Sense & Sensuality: Caroline's After Dark Georgian Romance (The Gravesmeres Book 3)

by Alicia Quigley

  A gentleman approached her and bowed politely. “You look almost as annoyed as I feel,” he observed. “May I keep you company for a few moments, as we appear to be like-minded?”

  Caroline managed a smile and extended her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know we have met before. Is it Sir Geoffrey Arkwright?”

  The gentleman bowed again. “I’m honored you remember, ma’am. It has been some years since we last met. I have not been in London of late.”

  She gazed up at him. He was perhaps a year or two older than her, with a friendly, open face and steady brown eyes. He had not the physical presence of Lord Gresham, but he had a fine leg, and strong shoulders, currently encased in a modish grey coat that, while not in the greatest extreme of fashion, showed that he was possessed of a talented tailor.

  “And why do you stay away?” she asked politely.

  “The social whirl is not for me,” he responded. “I came up from my estates to visit old friends, and I fear that this visit will satisfy me for several more years.”

  Caroline laughed. “Come now, are we so decadent in London?”

  Sir Geoffrey’s eyes swept across the glittering throng and then returned to rest on Caroline’s face. “Oh, it is not the decadence that bothers me. I simply find that I am better suited to the country.”

  “One would never know it,” said Caroline. “Perhaps your estates’ gain is London’s loss. We could use more gentlemen of a sensible disposition.”

  “Now you make me sound dull,” he replied. “I am not so blind to the delights of the city that I cannot appreciate a beautiful woman.”

  Caroline’s fan flicked back and forth, and she smiled at him. “I see that you are not dull at all,” she said. “You know precisely how to pay a neat compliment.”

  “It is easy when one has the proper inspiration,” he replied, bowing slightly.

  Caroline laughed. “Do not try to gammon me,” she said. “I am not in need of pretty words. If you wish to engage in flattery, there are dozens of young misses here who would love to offer you the opportunity to practice.”

  “You sell yourself short,” replied Sir Geoffrey. “But I believe you have no need of flattery. Your late husband used to tell me how fortunate he was to have a wife who did not expect him to dance attendance upon her.”

  “You knew Giles?” asked Caroline.

  “Not well, but we were acquainted, and I was sorry to hear of his untimely demise,” replied Sir Geoffrey. “He spoke of you often, however.”

  “How nice to know that he said kind things,” said Caroline.

  “Do you miss him greatly?” asked Sir Geoffrey. At her startled expression, he shook his head. “Forgive me; that was impertinent.”

  “No, not at all,” said Caroline. “I did miss him very much, but four years have passed, and while I think fondly of him, I cannot dwell on the past.”

  Sir Geoffrey nodded. “That is a wise course to take. I honor you for it.”

  Caroline smiled absently and stood. “Forgive me, I must find my cousin. It was a pleasure to meet you again, Sir Geoffrey.”

  He bowed over her hand. “May I call on you, Lady Eskmaine?”

  Caroline hid her surprise. “Certainly, Sir Geoffrey, though I am bringing out my young cousin this Season and am seldom to be found at home.”

  “I thank you.” Lord Geoffrey pressed her hand lightly and disappeared into the crowd. Caroline gazed after him for a moment, and then looked up to see Tristan regarding her from across the room, his gray eyes unreadable. He made a movement as though to approach her, and she quickly shook her head at him and frowned. It would not do, with Allegra present and Lady Lansdowne apparently watching them avidly, to be seen talking to Lord Gresham. She felt sure that her familiarity with him must be betrayed in his presence; she certainly knew that whenever she was near him it was all she could do to keep from touching him.

  He raised his eyebrows for one moment, but then his customary bored expression returned. Lady Lansdowne appeared at his elbow, and he turned to her with a courteous bow and said something that made her laugh and tap his cheek with her fan. Caroline stifled her annoyance and went to find Cecilia.

  Chapter 14

  Upon entering the adjoining salon, Caroline found a handsome young poet declaiming his verses, while the audience listened appreciatively. She could see Allegra across the room and made her way there as quietly as possible.

  “Where is Cecilia?” she whispered to Allegra.

