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

by Alicia Quigley

  She raised her eyebrows. “You are very concerned for me, my lord. But it is not necessary. I am able to fend for myself. I am not a child.”

  He looked at her, taking in her soft green eyes and the burnished gold of her hair shining in the early afternoon light. “You look a mere babe,” he said. “With no more idea of the world than a babe. Believe me, if those involved choose, they can make your life very uncomfortable.”

  Caroline shrugged. “You appear to bear their censure well enough, my lord. And I believe my family name and reputation will withstand some scrutiny.”

  “I would not want you to have to undergo that,” said Lord Gresham. “Moreover, you need not. I believe I have a solution.”

  Caroline clasped her hands in her lap. She had known that at some point this affaire must come to an end, but she had hoped that it might continue a while longer. Tristan’s company made her feel light-hearted in a way she had never previously experienced, and she dreaded the return to her old life.

  “What remedy do you recommend?” she asked, steeling herself for the inevitable answer.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked. His voice was very steady.

  Caroline very nearly fell off her chair. “Will I what?” she asked, staggered.

  “I think you heard me.” Tristan leaned forward. “Caro, darling, will you please do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  Caroline raised her hands to her flushed cheeks and glanced at the door, which still stood open. She went to it hastily and closed it. Tristan watched her with some amusement.

  “I suggest that you do not lock it today,” he said.

  Caroline still stood by the door, mystified. “I am very sorry, my lord, but I must have misunderstood you. My impression is that you have just proposed marriage to me.”

  “I believe I did.” Tristan rose and went to her, taking her hands in his. “Is it so impossible?”

  “Of course it is impossible,” she said. “It’s inconceivable that you could wish to marry me, or anyone else.”

  “Now, why do you feel it is so impossible?” he asked plaintively. “Surely you are aware that I have feelings for you?”

  “I’m aware that you enjoy our time together, yes,” replied Caroline. “But I have never heard it said that you had strong feelings for any woman.”

  “Ah, but there is always the possibility that Cupid will strike, and I believe I have been his victim. I would like very much to marry you, Caro.”

  She looked up to find a surprisingly tender expression on his face. She blinked. “I see what it is,” she said quickly. “You feel that, due to some gossip, you have compromised me, and must offer me marriage. But truly, most people are completely unaware of our liaison, and, as a widow, the world almost expects me to have a gentleman friend. You need not have a concern for my well-being.”

  “My primary concern is your well-being,” said Tristan. “And I feel it will be best served by our marriage. Even your naïve little cousin suspects that there is something between us. I imagine soon all of Society will be shouting about it.”

  “How very thoughtful of you to try to help me in this way,” said Caroline. “But it is truly not necessary for you to do this.”

  “I offer you my heart and my hand, and you tell me it is thoughtful of me?” said Tristan. “I have not done this before, but I had imagined you might respond a bit more happily.”

  “Oh, truly, I do think it is kind of you,” said Caroline. “But I would not put such a burden on you. I know you enjoy—being with me, but you cannot possibly wish to be married; it would interfere with—with your amusements, and I would not wish to make you unhappy.”

  “My dear, I am interested in no amusements other than you,” said Tristan. He leaned towards her, but she stepped back hastily.

  “How very polite of you to say that,” she said. “But I truly cannot ask such a sacrifice of you. You would be bored very quickly, I’m sure, which would not be comfortable for either of us.”

  His hands dropped to his sides. “What can I say to convince you that I wish to marry you, Caro?” he asked. “I have long admired you, more recently desired you, and now I know I love you. No two people are so well suited; we enjoy conversing, making love, and even arguing with each other. Why cannot you believe that my admiration, respect, and affection for you has deepened into love?”

  Tears welled up suddenly in her eyes. “Oh, please do not say such things. I know you believe you must do this, but I cannot marry you.”

  He opened his mouth to answer her, but she shook her head. “Please, do not continue,” she said, a slight quaver in her voice. “You must understand that I cannot marry you. I very much enjoy our time together, but I cannot believe that you feel the emotions for me that must exist to guarantee a happy marriage.”

