“Caroline! You look beautiful,” the Dowager Duchess exclaimed. “This is the one, yes!”
“I quite agree, Your Grace.” Caroline beamed and turned around, admiring the shape of the skirt. Perhaps this ball wasn’t going to be that bad after all.
“You should go change again, we can’t have you smudging it,” the Dowager Duchess said sharply. Caroline fought the impulse to roll her eyes. Instead, she said politely, “Of course, Your Grace.” She left the drawing room and was walking up the stairs when she heard voices at the top of the stairs.
“Lord Brighney has instructed that you ought to leave your notes on his desk,” Mr. Yaxley was saying. “There is a folder on the spare desk, which you should take with you. Good day, sir.” Another voice mumbled their thanks, and then Mr. Yaxley descended the stairs, giving her a curt nod as he passed.
Ever so quietly, Caroline reached the top of the stairs. Her father’s library was open, and inside stood Mr. Langley, hunched over the desk.
She looked behind her and saw no one except Madeleine. “Stand guard.” Caroline mouthed and gestured to the door. Madeleine’s wide eyes stared back at her, but after a brief pause, she nodded her head. She walked inside, closing the door halfway. “Mr. Langley,” she said softly, but still causing him to jump. “It appears I keep sneaking up on you.”
“Lady Caroline,” Mr. Langley said, his voice croaky. He was staring at her, his mouth half-open. His chest heaved up and down, and Caroline felt that strange tingling again. She felt naked underneath his gaze. It was as if he was memorizing her figure, the way he hungrily looked at her. “You look… beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Slowly she walked closer to him. She longed for him to touch her, to hold her close to him. It was improper, she knew, to be in there with him—alone! But she didn’t care. Every moment they could be close was worth it.
“Your letter left me exquisitely miserable.” He laughed softly. She took another step closer to him, and she could smell his scent once more.
“I wish that things were different,” Caroline said miserably. They were very close now, much too close. This was not befitting a young lady. If someone came inside, this would all be over. As if he had read her mind, he said, “We cannot be here, alone.”
“I know,” she replied, reaching her hand forward and softly stroking his. He interlocked their fingers, and they swayed on the spot for a blissful moment. “I must leave.” Remorsefully, she stepped back a small step but was surprised when he pulled her toward him. His large hand held her waist firmly, and he brought their bodies tightly together.
His lips were mere inches away from hers, she could feel his warm breath on her own. She could feel his arousal pressed against her body, indecently hard and pronounced. A great pang of desire shot through her body. Their mouths almost touched. She knew if she moved one inch, their lips would touch. But then, much too suddenly, he backed away from her abruptly.
“Forgive me, My Lady,” he said, not looking at her. “I should not have done that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I must go,” she replied, desperately wanting him to look at her. “I pray we will meet soon, Mr. Langley.”
“Your very being overpowers me, Lady Caroline.” He was whispering. “You have got a hold over me that I do not fully understand, but trust me, I will not stop fighting for you. Ever.” She did not dare look at him, for she feared she would not be able to look away. Instead, she swiftly left the room, followed by Madeleine.
It scares me how much I ache from desire after being near him.
Chapter 13
After Caroline left the library, she meandered into her room, her body aflame with desire. Never before had she wished to abandon all restraints and propriety as she did now. She was vaguely aware that it would very soon be time to go to the ball at Almack’s. Caroline had told Madeleine that she wished to rest until it was time to go and asked not to be disturbed.
She lay in her bed, with her eyes closed, willing her mind to conjure up their brief encounter again. She thought of Mr. Langley, his close proximity, the way he held her. Never before had she felt any man touch her in such a way, or felt the hardness of arousal against her thigh.
How she longed to be back in his embrace, engulfing his scent. She yearned for his lips, firmly against her, with all the unspoken promises they would never be able to utter nor write.
Somehow the next few hours passed by in a strange blur. Caroline could not really pay attention to anything that was happening around her. She was back in the lilac gown at one moment; the next, she was walking out to the carriage along with her aunt. Perhaps the change of scenery would distract her mind.
The carriage arrived, and raucous laughter filled the evening sky. They entered Almack’s, which was buzzing with life. Caroline stood beside her aunt, drinking in the surroundings. They walked around, politely nodding their heads to other guests.
Finally, her aunt stopped in front of an elderly lady. “Dear Dowager Duchess, welcome.” The lady in front of them was impeccably dressed in an expensive-looking burgundy-colored gown. She seemed to be quite a bit older than the Dowager Duchess, with a stern and calculating face, and an aura of intimidation about her.
“I would like you to meet my niece,” the Dowager Duchess said, turning to look at her again. “Caroline, meet Her Grace, the Duchess of Aston.”
Of course!
It was the lady her aunt had been conversing with during the cricket match.
“An honor, Your Grace,” Caroline said with a deep curtsey.
