by Laura Martin
* * *
Standing in front of the mirror, Caroline jabbed a pin into her hair and grimaced. Her lady’s maid, Anna, made it look so easy when she swept Caroline’s hair up into a neat coil, taking just a few minutes to make her look presentable.
‘It’s impossible,’ she muttered, selecting another pin and pushing it into her hair. Tentatively she took her hands away and almost growled in frustration as the strands tumbled down around her shoulders again. ‘Can you put something in the note that would explain why my hair is unpinned?’ she called to James.
He was sitting in his study, writing a note to be delivered to Caroline’s mother to explain why they had been out for so long. Knowing James it would be short and to the point, and all the more convincing because of it.
‘Shall I blame the horde of marauding pirates or the mischievous flock of geese?’
‘I hope you’re going to come up with something more convincing than that.’
‘I have merely said there was an accident and we have been detained, but no one is harmed.’
Simple, to the point. Although she would have to come up with the details to satisfy her mother’s curiosity later.
Caroline took two more pins and stuck them into her hair, regarding the result with a grim displeasure. It would have to do. She turned and entered James’s study, flopping down into one of the armchairs while he arranged for a footman to deliver the note.
‘You will have to stay another twenty minutes,’ he said as he came back into the room. ‘Otherwise you’ll arrive too soon after the note.’
It wasn’t a hardship spending twenty minutes in James’s comfortable study, even when she should be worrying about what she was going to say to pacify her mother when she finally returned home.
‘We could use the time to start your next lesson.’
‘What is my next lesson?’
‘You’re going to the opera with Milton tomorrow night, aren’t you?’
She nodded. It wasn’t her favourite place to go for a night out, but he’d asked and she had accepted in the spirit of furthering their acquaintance.
‘Then perhaps we should work on a little flirtation in close quarters.’
Caroline swallowed, remembering the look in his eyes as she had emerged from behind the screen in the artist’s studio, dress falling off her shoulders and hair flowing down her back. It would be dangerous to accept his proposal, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.
‘Surely there is little I can do. The opera is a very public place, there are eyes watching you from every direction.’
It was the truth, the opera was as much about socialising as it was enjoying the spectacle on stage and there would be plenty of gossip aimed in her direction when she arrived on Lord Hauxton’s arm.
‘On the contrary, there is much you can do. How you sit, how you lean in, those little touches that can be fleeting, but filled with meaning.’
Reaching out, he pulled her to her feet and as Caroline stood, their bodies brushed together. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it or if he lingered just a moment too long before stepping away. He led her over to his desk and motioned for her to sit in the chair behind it, before manoeuvring the one on the opposite side to be placed next to her.
‘Imagine you’re watching the opera. The scene on stage is intense and I lean in to murmur something about one of the performers.’ He moved closer, his lips almost brushing her ear and sending delicious shivers down her spine. ‘Impressive range.’
It took all her effort not to lean back into him, not to hope his arms would encircle her and pull her towards him.
‘How would you react?’
She steeled herself, rallying. With a little half-smile she made eye contact, swaying in even closer and touching her hand fleetingly to his. ‘And such presence,’ she murmured. ‘I haven’t seen a performer captivate an audience like this in a long time.’
James’s lips parted and for a second she thought he might kiss her, but then he abruptly pulled away. ‘You told me you didn’t know how to flirt,’ he said with his customary smile. ‘I think you will have no problem captivating any man’s attention.’
She couldn’t tell him that everything came so easily when he was around, that her heart might be pounding in her chest, but still she found it easy to talk to him. The little touches, the eye contact, all of it felt so forced, so awkward with anyone but him.
‘I get nervous,’ she said, sitting back, trying to create some distance between them to see if it would help her concentrate.
‘When you get nervous just imagine it is someone you are comfortable talking to. Your cousin, perhaps, or me.’
His words cut through her and she had to turn away to hide the anguish on her face. He truly had no idea that she would be sitting there at the opera wishing it was him accompanying her, wishing it was him she was flirting with. Even with her best intentions to move on with her life she knew every conversation, every encounter with a potential suitor, would be overshadowed by James’s presence.
‘I should go,’ she said, standing abruptly. ‘The note should have reached my mother by now and I don’t want her rushing round here to accompany me home.’
‘I’ll walk you.’
‘No, I’ll be fine on my own.’
‘Nonsense.’ He was already halfway out to the hall to call for their coats. Caroline hesitated, then followed. She knew the sensible thing was to give in. It was dark out and there was no way James would ever jeopardise her safety by letting her walk home by herself. This part of London was safer than most, but that didn’t mean a young lady should venture out alone after dark.
‘Ten more minutes,’ she reassured herself. Ten more minutes and then she could shut herself in her bedroom and cry into her pillow for the life she would never have.
