Caroline found she, too, garnered attention from a few of the older men. I’ll have to learn to flirt, she thought, as several charmingly worded compliments warmed her cheeks.
The sun was past its zenith when the group retraced their path and dispersed to keep other afternoon appointments. Hal and Caroline said their goodbyes. Caroline happened to glance back where Briella was still in conversation. At that moment, a fancy black curricle sporting a pair of chestnuts pulled up alongside her.
Seated beside the duke was one of the most attractive ladies Caroline had seen in a long while. She noticed, too, that the lady was dressed in the most up-to-date fashion. Framed by the rim of her pink bonnet, the girl’s angelic countenance was surrounded by pale golden curls. Caroline saw the blond slip her gloved hand possessively through the crease of Antonio’s elbow, sliding closer to his side on the carriage seat as he brought his matched team to a halt.
Hal turned to see whom his sister was ogling. “Ah, that’s Lady Maribelle,” he commented. “I see Tony hasn’t given up the last of his conquests as yet. A good foil for one another, don’t you think, Caro? She’s so fair and he’s so dark?”
Caroline dared not allow her roiling emotions to show on her face. She muttered, “Yes, indeed. They make a striking pair.” Abruptly, she turned away, touched her crop to the gelding’s shoulder and moved him off at a brisk trot, leaving Hal to catch up. Silently, they rode side by side on the busy thoroughfare, heading back to Berkeley Square and the Templetons’ residence.
* * * *
That evening, Caroline was to attend the theater with Genevieve and Simon Templeton and Sara and Joseph D’Arcy. From there, they would end up at the Nottingham’s ball. After spotting Antonio in the park with his latest light of love, Caroline was tempted to cry off, afraid she might meet him face to face with the blond beauty hanging on his arm.
She thought about it then made up her mind not to deny herself two weeks of enjoyment in Town simply because of the duke’s foibles. Obviously, Antonio wasn’t denying himself. If he approached her, she would be polite but cool, address him with formality, and have it end there. She wouldn’t, she vowed, permit him to manipulate her life.
Caroline didn’t spot Maribelle and Antonio at the theater. She enjoyed Shakespeare’s, Much Ado About Nothing, a lively farce, and was in a gay mood when the group arrived at Nottingham Hall. The Wiltshires, whom Caroline had met at the Templetons’ supper party in Kent, joined them at the crowded late evening gathering.
“Trevor and I are so glad you decided to come to London, Caroline,” Trevor Wiltshire’s viscountess remarked when they had an opportunity to talk. “We looked forward to seeing more of you.” Conversations buzzed through the large crowd, whispering the latest on dits between ladies and men alike, scandalous or no. Who was seen with whom, when and where was the byword for the evening.
Sara D’Arcy was the first to notice and hissed loudly behind her fan. “Whisssh, I see that the dark duke brought his blond ‘Diamond’ with him this evening. I thought he might be shut of her by now. It’s been almost three weeks,” she snickered. “The lady must be something special.”
Caroline forced herself not to look. At just the correct moment, the music began. Trevor Wiltshire approached her. “I believe this is our dance, Lady Caroline.” She glanced at her dance card. It was sparsely filled, but his initials were next to this set. “So it is, Lord Wiltshire,” Caroline agreed, smiling at him. Quickly, they left the group, and she preceded him onto the dance floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Antonio with Maribelle on his arm working his way though the crush toward the Templetons and the D’Arcys.
Caroline danced a set of rollicking country reels with Lord Wiltshire. When the set ended, she excused herself to the ladies’ retiring room. She spied Antonio’s dark head above her circle of friends and hoped by the time she returned, he and his beauteous companion would have moved on.
Caroline entered the ladies’ room to find several young women refreshing themselves. She knew none of them. She smiled a general greeting and began to repair her coiffure and straighten her gown.
“I see Maribelle holds the Duke of Weston’s attention,” remarked a raven-haired beauty that appeared to be one of last year’s debutantes. “Except for a few galas during the past few weeks, he’s spent most of his time with her. Do you suppose he’s finally been caught?” the young woman speculated aloud, pulling some tendrils of dark hair forward on her high forehead, pursing her lips, and pinching her cheeks to make them seem rosier.
