly and leave town.

He did seem to listen to Lady X, after all, and that course of action would be best for everyone.  Especially Caroline and her bruised heart.

"Ladies."  Caroline dipped a quick curtsey as they all technically ranked above her in status.  "You are all looking rather lovely this evening."  The praise was a bit effusive and more likely to come from a man, but she was desperate for some female company since Lady Jane was at the theater with her family that evening.  "I saw Lady Sophia's gown from across the room and just had to remark upon it.  It is lovely."  The glittering silver creation was stunning, showcasing the younger woman to perfection, and reminding Caroline that if Lady Diana was not a suitable wife for Marcus, there were plenty of other young ladies about.  The sister of a duke would do nicely as well.

"Thank you."  Lady Sophia dipped a quick curtsey in return, a rosy blush creeping up her pretty cheeks, reminding everyone of precisely how young she actually was.  "It's a Madame LaVallier creation."  She blushed again, this time all the way down her neck, clearly unused to such praise regarding her looks.  "Terribly extravagant, I know, but I also know my brother hopes to see me married off soon."

It was well known in society that Lord Adam Reynolds, the much sought after Duke of Hathaway, cared about very few things in this world.  His sister, however, was one of them.  It was also well known that he worried incessantly about her future and wanted her married to what he called a "right and proper" man as soon as possible so that no harm might befall her.  What sort of harm he never said, but it was clear that he was worried about the possibility of something happening to his beloved sister.  For one so young and beautiful - and presumably innocent - as Lady Sophia, it was certainly an issue, at least in Caroline's mind.

"Pishaw!"  That came from Lady Diana, much to Caroline's surprise.  She had not known the other woman was quite so spirited.  Diana might make a splendid match for Marcus after all.  "You are only just out!  Only one season behind you, and barely that since there are still a few weeks remaining.  It is not as if you are on the shelf."  Then something stole across Diana's eyes, a flash of something so brief that Caroline wasn't even certain she had seen it at all.  "Your brother needs to concentrate more on his own marital status than yours."

It was no secret that Lady Diana had formed something of a tendre for the duke long ago, though Caroline was not certain anything would come of it.  From what little she knew of both of them, the duke was far too stuffy and Diana far too mischievous for the match to be a success.  Then again, Diana could be proper and stuffy as well, at least when she wanted to be.  Maybe there was a chance for that match after all, one that Lady X might need to champion.  If Diana did not wed Marcus first, of course.

"He does need a wife," Lady Eliza offered quietly, so quietly that Caroline had almost forgotten her presence until she had spoken.  Of the women in the group, Eliza was by far the shyest, and, quite possibly a bluestocking, though Caroline did not know for certain.  "Is he looking for one?"  There was a note of hope in Eliza's voice, though Caroline did not see that match coming to fruition, either.

"Not that I know of," Sophia offered quietly, her blush now fading a bit since all of the attention was no longer focused on her.  "All he seems to care about is matching me with men I cannot abide."  Now her voice was laced with a bit of clear disgust, presumably towards her older brother, much to Caroline's amusement.

Normally, Caroline would be memorizing every nuance of the conversation for use in her column the next morning, but not this evening.  She was tired of every part of her life being about gossip.  Instead, she was genuinely paying attention to what the ladies were saying, being given a rare glimpse into the minds of the unmarried misses of the ton.  Though she was unmarried as well, she would never find a husband and therefore, never marry.  These ladies, on the other hand, most likely would.

Caroline wanted to know how these women thought so that she knew how to best help Marcus.  For despite what he had said the evening of Lady Julia's party, he had not seemed overly eager to meet any of the women both she and Lady X had been placing in his path.  Granted, it had only been a week since that fateful night, but other than the single dance - and a quadrille at that - with Lady Diana at Almack's, Marcus had shown scant interest in truly courting any of the women Caroline thought might make him an excellent match.

"Your brother means well," Diana offered with a small smile, one more full of mischief than contrition, "but he simply does not know a thing about a woman's heart or her desires."  Caroline could almost see Diana stifle her obvious desire to roll her eyes for added effect.  "Could you not steer him towards a man of your choosing?"

"It has been made clear that that man I desire is not appropriate for me."  From the mutinous expression on Sophia's face, it was obvious this was a debate she and her brother had engaged in many times.

