She must have dallied too long with hopeful considerations, because Lord Mills crossed the tiles and bowed elegantly to their grouping, all the while his eyes matched to hers.
“May I claim a dance, Lady Nicholson?”
“How perfectly divine. You have but one opening left,” Dinah murmured behind her.
Caroline’s smile faltered. She’d purposely reserved the second waltz for Lindsey, hopeful he would appear at her elbow and sweep her onto the dance floor. Their quadrille was thrilling, but a waltz where he held her elegantly in her arms—
“Lady Nicholson?” Lord Mills’ voice held a dubious tone.
“Of course.” She offered her card and retrieved the pencil she’d stored in her reticule, believing it no longer needed. “I look forward to it.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, Lord Mills wrote his name in the only empty space and returned the card at the exact moment Lindsey joined their grouping.
“Lady Nicholson.”
He bowed his head in greeting, though he didn’t make a show of kissing her hand. Did he not wish to? That was twice now he hadn’t done so. She was beginning to feel more the fool for anticipating his touch, only to be left disappointed.
“Lord Lindsey, good evening.” Her cousins twittered in conversation behind her, though she noted Lord Mills remained attentive to her alone. She took a small step backward to block the tiny occasional table where she’d left her punch and then angled toward Lord Mills. “Does anyone else feel parched?”
“Allow me to bring you a glass of refreshment.”
Mills didn’t wait for another word, and when Caroline turned her attention to Lindsey, a twinkle of merriment danced in his heated gaze.
“You sent the man on a fool’s errand, didn’t you?”
“Why so ever would you think that?”
“Your answer is no answer at all, minx.”
One half of his mouth curled upward, and she found the effect no less impactful for having experienced it multiple times. He looked absolutely dashing this evening, though she couldn’t readily decipher what it was about him that ignited her pulse. Was it the way his dark hair caught a gloss from the candlelight? The sensual gleam in his eyes? Or the striking image of enigmatic confidence and restrained power he presented, perfectly tailored in fine evening clothes, from the pristine cravat at his chin to the tips of his shiny Hessians? He leaned forward slightly and his voice, rich and smooth, rumbled low and mischievous beside her ear to obliterate her mental musings.
“Should I expect to find you in Lord Seton’s study at midnight?”
A laugh escaped before she could catch it. “Not this evening, no. Although you’re too late for dancing. Every line on my card is filled.” She wiggled her wrist, and the paper dangling there swayed with emphasis.
“I will step aside then, not to discourage your bevy of attentive beaus.”
She opened her mouth to object, but Lord Mills returned to effectively put an end to their teasing banter. The musicians struck their instruments and without warning her first dance was claimed, though while she moved gracefully to the floor her heart tumbled over itself, anxious to continue her flirtation with Lord Lindsey instead.
* * * *
“What was that all about?” Lindsey leveled a stare at Mills which conveyed the emotion behind the question.
“The refreshment or the waltz?” Mills moved toward the terrace doors. “I’ve not done anything out of the ordinary, and as I told you earlier, I’ve begun to think of my future.”
Lindsey didn’t reply and stepped out onto the marble slab, the night air quick to cool a portion of his anger. “You have your pick of the season.”
“Perhaps.” Mills joined him, and as was their habit they strode far from the festivities to escape being overheard. “Be kind, or I’ll withhold the information I’ve learned concerning the Decima.”
Lindsey dismissed his curious preoccupation with Lady Caroline, better explored later this evening. In his bedchamber. Alone.
Instead he sharpened his focus, prepared for whatever information Mills possessed. “What has your contact discovered?”
“The last receipt of purchase for the painting was indeed made by your father, though the canvas surfaced soon after the theft as collateral made in an outlandish wager between Lords Riley and Olmon just two months ago. Riley is prone to foolish gambling. I’m told he once wagered his wife’s heirloom jewelry without her knowledge. Needless to say, there’s little peace in their home since he lost that bet.”
