“There was, of course, an inquest as a matter of formality. But the magistrate cleared me of all suspicions and charges. It did not stop the public from calling me a murderer, thanks to the poisonous mouths of Miss Ball and Mrs. Humphrey.”
Although she did not agree with his choice in tactic and would far rather have confronted every gossiper of her own accord, she shrugged and said, “You would know more about combatting gossip than me. Unfortunately for your sake.”
That garnered her a smile.
She was learning to prize his smiles.
Lord Malliston looked at their hands, which were still joined. Though he straightened back in his seat, he did not let her go. Instead, he stroked her palm with his thumb. “I believe something like this,” and he indicated their hands with raised eyebrows, “would only fan the flames of new, eager rumors.”
She smiled back at him when he still did not relinquish his grip.
*
Many wondered at the duke coming to a ball at all, and with a woman in tow, no less – one so young and beautiful, at that. Others simply wanted to know what kind of a woman it was who had brought the Duke of Havoc out of his dark manor. She had flaming hair and the delicate features of a temptress, but she did not carry herself like one.
Reeve was ready for the gentle murmur that greeted their announced arrival. He knew instantly that Caroline, though she was brave, was not. He muttered in her ear with a smile, “Courage,” before walking to a footman with a tray full of glittering glasses of punch. He did not go far and she did not meander away from where he left her.
A full two minutes had not passed before he heard a reasonably familiar voice at his elbow. It spoke loudly and confidently.
“Who is that delicious slip of a thing you’ve brought with you, Malliston?”
Bristling, he looked into a pair of hard blue eyes. It took him a moment to recall the man’s name and title. This was, or had been, a friend of Bellamy’s until they had a falling out over some woman they were both courting.
Lord Cuff. Reeve finally settled on his name.
“She is a family acquaintance,” he said neutrally. He did not wish to give much away about Miss Sedgwyck, though it had been unavoidable to volunteer her name. “And how have you fared, lately, Cuff?” Reeve neither cared nor wanted to know, but still he asked.
It was a pointed change of subject, and Cuff would have none of it.
His broad face arranged itself into a calculating grin, nearly a leer. “She looks too fresh to be one of these cosseted young ladies.” Cuff looked around exaggeratedly at the highborn women who populated the ball, all of whom, it was true, carried themselves as though they had always been going to balls and dances. They each wore more jewels, had more curls in their hair.
By contrast, Miss Sedgwyck was almost too austere, though she was glowingly beautiful. Reeve felt that she was perfect as she was. If she was too adorned, the jewelry and complex accoutrements would only compete with her vivid natural coloring.
Accepting two glasses of punch from the footman when they arrived at the front of the small queue of guests waiting for refreshments, Reeve said simply, “She is not cosseted.”
Cuff took a glass for himself and sipped. Then he stroked his lower lip, thoughtfully. “You say she’s a friend of the family, but be honest with me, Malliston. You have not been seen with a new woman since your wife’s death, and you’ve quite the reputation for being popular with the ladies.” He emphasized “ladies” in a telling way to establish that he was not speaking about the particular ladies before them. “She’s a commoner, isn’t she?”
“I hardly see how that matters.”
“Well, it doesn’t, exactly,” said Cuff, as he arched an eyebrow. “I’m just trying to understand how I might find myself taking your delectable friend to a ball.”
Outraged, Reeve opened his mouth only to be cut across.
“Do you know who she reminds me of? My little sister had a music teacher with a redheaded daughter. Obviously he never brought her to the manor, but I saw her once or twice walking to meet him after he’d finished his lessons. From the state of their dress, and judging by the fact that they walked instead of taking a carriage, I took them to be upon hard times.” Cuff looked gleeful. “Sedgwyck, I believe their surname was.”
Reeve shut his mouth, but his heart was in his throat.
“Is this her profession, now? I can hardly fathom how one aging man would be able to provide for both of them. Come on, Malliston.”
“She is not a…”
Reeve was so livid he could hardly string together words.
