“I—” He swiveled to follow the direction of her perturbed gaze. “Well, yes.”
Caroline regarded him in horror. “But think of your guests. Many would be eager to sample such an exotic offering.”
“I was under the impression that they were used for display purposes, but were otherwise rather useless,” he answered slowly. “I can’t say I’ve ever actually tried one before.”
“Useless?” Her lips pursed forwards in a barely subdued pout. “Not at all. Pineapples are delicious.”
“You are fond of them?”
“Very much so,” she replied, walking to the corner where a selection of the spiky plants had once been, only to let out a surprised gasp at the shallow pond that had been put in its place. The water shimmered its way between an intricately arranged rockery, while tiny orange-and-white fish scattered into the depths at her approach, seeking refuge beneath the shelter of jade green lily pads. “Oh—”
A delightful wooden bench had been thoughtfully placed just to the side of the little pond, and Caroline thought it looked like the perfect place to sink down and gather one’s thoughts, or to perhaps read a favorite book with a steaming cup of tea. Jonathan came to stand behind her. She stared at the scene in wonder.
“And are you fond of this?”
“Yes,” she breathed, the pineapple plants all but forgotten.
“Not as delicious as a pineapple, perhaps. But charming in its own way,” he teased.
His eyes caught hers and the music echoed lightly through their surroundings, loud enough to distinguish from any other ambient noise but still understated. It provided a dreamy musical landscape one would not find in a ballroom. Her breath quickened when Cartwick extended his hand, much like he had earlier.
“Perhaps now, away from the others, you will allow me the honor of a dance.” The softness of his voice couldn’t quite disguise the hint of hope beneath it.
She opened her mouth to tell him no as she knew she should, then gave up trying to pretend—at least for a little while. She slipped her fingers inside his instead, the squeeze of his hand warm and thrilling.
Jonathan led her farther onto the stone pathway to a small clearing, his other hand lowering to press against her back. “Shall we . . .”
The thought remained unfinished. The length of his fingers brushed against her bare skin due to the low cut of the back of her dress, and they both froze at the unexpected sensation of contact. His hand jerked but did not raise from its position.
“Forgive me, I—”
Had she been offended at the impropriety of his touch, she might have demanded that he remove his hand. But she hadn’t been thinking that at all. Instead she’d thought about how intimate it was to feel the glide of his fingers upon the exposed length of her back, and almost as if reading her thoughts, he flattened his palm against her skin again.
How lovely it would be to just allow it . . . to let her eyes fall closed as he touched her in whatever way he wished . . . to rise up on her toes, body leaning into his, so they could kiss just one more time . . .
Jonathan’s breathing halted. Illicit hope raced through her as the heat from his fingers sank into her back, holding their position low against her spine in an unflinching declaration.
Surely you know there is no endgame here.
Oh, she knew. The words he’d spoken to her that day in his study had never been truer. And while it should have brought her a measure of comfort, especially with Eliza and Evanston arriving within days, she found the thought of losing that closeness with Cartwick to be troubling.
Before she could think of a way to respond, his hand shifted to a much safer position on her waist and he moved her around in preparation to begin. The music could barely be discerned but he counted them in regardless, leading her into the swooping steps of the waltz with gentle restraint. Shortened steps were necessary within the tight confines of the garden and was an adjustment that he easily made, and his capable lead stirred the butterflies inside her stomach to flight. For once, she permitted herself to enjoy the feeling, eyes drifting closed in wonder. He leaned closer, his breath tickling her neck in the most inappropriate way.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Intelligent. Capable. Lovely.” His lips brushed against the ridge of her ear. “Overwhelming.”
Her eyelids flew open. She’d earned the words he’d promised her earlier; the words he would use to describe her.
Shock paralyzed her expression, but he did not intrude on her moment. He merely pulled back and continued their dance. And suddenly she wished that he would never let her go.