It was time, Caroline decided, to see precisely where Marcus stood amongst the ranks of the ton's most eligible men.  If she had done her job well, he would be a most attractive candidate.

"What about a man such as Lord Breckenright?" Caroline asked as innocently as she could, praying that none of the women noticed the hitch in her voice.  "Would Lord Hathaway consider him a potential husband?  Or do you not favor him, either, Lady Sophia?"  She shrugged when Lady Diana shot her a curious look.  "Not that I am advocating you marry quickly, of course, but I am given to understand that he is in the market for a wife and is considered a prime catch.  At least according to Lady X."

Lady Sophia scrunched up her nose, though in distaste or something else, Caroline could not be certain.  "The Viscount of Mystery.  He's handsome enough I suppose."  Then she shrugged, as if dismissing the idea of her wedding the viscount.  "A little old perhaps, but I am not certain that I could have a love match with him.  He seems a trifle grouchy if you ask me.  And that is perhaps putting it kindly, I would think."

"I don't believe in love matches."  That came from Lady Eliza, much to everyone's surprise.  "Well, I mean perhaps they work out for some of our set, but marriage is a business arrangement."  Caroline did not miss the color that flooded her cheeks as well.  "At least that's what Mama and Papa say."

"I say a love match or none at all!" Lady Diana proclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly before lowering her voice to a more appropriate whisper.  Given the passion behind her statement, Caroline knew Diana had given the topic much thought and consideration.  "After all, if we are to be leg shackled to a man for the rest of our lives, should we not want to be happy as well?  We should at least be able to tolerate the man, don't you think?  I, for one, do not wish to spend the rest of my days loathing my husband, unable to stand the very sight of him.  Or bed him, for that matter."

In most circles, Lady Diana's words would be bordering on scandalous.  That she felt free enough to speak them with Caroline present, especially when the other ladies were clearly her close friends, warmed something in Caroline's heart.  It was a strange feeling, but one she quickly decided that she rather liked. 

She also knew that she could not possibly use any of this in her next column, even if she had been considering it - which she hadn't been.  She should have been, of course, as these topics would make for juicy musings.  Yet Caroline found herself unwilling to betray the confidences of any of these women.  She liked these ladies with their spirit and shyness and wry humor.  More than that, she longed to be their friend, a true friend and not one of the insincere friendships she had played at cultivating over the last few years.  At least if they would allow her to be, of course.  She hoped they would.  The desire might seem silly to some, but it burned inside of her with a passion.

For the first time since she had returned from Northumbria, Caroline felt as if she was a part of society again, not separate from it.  And she wanted a friendship with these women more than she could say.  Just as she had with her friend Jane.

"I think love, when found, is a rare and precious gift that should be treasured," Caroline finally offered, feeling the need to contribute something useful to the conversation.  "If a lady is lucky enough to find such love, she should fight for it at all costs.  However, sometimes, we are not so lucky."

Lady Diana eyed Caroline for a moment, as if trying to peer into her very soul.  Then, finally, she smiled.  It was warm and welcoming and full of everything that Caroline so desperately wanted - acceptance.  "You are correct, Lady Caroline.  More than you may realize, I suspect."  Then she turned back to the others while still including Caroline in the conversation.  "But back to the matter of Lord Breckenright.  He is a handsome man, but..."

Her words were cut off when a man's heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway.  Turning, Caroline was not surprised to see Marcus advancing towards them.  She had heard the light but unmistakable thump of his cane hitting the floor before his foot, leaving her no doubt as to who was approaching.

"Lord Breckenright."  She dipped into a low curtsey and rose to see Lady Diana watching her, as if seeing things that Caroline would have preferred to remain hidden.  When the other ladies curtseyed as well, it was not lost on Caroline that Diana still watched her, a knowing expression on her face.

"Ladies."  Marcus dipped a low bow, or as low as he could manage.  Normally, he should have bowed to each of them in turn, but Caroline knew many in society excused him from that nicety due to his injury.  A memory of bloodstained sheets flashed through her mind and she worked to suppress a shudder, but not before Lady Diana noticed the change in her expression, Caroline was certain.

Caroline also prayed that Marcus was in a far better mood than when they had last parted.  She did not wish for him to lash out at her in front of these other women.  Especially if he hoped to marry one of them.