  Allegra looked about. “She was here a moment ago. Perhaps she was driven away by this exceedingly long poem. I vow I am bored to tears myself.”

  Caroline surveyed the room, but saw no sign of her cousin. “How could you let her slip away? Allegra, it is too bad of you.”

  Allegra shrugged. “What harm can come to her here?”

  “You of all people should know,” said Caroline. “Which of her suitors have been here tonight?”

  “Lord Barford, Mr. Troughton, Sir Robert Hartnell, and Mr. Wyman.” Allegra ticked the names off on her fingers. “I believe that is all.”

  “Well, I must find her before she does something foolish,” said Caroline. “And you must help me.”

  “Of course I will help you, but there is no cause for alarm,” said Allegra.

  “I hope not,” said Caroline. She moved back through the salon into the room she had previously been in. A quick glance around assured her that Cecilia was not there, and she proceeded quickly into a third. Once again her cousin was not present. As she passed an open door that led to the gardens she saw a slight movement, and she stopped and looked out. Cecilia was standing in the moonlight, her hands clasped in those of a young man who stood very close to her. He seemed to be whispering something in her ear, and Cecilia’s face showed rapt attention.

  “Cecilia!” Caroline stepped through the door. “Whatever are you doing? Come to me this instant!”

  “Caroline!” squeaked Cecilia. She dropped the man’s hands and turned towards her, flushing. “What are you doing here?”

  “I am attending a soiree, which is what you should be doing as well. Come inside now before someone else sees you.”

  The young man stepped forward, and Caroline saw that it was Roland Wyman. “I apologize, Lady Eskmaine, I meant no harm. Miss Ashdown merely wished to see the gardens by moonlight, and I felt she should not be alone. There was no other intent,” he said gracefully.

  Caroline kept her voice steady, though she would gladly have slapped him. “Mr. Wyman, you are not new to town, and should know that this behavior is unbecoming for a child of Cecilia’s years.”

  “I beg your pardon, and Miss Ashdown’s, most sincerely,” said Mr. Wyman. “It will not happen again.”

  “See that it does not,” said Caroline stiffly. “And now, please leave us.”

  Mr. Wyman bowed gracefully and re-entered the house, but not before Caroline caught the teasing look he threw at Cecilia. She turned to that young lady and shook her arm lightly.

  “Whatever are you thinking?” she asked. “If you wish to make a good match, your name cannot be connected with this sort of behavior. You have only your pretty face and your good name. No respectable family will accept a penniless woman who is thought a hoyden.”

  Cecilia blushed. “It was nothing, Cousin. The gardens looked lovely, and the rooms were close, and Mr. Wyman thought there would be nothing wrong with…” her voice trailed off.

  “First of all, you must never listen to what Mr. Wyman has to say,” replied Caroline. “He is a younger son without prospects, and you cannot afford to encourage him.”

  “But he is so pleasant, and handsome, and I just thought that it could do no harm…”

  “He was very nearly kissing you,” said Caroline. “For all I know, he did before I arrived.”

  “Oh, no, he did not,” said Cecilia, turning pinker. “We were merely talking.”

  “I probably don’t want to know about what,” said Caroline. “You cannot single any gentleman ou
t, unless you wish to attract truly vicious gossip, Cecilia. If you wish to make a good marriage, this behavior must not be repeated.”

  “Lady Lansdowne said you were out on the terrace with Lord Gresham at Lady Halliwell’s rout,” said Cecilia, some spirit returning to her voice.

  Caroline glared at her. “I do not need to explain my actions to you. However, I will tell you that I am a widow, with my own fortune, not a penniless young miss attempting to find a wealthy husband. Furthermore, Lord Gresham followed me without my bidding. If you must throw that back at me, please recall that Lady Lansdowne has done her best to make that moment appear scandalous, and I am a widow with many more freedoms than are allowed to you. Only think what might be made of your presence in Mr. Wyman’s arms.”

  “I am sorry,” said Cecilia in a small voice. “But he is very charming. Lord Barford can be dull, and Mr. Troughton is not very intelligent.”