  Tristan looked at her, a grim expression on his face. “Or perhaps it is you who do not have such emotions for me,” he said. “It would be kinder of you to be honest with me. I thought that we dealt together very well, but perhaps you wish for a husband who is more respectable.”

  The tears threatened to spill over. “Once again, I cannot say more than that marriage is impossible,” she said.

  Tristan shrugged. “Then I will take my leave, Lady Eskmaine,” he said formally. “I am very sorry to have caused you distress.”

  He bowed and turned towards the door. Caroline raised one hand as though to stop him, but then let it drop.

  “Will I see you later?” she asked in a small voice.

  “In Mount Street?” he asked. “I think not, my lady. It is marriage—or nothing. I do, despite the stories about me, have some pride.”

  Caroline watched miserably as he exited, and she stood by the door, listening to Tristan’s footsteps recede down the stairs. When she heard the front door close, she dropped into a chair, where her tears came. She wept for some moments in silence, and then defiantly sat up, digging for her handkerchief and wiping her cheeks. Why, she wondered, did he have to ruin everything by proposing marriage? She had no doubt that he found her a delightful bedmate, but he was famous for never having felt an ounce of emotion for any woman, and he had never spoken words of love before today. She could not accept his offer of marriage simply to stop gossip. She would not so confine a rake such as Tristan, who would surely tire of her in six months. To be turned away from their current liaison would be one thing, but the thought of witnessing her husband’s future pursuit of other women was an eventuality she could not face.

  Caroline sat there a few minutes longer, gazing abstractedly in front of her. While she would miss Tristan’s passionate love making, surely that was all there was to it? Of course, he did amuse her and he was often surprisingly thoughtful, but she had never had any illusions about the nature of their relationship. She thought of how people would laugh at her if she even mentioned the idea of marrying him. Not to mention Adam’s anger, and Allegra’s shock. A clean break now, before Society truly became aware of her attachment to him, was surely for the best. Not that she had an attachment to Tristan, of course, that was ridiculous.

  She mopped at her eyes again, and managed to present at least a somewhat cheerful countenance when Cecilia traipsed into the room some minutes later, wearing a walking dress of dark blue and yellow brocaded silk, with a dark blue coat cuffed and braided a la militaire. She carried a broad hat adorned with a yellow feather.

  “Are you free to accompany me to the shops this afternoon, Cousin? I am to meet Allegra at her modiste’s in Bond Street. Or do you meet with your solicitor again?” she asked.

  Caroline smiled sadly. “I believe the issues with my estates are concluded,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “I can devote myself entirely to you now.”

  “I will be happy to spend more time with you,” said Cecilia. “It seemed to me such a pity that you should forego so many amusements in order to spend time with solicitors; it must have been a terrible bore.”

  “I would not call it boring, precisely,” said Caro
line. “But perhaps it is all to the best that it is over.”

  Cecilia looked in the mirror over the hearth and tweaked one curl into place. “Caroline, may I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly, child.”

  “You have told me that you have no interest in Lord Gresham, and yet he has been here twice in two days. Are you sure that you do not wish to attach him?”

  Caroline’s mouth dropped open briefly, but she hastily shut it. “No, my dear, I have no interest in Lord Gresham. He is—he was a friend to me once, but there is nothing between us.”

  Cecilia smiled sunnily. “I am so glad. I do think I might pursue him.”

  “Pursue him?” repeated Caroline. “For what?”

  Cecilia laughed at her evident confusion. “Why to marry, of course. I have heard rumors that he is hanging out for a wife—they say his presence at countless balls and routs, and even Almack’s, is unheard of, and he is surely thinking of marriage.”

  “But what of Lord Barford, and Mr. Troughton?” asked Caroline.

  “Oh, they are mere boys,” said Cecilia. “They are very sweet, but I think perhaps I would prefer a real man.”

  “I believe Lord Gresham’s manliness is famous, and that many a lady could vouch for it,” said Caroline acerbically. “However, that does not make him a good husband.”

