The Second Season (Regency Romance)

by Heather Chapman

  Caroline looked up at him, blushing. Her fingers twisted a small curl that had fallen at the nape of her neck. “I suppose I was rather awful and left the poor man.”

  Mr. Clark laughed loudly, dropping the boot to the table in front of him. He shook his head, staring deeply into Caroline’s eyes. “You surprise me.”

  At that, Caroline stood a little taller. She paced along the edge of the table, inspecting all of the tools. “I hope I do.” She paused, feeling her face start to color once more. “Are you able to repair it?”

  He looked at her challengingly, “Of course I can. I will have it to you within a day or two at the most. The boot itself is still well intact.”

  Caroline gave a small laugh and added, “Of course. I did not mean to question your abilities. Thank you, Thomas.” Her voice softened as she said his name.

  Mr. Clark was fidgeting with the boot again. “And how is your sister? Has she recovered?”

  Caroline’s eyes fell. “She is much better. Thank you.”

  Mr. Clark turned toward her, his eyes filled with a look of concern. “I am glad to hear it.”

  Caroline took a step closer to Mr. Clark. “I have not yet thanked you for your role in preventing the scandal. It all happened so quickly, and I am still quite shocked by it all. How you came to play a part in the horrid affair has escaped me, but, I am indebted to you.”

  Mr. Clark shook his head. “I think Lord Searly would rather you were indebted to him.”

  Caroline heard the crack in his voice as he spoke and recognized the jealousy in his eyes. She smiled. Perhaps there was greater feeling behind his kindness. She stood to leave and impulsively took his arm. “Perhaps you are right,” she said, “though I think if it were not for the service you rendered, Lord Searly would have been utterly useless.”

  Mr. Clark grasped her hand for just a moment, before the clerk entered and explained a customer had arrived in a frenzied state.

  A

  CHAPTER 31

  Caroline followed Bentley to the small parlor to find Mr. Clark standing there stiffly. He was wearing his dark navy coat, the one she had seen him wear at Charles’s party a few months ago.

  “Mr. Clark, do you always dress so when you make your home deliveries?”

  He nodded. “I do sometimes attempt to look like a gentleman.”

  Caroline did not laugh but instead examined his attire closely. “You look very smart.”

  Thomas shrugged and presented Caroline with her boot.

  She examined his work, determined to find fault but found she could discover none. “Thank you, Thomas. I have been missing my rides. I find that none of my other boots will do. Although, after seeing your skill, I am determined to order a half dozen riding boots from you.” She paused and smiled. “For who knows but that my poor boots take quite the beating from me.”

  Mr. Clark was now sitting beside her.

  Caroline searched his face but found he did not seek her gaze. “I have the most pleasant of news! Can you guess it?”

  He shook his head, his eyes slightly darkening. “I am afraid I have not the slightest idea.”

  Caroline laughed. “Mr. Frandsen has proposed to my sister Lucy, and she has accepted him! You cannot know the joy this brings to me to see such a sister, such a dear friend, happy. And to Mr. Frandsen! He is just the type of man to make Lucy happy.”

  Mr. Clark’s eyes brightened. “I offer my full congratulations to you and to her. She deserves a life of happiness. I wish it were possible to congratulate her myself.

  The room grew quiet, and the two sat for nearly a minute without speaking.

  “Do you think you would enjoy matrimony?” Caroline asked. “Or are you determined to your bachelorhood like so many gentlemen of London?”

  “I do not know,” He said in a steady voice. “That is, I do desire to find a wife, but I know I cannot offer much to a lady.”

  “You are not impoverished, Mr. Clark. You are very respectable. I am sure you will provide sufficiently for such a lady.”

  He nodded, offering what looked like a sad smile. “You are kind, but I am afraid I cannot offer more than sufficiently.”

  “But is not character and love worth more than the distinction and luxuries you speak of?” Caroline continued, “Surely your qualities and company are offering enough!”