"My Lord."  Diana inclined her head towards him, her eyes flashing back and forth rapidly between Marcus and Caroline. "I hate to greet you and then depart so swiftly, especially since you do make a charming dance partner, but my friends and I are in desperate need of the retiring room.  We were just on our way there."  Then she gave Caroline a mischievous smile and something warmed inside of Caroline's heart.  "However, Lady Caroline was just on her way from there when we encountered her and engaged in some silly girl talk.  You know how it is.  Perhaps you would be so kind as to keep her company for us until we return?"

Then in a swirl of peach-hued silk skirts, Lady Diana was gone, Lady Sophia and Lady Eliza trailing after her in awe, as if they had no idea what had just happened but were suitably impressed nonetheless.  Most likely they did not, for Caroline herself was not certain exactly how she had come to be alone in the dimly lit hallway with Marcus.

So much for her plan to pair Marcus and Diana together, it seemed.

Instead of being angry, as she had anticipated, Marcus simply offered Caroline his arm and began to escort her back towards the ballroom.  He was stiff and clearly reticent with her, but then that could simply be attributed to his leg.  It had rained earlier in the day, much as it always did in London, and she knew that such weather aggravated the injury.  "It appears your friends have deserted you," he finally said affably, as if they had not quarreled so viciously at the Radcliffe affair.  "Pity that."

"I would have thought you would be the one to pity at their departure," Caroline replied coolly, deciding now was an excellent time to fish for information regarding Marcus' feelings for Lady Diana.  Especially since he was being almost pleasant.  Well, pleasant for Marcus these days, anyway.  This past week he had not exactly been known for his jovial personality.  She had heard that surly was even too kind of way to describe his temper, though at the moment, he did not seem to be in the mood to argue.  Not even with her.  "Did I not just read that you and Lady Diana were seen together at Almack's the other evening?  She would make you a fine wife, don't you think?  And you do make a striking pair.  That goes without saying, I do believe."

Despite her joyful mood, a stab of something sharp and unpleasant raced through Caroline at her words and she prayed that Marcus did not notice the change in her.  Then again, from the sour look that flashed across his face, Marcus was feeling just as unhappy.  And perhaps not quite as jovial as he had mere moments ago.

Their relationship, such as it was, had been strained since the night of the Radcliffe affair and the almost-kiss.  Or whatever that fit of madness had been, for in Caroline's mind anyway, Marcus had been but one step away from taking her right there on the balcony and slaking his obvious need.

Now, it was as if neither of them knew how to behave around each another, the anger of that night having long since cooled, but the reluctance to be the first to admit to being wrong remaining behind.  The week they had spent mostly apart had been torturous and had apparently done little to heal the rift that was developing between them.

It saddened Caroline that they had come to this, but she wasn't completely surprised.  Nothing stayed the same.  Not even her friendship with Marcus.  She had learned long ago that nothing truly good ever lasted for long.

"Caro," Marcus warned darkly as he maneuvered past a footstool that someone had simply left lying abandoned in the hallway, "do not press me on this matter.  Lady Diana is lovely, as are her friends.  However, they are not what I am searching for in a lady.  I am not interested in having any of them to wife."

"But Lady Sophia would," Caroline began before Marcus held up a hand to stay whatever she might have said next.  He did not snap at her but his expression was thunderous and suddenly, Caroline realized how very tired she was.  Tired of gossip and fighting.  Tired of her life, really.  So for once, she did as he silently requested and spoke no more.  However, she knew that this moment was also not the end of the discussion.

With a grunt of disgust, Marcus took a quick look around to ascertain where he was within the Carlyle home before propelling Caroline forward a few feet towards a set of double doors that she knew led directly to the Carlyle 's library.  Once they were safely inside and the door locked behind them, Marcus turned towards her with a scowl on his face.  This was the angry Marcus she remembered all too well.  And once more, she longed for happier times between them.  They way it used to be.

"Enough, Caro," he rumbled, a trace of his old anger bubbling up, though he was doing well to hold his temper in check.  This time, however, his anger was not directed at Caroline for she was only attempting to help.  He knew that, of course.  This was not like the night on the Radcliffe's terrace either.  