Another of the young hopefuls, smiling at her own creamy complexion in the mirror, patted her soft brown curls and practiced a more flirtatious gesture with her fan and eyes, commenting, “Maribelle seems to think so. I was with her only a few days ago. She’s waiting for the duke to come up to scratch.
“And, of course, she’s prepared to accept.” The ladies joined in laughter tinged with the green monster and a goodly smidgen of avarice. “With that face, that set of muscles, and all his other assets, who’d turn him down, foreigner or not?”
With a sly smile, the dark-haired one remarked, “Certainly, not our Maribelle.”
“Nor I,” several of the other ladies replied in unison, giggling.
Caroline listened in pained silence to the cruel-sounding gossip. A gnawing emptiness had developed behind her ribs where her heart resided. What was wrong with her? She had called him the Spaniard in her thoughts, but never tagged him a foreigner. And if he were born outside of Great Britain, he was still half English. She was tempted to tear into the girls’ snide remarks about Antonio’s split heritage, but decided to bite her tongue. There was no reason to champion him; he had enough arrogance of his own.
No longer able to tolerate the impolite company without denouncing their sly on dits, Caroline swept out of the room, glad to be left alone. At the end of a long hallway, she spied a doorway appearing to lead onto the balcony. She picked up her skirts and hurried in that direction.
Stepping into the warm night, Caroline drifted toward the dark end of the balcony where she might be overlooked. Her insides were in turmoil. Fighting unwanted tears that blurred her view, she gazed over the darkened landscape. Her back was turned from the music and the gala festivities going on inside the town house.
Trees and bushes took on strange and mysterious shapes in the dark. The garden paths were made of crushed oyster shell and gleamed white as snow, easily visible when the shining face of the moon peeked briefly from behind the wispy clouds meandering across the night sky. A number of lighted candles in brass holders burned on the balcony’s railing, their flames protected from errant breezes from behind glass chimneys.
Caroline stayed to linger in the dimmest corner of the balcony. Sensing movement behind her, she turned. Someone had come up behind her without making a sound. The footsteps must have been as silent as a panther’s. She jolted in sudden alarm until she realized it was a familiar physique emerging in silhouette from the bright ballroom.
“You startled me, Your Grace.” Her heartbeat butterflied wildly as if taking a soft blow to the chest. Antonio stepped closer. Whimsical beams of the moon’s glow illuminated his features; his black eyes glinted like the onyx stone in the ducal signet ring he wore. To Caroline’s surprise, he was unsmiling and looked tense and concerned.
“Why are you out here alone, Caro?” he asked gruffly.
“I—I needed a breath of air, Your Grace. The ballroom was very stuffy,” was her excuse. “But I’d best be going in. The Templetons will wonder where I’ve gotten to.”
Antonio read insecurity in her expression, but her chin was tilted high when her eyes met his in the shadows. “Stay here with me for a moment, Caro,” he demanded, trapping her between the balcony railing, his body, and the ballroom.
“Please let me pass, Your Grace. We can’t be found out here alone,” she protested, attempting to dodge by him.
“Uno momento. Only a moment. Please.” His voice was soft and his words were uttere
d with a pleading tone she’d never heard him use. “I must speak with you,” he continued, holding her immobile with his voice alone, never touching her.
Caroline was aware she had little control over her emotions when steeped in his powerful charisma. “Say what you have to say quickly, Your Grace, then permit me to return to my friends.”
Antonio gently grasped her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fragile fabric of her silk gown.
“No, Your Grace, I don’t want you to touch me!” Caroline tried to pull away but the strength in his fingers held her fast.
“Why don’t you want me to touch you, Caro? I thought you enjoyed my caresses.”
“Oh! How beastly can you be to bring it up?” she replied in angry embarrassment, wrenching her shoulders out of his hands and hurriedly stepping away. “Was it to remind me of my naiveté? Or how you tricked me?”
“Tricked you?” Antonio responded. “I did no such thing.”
“You let me believe you were angry with me…that I encroached in your stream…that I dared to put a foot on your property like a…a trespasser…and did something so terrible that it…I…required punishment!” Her words caught in her throat.