Lindsey listened attentively though he could do with less detail, anxious to get at the information he needed.
“So does Riley have the Decima? Or Olmon?”
“Neither, unfortunately. Olmon won it from Riley and sold it discreetly to Viscount Jamison, who lost it when his estate went out on the rocks. The bank claimed his land and all his assets, but before they could determine the worth of the painting, or even its rightful owner, you, the Decima disappeared again.”
“Bloody hell, I feel like you’re reading a chapter of a gothic novel.” For the hundredth time in the last month, Lindsey cursed his father. “So where does this leave me?”
“On your way to Bedfordshire, I’m afraid.”
“Bedfordshire? What the hell for?” One disadvantage of secluding oneself on the terrace was the absence of brandy, the perfect antidote to the low simmering rage that took hold. Why did everything begin and end with his father’s malice and manipulation? His childhood home was in Bedfordshire. Did Mills’ comments have something to do with a return to Kingswood Manor, his country estate? He hadn’t returned since the reading of his father’s will, the house too full of ugly memories.
“For a fox hunt and country party thrown by Lord and Lady Henley.” Mills glanced toward the ballroom, where the festivities remained visible through the French doors.
Was he anticipating his waltz with Caroline? Lindsey waited for him to continue, though now he was equally as anxious to return inside. That in itself proved troublesome. Why was he so drawn to her? Was it her untouched beauty of mind and body? Her optimistic outlook? And if he persisted, would he ruin that quality? Spoil it as he sought to know her better?
Mills cut in and forced him from his mental debate. “According to my associate, Henley recently inquired of the painting’s worth. All done discreetly, in low tones, so no one would suspect he’d taken possession.”
“Inquiring about the Decima’s resale value doesn’t necessarily guarantee he has the painting in hand.”
“I never mentioned guarantees, and besides, it’s all the news I have. Considering you’ve nothing else to go on, it’s at least worth your time.”
“I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”
Mills started toward the terrace doors. “You’re hardly a beggar, although from what you’ve told me the earldom is headed in that direction. One country party is not a high price to pay. Under other conditions you’d enjoy the festivities.”
“I received an invitation to the hunt a few days ago and discarded it neatly. I’m uninterested in attending the barbaric ritual this year. As you know, I’m unavoidably busy but I’ll remedy my acceptance in the morning.”
“See. Fate has already arranged the specifics.”
“Perhaps.” Lindsey didn’t say more, a large share of his attention busy examining his unhealthy attraction to one of the ton’s sparkling debutantes. Beneath those realizations lay a deeper truth, hidden in the darkness of emotion and vulnerability. Despite generous company and ample popularity, loneliness often crept in. He was a man surrounded by people and all the more alone for it. True, it could be he searched for something, but he’d be damned if he knew what it was. It definitely wouldn’t be found in a trio of priceless paintings. Or a beautiful young ingénue.
They’d reached the doors to the ballroom and Lindsey watched the couples cir
cling the gleaming tiles. A week in the country would keep him away from Caroline, and while he wasn’t pleased by that circumstance, much less the idea Mills would be sniffing around her slippers in his absence, the separation would do well to incapacitate his fixation. She’d become a distraction, occupying his thoughts too often.
Caroline deserved someone hopeful and idealistic. A gentleman with a loving family and pristine reputation, not a man who’d lost all optimism years ago due to the cruel realities his life had to offer. True, he was a titled man of advantage, but for all his potential wealth he had little love in his life aside from the camaraderie of a handful of friends.
There was the matter of Mills though.
“Care to come along to Bedfordshire? My country seat is there, and if need be we can leave Henley’s and drink better brandy within Kingswood Manor. There’s nothing like clean air after the smoke and smog of London. And besides, you have a way in the cardroom equal to mine. You could aid me with information recognizance.” Having supplied a multitude of valid reasons, Lindsey waited on his friend’s reply.