  Mr. Clark’s jaw came forward, and he sighed softly. He stared intently at her until she broke their gaze by standing and walking toward the window. He did not make a move toward her. “I am grateful you hold me in any sort of admiration, Caroline, but I cannot pretend your opinion is of the majority. I find myself in a difficult position. I deal with gentlemen and ladies of quality in my shop daily. Some consider me a gentleman as well, but I do not fool myself. A tradesman is still a tradesman. To think I could mingle in the same circles such as you is mere silliness.”

  Caroline turned toward him, the blood rising to her face, though this time out of anger. She shook her head as she sought for an appropriate response. “I am sure you do not mean that.” The intensity of her tone and passion had risen. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and continued. “It is, of course, more common for those of superior ranks to look down on tradesmen or the like and refuse such company, but for a man such as you to refuse your company to those of higher standing? You act as if you have nothing to offer them, or is there another reason?”

  Mr. Clark stood at this. He placed both hands to his head in frustration. “It is nothing of the like. I have told you my exact reasons that I will never mingle in the London ton. What can it be to you, the lady that all of London knows will marry the Duke of Rembridge, the honorary Lord Searly?”

  Caroline approached him timidly, curiously looking him up and down. “You do not think the duke a good match for me?”

  Mr. Clark’s eyes rolled backward in an irritated fashion. “On the contrary, he is the perfect match.”

  Caroline heard his sarcastic tone, and she nodded, urging him to continue.

  “He is wealthy enough and from what I hear, quite handsome enough, though I only base that on the opinion of my silly cousin Georgiana. I had thought your character above his haughty and selfish ways. He would not appreciate you.”

  “No? Pray, continue, Thomas. What appreciation would he lack?”

  His arms flew in the air as he approached the large window. He placed one arm above his head, leaning against the arch. “He does not deserve you.”

  Caroline smiled, though Mr. Clark did not see it, at last satisfied. She swallowed hard and found herself examining the newly repaired boot again. “I am sure you have many admirers. Perhaps if you were not such a gentleman, you would recognize there is at least one lady who holds you in affection.”

  Mr. Clark startled, almost losing his balance. Caroline noticed a small bead of perspiration slipping down the side of his cheek as he furrowed his brow. His face was drawn in an expression Caroline had never seen before. He looked in agony, and yet his eyes rested softly on hers. With a firm hand, he touched her cheek, and then carefully cupped her chin, kissing her lips softly and sweetly. The affection and attraction that Caroline had felt for months poured into the tender, albeit short-lived, kiss. A spilled pan down the kitchen hallway clamored across the house and awakened the pair to their surroundings. Mr. Clark instantly jerked backward, dropping his hands to his sides. They had not been discovered, but both knew they could not risk doing so again.

  Caroline’s tearful eyes were staring up at him longingly.

  Mr. Clark’s hand rested on his forehead as he staggered backward. “Caroline.”

  Caroline watched in confusion. She had caught the depressed tone of his voice.

  He quickly took her by the hands, and whispered urgently, “It will not do.” He then quietly rushed out the door, taking his leave.

  A

  CHAPTER 32

  Lord Jonathon Searly had been the talk of the town for a handful of London seasons. Many even considered him the most eligible ba
chelor in all of England. The opportunities afforded to such a reputation had at first been enjoyable to him. He had enjoyed dancing with the prettiest partners and riding in the park with the most desirable friends. He had almost fancied himself in love four seasons ago to a Miss Anabelle Richmond. The girl had been beautiful and charming. She rode with him regularly in the park, even allowed him the most ridiculous of liberties. He had shared affectionate conversation with the girl. Miss Richmond had attached herself to him in every reasonable way the young girl could have—she laughed at his ridiculous jokes, she listened carefully to his political rambling, and even offered prolific conversation at times. He had been at the cusp of declaring himself to her, when he discovered a most unfortunate truth. Mrs. Richmond, a widow of nearly five years, had set her daughter’s sight on Lord Searly long before the season had even begun. Through a very reliable source, the duke had been enlightened as to the extent of scheming and planning that had been involved with his first meeting with Miss Richmond.