  “Charm, my dear, does not a good husband make,” said Caroline severely. “And charm can be directed at any woman; it is not reserved simply for a wife. I don’t recommend you build your life around any man’s glib tongue. Lord Barford and Mr. Troughton at least both have enough money to make up for their lack of charm. Furthermore, a stupid husband can have some advantages for a clever wife, although I begin to doubt from your behavior and comments this evening, that you can become one.”

  “I will not encourage Mr. Wyman again,” Cecilia said meekly.

  “See that you don’t.” Caroline looked into Cecilia’s disappointed face, and mustered a smile. “Let us go inside, and rejoin the soiree. There is still plenty of time to enjoy yourself.”

  Cecilia nodded, and Caroline led her back into the house. Moments later Allegra walked up on Lord Barford’s arm.

  “There you are, Cecilia dear,” she said. “I told you, Caroline, there was no need for worry.”

  Caroline made a mental note to give Allegra a piece of her mind the next time they were alone. But for now she merely turned Cecilia over to her sister-in-law and watched as Lord Barford, gazing adoringly at Cecilia, led the two ladies off to listen to the music.

  Mr. Wyman returned to the salon, a sense of annoyance flooding him. He fancied that given not many more minutes he would have teased a kiss out of Miss Ashdown. The girl was young and silly, but she was beautiful, and her marriage portion was said to be sizeable. A connection to the Duke of Gravesmere was not to be scorned, either.

  Lady Manning, who had been standing near the doors to the terrace, stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Was that wise? You should know better than to annoy Lady Eskmaine,” she said.

  “What, are you spying on me now? No matter, I know what I’m doing,” he responded curtly.

  “Her family will never allow you to marry her,” said Louisa. “And if they did, you’d be saddled with a child who would want you to dance attendance on her and pretend to love her. It would be tiresome for you.”

  “And you would not require such things, I suppose?” he said.

  “Of course not,” said Louisa. “I know how to treat a gentleman—as you well know.”

  He leered at her. “I do indeed,” he said. “But you, my dear, while lovely and adept, do not have the pedigree of Miss Ashdown.”

  Louisa stifled her annoyance. “Perhaps not, but I have other advantages. My money is my own to do with as I please, and I would never interfere with you. I rather fancy Miss Ashdown would expect you to be faithful to her.”

  “I’ll do as I please when I’m married,” said Mr. Wyman. “She would soon learn her place.”

  Louisa managed a light laugh. It would not do for Mr. Wyman to think her jealous. She had planted a seed that she hoped would eventually flourish. “Well, I wish you luck then. But when you are tired of your milk-and-water maid, remember that there are other pleasures to be found.”

  With a tantalizing smile she drifted away, making sure that her hips swayed alluringly under her skirt. She passed through the salons until she found her hostess, and moved to her side.

  “Louisa, darling,” said Sylvia, wafting an airy kiss in her direction. “How lovely of you to attend. Did I see you speaking to Mr. Wyman?”

  “You did,” responded Louisa. She waved her fan back and forth gently as she looked out over the room. “He had lured that Ashdown child out onto your terrace, and her terrifying cousin found them. No doubt he sought to compromise her and force the family’s hand into allowing a marriage.”

  “So it is all the better for you, is it not, that Lady Eskmaine interfered?” asked Lady Lansdowne archly.

  “We shall see,” answered Louisa. “It appears that he would prefer to wed her and to bed me. I have no doubt he will try again.”

  “Ah.” Sylvia pursed her lips. “What a pity. But do not give up hope, my dear. I hear his creditors are dunning him and he needs money quickly. Courting a virtuous youngster who has other, wealthier suitors takes time, and he cannot have many chances to be alone with her. You may still carry the day.”

  “I can afford to be patient,” said Louisa. “And you? I see Lord Gresham is here tonight.”

  Sylvia frowned. “He is elusive. He laughs and flirts with me, but does no more.”

  “It’s not like Gresham to turn away a willing woman,” Louisa said, a bit waspishly. “Perhaps he does not find you to his taste, Sylvia.”

  “It is most vexatious,” she replied. “I cannot imagine why he will not take what I’m clearly willing to give. If I did not know better, I’d think him married and in love with his wife!”

  Louisa’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Eskmaine is here, I believe,” she said. “Indeed, she is often in his company. I find that very odd, as there is no love lost between Gravesmere and Gresham, and I believe that he and the countess were once at daggers drawn.”