Rather, his anger was directed at himself for requiring Caroline's help in the first place.  If he were whole, none of this nonsense would be necessary.  "Between you and Lady X, the two of you have thrown more than two dozen debutantes at me over the last week.  I confess that it is growing tiresome.  Perhaps this scheme of yours was unwise.  I might do better seeking out the daughter of a local baron near Derbyshire or someplace as provincial."

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  "I am sorry for pawing at you the other evening, Caro.  I promise that it will not happen again.  That does not, I am afraid, mean that I no longer desire you.  You know that I do."  Then he shrugged, his anger abating a bit.  "Though I will promise not to pursue you since you do not seem to welcome my attentions."

Caroline scowled at him in return, unafraid to let him see her displeasure.  She had been having a better time with Lady Diana and her friends.  "Do you not want a proper society wife, Marc?  Are you willing to settle for less, a country miss who will not help you socially?"  She ignored his comment about her not wanting his attentions.  She had lied enough to the man and did not want to add more falsehoods on top of those already told.  "For if that is the case, I shall cease sorting through the young misses of the ton for you and allow you to go about your business on your own.  Or was I wrong in thinking that when you agreed to my proposal you were serious about being wed to a proper lady, as you termed it?"

"Damn it, Caro!" Marcus growled, slashing his hand through the air and for a moment, she could see a brief flash of the man who had roared at all of society the night of the Devonmont musicale.  "I do want a wife!  No.  Let me correct that."  He was growing angrier by the moment.  Well so was she!  "I need one, damn it!  And a society chit at that!  And since it can't be you, yes, I will allow you to help me, interfering chit that you are.  But damn it all, there has to be a better way!"

"Because you are doing so well on your own!" she tossed back, her own anger rising.  God, she wanted this man and it burned that she could not have him.  If she were able, she would tear his very clothes from his body right this instant.  If he was not in such a fine temper, of course.  At the moment, however, she was more inclined to slap him for behaving like such a wretched beast.

Marcus had always possessed something of a temper, even in his youth.  It was part of the reason he had been so feared when he had returned from Eton to take his place in society.  However, since his return from Bath, what had previously only been temper was now mixed with a healthy dose of anger.  Yet for some strange reason, Caroline did not fear him as others did.  Perhaps it was because she could see a hint of his old, sensitive heart that still beat beneath all of the bluster.

Or perhaps it was because when she was angered, she was every bit as terrifying as he was.  There was that to consider as well.

Marcus advanced on Caroline, yet she did not shrink back.  He would not harm her.  Of that she was certain.  He was merely roaring at her.  "I am not so hideous or blind that I cannot find my own chits to dance with every so often!  I do not need you throwing them at me at every turn.  A least Lady X gives me that much credit!"

At his words, she stiffened.  In her quest to make certain that no one connected her to Lady X, Caroline had been a bit more blunt with Marcus when discussing his prospective brides than Lady X was.  As the notorious gossip columnist, Caroline used hints and innuendos. She had thought she was being clever.  Instead, all she had managed to accomplish, over the course of a week no less, was to make Marcus' infatuation with the fictitious woman grow.  Even if he did not admit it, she could tell by the intelligent gleam in his eyes that he was intrigued by the unknown woman.  She had seen those same signs in him before when a lady captured his attention.

"First, Marc, you are not hideous so stop speaking like such a ninnyhammer.  And what does Lady X know of you?  Truly?" she asked, barely reigning in her own fury.  She knew she should be happy that Marcus was interested in a woman other than herself.  On the other hand, since she was Lady X, his growing interest in the gossip columnist could become a problem she did not wish to deal with.  Ever.

"More than you," he shouted, his earlier charm nowhere to be found.  "Damn it, Caroline, we were friends once!  What has happened to us?"

At that, the very air seemed to seep from her lungs as if she had been physically struck, and she sighed wearily.  She was tired of fighting with him and hoped that he was just as tired of quarreling with her, if not more so.  It took a good deal of energy to roar at someone, she thought.  Perhaps too much.

They were friends.  Or they had been.  Even though she did not dare return his feelings, it did not have to be like this between them.  She despised the anger and fury.  She wanted things to be as they had once been.  "We are different now, Marc," she sighed softly, hoping that a calm voice might soothe his fierce temper.  "The years apart have changed you, and me as well."  She leaned back against the sold oak desk that sat in the far corner of the earl's library, resting her palms lightly on the highly polished top.  For once, she could not immediately meet his eyes.  "I do not wish to argue with you any longer.  I detest this fighting and long for the way we used to be together.  All I want is for you to take this wife search of yours seriously."

