Lewis’s tired face lightened a little. “It sounds just the thing. I only hope it did not make her too loquacious first!”
Caroline avoided his eye. “Not…not particularly, sir.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow and Caroline realised that something in her tone had given her away. She had always found it difficult to dissemble, particularly when she was feeling self-conscious, and the very knowledge that he was such a perceptive man made her feel even more ill at ease.
“I see.” Lewis sounded amused. “Never fear, Miss Whiston! I shall not ask you to break my sister’s confidence! Now, you must be tired. I’ll bid you goodnight.”
They went out together, Lewis raising a casual hand in farewell as he went downstairs. Caroline went to her room and prepared for bed, but found that she could not sleep. The sponge cake was sitting heavily on her stomach and her mind was full of the events of the day. She took out a book and read for a little, then sat by the window looking out at the dark and listening to the muted sounds of the household. Gradually the house became quiet. Caroline heard the clock in the hall strike one. She cast her book aside with a sigh and decided to go down to the kitchens for a third time, this time for a drink for herself.
Pulling a woollen wrap over her nightdress, Caroline slipped out on to the landing. There was no one about. She was not superstitious, but the shadows and the silence made her suddenly nervous and she averted her eyes from the closed door of the Admiral’s room. She hurried down the stairs, her candle held high in one hand, the other grasping the wooden banister. A light still showed beneath the door of the study but there was no sound from within the room.
Caroline was about to tiptoe towards the door to the servants’ quarters when a movement caught the corner of her eye. The candle flared as she spun round and she gave a muted squeak of alarm. She thought she saw the faintest of shadowy figures waft away down the corridor, then the light went out as her candle fell from her shaking hand.
Chapter Six
The study door opened with an abrupt crash.
“What the devil is going on there?” It was Lewis’s voice, sharp out of the darkness. He came out into the hall, holding his own candle high. “Miss Whiston? What the deuce—”
Caroline’s teeth were chattering with nerves. “I beg your pardon, sir. I saw…I thought I saw someone in the hall…a figure in grey…”
Lewis caught her arm and pulled her unceremoniously into the study. Caroline’s relief at being in the light again was tempered a moment later by the sudden realisation that she was in her night attire and that she was now alone in the room with Lewis. She turned to face him and saw that he too was in a state of undress scarcely suitable for company. He had discarded his jacket and cravat, both of which were cast carelessly over the back of one of the chairs, and his shirt was open at the neck. The candlelight gilded his skin to deep bronze and shadowed his blue eyes. Caroline felt her throat dry with an entirely different type of nervousness. Her gaze moved to the half-empty brandy bottle that was standing on the desk, and at the same moment she heard the door close behind her with a wholly unnerving click.
“Have no fear, Miss Whiston,” Lewis said smoothly, reading Caroline’s mind with an accuracy she was beginning to find very disturbing. “Though appearances may be to the contrary, I am quite sober. Pray take a seat and tell me what has alarmed you.”
He put the candle down on the desk and turned to look at her. Caroline’s hand strayed to her throat in a nervous gesture. She could think of nothing but that she was in her nightdress and her hair was loose about her shoulders, and she must look like the veriest cyprian.
“I think I had better not, sir.” She found that her voice was still a little unsteady. “It was only my foolish imagination. I was feeling uneasy and thought I saw an apparition—”
“The grey lady.” Lewis strolled over to the side table and splashed some brandy into a glass. He held the bottle up. “Are you sure you will not join me?”
“Quite sure, I thank you, sir.” Caroline knew she sounded prim and heard him laugh a little mockingly.
“Then take a seat at least, Miss Whiston, and bear me company.” Lewis came across and sat down, gesturing to Caroline to join him. He crossed his legs at the ankle and leant back. “I need some company tonight. I do believe that you have seen our resident ghost.”
“The grey lady?” Caroline sat down a little abruptly. “Surely not, sir! Ghosts and spirits—what nonsense!”