  Sylvia laughed. “Everyone knows that. I had noticed recently that she seems to have a partiality for him, but they haven’t spoken to one another tonight. Indeed, she seemed offended when I mentioned his name to her!”

  “Yes, Lady Eskmaine is very grand; too fine for the likes of us,” agreed Louisa. “And yet, I wonder…”

  “Wonder what?” asked Sylvia.

  “Perhaps my lady has stepped down off her pedestal,” Louisa said softly.

  “Surely you don’t think that they are carrying on an affaire?” asked Sylvia. “What a nuisance that would be!”

  “Gresham’s not known for his constancy,” observed Louisa. “He’d have no qualms about having you, the countess, and an opera dancer on the side if he really wished.”

  “As it’s talent and stamina I’m interested in rather than constancy,” said Sylvia, “I will continue my pursuit. Eventually he’ll come around. A rake always will. Now, I must see to my other guests.”

  She fluttered away in rustle of pink satin and a powerful cloud of scent, leaving Louisa contemplating the scene before her. After a few minutes, a feline smile crossed her lips, and she glided gracefully into the throng. It seemed that her arm was jostled, for her fan slipped from her fingers to the floor. With a gentle sound of annoyance, she reached down to retrieve it, and then straightened. As she did so, she nudged the elbow of a gentleman approaching through the press of people. The lemonade he held in his hand spilled down her skirt.

  “Oh! Oh my!” she exclaimed, wiping at her skirt ineffectually with her hands.

  The gentleman stopped, stricken. “My apologies, ma’am,” he said immediately. “How clumsy of me. Do allow me to assist you.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.

  “Thank you,” said Louisa demurely. She looked up, and her eyes met Lord Barford’s. That gentleman gaped at her, and stepped back a pace. Louisa delicately took the handkerchief from his slackening fingers, and dabbed gently at the silk of her skirt.

  She gave him a pitiful glance. “Unfortunately, Lord Barford, there is a spot on the side of my skirt that I cannot reach. Would you mind?”

  She proffered the handkerchief to the gaping Viscount, w
ho took it as though she were offering him a toad. Very reluctantly, he stooped down to dab at her skirts, his expression one of terror.

  “I—I believe that is a bit better,” he stammered. “You must forgive my maladroitness, Lady Manning. The room is so crowded, and I did not see you.”

  He raised his head to find that Lady Manning was leaning over him, and he was immediately afforded a fine view of her abundant cleavage, only inches from his face. His complexion turned a violent shade of red and he straightened quickly and stepped back, only to tread on the skirts of the lady behind him. Lady Manning reached out and grasped his arm, helping him to regain his balance.

  “Not at all,” she said, as though nothing had occurred. “It could have happened to anyone. Indeed, it was my fault, for I had dropped my fan.” She leaned against him as the crowd flowed around them. “My, what a crush,” she murmured.

  “You are far too gracious,” said Lord Barford, his eyes widening as Lady Manning’s pillowy breasts rubbed against him. He tried to move away, but she slid her arm securely through his.

  “If you don’t mind, would you escort me out of this crowd?” she asked. “I feel a bit faint.”

  “Oh! Certainly, ma’am,” said Lord Barford, panic written on his face. He looked around as though he expected someone to come to his rescue, and then manfully lead Louisa toward the wall, where he helped her to a small chair. She gazed up at him mournfully.

  “May I fetch you a glass of lemonade, Lady Manning?” asked Lord Barford, eager to flee.

  “I’m not at all thirsty, but it is very warm in here,” cooed Louisa. “If you wouldn’t mind, would you fan me for a moment?” She held her fan out to him, and he stared at it as though it might bite him. He took it from her gingerly and waved it several times in her direction.

  “Thank you, Lord Barford,” she cooed. “You are so considerate. I don’t know what I would have done if you had not assisted me.” She laid one delicate white hand on her bosom.

  “Not at all,” gasped Lord Barford. “Anyone might have helped.” He waved the fan a few more times.

  “But surely not as masterfully as you did,” Louisa pointed out. “I feel fortunate that you were there.”