But they had started late, and all too soon the song was finished. Her heart ached when the last strains were heard, the sound subdued through the greenhouse door, and when she stepped away he immediately pulled her closer. She made a tiny noise of surprise as she bumped softly against his chest.
“Lady Caroline, thank you for this dance.”
A sad smile tugged downwards at the corner of his mouth, and she knew he was speaking of much more than sharing a waltz in the greenhouse. And rather than raging against the unfairness of it all, Caroline turned her head against his shoulder in an unspoken gesture of mourning, the veil of her hair concealing the traitorous rise of tears that pricked at her eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
Caroline squeezed her aunt’s hand as Eliza’s carriage pulled forwards on the drive. The previous evening had not gone smoothly for Frances. But even with the setback, Beatrice and Caroline had calmed her sufficiently enough to lie down, while Minnie had fetched her aunt a steaming cup of tea. Once the worst of it had passed and Frances had settled in beneath her blankets, the women had shooed Caroline off to her own bed.
It was gratifying to see the compassion with which the women treated her aunt, and when Caroline had finally crept off to her room, she’d seen Frances relaxed, with eyes closed peacefully and mouth softened, lost to the respite of sleep. Soon she’d found herself asleep too—her own exhaustion taking over—and when Meggie had tugged the curtains aside the next morning, she’d felt refreshed in a way she had not for months.
The thinned ranks at Willowford House stood silently in line, ready to greet their arriving guests, and she cast a quick glance at Cartwick’s servants, standing among the others. Their presence there was more than reassuring—it was a relief. Although the persistent whisper of conscience reminded her who was ultimately responsible for providing them and lightening her burden.
How had Eliza taken the news of Cartwick’s assistance? There had not been a reply so there was no real way of telling. She supposed if her friend were very displeased, she would not be arriving here today, and decided to take comfort in that thought since she desperately needed comfort anyway. The trembling that shook her entire frame was not due to the temperature.
The carriage door snapped open and roused Caroline from her melancholy reflections. A cloud-filtered ray of sunlight slid off the ebony hair of Lord Evanston a moment before he glanced up, viewing her with eyes that were impossibly blue before stepping down to extend a hand to the lady who still waited to descend. Within moments, Eliza was on the ground and rushing to wrap Caroline in her arms.
“Sweetest Caroline,” she whispered. Eliza gave her a last squeeze before pushing away to arm’s length so she could evaluate her. “You look well! I am so pleased to see it.”
Caroline let out a breathless laugh. “As do you,” she answered, feeling more than a little bit giddy at the warm reception. “I’ve missed you unbearably these past few months.”
With a cheerful glance that promised more conversation to come, Eliza turned her attention to Frances, pulling her close to plant a kiss on both cheeks. Her aunt’s eyes fell closed at the embrace, a smile rising to her lips.
“And Lady Frances—”
“Lady Evanston,” Frances replied with a raised eyebrow, looking past Eliza’s bonnet to spy her husband, who tipped her a wink. The older woman laughed, almost girlishly. “Congratulations again on
marrying that exceedingly handsome man.”
Eliza glanced over her shoulder at the man in question. A happy smile tugged at her lips. “I think I’ll keep him,” she replied, eyeing him appraisingly.
Thomas stepped closer to place his hands over Eliza’s shoulders. “What’s this I hear about a handsome man?” he asked in a feigned show of ignorance.
“Don’t get too excited,” Caroline replied dryly. “You know Lady Frances has always gone aflutter in your presence.”
Her aunt grinned and motioned for the footmen to come unload the trunks from the carriage.
“Indeed,” she agreed. “But you should know there is a bit of competition here in our little corner of the country.”
Caroline froze, the smile dropping from her lips. Cartwick would be the only attractive man Frances could be referring to.
She’s going to tell them about Jonathan before we’ve even made it inside the house.
Evanston’s brows raised in good-natured challenge at the same moment that the icy impetus of dread prompted Caroline to lunge forwards.