“I’ve got to attend Lord Acton’s ball in a few weeks and I would bet that with a few little additions to her wardrobe, I could get her to pass as one of us.” Cuff was staring at Miss Sedgwyck lasciviously. “It would get Lady Acton off my scent. Married women who want liaisons are so tiresome, don’t you agree? She has been after me for weeks and weeks. It’s frightfully boring.” He took a deep drink of his punch and licked his lower lip. “I’d not mind sampling this Miss Sedgwyck’s wares, myself, though. Are they any good, old man?”
Cursing the ice that seemed to have encased him, Reeve tried to respond.
“Too right, the volume at which I’d have to discuss that with you would mark us both as incurably debauched. This isn’t the time or the place. I’ll call on you sometime soon, though, so that I may have the details to procure her services.”
Not if I throttle you, first, thought Reeve. He pawed reflexively at his cravat. Regrettably, that was also exactly what he said aloud to Cuff.
The cad was so shocked that he backed away from Reeve, staring at him as though he had just sprouted an extra head in the middle of their conversation.
*
Their hosts, Lord Poppleton and Lady Anne, were lively octogenarians, gracious, but as curious as the rest of their guests. They tried most doggedly to ascertain Caroline’s relationship to Lord Malliston.
“Have I seen you at court before, dear girl?” asked Lady Anne, who was tiny of stature, yet formidable in bearing and so laden with jewels that Caroline feared she might tip over at any moment.
Caroline smiled at the stark curiosity in her bright, grey eyes. “No, ma’am, you must not have,” she said, providing no more detail.
“Your surname is Sedgwyck, you said?”
“Yes, Lady Anne.”
“I do not know of the name, personally.”
“I would be very surprised if you did, my lady, for the name is not so illustrious,” said Caroline, watching with concealed amusement as the old woman’s confusion and intrigue both increased.
In the end, frustrated, Lady Anne left Caroline to her own devices and went in search of other unsuspecting prey who might yield more pleasing tidbits.
Lord Malliston appeared calm and unruffled when next they met to dance, and they exchanged stories of those who tried to gain intelligence about them. Caroline remembered one man he spoke to for some time near the punch, and asked him, “Was the man you were speaking with when we first arrived a friend? I saw you both looking over at me and couldn’t divine what you were talking about, especially since you said we should not encourage gossip by supplying details.”
That caused Lord Malliston to look considerably less calm. “Lord Cuff,” he said with a sneer. “And he is not a friend.”
Wisely, Caroline let the subject die.
Although he evidently came to fisticuffs with no one that she witnessed, he danced most of the dances with her in an attempt to save her from the many men who wanted to do the same.
By the time the night was dwindling to a close, the whole venue was alive with talk of the lady with surprising beauty and poise who had captured the Duke of Havoc’s cold heart.
Who was she? She was not of the ton for she bore no title that she had specified, yet she did not have ill bearing.
Surely, she was not a doxy. Lady Anne herself gave her own opinion most decidedly on that idea.
Why
did the duke seem to be so changed? Did the mysterious young woman understand the rumors about him, or was she simple in some way?
Everyone, from Lady Anne to Lord Poppleton, was simply longing to know more about Miss Caroline Sedgwyck.
*
Their journey back to the inn was punctuated by comfortable silences and laughter over how obvious the ton could be when its denizens wanted to know something about anyone. Caroline hardly wanted the carriage ride to be over because she knew that when they arrived, they would go to their separate rooms and the spell of companionship would be broken.
All too soon, they were getting out of the carriage, Lord Malliston first. He helped Caroline down with a smile. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Sedgwyck.”
“I should be thanking you, my lord,” she said, shivering a little in the chill.
It was quite late, and although Lord Poppleton had offered them accommodations, both Caroline and Lord Malliston preferred more seclusion than would be granted in the Poppletons’ household. Lord Malliston had explained in the carriage once they had departed that they would be expected to join their hosts, and any other guests who had lingered overnight, at breakfast. Caroline had wholeheartedly agreed that the inn was, by far, the preferable option.