  Cecilia shrugged. “We shall see. I merely know that I must cast a wide net, and he is rich and unmarried.” She glanced at Caroline. “Oh, please do not be shocked. You know that I must not be dainty about this.”

  Caroline shook her head. “I very much doubt Lord Gresham has an interest in girls just out of the school room. I suggest you concentrate your energy on your younger beaux. Lord Barford is a pleasant man, and holds a venerable title. His father died some years ago, so he has access to all the wealth of his estate. Surely that would be preferable to an older gentleman with a tarnished reputation.”

  Cecilia wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps. He is just so—so young. And awkward. Only fancy, he never tries to kiss me.”

  “Which is most proper,” said Caroline. “Please do not make me remind you of the scandalous nature of your behavior with Mr. Wyman some nights ago.”

  Cecilia hung her head. “I was overcome by the romance, Cousin. It was wrong of me, I know. He is very persuasive.”

  Caroline shook her head. “Persuasive gentlemen are rarely good husbands,” she said. “Please keep that in mind.”

  Chapter 18

  Later that week Caroline, Allegra, and Cecilia sallied forth to Ranelagh Gardens. Lord Barford had engaged a box and begged the ladies to join him at a ridotto, and Caroline, after some hesitation over the wisdom of taking Cecilia to a public masquerade, had agreed. After all, Lord Barford’s attentions to Cecilia had been most pronounced, and, she felt, were only to be encouraged.

  Cecilia was all aflutter, as this was her first visit to the famed venue. When they arrived and entered the gardens, she drew in her breath. “How lovely,” she said, her eyes sparkling as she took in the tree-lined walks, lanterns flickering among them like fairies. “And how exciting.”

  Caroline was glad of her wonderment, for it helped to distract her from thoughts of Lord Gresham. It had been a melancholy afternoon as she had attempted to catch up on her correspondence; unfortunately, thoughts of the pleasures she was missing had intruded instead. “Have a care, my dear, and stay close to Allegra and to me,” she said. “It would not do to have you wandering off. You will come to no harm in our company, but not everyone is here tonight with honest intentions.”

  “What a cynic you are, Caro,” said Allegra. “I believe no one would dare to bother Cecilia.”

  “Oh, I don’t speak of strangers,” said Caroline lightly. “I think, rather, of Cecilia’s beaux. The wonders of the night may turn her head, and I have no doubt they would be glad of it.”

  Cecilia flushed slightly. “I am not so foolish as to listen to them,” she said. “I promise to be good.”

  They joined Lord Barford in his box, where that smitten young gentleman had ordered a lavish supper, complete with bottles of chilled champagne. Cecilia, after she had gaped at the massive rotunda for some minutes, and consumed a hearty meal, watched breathlessly as the masked crowd swirled in front of them, the brightly colored dominos shining in the lights.

  “Why there is Sir Robert Hartnell,” she said, peering out in to the crowd. “I had no idea that it would be so easy to recognize people when they are masked!”

  Carolina and Allegra exchanged amused glances. They knew from long experience that the masks and dominos were merely a game; the point of the evening was to hide under the illusion of anonymity, while everyone knew quite well what was going on. Caroline gave a tiny sigh at the thought that, just a few days before, she herself would have been intrigued by the thought of what might transpire if she encountered Lord Gresham at a Ranelagh Gardens masquerade.

  “Yes, child, I imagine you will know many people here tonight. Why, there is Mr. Troughton,” said Caroline, pointing with her fan across the room.

  Cecilia laughed and clapped her hands. “Yes, I told him I would be here,” she said.

  “Perhaps you should put your own mask on, child,” said Allegra. “Otherwise there will be no mystery to you at all.”

  Cecilia eagerly slipped on her primrose domino and mask, and leaned over the edge of the box, searching out people in the crowd, until Caroline wondered if they would need to hold her to prevent her from falling out.

  “Miss Ashdown, would you care to dance?” asked Lord Barford. “There is no reason for you to stay here in the box when you might be enjoying yourself.”

  “That would be wonderful,” said Cecilia. She glanced at Caroline and Allegra. “Will you not come with us? Surely you wish to dance as well.”