Lewis shrugged lightly. “I am surprised that you have not come across the tale in your reading, Miss Whiston! Apparently the lady in question was the wife of a royalist who lost his life in the civil war. When she heard of his death she was inconsolable and refused to eat. She wasted away until she died, and now she haunts the house and gardens, flitting about like a grey shadow whenever there is a death in the family.”
Despite herself, Caroline shivered. “Stuff and nonsense!” she said stoutly, wrapping her arms closely about herself as she tried to get warm. “It is just a fanciful story!”
Lewis laughed. He took a long draught of brandy. “Practical Miss Whiston! Yet you were the one who saw her…”
Caroline shivered again.
“Come closer to the fire,” Lewis said softly. His eyes were intent on her face, making Caroline feel even more tinglingly ill at ease. “We should not frighten ourselves with ghost stories on winter nights.”
“I would have thought that you would have no time for such foolishness, sir!” Caroline said astringently, assuming a brisk manner to cover her discomfiture. “Surely you are more used to dealing with matters of action rather than imagination!”
Lewis stretched. Caroline saw the muscle ripple beneath the white linen of his shirt and tore her gaze away. Suddenly the room felt a lot warmer, rather hot and cold at the same time, which was confusing. Caroline wondered if she was about to contract a chill.
“Surely you have heard that seafarers are the most superstitious breed imaginable, Miss Whiston!” Lewis said sardonically. “We can always be relied upon to tell the most fearsome tales! But let us change the subject. Tell me instead how you came to be wandering about the house so late.”
“I could not sleep,” Caroline said evasively. “I thought to fetch myself a cup of milk. In fact,” she jumped up, “that is what I will do now!”
Lewis looked her over with lazy amusement. His gaze took in her flushed cheeks and seemed to linger on the rich chestnut hair that curled about her face. “What, dare you brave those dark corridors alone?”
“I am persuaded that I imagined the whole matter!” Caroline said briskly. “There is no danger!”
“Probably less than staying here with me,” Lewis said. His gaze, dark blue as the summer sea, drifted over her again, making her feel acutely uncomfortable. It was not an unpleasant awareness, Caroline thought a little breathlessly, but rather one loaded with too many unnerving feelings. She did not want to think about it, for already she felt as thought she was straying perilously out of her depth.
Lewis reached for the brandy bottle again. “Well, if I cannot persuade you to join me in a nightcap—”
“I think not,” Caroline said politely, “but I thank you.” She retreated towards the door, her sense of relief increasing with every step she took. It was only when her hand was actually on the latch that a horrid thought struck her and made her pause. Supposing the Captain intended to sit here all night and drink himself into oblivion? The loss of his father could well take him that way, and though he had shown nothing but strength in supporting Lavender thus far, how would his sister feel if she awoke the next day and found Lewis insensible with drink?
“You hesitate, Miss Whiston.” Lewis’s mocking tones broke into her thoughts. He got to his feet and moved towards her with the loose-limbed grace that was peculiarly his own. There was a teasing glint in his eye. Caroline backed away, her gaze riveted on his face.
“Oh…no, it was simply that I concerned that you might—” She stopped, torn b
etween her anxiety and the realisation that she could be getting herself into trouble.
Lewis smiled a little. “You are concerned that I am more than a little adrift and that without your restraining influence I will become positively foxed?” His smile deepened. “Well, you may be correct on the first point, Miss Whiston, but you may also trust me…I shall not let Lavender down.”
“I did not think that you would,” Caroline said, as coolly as she was able. “I admire you for the support you have given your sister, but often it is those who care most about others whom no one else thinks to comfort—” She broke off, the colour flooding her face as she saw the expression in his eyes, a mixture of tenderness and amusement.
“That is very true, Miss Whiston,” Lewis said slowly, “for you could be speaking of yourself! For all your brusque façade, you care much about others do you not? But who cares for you? You must have been lonely…”
Caroline felt her grasp of the situation slipping away. He was very close to her now. She could almost imagine that she could smell the scent of his skin, feel the warmth emanating from his body. Such thoughts made her feel slightly faint and she struggled to regain her usual cool common sense.