“Then let us share a mutual thankfulness,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And go inside, for it’s become quite cold.”
Almost as though he had forgotten their respective roles in life, he took her closer under his arm.
She should not have allowed it, but she savored the warmth that radiated from his body. “Ladies’ formal attire does not allow for as many layers as men’s,” she sniffed. “You, at least, have a coat.”
“Don’t sound so dour, Miss Sedgwyck,” said the duke cheerfully. “I see the taproom is still well lit and it will be warm.”
Once inside, Lord Malliston still seemed reluctant to part from her. They did not merit so much as a second glance from any of the other patrons, who at this time of night were of greatly varying but generally sedate types. Some were older folks who were, perhaps, lonely and used the inn as a community space, and there were even a few women, while others were men around Lord Malliston’s age.
Clerks, she thought, or perhaps merchants.
“Do you not wish to retire, my lord?” asked Caroline.
“Of course,” he nodded. “Let me show you upstairs.”
“I am sure it won’t be necessary,” she said, less fearful of what anyone might think and more nervous about her own urges and potential lack of self-control. “I can find my own room, again. I did not have so much punch,” she added with a half-smile. “I am not at all addled.”
From that, she silently amended.
Truthfully, the duke’s constant proximity all evening had left her stymied.
He was not cloyingly attentive, but he had monopolized her attention, a situation for which she was grateful. She would never say so, but she had been rather frightened of all the guests in their fine clothes. Even the ballroom itself was intimidating, from its glittering candlesticks and chandelier to its exquisite paintings. The Thornlands was grand, but it was not crammed with a lifetime’s worth of possessions the way the Poppleton residence was. Lord Malliston seemed to curate his belongings a little more carefully.
“I would never presume to call you addled, Miss Sedgwyck,” said Lord Malliston. “I am merely being polite.”
She sighed. “Very well, my lord. It is at the top of the building, an attic room. I’ve no complaints at all and it is clean and charming. I expect it was given to me because of my size. But I wonder whether you will even be able to fit in the uppermost stairwell.”
He chuckled at her candor. She was so tired that she could not keep it as managed as she would have preferred.
“Let us see whether my stature shall put an end to my chivalry.”
Up they went, Caroline being careful not to let the delicate hem of her beautiful dress catch on the wooden steps. By the time they reached the final stretch of stairs, it was clear that Lord Malliston had to compress himself to fit.
She suppressed a giggle.
But when he snorted with amusement, it gave her the courage to say, “My lord, you bring to mind a large cat determined to fit somewhere it cannot.”
“It is not an inaccurate comparison,” he grumbled.
He stepped aside as much as he could on the narrow landing and she withdrew her key from her little reticule.
Taking a step toward the door, she arched an eyebrow at him and said, “You have accomplished your task. I am safely to my room.”
They were unbearably close and the small expanse they shared seemed thick with heat between them. It was equally pleasurable and disarming.
He seemed to feel this way, too, because he neither took a step back to the top stair nor moved any closer to her. He did stare at her mouth more than he stared into her eyes.
I won’t kiss you, Lord Malliston, but if you were to kiss me, I would not stop you, she thought desperately.
“So I have,” he said, his voice gone husky and soft. “Sleep well, Miss Sedgwyck.”
And before she could register what was happening, he planted a soft, very fleeting kiss to her forehead.
Then he turned, and went carefully but quickly down the stairs.
Chapter Eleven
Naturally, Sophie and Phoebe wanted to hear all about the ball, and their interest hardly waned for a fortnight. Although Reeve would have been impatient with them only a month or two ago, he now found their enthusiasm very endearing. Miss Sedgwyck was accommodating of their repetitive questions, and only he noticed the subtle variations in her retellings.
He suspected that she created the minute differences for her own amusement. For example, one day Lady Alderton’s dress dripped with beautiful pearls, but when Phoebe asked the next day about the dress, the lady in question’s lovely garment was encrusted with the finest diamonds.