“Did Rosa choose to stay in Kent?” she asked, perhaps more loudly than she had intended.
Eliza chuckled in reply, but not before casting the tiniest glance in Thomas’s direction. “Why, yes. There was no way to tear her away from Clara. She gets such satisfaction from being of use to her pregnant aunt.”
Caroline began walking up the front steps, the rest of the group falling into step behind. “Does she enjoy fetching her slippers? Or bringing the newspaper?”
“It’s probably more along the lines of tea and baked treats, but yes that’s close. Clara always finds useful tasks that Rosa will enjoy too,” Eliza added with a fond smile.
Thankful for the safer shift in conversation, Caroline looked over at Thomas. “And William?”
“Another handsome man . . .” Frances muttered under her breath.
Thomas shook his head with a grin. “Well I’ve never seen that man so excited in all my life. And I daresay Rosa is educating him in the ways of fatherhood as we speak.”
“She can be rather high-spirited sometimes,” said Caroline with a laugh. “But I am sure William is more than capable of meeting the challenge.”
Their footsteps echoed in the spaciousness of the foyer and the air, fresh with an undertone of new leaves and emerging flowers from the mild spring day, swirled around them as they entered the house. Lord Evanston turned at the foot of the stairs to regard the women with smiling eyes, reaching a hand out to his wife.
“Shall we get settled, my love?”
Eliza smiled, and a hint of color passed over her cheeks as she reached out to clasp his hand in return, her feet staying firmly planted where they were.
“I’d like to speak with Caroline before joining you, my lord.”
Bending his sleek black head over her hand, the viscount placed a soft kiss upon her knuckles then straightened to regard his wife. “As you wish,” he replied amiably, performing a polite bow to the group before vaulting up the stairs. But his sultry parting glance at Eliza nearly caused Caroline to blush as well.
Now there was no doubt what would be waiting for her friend in their chamber when she was finished downstairs, and Caroline couldn’t help feeling a swift pang of remorse. Not because Evanston loved Eliza . . . nothing could have pleased her more. But because Caroline had become increasingly convinced that she would never experience such a fulfilling relationship with a man. Especially now.
That blaze of passion in Evanston’s eyes when he sought Eliza? She’d seen that same fire lurking behind Jonathan’s gaze more than once. The joy had seeped out of every day that had passed since the party at Greystone Hall, each moment a little bleaker than the last. And although her conscience had quieted considerably since their final meeting, her lonely heart had only increased its volume. Now it spoke loudly . . . achingly . . . painfully.
“Well!” exclaimed Lady Frances, “I do believe I’ll let you two catch up. Perhaps I will work on my needlework . . . in the library this time. Why don’t we all meet in the drawing room in an hour?” She threw a mischievous glance at Eliza. “I do hope that will allow you enough time to settle in.”
Caroline clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, and didn’t miss how Eliza’s eyes had grown bright with her own efforts. “Thank you, Auntie,” she said. “We won’t keep you waiting for tea.”
Frances nodded to Minnie and Beatrice who came forwards with polite curtsies. She smiled at Eliza, placed an affectionate kiss upon Caroline’s cheek, then made her way towards the rear of the house. The two women watched in quiet solemnity, and when the last servant had disappeared around the corner, Eliza turned to her.
“Lady Frances seems well today,” she said with a chuckle. “I see her powers of observation remain intact.”
“Oh yes, she is still highly perceptive. Last night was difficult for her, however. She is acting better now than I might have expected.”
Eliza’s brow furrowed, and her eyes filled with concern. “I am sorry to hear that.” A slight pause. “And are those the Cartwick servants you spoke of in your letter?”
Caroline knew the question had been coming, but still felt herself begin to sweat beneath the layers of her dress. “Yes. Minnie and Beatrice are with us for the time being,” she replied, working to keep the nervous tremor from her voice.
“That seems . . . rather kind.”