“You mistake me, I meant nothing so profound,” she said hurriedly. “I was only alarmed that you might over-indulge—”
Lewis’s smile told her that he did not believe her. “I am touched that you seek to comfort me, Miss Whiston.”
“Such was not my intention!” Caroline said, a little wildly. She turned back towards the door. “You twist my words, sir! I must go! I am very tired!”
“Not so fast, Miss Whiston,” Lewis murmured. His arm slid around Caroline’s waist, pulling her against him. There was no time for her to think; his mouth was on hers, for a moment soft and sweet, then hard and demanding. Caroline felt herself tremble, leaning the palms of her hands against his chest to steady herself. She could feel the beat of his heart, taste the hint of brandy on his lips. A hundred protests came into her head and fled beneath the touch of his hands. He was tangling his fingers in the heavy fall of chestnut hair about Caroline’s shoulders, and now she could feel him stroking the nape of her neck so softly that she shivered with pleasure. The gentle touch was acutely at odds with the ruthless skill of his kiss. Caroline’s tiredness mingled with a most delicious weakness, creating a sensual lassitude that robbed her of the will to move.
“Dear Caro…” Lewis said softly, when his lips left hers. His vivid blue gaze scanned her face and his eyes darkened with desire again. “I have so wanted…”
His hand came up to touch her cheek lightly, sliding beneath her chin and turning her lips up to his again. This time the kiss was gentle, the searching urgency held in check. Lewis’s grip tightened and Caroline slid her arms about his neck, pressing closer against him. She was dazed and dazzled, swept by such unfamiliar feelings…
A door closed stealthily nearby. It was a small noise, but enough to bring Caroline to her senses. How many people knew that she had come downstairs, that she was alone in the study with the master of the house? Suddenly what had seemed so sweet and precious became sordid. The master of the house and the governess companion…It conjured up all sorts of cartoon images in Caroline’s mind, the whispered gossip of the servants, the smirks and knowing looks…She pulled herself out of Lewis’s arms and drew her wrap more closely about her, clearing her throat painfully.
“I believe you took more than mere comfort there, sir…”
Lewis’s eyes were very dark. He ran a hand through his dishevelled fair hair. “Miss Whiston, I—”
“Pray do not apologise, sir!” Caroline said quickly. She did not think she could bear it if he made matters worse by telling her it was all a mistake, a drunken error of judgement.
“I was not planning to do so.” Lewis gave her a very straight look. “I wanted—” He broke off and rubbed a hand across his brow. “Confound it, this is not as I had intended—”
Caroline pressed her fingers against her lips. Suddenly, like a dose of cold water, she remembered Lavender telling her that she had seen Julia in Lewis’s arms only the previous day. Abruptly, Caroline’s mortification turned to icy anger within her. She had been in danger of losing her heart, whilst he…
“Embracing several different women in a short space of time must have its difficulties,” she observed coldly. “May I suggest that you rein in your rakish tendencies, sir? You will find life so much less confusing that way!”
Lewis stood still, looking at her with raised eyebrows. “Rakish tendencies? My dear Caroline—”
“I did not give you permission to use my name, sir, nor do I wish to be treated as some kind of rival to Julia for your affections!” Caroline said, unable to contain herself. “It may amuse you, but I consider it an inappropriate jest!”
“A jest? A rival to Julia? Whatever can you mean?” Lewis looked genuinely puzzled and Caroline was incensed at his duplicity.
“Do you deny that she was the recipient of your attentions only yesterday? You are somewhat fickle, sir!”
Lewis’ blue eyes narrowed on Caroline’s face. “What is this, servants’ gossip? I do deny it!”
“The whole household knows of it!” Caroline said, exaggerating wildly, “and it does you no credit to refute it, sir!”
