by Laura Martin
‘Mr Reston.’
‘Terrible at cards and always at the gaming tables.’
‘Lord Potteridge.’
‘A complete bore.’
She fell silent.
‘I think we need tea.’ Standing, she walked over to the wall and pulled the bell cord to summon one of the maids.
‘How about Lord Hauxton?’ she suggested quietly. She knew Milton was one of James’s closest friends and Caroline had been close to his wife before she had died in childbirth. Lord Hauxton was seen by many of the ton as abrupt and on occasion rude, but Caroline had always found him refreshingly straightforward in a world where no one said what they really thought.
She watched as the emotions flitted across James’s face. He might not love her as she wished, but she knew he would find it hard losing her. Theirs was a friendship that they both cherished equally.
‘Milton is a good man,’ he said after a long minute of consideration.
‘But...?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s wealthy and titled and a good friend, a good man.’
‘But...?’
‘He wouldn’t be right for you.’ James shifted in his chair, frowning as he spoke. ‘He’s too serious. You need someone to bring joy into your life. To laugh with, to share every moment with.’
‘I think he should go on the list. He’s the best we’ve come up with so far.’
James started to murmur something, but was interrupted by the door opening and the maid slipping inside.
‘Can we have some tea, please, Mary?’
‘Of course, I’ll fetch it straight away.’
Caroline returned to her seat, feeling her heart begin to thump a little harder in her chest as James moved closer and took her hand. ‘I’m failing you on our very first day.’
‘Let’s move on to something else. Perhaps you can teach me how to flutter my eyelashes to gain a man’s attention.’
James grimaced. ‘Please don’t. Ever. It annoys me so much and I can’t imagine any other man is enamoured with the action. All it does is signal how naive a young woman is. And you, Cara, are not naive.’
Intrigued, Caroline edged forward. ‘How about pouting?’
‘Makes young ladies look like a surprised fish.’
‘Hair flicking?’
‘Likens the lady to a horse. And it can be dangerous—I’ve known many a man almost lose an eye from a vigorous hair flick.’
‘Now you exaggerate.’
‘Only slightly.’
‘How about a coy head tilt?’ Caroline moved her head very subtly to one side as she had seen many of the young debutantes do, tilting ever so slightly to give the best angle.
‘Probably the safest of the lot, but I can assure you it isn’t going to make a jot of difference to the gentleman you’re speaking to.’
‘So what should I do?’
‘Honestly? Smile. You look beautiful when you smile. Look a man straight in his eyes and smile. Not a coy or seductive smile, just your natural, normal smile. Not many men can resist a woman who looks at them, only them, and smiles genuinely.’
Caroline considered. As she thought about it she realised it was good advice. If she noticed the eyelash fluttering and hair flicking and pouting and found it annoying, it was only to be expected that a man would, too. It was unnatural, put on, a show, when really what most people wanted was a glimpse of the woman underneath. The woman they would have to wake up to every morning without the sheen of the ballroom and the alluring rustle of silks.
‘Go on,’ James prompted her, ‘smile at me.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
He stood, reaching out for her hand and pulling her to her feet. Caroline felt her body brush against his, felt the heat from him despite the layers they were both wearing. She swallowed before she raised her eyes to meet his, feeling her throat turning dry and her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.
‘Look at me,’ he said so quietly it was almost a whisper. As she looked up, meeting his dark eyes with her own, she felt the rest of the world slip away, leaving them in a wonderful intimate seclusion. ‘Hold my gaze, then smile at me as if I’m the only man in the world.’
She almost pulled away, but somehow she stayed where she was, resisting every sensible fibre in her body that told her to run for the door. For a long few seconds she held his gaze, letting her eyes take in every detail of his: the dark brown irises with the lighter ring just around the pupil, the flecks of gold bursting from the centre, the thick lashes that framed his eyes, the smooth skin above and below. Then she smiled, slowly, languidly, directing it completely at him as if he were the one thing that made her happy.
They stayed with their eyes locked on one another for ten more seconds until the door rattled open and Mary slipped inside with a tray of tea. Caroline saw James stiffen in surprise, then the moment between them was gone as he turned and took the tray from the maid.
* * *
James was glad of the routine task of preparing the tea to distract him as his pulse slowed to a more regular rate. He poured slowly, watching the liquid splash into the cups before adding just the right amount of milk and a spoon of sugar for Caroline. By the time he looked up and handed over her cup he felt almost back to his normal self.
Careful, he cautioned himself as his hand brushed against hers.
It was only a smile, a smile he’d seen hundreds of times, thousands. Caroline smiled at him multiple times a day. Little secret smiles at jokes they shared, the full, joyful smile when he returned from a trip away, the smile that cracked through when she meant to admonish him, but couldn’t quite keep a straight face.
Thousands of smiles, but never before had he reacted in such a visceral, primal way. He’d felt the urge to reach out, to draw her to him, to cover her mouth with his own and claim her.