She shrugged, unwilling to let on how kind it truly was. “I suppose so. But after what Mr. Cartwick witnessed, with Frances wandering outside in little more than her nightclothes, it would have perhaps been more ungentlemanly for him to do nothing.”
Eliza’s peridot eyes grew huge. “Caroline . . .”
Shaking her head, Caroline turned away and began walking to the drawing room. “It hasn’t been easy—for me, for Meggie and least of all for Frances. She made it out to the meadows that day.”
“To the meadows?” Eliza asked, incredulous, walking beside her. “How on earth was she found? And how did Mr. Cartwick bear witness to such an event?”
“I, well . . . he was with me. I mean—we met by chance at Windham Hill.” The words tumbled clumsily from her lips. “I had walked there by myself and discovered both Cartwick and his land agent. It was quite by accident. We both rushed to the meadows when I spotted Frances.”
“By foot?” Eliza asked, the amazement creeping back into her voice.
Caroline felt a bead of sweat finally give way to roll down her back. “Not exactly,” she confessed. “He allowed me the use of his horse.”
“So he joined you later by foot?”
“Well, no. He was, er, on the horse too.”
Realization dawned on Eliza’s face and she stopped in the middle of the hallway. Caroline stopped too, dreading her friend’s reaction to what she’d just said . . . which was why she was utterly confounded when Eliza burst out laughing.
“Caroline, for goodness’ sake. You’re acting ashamed, but it’s not as if you kissed the man,” she teased gently.
She couldn’t even make a reply, but felt the telltale warmth of mortification spreading across her chest, up her neck, to suffuse her cheeks with obvious color.
But oh, I’ve done much more than kiss him.
“I—”
Shaking her head, Eliza linked an arm through Caroline’s and resumed walking. “You were a lady in need. Frances was a lady in need. It sounds like he was actually being a gentleman, despite his contention over the property lines.”
“Property lines that are still the subject of vigorous debate,” Caroline replied, thankful to shift the topic away from such a revealing turn of events. “Nothing can be resolved until he has met with Father, of course, and that is a conversation I won’t be a part of so all of my bluster is useless.”
Eliza’s head swiveled to stare at her. “Did Cartwick actually say that to you?”
“No,” she admitted. But he had said other things to her since that first time they’
d met.
On both sides of the ocean, I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you.
Panic seized in her chest. Within those thoughts lay danger.
“Well obviously he has some rough edges,” Eliza said slowly, “but that was to be expected given the circumstances of the entailment. I have to wonder, though, at his readiness to help with Frances. Do you think he can be trusted not to speak of her condition?”
She was certain he could, but took care not to seem so sure. “Only time will tell.”
The pair of them entered the drawing room, a shaft of sunlight streaming in through the windows to gleam across her friend’s golden curls, artfully pinned into place.
“What about other family in the house? Can they be trusted?” asked Eliza. “Is there a brother, a mother, a wife . . .”
“He is a bachelor. But his mother did accompany him from America.” Glancing down, she toyed with the row of tiny ribbons that decorated the front of her bodice. “Apparently she plans on returning once Jonathan is settled. His younger brother has taken over the shipbuilding business in New England.”
Eliza released her arm to close the doors behind them with a soft click before regarding her with a curious stare.
“Jonathan?”
Caroline spun around, then froze.
She’d actually uttered his given name to Eliza. Casually. As if she and the Cartwick heir—the same man who had ejected Eliza and Rosa from Greystone Hall—were the closest of friends. Or perhaps even lovers . . .
Squeezing her eyes shut, an awkward laugh escaped her lips before she could prevent it. “My goodness, what was I thinking? I’m surprised I even remembered his first name at all.”
Eliza’s neutral expression gave nothing away. “An innocent enough mistake.”
But it wasn’t and Caroline knew it. She was certain Eliza knew it too, but thankfully her friend did not belabor the point.
Waiting for a Rogue Page 19