“Si, I confess to that bit of folly. But you endured your punishment rather well if I recall. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it.” He grinned wickedly. “Are you a masochist, Caro?”
The bully has the audacity to laugh at me!
Caroline couldn’t believe his nerve. “Masochist, indeed! You, sir, are…are shamelessly disrespectful toward a lady!” she blurted.
“Nada. No, Caro, I meant no disrespect. But sometimes I wonder if a lady such as you would…”
He caught himself abruptly. “I know you responded to my kisses. I couldn’t have been mistaken.”
“How can you be so…so vulgar? Don’t you know we shouldn’t be having this conversation at all? It’s wrong to taunt a lady with such…such impudence.” Stammering and without thinking, she blundered on. “Won’t Lady Maribelle be wondering where you are? I understand you’ve barely left her side during the past three weeks.”
Oh, God! I didn’t mean to say that! How did those jealous words slip by my lips?
“Ah ha! Do I sense a bit of the green-eyed monster, Caro?” Antonio smiled at her again, unaffected by her stinging taunts.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she lied. “Your amorous attachments and your lady friends are of no consequence to me. Leave me pass, now, Your Grace. I wish to go inside.” As an afterthought she added, “And, from now on you’re not to badger me.”
As Caroline stepped around him, Antonio grasped her arm gently with a purpose and ignored her pronouncement. “Will you ride with me at eleven tomorrow morning, Caro? I have something to show you.”
His velvet tones coaxed. Bending down toward her, she was almost certain his eyes, glowing with warmth, were the same soft chocolate brown as when they’d waltzed. Her good resolutions were being replaced with something very much like egg pudding. When he was as gentle and non-commanding as he was now, she found him difficult to resist.
“Don’t answer now,” he replied, his voice low. “Just know that I’ll be at Berkeley Square at eleven o’clock.”
Chapter 13
Antonio was up and out of Weston House long before his grandmother and sister arose. It was a quarter hour ride from there to Berkeley Square, and he didn’t want tardiness to mar what he intended to be his first attempt at courting Caroline Lockler.
London had smiled on its population for several days in a row. The sun shone, and some birdcalls were heard from Mayfair’s well tended gardens as Antonio passed by.
He felt good.
The duke dismounted in front of the Templetons’ residence. Luis, his groom, remained with the horses. Taking the steps two at a time, Antonio checked his timepiece. Four minutes to eleven. She couldn’t take offense if he were early, only if he were late. He tapped on the door with the handle of his crop. It was opened almost immediately by an elderly butler in correct black livery and wearing the appropriate arrogant posture and countenance of a longtime retainer.
“Good morning, Your Grace. Lady Caroline awaits you in the green salon. If you will be good enough to follow me.”
So, she, too, was early. Didn’t she know it was customary to keep gentlemen callers waiting for at least a quarter hour? No, she probably wouldn’t. She wasn’t a coquette like others. Antonio inhaled and smiled inwardly, thinking her promptness was a good sign.
Watching the duke enter the salon with such eagerness, Caroline was again enveloped by his personal allure. Antonio’s sensual mouth widened in a smile, and Caroline’s insides flip flopped.
Antonio held his beaver top hat and his crop in one hand. His blue black hair glistened like a raven’s wing. Slicked back from that deep widow’s peak, it made him look like an archangel.
Have I forgotten so soon what he can do to my shaky equilibrium and good-intentioned resolutions? Lord above! He is doing it again, mesmerizing me. I swear he does it on purpose.
Looking back, Caroline remembered when his boyish smile had her spine squishing into mush. His charm lured her into temptation once—and she couldn’t forget her wanton behavior. Desire had run rampant through her like a surging river. Meeting him, as always, his presence was magnified.
As he drew near, Antonio bowed and greeted Caroline with open candor. “Ah, Caro, you didn’t keep me waiting. Bueno, bueno. You are as anxious for our outing as I, si?” Not waiting for a confirmation, he feasted on her beauty. “You look especially lovely this morning. Everyone in the park will envy me my choice of riding companion.”