Risking a look up, he felt himself relax a little. It was just Caroline sitting across from him, no different from usual. And no unsettling urges to reach across the space between them and pull her into his lap.
‘How did I do?’ Caroline asked as she cradled the cup of tea in her hands, slipping off her shoes and tucking her feet underneath her in the armchair.
‘It was perfect. More effective than pouts and hair flicks.’
Much more effective.
Five years, that was how long he’d known Caroline, and not once in those five years had she affected him like she had just now. It was one of the main reasons their friendship worked so well—there was no blurring of the lines between them.
‘Smiling is all very well,’ Caroline said, taking a sip of her tea, then swirling the liquid round in her cup as she spoke, ‘but that assumes a gentleman is taking an interest in me. I can’t run around grinning like a mad woman. How do I get the right sort of man to engage me, to ask me to dance?’
‘It’s all in your demeanour,’ James said, feeling as if he were heading back towards safer ground. ‘Just think. Last Season, if you suspected a gentleman might be interested in you, what would you do if he obtained an introduction from a mutual friend and struck up a conversation?’
Caroline considered for a moment, her head to one side. He could tell she was running through a catalogue of such meetings in her mind and he couldn’t help but smile when she grimaced.
‘Perhaps I haven’t always been the most welcoming.’
‘Talk me through how you would react, what you would say. No...’ he placed his teacup back in the saucer and stood ‘...show me. Imagine I’m an unwanted potential suitor.’
Slowly she stood, tucking her feet back into her shoes.
‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,’ she said, bowing her head. He saw she didn’t hold eye contact for more than a second and looked about her with a distracted air.
‘It is a pleasant evening, is it not?’
; ‘Indeed.’
‘Are you enjoying the ball?’
‘It is diverting, although quite a crush.’
James paused and Caroline nodded her head slowly.
‘I’m keeping the conversation superficial, an exchange of pleasantries, but not allowing it to go any deeper.’
‘There’s only so long a man can comment on the weather or the social event. If you keep the conversation superficial, no matter how much he’s interested in you he will eventually just move on.’
‘It’s true.’ She chewed on her lip as if remembering her behaviour the last few years.
‘You use single-word answers or short sentences, you give nothing of yourself away.’
‘But what if I have nothing interesting to say?’
He laughed, only stopping when he realised she was being completely serious.
‘Cara, you’re anything but boring.’
‘With you, perhaps, but I’m used to you.’
‘You make me sound like an old piece of clothing. Comfortable.’
‘That’s how you make me feel.’
He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a compliment or not, but he didn’t really want to be like an old piece of clothing to Caroline.
‘Invite them in, let them get to know you. When they ask questions, tell them how you really feel rather than giving some meaningless platitude.’
‘No platitudes,’ Caroline said softly. ‘And a proper smile.’
She looked up at him then and smiled again and James felt the world around them tilt slightly, as if he were standing on uneven ground. Impulsively he reached out and caught her hand, feeling her soft fingers beneath his own. He’d brought it halfway to his lips before he caught himself and by then it was too late to hide the intended gesture. With a flourish he turned it theatrical, planting a kiss beneath her knuckles.
‘You’ll be the toast of the ball tonight.’
‘The Tevershams’?’ Caroline groaned.
‘You’re attending?’
‘I told my mother last night I wished to find a husband, to marry this Season. She promptly declared we would attend every ball, every dinner party, every social occasion until I had a wedding date set.’
He laughed, imagining Lady Yaxley’s delight when she heard Caroline’s announcement. As an only child Caroline would be the only one to give Lady Yaxley grandchildren and he knew she delighted in fussing over young children.
‘So, yes, I’ll be attending the Tevershams’ ball and any other ball these coming few weeks. Will you be there?’
‘I will. I need to see my pupil in action.’
Caroline looked at him in horror.
‘I’ll be discreet,’ James assured her.
‘You’re going to glower.’
‘I’ve never glowered in my life.’
‘Well, you’re going to distract me, then.’
‘You won’t even know that I’m there.’
She looked as though she were about to say more, but then shut her mouth quickly.
* * *
‘I should probably leave soon.’ Caroline sighed, flopping back in the chair. She looked comfortable, as if she belonged in his study, and for an instant he had a flash of what it might be like if he did ask Caroline to be his wife.
Clearing his throat, he stood quickly. He must be coming down with something—he’d had far too many uncomfortable thoughts this morning. First that flash of desire and now this comfortable, contented feeling he got when imagining Caroline in his house, legitimately, as his wife.
‘I’ll call your maid,’ he said. It was just an anomaly, a one-off occurrence. He needed a few hours away from Caroline and when he saw her next everything would return to normal.
Caroline blinked, as if surprised to have been dismissed, even if gently. Then she nodded and stood, smoothing down her skirts.
‘What is our next lesson?’ She waited until he returned to the room and then turned to face him.
‘You don’t need any lessons on dancing, but perhaps tonight we could practise your subjects of conversation when a gentleman asks you to dance.’