  Lord Searly had slighted Miss Richmond without a second thought. He boldly confronted her at a large concert gathering. Mrs. Richmond and her daughter had been thoroughly humiliated. The girl had attempted to explain herself in the most inappropriate and disgusting ways after that. She wrote him multiple letters for weeks, begging him to believe her. And then there was the mother, Mrs. Richmond. After the shameful spectacle, she had claimed to be on her sick bed for almost the rest of the season, something about the warm air inducing headaches.

  Lord Searly was not deceived, though.

  It had taken him some time to recover his senses. He had been in a depressed state and no longer attended public events or social gatherings. He spent his day sleeping, or worse, in the Prattler brothers’ gaming house. It was only when his cousin David, then only nineteen, had happened upon his drunken state one morning.

  David had been disgusted at the sight of him, being so bold as to slap Lord Searly across the face and exclaim, “Pull yourself together, Jonathon, for goodness’ sake!” David had then thrown the bottle of port against the stone fireplace with great force, slamming the door as he left, leaving Lord Searly quite shocked.

  After that, the duke had straightened his act, even finding the strength to entertain large crowds again and mingle in town. Though he played the incorrigible flirt, the truth of the matter was that Lord Searly had grown extremely bitter. He spent his days in enjoyment, but found he no longer trusted anything or anyone. This tactic proved a success, as nothing seemed to affect him again.

  It was not until meeting Caroline that he had allowed himself to feel anything again. He did not even understand his fascination with the woman. Perhaps it was the fact that she did not try to attract him. Sometimes he even wondered if she was capable of caring for him. She seemed so distant, so lost in contemplation and thought. Try as he might, he could not win her easily. He found she was incapable of doing anything for ulterior motives. He loved her for it. If only he could make her see how happy they would be.

  He was sure they would marry. Or was he? She was open with him, at times she even confided in him. He had enjoyed glimpses of her spirit and trust. Thoughts of her surprised expressions at his occasionally improper behavior left him smiling. He wanted nothing more. Yet, he was not so infatuated that he did not see the obstacles before him.

  The most notable of such was Mr. Clark. Lord Searly had noted Caroline’s frequent visits to his shop, the gossip of the Jaspers’ house party, and the charming way in which the pair had danced at the spring ball. He knew there was no mistaking what he saw. He felt certain Mr. Clark, as honorable as he was, would not induce the girl to matrimony when such an advantageous alternative stood before Caroline. And what else could ensure her happiness more than rank and fortune? Lord Searly knew a passing fancy, and though he could never objectify Caroline as one, he knew Mr. Clark might come to see her as such someday. There was only one thing left to do, Lord Searly decided, and that was to notify Mr. Clark of his intentions with the girl.

  A

  The bell startled Thomas. He scarcely had time to straighten his attire before Lord Searly paraded in toward his drafting table. Thomas endeavored to conceal his contempt for the man. He knew there was no reason to resent the duke. In fact, he recognized Lord Searly’s patronage as beyond fortuitous. It was the duke who first established Thomas’s reputation of unmatched skill and craftsmanship in London. Yet, Thomas found his dislike for the man rising with every passing moment.

  The two were conversing lightly, when Lord Searly’s face darkened. He glanced over his shoulder and then began speaking in hushed tones. “Clark, my man, I cannot thank you enough. Your timely intervention has spared Lucy the most unfortunate of circumstances. Add to that the happy consequences of such gruesome events. My cousin David is now engaged to Lucy, and I am finally in favor with Caroline again. I owe you my profound gratitude. You must know that I am in your debt,” Lord Searly explained as he placed his leg upon the stool that Thomas was sitting on.

  His air of confidence and superiority had never seemed so exaggerated. Thomas continued carving his last. “I did not intend a favor in return. It was simply the right thing to do.”

  Lord Searly’s laughter filled the shop, as he nodded amusedly. “Yes, you are quite right, Clark. It was the right thing to do. I see you think I am quite arrogant.”

  Thomas looked up from his work, staring blankly at Lord Searly in response.

  “Yes, yes. I suppose I have been acting rather haughty. It is of no offense to you, Clark, for you see me as I am. I have been raised a duke, and remain a duke. I have not been taught the modesty you so naturally possess.”