“Flattery from you, Your Grace? How unexpected.” Caroline’s heart skipped a beat or two, but she couldn’t help adding a small sarcastic putdown. “Fortunately, I’m unimpressed by flowery speeches spouted from such lips as yours.”
“Ah, Caro, why won’t you tread lightly? I’m trying to be good,” Antonio said, quirking one black eyebrow higher than the other. His eyes shone like black, polished marble, a slight hint of mischief hidden inside them. “Can’t you see I’m on my best behavior? But I still want you to address me as Tonio when we’re alone. Please do so,” he countered.
His expression and tone of voice was genial. Caroline couldn’t help herself; her cheeks creased in a smile. “Will you take some refreshment before we leave, Your Gr…Tonio? Coffee, perhaps?”
“No, querida. If you’re ready, we can go.”
She ignored his familiar salutation. What was he here to show her? But as always, she knew he kept his reasons and actions to himself.
“I’ll have my mount brought round. It will take only a moment.”
“No need, Caro. I have brought a mount for you.”
“What? But, I don’t understand…”
“Come, let me show you.” Antonio took her gently by the elbow and guided her to the front door. A footman snapped to attention and held it open. When she stepped onto the landing, Caroline sucked in an audible gasp. Waiting outside, reins in the hands of a young Spanish groom, was the gray mare Briella rode a day ago in the park.
Caroline spun to face Antonio, her eyes wide, and found him watching her intently.
“You like her?”
“Elegancia?”
He nodded. His teeth glistened in a smile of pure pleasure. “I wanted you to have an opportunity to ride one of our Andalusians, Caro. Are you pleased?”
“Pleased? Tonio, I am more than pleased.” Her smile beamed up at him then she turned back to her appraisal of the beautiful animal. “I—I don’t know what to say.” She hesitated. “I must apologize. I had no idea what you were up to.”
“Come, the mare has no fear of the sidesaddle. Briella told you that already. Let me get you mounted. Since I’ve seen you race across the Kent countryside more than once, I’ve no doubt about your riding abilities.”
Willing and excited, Caroline descended the stairs to the block and mounted the beautiful mare. Caroline waite
d until Antonio climbed onto his big bay Thoroughbred. They were soon turning off the busy thoroughfare and into the comparative wilderness of Hyde Park with its spacious greensward and deep patches of thick hedges and small forests. Luis followed them at a discreet distance.
“You see, Caro, I’ve been proper enough to bring along a groom to satisfy your ton’s proprieties.”
From under her thick lashes, she glanced at him sideways. “And you mean to tell me, Your Gr—er, Tonio—that you couldn’t bid your groom leave us alone, and he would obey you?”
“Caro, you’re much too wary. Please relax. Enjoy Elegancia without worry.”
Caroline tapped the mare on the shoulder, and the horses moved out in a brisker trot. Their ride soon escalated into a balanced canter. The mare’s gait was exquisitely smooth and comfortable. Caroline felt as if she were sitting on a cloud.
Antonio led Caroline onto a path away from the mainstream. Enjoying herself immensely, she didn’t protest. They came to a small pond in a quiet area of the park. She noticed no one seemed to have found the secluded haven.
“Do you wish to stroll a bit, Caro?” he asked. “Luis will mind the horses.”
She nodded.
Antonio dismounted and gave the horses’ reins to Luis. Reaching up, he circled Caroline’s waist with his hands and helped her down from the sidesaddle.
They stood gazing at one another for a moment, their bodies not touching physically, but drawn together by a magnetism of which both seemed very aware. Attraction pulled at them like two lodestones, and she felt herself surrendering to its power. Caroline saw Antonio’s pupils grow large and merge into bottomless darkness.
But then he abruptly released her.
He gripped her elbow gently, and they strolled side by side toward the edge of the water.
This spot in the park was far removed from the bustle and noise of the metropolis. It reminded Caroline of Kent and prodded the memory of their meeting at the stream. Her pulse sped faster. Luis was left behind with the horses. Caroline dared not wander out of the groom’s sight for propriety’s sake, but stopped and leaned her back against a large oak tree. Its dense, leafy branches hung over the small pond, putting her into shadow. Antonio halted in front of her.
The Reluctant Duke Page 12