"I am," he insisted, shaking his head and turning away from her as he often did when his left eye refused to focus, not wanting her to see his broken body.  From the slump of his shoulders, she could tell that he did not wish to argue any longer either, the fight in him slowly draining away.  "But you push this endless parade of chits at me, Caro, acting as if I do not wed within the month, all hope will be lost.  It is too much.  I am not ready for it."  She saw his hand grip his cane tightly for a moment before he turned back to her, his left eye still a bit unfocused.  "And Lady X?  She does not.  She suggests, but she does not push."

Caroline wanted to shout at him that there was a reason for her actions, but she held her tongue.  Though they had not seen each other much over the last week, she had still been there, lurking in the shadows, observing.  And what she had seen had broken her heart.

She saw him dancing with other chits, laughing with them and sharing punch.  He might not wish to be there but he was actively courting these ladies all the same.  The women were engaging in all of the activities Caroline herself wished to do with Marcus but could not.  She was not right for him.  They were.  And he needed to select a bride from their ranks.  Which was precisely the reason for her anger.  And why she pushed him so hard.  Why she presented him with as many choices as she could reasonably manage and not appear like some crass matchmaker.

If Marcus was securely wed, he would no longer tempt her to break her vow to leave him alone.  He would be beyond her reach.  And Lady X would be beyond his as well.

The hard truth was, he needed a wife.  He did not need to spend his time thinking about Lady X, which, given the odd expression on his face when he had mentioned her name, he clearly was.  Too much.  Thinking of Lady X might lead him back to her and that would be a disaster she did not wish to court.

"Marc."  Caroline's voice was barely a whisper.  "I am sorry.  I did not mean to push you.  However, after that event at Lady Radcliffe's, I thought that...  Never mind.  It is not important."  She shook her head.  She did not want him to know how much her heart had raced at being held in his arms.  He did not need to know how much she wanted to be his wife.  She always had.  He could never know.

At the sparkling sheen of tears in her eyes, Marcus softened his stance, the last of his anger draining away when he rested his eyes on his old friend.  This was not her fault.  It was his.  If he had been better able to control his desire for her that night, then they would not be in this state.  He would not be nearly so angry - mostly with himself.  He would also not be so desperate to find a young wife so that he would stop thinking about a woman he could not and should not have.  A woman he had not done right by so many years ago when she was desperate for security.  Instead, he had left her at the mercy of a man who, by all accounts, including those of the man's own son, had been nothing short of a monster.

If Marcus had been going to marry Caroline, he should have done it years ago.  When they were both young and fresh rather than the jaded creatures they had become.  For there was no question in his mind that despite what she pretended, Caro was no longer the innocent and fresh young miss she played at being.

He had felt it the other night when he had held her against him, pressing her body into his, knowing precisely what would come next if she allowed it.  She had felt his erect cock and known what he wanted, known exactly what he wanted to do to her.  With her.  An innocent would not have known.

There were also too many secrets lurking in the depths of her eyes.  Perhaps others did not see them but he did.  He saw them because they lurked in him as well.  The truth of his ruined body, the possibility that he might not be able to father children at all, that coming directly from Dr. Hastings, a man Marcus trusted with his life.

Secrets and lies.  Both he and Caroline had them.  But whose were worse?  He could not even begin to guess.

So who and what was she?  He honestly no longer knew but he wanted to.  He missed his old friend and wanted her back.  Then again, he wasn't certain that was possible.  Perhaps they were both too different now than they had been in their youth.

Not to mention that she looked extremely peeved every time he mentioned Lady X's name, though that could not be helped.  A part of him wondered if it was jealousy, but quickly dismissed the idea.  If Caroline cared for him, she would have said so.  She was far too honest and forthright to keep something so great to herself, especially knowing that he was in search of a wife.  If she had even given the slightest hint of interest in him, he would have shoved aside all of his misgivings and married her already.  Nicholas Rosemont, that infernal promise, and all the rest be damned.  For on that count, Marcus had changed his mind since he had first returned to town.

If Caroline would have him, he would marry her.  Tonight and will all haste.  But she would not.  She had made that abundantly clear.