There was some flash of expression in Lewis’s eyes, so quick that Caroline could not read it, then he shrugged and his face went blank.
“Very well, Miss Whiston.” He spoke quietly. “If that is how you wish it…” He handed her the candle from the desktop, then stepped forward and held the door open for her. There was no mistaking her dismissal. Caroline risked one further look at his face, but it was quite unreadable. He gave her a slight bow, as though encouraging her to be on her way, and closed the door behind her with a very decisive thud.
Caroline found herself out in the dark hall, all thought of a soothing drink fled. She wanted to do nothing more than run up the stairs and indulge in a hearty bout of tears to relieve her feelings. As a governess companion she was accustomed to ignoring slights, ill-natured comments and malicious tricks, but she had no experience of dealing with the kind of feelings that Lewis Brabant stirred up in her.
Caroline lay awake for the best part of the night. By dawn, her first fury with Lewis had abated into a numb acceptance that she was partly to blame for what had happened between them. She was the one who had gone wandering about the house at night and she had gone into the study even when she had seen that he was alone. It was the action of a naïve débutante rather than a sensible woman of eight-and-twenty. More to the point, she had scarcely fought Lewis off when he had taken her in his arms. A part of Caroline burned with shame when she remembered the abandoned fashion with which she had returned his kisses, but another part shivered at the memory of his touch. She could hardly fool herself that she was indifferent to him. She furiously told herself that he was unprincipled and beneath contempt, but her heart told another story.
The truth of the matter was terrifying to her and she tried not to think on it too much. Caroline knew that she had repressed her emotions for so long that they were as dry as a tinderbox, and she was in serious danger of falling ever deeper in love. It was inappropriate and pointless and yet another reason why she had to leave Hewly as soon as possible. Though she had lost her heart, Caroline saw no reason to lose her head as well. She was not one to throw her bonnet over a windmill, and to go to Lewis and beg for his love was out of the question.
She finally fell asleep, to be woken late the next morning by a housemaid with a can of hot water and a tray of breakfast. Since Caroline had never had breakfast in bed in the time she was at Hewly, she was rather startled.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” the maid said in answer to her question, “but the master insisted. He said that you had been up late caring for Miss Lavender and should have some time to rest.”
Caroline inwardly raised her eyebrows at this evidence of Lewis’s thoughtfulness, lay back agains
t her pillows and helped herself to a cup of chocolate. She was aware of a very definite and cowardly urge to avoid him that morning, but she knew it was impossible. With a sigh she got herself out of bed and had a thorough wash. She dressed in her undergarments, then lingered before her dressing-table, considering.
She was forced to concede that her figure was not bad when she did not choose to conceal it beneath drab worsted. She was slim but well-proportioned, although she knew she was considered rather tall for a woman. Society did not think of height as an attractive feature in a female, although for a governess it was a positive advantage as it gave an impression of authority. The rules of fashion did not really apply to governesses, Caroline thought suddenly. In fact, other women seemed offended if an upper servant was too attractive, and with the men it was positively dangerous.
She scrutinised her face in detail. Her lips were too full for beauty, though in repose they curved pleasingly into a hint of a smile. Her nose was snub, or retroussé, as her grandfather had affectionately called it. Her skin was good and her eyes a wide, clear hazel. Caroline let a lock of chestnut hair slide gently through her fingers. Once upon a time it had been dressed in ringlets and curls, falling about her face, or drawn up in circlets and ribbons. Such a very long time ago…
What could it be that drew Lewis Brabant’s attention to her? Boredom, perhaps, or a sense of devilment. Caroline shook her head and pulled on a no-nonsense grey dress. She wound the curly chestnut hair into a particularly severe knot, and went downstairs.
The house was very quiet. There was no one in the drawing-room or the library, and Caroline was thinking reluctantly that perhaps she should go and find Julia when a noise on the gravel sweep outside attracted her attention. She walked over to the bay window and pulled aside the heavy curtain.
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