  “There is no point in coming to a ridotto at Ranelagh and not dancing,” said Allegra. “I have fond memories of this place. Will you join us, Caro?”

  Caro shook her head. “Perhaps later,” she murmured. While she knew it would not do to mope, the thought of a few minutes alone seemed pleasant to her.

  “Oh, look, there is Mr. Wyman!” exclaimed Cecilia. “And Lord Gresham!”

  Caroline’s head shot up, and she followed Cecilia’s gaze to where a familiar figure, his burgundy domino open negligently over his dark green jacket and breeches, stood talking to a group of gentlemen, among whom was Roland Wyman. Apparently he was wasting no time regretting her rejection of his proposal, she reflected. Not that she had believed for one minute that he had truly wished to marry her. Still, his lazy smile and relaxed countenance did not seem to speak of a man whose hopes had been dashed.

  Allegra gave a little frown and glanced at Caroline, who did her best to school her features into an expression of complacency. “Run along, and have fun. I will join you soon,” she said.

  They exited the box, Cecilia laughing with anticipation. Caroline gave a sigh of relief, and sat back in her chair, attempting to watch the throng with equanimity. Unfortunately, Lord Gresham chose that moment to lead Lady Lansdowne out to dance. Caroline’s hand tightened on her fan as she watched her ladyship, her domino hanging open over a gown with a very daring décolletage, toss a comment to Lord Gresham, who promptly threw back his head and laughed. He took her hand in his and said something back to her that made her hold her fan between them, flirting it back and forth outrageously, while at the same time looking over it invitingly. Caroline jumped when there was a sudden cracking noise, and she realized she had snapped one of the ivory sticks of her own fan.

  Tearing her eyes away from Tristan, she was disconcerted to see that Cecilia was dancing with Roland Wyman. How had Allegra allowed that to happen, she wondered, but her question was answered when she saw that Allegra herself had taken the floor with Lord Barford.

  Having decided that coming to Ranelagh that night was perhaps not the best decision, she was almost glad to hear a knock on the door of the box, and looked up to see Sir Geoffrey Arkwright enter, we
aring a black domino over his somber grey coat. He bowed politely.

  “Lady Eskmaine, I was delighted to see your cousin and sister-in-law in attendance, for that told me you must surely be here,” he said. “They were kind enough to tell me where I might find you.”

  “Sir Geoffrey,” she said, relieved at the distraction. “How delightful of you to seek me out. Please be seated.”

  He pulled up a chair next to hers and looked out over the throng. “This is an excellent entertainment,” he observed. “I have not been to Ranelagh Gardens in many years, but it seems to still be very fine.”

  “I do not come here often,” said Caroline. “But my sister-in-law thought that perhaps our young cousin would enjoy it, and she does seem to be doing so.”

  “I suppose there is nothing wrong with a young woman attending such a festivity in the care of her relations,” responded Sir Geoffrey. “Though I hear that most improper things can happen if you venture far from the pavilions.”

  “Cecilia is well chaperoned,” said Caroline. “She will not be strolling down any of the walks this evening.”

  “I’m sure you will have a care of her, ma’am” said Sir Geoffrey.

  Caroline inclined her head graciously, feeling that the topic had been exhausted. She was relieved when Sir Geoffrey appeared to come to the point.

  “Would you care to dance, Lady Eskmaine? It seems a pity to waste such lovely music sitting here.”

  Caroline reflected that it would be better to dance than to listen to Sir Geoffrey speak, and agreed readily. Perhaps dancing would take her mind off Tristan and Lady Lansdowne. “Thank you, I would be delighted,” she said politely. Leaving her ruined fan on the table and picking up her mask, she allowed Sir Geoffrey to assist her into her sky blue silk domino, and then gently twitched it into place over her dress.

  Sir Geoffrey offered Caroline his arm, and they swept out of the box and out into the rotunda, where he led her toward the dancers. He danced acceptably, if not with exceptional grace, and Caroline was relieved to find that she could no longer see Lord Gresham. If he was going to flirt unrelentingly with Lady Lansdowne, she would prefer not to witness it.