Chapter Nine
It was cold outside, with a frost already beginning to form on the grass of the little green spaces and parks as they walked past. Caroline pulled up the collar of her coat to shield her neck from the worst of the icy temperatures and moved a fraction closer to James to share some of his warmth. One hand was resting on James’s arm, the other held Bertie’s lead, with her lively dog walking sedately for once, tired out by all the excitement of the day.
‘I love evenings like this,’ James said, looking up at the sky. Caroline also looked up. There were no stars visible, as was normal in London. It was one of her favourite things about returning to Hampshire, being able to look out of her bedroom window at night and see the constellations. Tonight the sky was clear and the moon bright above them, but not a single star was visible.
‘Do the stars look the same in Italy?’ She had often wondered this, late at night when she would stare at the sky and imagine James looking up at the same sky thousands of miles away. Sometimes she would allow herself to indulge in her secret fantasy, imagining she was strolling arm in arm with James through the piazzas of Florence or meandering over the bridges in Venice.
‘They do. Although it certainly isn’t as cold as this out there.’
‘You’ve never been in the coldest months.’
‘True.’ James might love to travel and spend as many months away from England as at home, but he didn’t shirk his responsibilities. He always came back for the winter months when Parliament was in session and spent time touring his estates and sorting out any problems his estate managers brought to his attention. Caroline knew he left his cousin, a young but very capable man, in charge while he was away. ‘I can’t really imagine ice on the canals or snow covering the Colosseum.’
‘Tell me about Italy again,’ Caroline prompted quietly.
James looked at her, affection in his eyes, but she wondered if there was a hint of pity there, too, as if he knew the closest she would ever get to foreign travel would be his stories.
‘You would love it, Cara, the people, the co
untryside, the sights. It is a country filled with passion and beauty and serenity.’ He paused as they rounded the corner and had to wait for a carriage to trundle down the road before they could cross to the pavement on the other side. ‘My favourite place I’ve ever been is a sleepy little village called Positano. It is nestled on the hillside of the Amalfi coast and it looks as though it has come straight from an artist’s imagination.’
She loved the slightly dreamy, faraway look he got in his eyes when he was recounting the details of one of his trips.
‘The streets are steep and cobbled and the houses painted in pastels. In the squares and piazzas, the locals drink coffee and watch the world meander on, happy in the knowledge they live in one of the most idyllic places in the world. And the sea...it’s a blue like I’ve never seen before, deep and inviting and beautiful.’
‘Do you swim in the sea?’ Immediately she regretted the question—even before he answered she could imagine him stripping off on a rocky outcrop and diving naked into the water.
‘In that heat, with the cool water so inviting, it would be foolish not to.’
‘I’ve only been to the seaside twice so I’m no expert, but I’m guessing they don’t have bathing machines in Positano like they do in Brighton.’
He threw his head back and laughed. ‘No, I think the Italians would think we English make a simple swim in the sea far more complicated than it should be.’
‘But surely men and women aren’t allowed to swim together.’
James shrugged. ‘They have areas of the beach where the men swim and areas for the women. That’s not to say that late at night there isn’t some blurring of those lines.’
That right there was another fantasy that Caroline knew would torment her when she was alone at night. She could almost see a version of herself slipping into the warm Italian sea to join James for an illicit midnight swim.
She coughed to try to cover her embarrassment and was mortified to see James looking at her with a knowing expression on his face.
‘You’re imagining it, aren’t you?’
‘Imagining what?’
‘A late-night swim with a gentleman you favour.’
She shook her head violently and knew he would be able to see through the protestation. If she’d been less flustered she would have laughed and made some joke about the temperature of the water killing any ardour she might feel, but she knew it was too late to try that now.
He dropped his voice lower even though there was no one else nearby to overhear. ‘Swimming to the edge of the cove with nothing between the water and your skin, knowing at any moment his body could brush against yours.’
Caroline felt a deep yearning like she had never felt before. She wanted what he was describing so badly, wanted just one moment in the water with James, with him desiring her as much as she did him.
She glanced up and hesitated, almost losing her footing despite the even pavement they were walking on. Not for the first time this evening she saw desire in James’s eyes as he looked down at her and with a jolt of pleasure she knew he was imagining the same thing as her. Imagining it and desiring it.
He cleared his throat and looked as though he were about to say something, then cleared his throat again. ‘There’s a secluded little cove twenty minutes from Positano, you have to climb over the rocks a little to get there. The locals tell me if you swim in the waters of the cove at midnight with a woman your souls will be bound together for eternity.’
‘You didn’t take anyone for a swim there?’
‘No. I don’t think I could impose myself on anyone for eternity.’
‘You know half the women in London would do anything to be bound to you for one lifetime, let alone eternity.’
‘They would do anything to be bound to my title and my money,’ he corrected her.
Caroline blinked, hit by the sudden realisation of how lonely life must be for James. She’d seen time and time again people treat him differently because of his title and status. They were overly polite, but in doing so were overly superficial. He had hinted before he had only a small handful of true friends, people who wanted to socialise with him not for the connections he could bring, but for the pleasure of his company alone. She’d known all of this, but somehow hadn’t been able to see how it influenced so many parts of his life.