That left only the young misses of the ton who, for the most part, bored him silly.  And most likely thought him a hideous monster.  On that count, they would not be far wrong.

And, of course, Lady X.  Who knew what she really thought of him?

Marcus was fascinated by the woman, though he knew he should not be.  From the little he had been able to discern from several of his friends with good connections, she was about his age and thought to be rather beautiful.  No longer an innocent, at least according to rumors, she had never wed and instead lived in seclusion somewhere in Mayfair.  

There were, of course, those who suggested that she was actually a lady about town or perhaps a courtesan, but most felt that she was an aristocratic woman of some experience who only frequented the more reputable gaming hells and mixed clubs these days.  Few actually believed that she attended balls and the like.

What was true and what was not?  Marcus did not know but he was determined to find out.  Though given the still slightly annoyed look on the face of the woman standing before him, perhaps now was not the time to mention his plan to unmask Lady X and take her to his bed.  He had already decided that he was unlikely to wring her neck for writing about him, especially if she was truly as infatuated with him as rumor suggested.

Just the mere thought of having her body beneath his, both of them slick with desire, made him relax a bit more, the anger of earlier sliding away as if it had never been.

"Come here, Caro," Marcus finally sighed when he found himself able to speak without roaring at her again.

To his surprise, she came willingly.  Apparently she was just as upset about the state of their relationship as he was.  She also seemed to need the physical comfort he offered her.

"I do not wish to fight with you, Marc," she whispered into the soft cloth of his evening jacket.  Around them, he could feel the quiet of the library seeping into his bones, while Caroline nestled softly against him, seeking the heat of his body.  A more effective balm to his soul he could not imagine.  "I am only trying to help you.  I want you to be happy and content.  Nothing more."

Placing his cane gently to the side, he wrapped both of his arms fully around her, drinking in the light, sweet scent that was unique to Caroline.  "I know, love.  I know."  Idly, he wondered if Lady X would feel as right and perfect in his arms as Caroline did.  He did not think so.  Then, he remembered his promise to Candlewood to leave Caroline alone.  That, he decided firmly, he could no longer do, at least not completely.  But that did not mean he would sully her reputation, either.  "And I am sorry for losing my temper with you.  It is not your fault.  It is mine."

Shaking her head, Caroline pulled back a bit but did not attempt to pull away from the warm circle of his arms.  "No, Marc.  I know how it is for you these days and it is I who am sorry.  You are only just returned from Bath and I have done nothing but push you.  Your mother has been ill and your sister..."  She trailed off, knowing that the events of the day that Gibson had saved Amy from kidnapping did not need to be repeated.  They were far too horrible to contemplate at this moment.

"Shall we call a truce then, love?" he asked, unable to stop himself from stroking a stray lock of hair back from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.  At the moment, he wasn't certain why he had made that damnable promise to stay away from Caroline but he was very much regretting it.  Very much regretting not marrying her seven years ago when he had the chance.

Nodding, she swallowed hard and he watched the long column of her throat move.  Her skin looked so soft and he longed to taste her.  He had kissed her once, long ago, and she had been every bit as sweet as he imagined.  Would she be thus now or would it be different?  Had something within her hardened?  Was she no longer his Caroline?  Or was she merely waiting for him?  He longed to find out but knew he did not dare.  He doubted that he would be able to stop with just one kiss.  And he did not wish to push her any more this evening.  They were only just now on speaking terms once more.

"A truce."  She looked up at him, those eyes of hers a brilliant green in the dim light of the room, shining like the precious stones they resembled.  "I will not push you, Marcus.  I promise.  But I will help, at least as much as you wish me to.  Together, we will find you a wife."

"I would like that," he replied, lying through his teeth and praying that she would not notice.  "However, what I would like more than anything at the moment is a dance.  I am feeling more and more like my old self these days, it seems.  Care to accompany me back to the ballroom?"

"Very much so," she said, swiping delicately at the tears in her eyes.  Ones he pretended that he did not see.

As he led her from the room, Marcus prayed that Caroline never discovered that the entire time they had been speaking, he had been lying to her.  After all, she was noted for her honesty.  However, he did not think that she would like it much if he were being completely truthful at that precise moment.  Especially if he were to tell her exactly how much he wanted to strip that lovely gown from her shoulders and ravish her on the floor of the Carlyle's library.