Mills looked toward the dance floor, and with a stroke of ironic happenstance Lady Caroline twirled by on the arm of some tall dandy.
“I’m not sure.” Mills hardly glanced over his shoulder as he moved toward the doors to rejoin the festivities. “I’ll let you know on the morrow.”
* * * *
Caroline was barely replaced at her cousins’ sides before their anxious inquisition began.
“You must tell us every detail,” Louisa insisted as she grasped Caroline’s elbow and steered her through the crowd. “Let’s move to the retiring room so we can hear you properly.”
The four of them advanced as one toward the hall, the crowd parting smoothly, as if aware there was no stopping their collective effort.
“He was kind in every way.” Caroline searched for words to describe her recent waltz with Lord Tiller. She didn’t wish to disappoint Louisa, Dinah, or Beatrice, most especially when they prided themselves on successfully filling her card with the most impeccable husband candidates, yet she couldn’t confess she’d experienced none of the thrilling breathless excitement her dance with Lindsey incited. Even now, as she relayed her feelings, she felt no spark, her nerves calm and intact, her heart in its usual predictable rhythm.
“Is he as smooth a dancer as he appears?”
“Yes. He has fine form.” She smiled in Beatrice’s direction and maneuvered around a large ornamental fern in a brass pot near the threshold to the hallway.
“And did you converse while in his arms? Is he as witty as we’re made to believe?”
“He is exceedingly polite.”
Dinah’s expression begged her to elaborate and Caroline quickly continued, aware her answer didn’t suffice. “He’s every example of gentlemanly aplomb.” And in that way, quite ordinary.
“That’s all?” Louisa prodded.
“I haven’t socialized in London long enough to make a fair comparison.” She hoped this explanation satisfied her cousins, because in her heart she knew the truth. By no means did Lord Tiller offer the clever repartee she’d enjoyed with Lord Lindsey, never mind the searing pleasure of his touch. The memory of the earl’s kiss still caused her heart to pound in reckless havoc.
Good heavens, she was taken with him. Would everyone become a comparison measured by her interactions with Lindsey? How would she ever find a husband if she clung so tightly to this delusional fancy?
They’d reached the hall and beyond to the ladies’ retiring room, where they settled on two cushioned benches near the corner, separated partially by a screen used to discreetly repair wardrobe issues.
“He’s remarkably handsome and strong,” Caroline mused, the earl still alive in her thoughts though she knew well enough her cousins would misinterpret her comment.
“He is, isn’t he?” Beatrice sighed and matched eyes with Louisa, who subtly bit into her lower lip.
“You were lucky to dance with Lord Tiller this evening, as he’s for Bedfordshire on the morrow.” Dinah’s announcement shook everyone from their daydreams. “Hopefully you’ve left a lasting impression.”
“Really? Why?” Caroline asked. “The season’s only just begun.”
“Lord Henley is running the hounds early,” Dinah quickly supplied. “His wife is due with their second child come the change of season, and he doesn’t wish to cancel the annual event. In the past there have been lawn games and evening festivities, but the fox hunt is the pinnacle of the gathering. The excitement brought on by the competition and its champion are too much to sacrifice. Henley has merely moved the date forward.”
Caroline looked from one cousin to the next. She had no idea how she’d ever manage the ton if it wasn’t for their knowledgeable support. Would Lindsey also leave London? Females weren’t normally included in country fetes unless the lady of the house planned activities. Being in the family way, Lady Henley might forego the work and responsibility.
“Father said we’re not to go, no matter we’re being included. Mother has never gotten along well with Lady Henley, and he warned we’re not to invite disharmony for the sake of a single gathering.”
“For the sake of reputation,” Dinah demurred in an irritable tone.