“Good evening, Lady Caroline.” The Duchess of Aston seemed to be apprizing her, taking in her appearance. “I do hope you will enjoy yourself tonight.”
“She will, Duchess,” her aunt replied.
“Well, I do believe the dancing will commence soon,” the Duchess of Aston said, nodding her head in farewell.
“Come now, Lady Caroline, there are many young gentlemen eagerly awaiting to dance with you.” Her aunt turned around, gesturing that she ought to follow. “Your dance card will never be touched if we stand here.”
Caroline spotted Lady Anna, who beamed at her and approached them.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Lady Anna said elegantly, before turning to Caroline. “Lovely to see you, sweet friend.”
“You look lovely,” she said, admiring the ivory white gown her friend was wearing.
“Thank you, but it pales in comparison to your splendid gown.” Lady Anna gushed. “This is an exciting event, don’t you think?” The Dowager Duchess had turned around to greet another guest, giving the two ladies the chance to speak closely together.
“Yes, I suppose.” Caroline sighed, looking around.
“You don’t sound too excited,” Lady Anna replied, thoughtfully.
“I’m rather looking forward to all this ending,” she said quietly. “You know how I feel about these types of events.”
“You truly are mad.” Lady Anna laughed. “This is wonderful, and look,” she pulled out a small card with a decorative image on the front. “My dance card is almost full!”
“That’s nice,” Caroline replied, trying to sound interested. The initial excitement had worn off, and now she would much rather be home.
“See here.” Lady Anna gestured to her dance card. “The Marquess of Estaria.”
“Who?”
“Caroline! I cannot believe you.” Lady Anna gasped with playful indignation. “He is ever so handsome. I could not believe he wished to dance with me.”
“I am glad for you, dear friend,” she said kindly.
“Oh, I think the dancing is starting.” Lady Anna turned, looking excitedly around. The Dowager Duchess held out a card like the one Lady Anna had shown Caroline.
“Your dance card is completely full, My Lady. You should be honored that so many young gentlemen wished to dance with you.” Her aunt handed her the card with a triumphant smile.
“How… wonderful,” she replied, feeling anxious. She glanced at
the card, reading the names. Two gentlemen who had requested to dance with her were suitors from last Season who she had refused.
Oh, dear Lord, this evening is going to be endless. Why would they want to dance with me after I turned down their proposals? This is a nightmare.
She followed her aunt to the dance hall. It was a vast room with a raised platform where the small orchestra sat ready to play.
The first dance was the quadrille, as was to be expected. Caroline moved gracefully with the music, smiling politely at her dance partner, a loutish-looking son of a Viscount. He wasn’t a terrible dancer, but he seemed terribly shy, unable to look her in the eye.
At the final trill from the instruments, signaling that the dance had finished, she curtsied, and he walked her to the end of the dance floor. The next dance was starting, and Caroline had not even turned around when someone spoke her name.
“Why, Lady Caroline, I believe I’m your next dance partner.”
A cold shudder ran down her spine. It was Mr. Stanley, a son of a Scottish Baron, and one of her spurned suiters. “Mr. Stanley,” she replied. “How have you been?”
“Better now,” he said, holding out his hand to guide her to the dance floor. “Let’s not tarry, My Lady.” It was a much livelier tune, a country dance this time. This suited her perfectly, as it was difficult to talk during this number. She desperately longed for the supper break.
For the next two dance partners, she realized the perfect way to distract her and make this whole evening more bearable. As she moved with the music, she imagined Mr. Langley holding her hand instead of her current dance partner. None of the gentlemen at the ball were nearly as handsome as him. The thought of dancing with him, now that, she would not mind at all.
Again, she curtsied to thank her dance partner. Before she could even look at her dance card to see who was next, her aunt approached her, accompanied by a tall, wiry gentleman. He had ash-blond hair and the most astonishing blue eyes. He stopped in front of her and bowed low.
“Lady Caroline,” the Dowager Duchess said. “Allow me to introduce you to the Marquess of Estaria.”
“How do you do,” she replied.
“It is an honor to finally meet you, Lady Caroline.” He smiled sheepishly, a slightly crooked smile. “I do believe I am your next dance partner.”
Caroline was quite taken aback by him. He truly did seem different from the rest of her dance partners, even the other gentlemen here. The way he looked at her made her feel she was the only one present on the dance floor.
“Indeed, you are, Lord Estaria,” she finally said, and they turned to face each other. When they began dancing, she noticed how many were watching them. To her surprise, many of the young ladies observing them had glum looks or even scowls on their faces. He moved with precision and never broke their eye contact. Compared to her other disastrous dances of the evening, this one seemed over just as it began.
“What do you say we give the folks around here something to talk about?” Lord Estaria winked at her and stood still.
“Are you meaning we should dance another set?” Caroline asked.