Phoebe, having forgotten what Miss Sedgwyck had said about pearls at the utterance of “diamonds”, gasped with delight.
Reeve never tired of hearing Miss Sedgwyck paint vivid pictures of the night, even if those verbal paintings never quite matched each other. One drizzling afternoon, while she indulged his daughters yet another time and told them about Lady Anne’s nosy questions, he found himself mesmerized by the movement of her lips as she spoke animatedly.
Her words also amused him. She was not straying from the truth at all and, evidently, Lady Anne had been deeply incensed that she could not gather more information from the strange young lady who had accompanied the Duke of Nidderdale.
His girls, however, were fixated on a much different matter.
“Did Papa kiss your hand after the dance, Miss Caroline?” Sophie asked.
It was as though she had not retained anything Miss Sedgwyck had said for the last ten minutes. He could tell by Sophie’s expression that she had been dying to ask.
It was a new question, and Reeve saw that Miss Sedgwyck was as stricken as he was. Her fetching eyes widened but, to her credit, she did not appear overly nervous.
“He did not, Sophie,” she replied.
Now, she was avoiding his eyes and looking squarely at the girls. Even Phoebe, who was still a little too young to understand how ladies and gentlemen navigated a ball with decorum, was gazing curiously at Miss Sedgwyck.
Reeve thought, It would hardly be improper to kiss a woman’s hand at a ball.
But he recalled the quick kiss he left on Miss Sedgwyck’s forehead, as though he’d been possessed, and blinked.
“Why not?” Sophie persisted. “Duckie said it is proper for a gentleman to kiss a lady’s hand after a dance.”
“Duckie is correct, Sophie,” he said, intervening before Miss Sedgwyck could demure again. “Papa has not been to a dance for a long time, and he did not kiss Miss Caroline’s hand. You can be sure that, next time, he will not forget himself.”
The children appeared satisfied with his answer. They l
ooked at each other, then at him.
Sophie nodded.
“Good, Papa,” she said.
Miss Sedgwyck murmured, “If you will excuse me for a moment, girls…”
Reeve looked over to see that her face was crimson. He caught the hue of her skin just as she nearly flew from the room. It nearly matched her hair. She must have been thinking back to the kind of kiss he had given her.
He was not quite prepared for what Phoebe said next, but was immensely thankful that Miss Sedgwyck was not present to hear it.
“Will you ask Miss Caroline to marry you?”
Sophie vigorously nodded her support, smiling brightly at their father.
“Ah… Phoebe, do you want me to?”
He kept his countenance neutral enough.
“Why, of course she does, yes!” said Sophie, just as Phoebe opened her mouth to respond.
While that propensity for speaking quickly, before she could, had often perturbed the little one, Phoebe just cocked her head at her sister and nodded.
“But am I correct in understanding that you wish it, too, Sophie?” asked Reeve.
Sophie spared him a look that suggested he was a fool for asking. Reeve fell quiet, glancing from her to Phoebe, almost lost in thought.
He knew that as far as they were concerned, their consent sufficiently settled the question.
In the days that followed this abrupt conversation, Reeve continued to dwell on the idea of marrying Miss Sedgwyck. It was hardly the most bizarre idea he had ever entertained in a lifetime of having them.
Sitting in the quiet solitude of his library, Reeve stared out of the window at treetops swaying in the wind. As was his recent habit, he was sipping tea rather than a stronger drink, and his large hand curled around the dainty, warm cup.
Reeve, you’re in love with her – you do realize that, don’t you, old man?
At least he admitted it to himself, now.
And perhaps it was a foolish man’s hope, but he fancied that she reciprocated. On occasion, there would be warmth in one of her glances, a fire in the depths of her eyes that only he could discern. He did not believe that she was impartial to him. Now that they had become friends, they spent more time than ever in each other’s company. Everything and everyone in The Thornlands had changed since her arrival, and this included his regard for her.
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