  Thomas’s jaw came forward as he clenched his teeth. He attempted at civility. “I have no reason to take offense from you. You are a loyal customer, and I am grateful for your business.”

  Lord Searly was clearly no longer listening. He now was focused on the sketch lying on the table. It was a sketch of a lady’s leather riding boot, with intricate leather detailing.

  “Extraordinary, Clark. Are these designs for a customer?”

  Thomas shook his head. “It is just a project I have been working on in my spare time.” They were, of course, sketches Thomas had made with Caroline in mind. Ever since Caroline’s broken boot, Thomas was convinced she needed something more reliable.

  Lord Searly was now holding the papers in his hand. “I simply must have you make these boots.”

  Thomas swallowed hard. “And what need have you of ladies’ riding boots?”

  Lord Searly laughed again. “Oh, I have a great need of them. I will give them to a certain lady as a bridal gift, when she accepts, you see. I have no doubt. You have Caroline’s measurements, I presume?”

  Thomas fought the urge to refuse, owing to his mounting workload. There was nothing that would be more infuriating than for Lord Searly to give the boots to Caroline. And yet, Thomas reminded himself that he would never be matched with her. She would, most likely, accept the duke’s proposal. After a hard swallow and an inward groan, he nodded curtly. “I will get started right away, my lord.”

  “Wonderful, Clark. You must arrange the fittings and such. Until we meet again,” Lord Searly responded pleasantly as he tipped his hat and let himself out of the shop.

  Thomas muttered an incoherent farewell after the door slammed shut.

  Joseph let out a loud “hmphff” but did not get up from his small desk.

  Thomas exhaled loudly. “If you must say it, then say it.”

  Joseph remained silent.

  Thomas, agitated as he was, found himself abandoning his work and striding around the curtain to face his clerk. “What? I see you have established an opinion of some sort. I can only guess it has to do with the duke.”

  Joseph straightened his posture; swiping his hand through his red and somewhat disheveled hair. “Come, Tom. Don’t go making this about the duke. You know very well it’s about you. You have feelings for Miss Caroline. Even I can see it, yet y
ou allow that man to claim her as his bride without the slightest show of resistance. I thought you had more nerve.”

  Thomas’s jaw was clenched again, his dark eyes full of stern indignation.

  “Sir, if I may be so bold, I must say that you will live to regret it.”

  The words pierced Thomas. He shrugged, attempting to conceal his pain. He turned from his clerk and mumbled, “You imagine me severely affected by the girl, Joseph. Do not presume to give me advice.”

  Thomas was left in contemplation much of the day. The sky had turned dark, much like the expression on his face. Thomas had even sat at his drafting table for a full twenty minutes watching the rain beat against the window without the slightest sign of stopping. The streets began to clear until Thomas discovered it was pointless to keep the shop open. He dismissed his clerk early and set out at his drafting table to finish the day’s work.

  Thomas soon found, however, that his mind was much too preoccupied to get anything done. His thoughts had turned to Caroline. His mind reviewed the past months, stopping to illuminate on every detail of their meeting, the house party, her concussion, and the visits in the shop, until at last his mind rested on their solitary moment in her parlor but a week ago where they had shared a kiss. He had known nothing more appealing than the idea of a life with Caroline, but his sense of reality did not allow him to fool himself. Such a lady deserved more than he could offer.

  A

  Lady Hopkins had hardly sat a moment all day. With the preparations to leave town, the wedding shopping, and the persistent suspicion she felt about Caroline, her nerves had almost taken over entirely. Caroline had been acting strangely, and if Lady Hopkins did not know better, it looked as if the girl was heartbroken. Caroline had refused her morning tea, refused a ride in the park with Lord Hopkins, and had been silently plucking at the piano all afternoon. Lady Hopkins had attempted at conversation, but her daughter had moodily left the room at the mention of Lord Searly. Lady Hopkins had only brought him up in a subtle, non-prodding sort of way, or so she thought. Her mothering instincts told her not to touch on the subject for the rest of the day. Perhaps something had happened between the pair to make Caroline so gloomy.