“That is precisely what I mean,” he replied. “Or you could dance with that charming gentleman waiting over there.” He looked at Mr. Stanley, who was staring at them, his face red.
“Oh, dear.”
“Come on, we’ll dance one more dance, and then there will be a supper break.” He winked her and bowed his head once more. She laughed before curtsying as well, and they started dancing. She caught a glimpse of her aunt, but instead of the disapproving look she expected, the Dowager Duchess was smiling at them.
That is odd.
When the dance finished, Lord Estaria guided her to the supper room. Here, many young ladies seemed rather taken aback by the Marquess, staring at him, their eyes huge. She caught Lady Anna’s gaze, who looked surprised, but happy. She mouthed with a huge grin, Lucky you! followed with a mock frown.
The conversation during the supper was superficial and tedious. As everyone was at their best behavior, the topics ranged from how lovely the ball was to weather discussions. Caroline noticed that Lord Estaria was ignoring the looks from his apparent admirers, but his charm seemed to be contained to the dance floor. Nothing he said was of any interest to her. But perhaps she was being unfair since she was comparing him to Mr. Langley, who was a man of law and very knowledgeable.
She wished he was there with her. Throughout the rather tedious supper, Lord Estaria frequently tried to engage Caroline into a conversation, however he did not seem genuinely interested in what she had to say. She focused her attention on the food, although the thinly sliced bread and dry cakes were quite bland, she thought, but she ate happily as she had not eaten much that day.
When they had finished their refreshments, it was time to start dancing again. Caroline had been thinking about Mr. Langley, and his strong arm around her waist, and therefore did not hear Lord Estaria’s question. She turned around and saw he looked slightly annoyed, but only for a brief moment.
“I’m sorry, my mind seems to have wandered off,” she said politely.
“That is quite all right,” he replied. “I was telling you how very much I have enjoyed your company tonight.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, My Lord.”
“I will be at the theatre next Saturday. There is a wonderful new production at Covent Garden. I hope that I will see you again there.” Caroline was bewildered for a moment before she realized what he had said. She was just about to politely inform the Marquess she would not be going to the theatre when the Dowager Duchess appeared, seemingly from thin air.
“Dear Lord Estaria,” her aunt said decisively. “Lady Caroline and I will be there.”
Chapter 14
Owen Barnet, the Marquess of Estaria, was dreadfully bored. He lay in his massive, four-poster bed in the untidy room. He could still smell the sweet perfume that engulfed his sheets. It had been a good night, filled with dancing and drinking. The curtains were drawn shut, but still, a sliver of sunlight managed to shine directly on him.
Owen lived in bachelor lodgings in the middle of London. It was large, fit for throwing parties, and impressing his conquests. He stood up and knocked over a wine bottle that had been propped up against the bed. The bottle was empty, not that he would not have cared had it not been. It wasn’t his responsibility to clean like a common chambermaid. And he could not give a damn about the ornate rug in his room.
It was already long past noon. He had been out until very late the night before. He smiled at the memory.
What is that sweet little lady’s name? I cannot remember. Laura? Sarah?
He had perhaps drunk a tad too much, usually he remembered their names. He had a boyish charm about him that made young ladies trust him, practically throwing themselves at him.
Well, it doesn’t matter.
He walked into the small kitchen and noticed begrudgingly that there was nothing there he wished to eat. He dressed hurriedly and left the lodgings. It was sunny outside, and he shielded his eyes and jogged toward his favorite gentlemen’s club. There he was a regular, and was always treated as a man of his stature should be treated.
Money was never an issue for the Marquess, or at least it hadn’t been. He had to admit that lately the sums he had lost during card games seemed to grow larger with every game. But he wasn’t worried.
“Good afternoon, My Lord.” The waiter bowed low in welcoming him. “I will escort you to your table.” Owen followed, walking lazily and looking around. Today, though, no one intrigued him. He ordered his food and a glass of wine for good measure and sat back and relaxed.
When he was done eating and had returned to his lodgings, a familiar face entered the room. “How are you today, Mr. Tiff,” Owen said with his eyebrow raised, to his trusted manservant.
“All is well, My Lord,” Mr. Tiff responded gruffly. He was a broad and rough man, which was unusual for a manservant. Mr. Tiff could look somewhat intim
idating, which was precisely why Owen liked him.
“Did she, what’s-her-name.” Owen scrunched his face trying to remember his doxy’s name. “Did she get back all right?”
“Aye,” Mr. Tiff responded. “The carriage left early this morning.”
“Very good.” Owen sighed.
“Why are you hovering around me still?” he added, annoyed that his manservant was still near him.
“His Grace, the Duke of Aston, has requested to see you today,” Mr. Tiff said, unperturbed by his master’s retort.
“Oh, does he now?” Owen chuckled humorlessly.
For the Lust of a Rogue: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 9