‘No more small talk,’ she said with a smile. She reached out and took his hand, waiting for him to meet her eyes, then squeezing. ‘Thank you. Perhaps with your help I will be a married woman by this time next year.’
‘The men of London are fools if they don’t rush to propose.’
Chapter Six
Dear Georgie,
How are you? Thank you for your last letter—I was so eager to hear all your news, although I’m sure everything has changed now seeing as it took almost a year for the letter to reach me. How are the children? I long to see James, Amelia and Thomas—do they look any more like you as they get older or do they still favour their father in looks?
Recently I’ve been wanting to see you even more than usual. I wish for your wise counsel and advice.
I’ve decided to marry. It might seem like a rushed decision, but I’ve been thinking about it for quite some time. I have to admit the idea has been growing for the last six months at least.
I think I’ve accepted nothing is ever going to happen with James—really accepted it. I will always love him—I don’t think you can ever rid yourself of true love, can you? Still, I need to move on with my life, to build something new. As I grow older I realise I want a family. I want a horde of lively, beautiful children and the only respectable way to make that happen is to find a husband.
So that is my aim this Season. I am not overly fussy—he doesn’t have to be young and handsome, just reasonably kind, and happy to give me some modicum of freedom.
Caroline paused in her writing, reading back what she had written. She thought back to when she and Georgina had been giddy debutantes, convinced the men of their dreams would swoop in and whisk them away in a flurry of romance and adventure. It had happened for Georgina, although Caroline wasn’t so naive to think it had been easy—her friend had given up a lot to start her life with Sam Robertson. She’d left her friends, her family, her country behind, but it was still a happy ending.
Blinking back the tears, Caroline picked up her pen again. She would get her own happy ending, just perhaps not the one she’d always dreamed of. A life of simple contentment was her aim now.
As you can imagine, Mother is ecstatic. I’ve only just informed her of my plans and already she has a courtship and wedding planned out.
Tell me, Georgie, do you think I’m doing the right thing? I know I’ve always said I will not marry, I won’t settle, but as I get older it seems I want different things.
This will make you laugh—James has taken it upon himself to be my tutor in attracting suitors. He tells me that he has had every technique tried on him, so he knows what is effective.
He is completely oblivious to the bittersweet irony of his teaching me how to seduce another man, but I am determined this will be the year that I finally give up this infatuation and build something for myself which isn’t based entirely on dreams and wishes.
Perhaps by the time this letter reaches you I will be a married woman.
Write to me, Georgie. I long to hear all your news.
With everlasting affection,
Caroline
She signed her name with a flourish. She always found writing letters cathartic, especially to Georgina. Although Georgina’s departure had been the event that had brought James into her life Caroline still missed her friend sorely. They corresponded a lot, but the months it took for the letters to reach the other side of the world meant it felt more like writing in a diary than to another person.
As she folded the letter in half and slipped it into the envelope the door to her bedroom opened and her mother bustled inside, stopping abruptly as she saw Caroline seated at her little writing desk.
‘Whatever are you doing?’
&
nbsp; ‘Writing a letter to Georgina.’
‘At a time like this?’
Caroline raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. She loved her mother dearly, every last bit of her—the dramatic exclamations and the over-the-top worries as much as the kind heart and the staunch defence she mounted if anyone dared to criticise anyone important to her.
‘Twenty minutes, in twenty minutes we leave for the ball where you may meet your future husband.’
‘You make it sound rather dramatic, Mama.’
‘It is important, Caroline. Now let me look at you.’
Obediently Caroline stood up. She was wearing a brand-new dress, a beautiful royal-blue silk gown that swept majestically from a high waist to the floor. The bodice area had tiny gold flowers embroidered all over it and a gold sash separated the bodice from the silk skirt. Silently Caroline thanked her mother for understanding that whites and pastels, the traditional colours for debutantes and unmarried young women, washed her out and made her look pale and unhealthy. After years of conforming she had decided she would wear what suited her rather than what was expected. The result was pleasing, even to Caroline’s self-critical eyes. Her maid had also done a fantastic job with her hair, coiling the long strands into elegant curls that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, and pinning up the front to accentuate the blonde in her hair. Again most young women would wear their hair up tonight, with tight curls arranged around their faces, perhaps a ribbon for decoration.
‘You look beautiful,’ Lady Yaxley said, tears welling in her eyes.
‘You’re sure about my hair?’
‘Absolutely, my darling. It suits you. Besides, not quite the same things are expected of you as if it were your first Season.’
Caroline looked at herself in the mirror, checking each angle critically, and was surprised to find she was pleased with the result. It might have been a cutting remark two evenings before, but Rebecca Preston hadn’t been wrong when she’d described Caroline as angular. Her face was a little too thin, her nose a little too pointed, her body a little too sharp without the soft curves gentlemen seemed to prefer, but tonight even she found it difficult to be too critical of her appearance.