‘Is that why you travel so much?’
He turned to her with a question in his eyes.
‘To meet new people, people who don’t know you’re probably the richest man in England, people who don’t treat you differently from any other English gentleman on the Continent—it is liberating.’
‘I always thought it was because of Georgie.’
James frowned. ‘Lady Georgina?’
‘I thought you cared for her more than you let on, that her decision to run away to Australia hurt you deeply despite what you said and that was why you went away so much.’
Over the years he’d revealed only a little about his short engagement to Georgina. He’d always told Caroline it hadn’t been love, that his resolve to hold out for a woman he had that instant connection with had wavered and Georgina had been a suitable candidate for a wife. When she had come to him to break off their engagement, he had encouraged her to follow her heart and be with the man she loved. Still, Caroline had always wondered, always feared, that there had been more to his feelings than the respect and mild affection he proclaimed he felt for Georgina.
‘Lady Georgina was an amiable woman, but I wasn’t overly upset by the ending of our engagement. Besides, I have been going off on trips across Europe since long before I met you and Lady Georgina.’ He smiled at her, a smile that made her heart squeeze in her chest. ‘With no intent of undermining Lady Georgina’s character, the best thing to come out of my short engagement with her was my friendship with you.’
He paused, turning his body slightly so he was facing her. Caroline saw they were at the corner of her street, only a hundred feet away from her front door. As always she didn’t want the time with James to end, especially after all the revelations of the last few minutes.
‘You are very dear to me, Cara,’ he said, reaching out and trailing his fingers down her cheek in an intimate gesture that took her breath away. ‘Sometimes I wonder...’ He trailed off and looked away, shaking his head as if deciding not to continue with the thought.
For a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her and the disappointment washed over her as he stepped away.
‘I should get you home.’
In silence they covered the short distance to her front door.
* * *
James felt Caroline slip her arm from his as they reached the steps leading up to her front door. He still couldn’t believe what he’d been about to say. He needed some space, some distance from Caroline and the intense urges he was having today.
‘Caroline darling,’ Lady Yaxley called as she flung open the front door. She must have been watching from the window, waiting for them to walk up the street. He squinted back into the darkness wondering if she had seen them pause on the corner, seen him lean in as if he’d been about to kiss Caroline. ‘I’ve been so worried. What happened?’
Bertie bounded up the steps and disappeared into the house, barking loudly. Caroline’s eyes followed her dog and a look of relief crossed over her face.
‘An incident with Bertie, Mama. You know how excitable he gets with the ducks in the park. His lead got caught and then as he was struggling to free himself he knocked Lord Heydon into the Serpentine.’
Lady Yaxley gasped, but James could see she was trying to hide a smile. ‘Were you harmed, Your Grace?’
‘Only my pride, Lady Yaxley. And sometimes it is beneficial to a man to be reminded that, no matter his status, he can still be knocked to the ground, or in this case the water, by an overenthusiastic dog.’
‘Lucki
ly we were in a quiet area so not too many people saw His Grace go for his little swim.’
‘Luckily,’ he murmured. It was an inventive story, with just enough absurdity to make it paradoxically unlikely to be made up.
‘You must come in, Your Grace.’
‘I don’t want to impose.’ By the time he’d finished his protestation he’d already been ushered inside and directed to a warm seat by the fire. Bertie looked up at him with lidded eyes and James gave the dog a rub on the head.
‘He’s a monster,’ Lady Yaxley said, looking at the bloodhound with undisguised love in her eyes.
‘But he’s our monster.’ Caroline crouched down beside Bertie and stroked his back. ‘Whatever happens we mustn’t tell Father about this. He thinks Bertie is too unruly as it is.’
‘I’m sorry for the lateness of the hour,’ James said, flashing his most endearing smile. ‘Your daughter was kind enough to accompany me home so I might change before we returned here. Of course I ensured we were properly chaperoned at all times.’ He thought back to the moments in the artist’s studio and his house, moment after moment where they had been unchaperoned and alone. Multiple moments where he had wanted to kiss Caroline, to pick her up and carry her to his bedroom and ravish her just as he did in his dreams.
‘I’m just glad you are both unharmed. Will you stay for a brandy, Your Grace? Or a glass of wine.’
‘A brandy would be much appreciated. Warming.’
Lady Yaxley rang for the footman and quietly asked for a brandy. While she was occupied Caroline came and took the chair beside him.
‘Not bad,’ he murmured. ‘Certainly an inventive story.’
‘I thought it was inspired.’
‘Although your mother might question why no one saw a dripping wet duke walking through Hyde Park this afternoon.’
Caroline sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she considered this.
‘How easy do you think it would be to start a rumour that you were pulled into the Serpentine?’