“I see.” Caroline sat quietly a moment though all around her organized chaos ensued. Ladies rearranged their hairpins, unwrinkled their flounces, and pinched their cheeks vigorously in preparation of returning to the ballroom. Her own thoughts scattered and reorganized with the same pace. Would Lindsey attend Lord Henley’s hunt, or would he remain in London where she’d have the chance to dance with him again? A nervous flutter accompanied the suggestion. Mayhap she should sneak off to the study at midnight. Was there an unspoken invitation in his tease, or did she search for any reason to believe he was interested in her otherwise?
“Lord Tiller is a crack shot and excellent horseman,” Louisa mentioned in a singsong voice that had everyone twisted in her direction. “Last year, he caught the fox and won its tail, although it should be noted he wouldn’t have met with success had Lindsey participated properly.”
Caroline waited for her cousin to continue, at war with her desire to know and a reluctance to appear over-interested.
“Lindsey’s animal is superior horseflesh and easily makes everyone else’s mount appear as if it runs on three legs. He leads the pack every year, and yet I have it on good authority he intentionally moves aside and allows others to corner the fox and win. It’s a wily maneuver if ever I heard. He leads the race and then allows another to gain the glory.” Louisa took a well-needed pause. “Oh, Caroline, I cannot wait for you to see Lord Tiller atop his stallion. He cuts a handsome figure.”
“So the Earl of Lindsey does attend.” She drew a breath to solidify her disappointment.
“He’s not one who should occupy your concern.”
“Oh, no. Of course. It’s just he’s compelling in a maddening way.” She strove for a casual tone.
“I do understand, although by compelling I’m apt to think you mean irresistibly handsome, which is a dangerous thought indeed.” Louisa’s slender brows dipped slightly, as if she drew on past experience.
A short silence followed as the ladies continued to survey the room.
“How long does the Henley party last?” Caroline bit her lower lip, hoping her continued interest wouldn’t instigate unwanted questions.
“At least a week. At times two,” Dinah supplied. “It all depends on how well the men get on with each other.”
“I suppose we should return to the floor.” Beatrice stood first. “I’m promised for the quadrille and it’s already past eleven.”
Louisa and Dinah joined their sister and together they began for the door.
“Are you coming, Caroline?” Beatrice glanced over her shoulder with the question.
“I need another
minute,” Caroline answered with a nod. “Go ahead and I’ll see you shortly.”
Chapter Eleven
It was ridiculous to loiter in the hallway near Lord Seton’s study, and more foolish madness to hope Lady Caroline would find her way across the estate merely by his veiled suggestion earlier. For all he knew she danced the night away in some lucky gentleman’s arms and hadn’t given him a second thought since he’d stepped away earlier.
He had no explanation for his desire to spend more time with her. Perhaps it was the knowledge nothing would amount of their association. The lady was far too clever to become besotted by his attention and furthermore had proven the name on everyone’s lips, her instant popularity and likeability sure to find her a match before season’s end. It was what she desired, wasn’t it?
This thought, more so than any other, drove him inside Seton’s study and straight to the brandy decanter. He’d taken a taste only when he heard the door open and close, the lightest step an instigation to his change in mood.
“It would appear we are of like mind this evening.” Caroline’s voice reached for him across the dim room. “A role reversal of sorts, where I find you hidden away from the festivities instead of the other way around.”
“Indeed.” He replaced his glass on the sideboard. She looked hesitant, or did he read something in her expression that wasn’t there? “The hour is late. Have you missed the evening’s last dance?”
“I was promised a waltz, but my partner didn’t show.” She moved toward him with grace and elegance, though his thoughts shifted to a more sensual path. When she finally turned toward him fully, her delicious lips poised in a flirtatious smile, it was a swift punch to the gut. She embodied uncompromised beauty and at the same time possessed a regal elegance as fresh as the morning’s first rays. He’d enjoyed dozens of females, more than that, if he spoke honestly, and yet for some unnamed and mysterious reason the woman before him evoked a sense of longing and desire so strong, it shook him to his soul.
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