Such a venture would be doomed to fail if she was not accepted by the members of the beau monde.
She glanced at the clock. She had been here far longer than the fifteen minutes allotted to such calls, though Merry was not actually receiving calls as a general rule, so there was no one to notice. ‘I should leave you to your rest,’ she said, rising to her feet.
Tonbridge followed suit and escorted her to the door.
It opened before they reached it.
Blade stood before her. Warmth rushed into his expression, but was gone so swiftly she might have been mistaken.
For long seconds they stood, staring at each other.
For two long weeks she had been in London and not once had he called. No doubt her knight, having completed his quest, had moved on to the next maiden in distress. But she wasn’t a maiden, was she?
‘Mr Read,’ she said, her voice sounding chilly, colder than she had wanted, though cold was the only way she could survive seeing him so unexpectedly.
‘Mrs Falkner.’ He bowed with that lovely elegance that always struck a chord low in her midriff.
She dipped a curtsy to Merry and Charlie. ‘I bid you farewell until tomorrow night.’
Merry looked as if she wanted to say something, but Charlie took her hand and looked down at her before he spoke. ‘It will be our greatest pleasure, Mrs Falkner. I will ring down to let your maid know you are leaving.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Blade, will you walk Mrs Falkner to the front door? My wife needs my help up the stairs.’
Blade stood to one side, presenting his arm. ‘I would be honoured.’
A lady had the right to refuse a gentleman’s escort and she could see in his eyes he half-expected that she would. But he was Tonbridge’s friend and it would make their lives awkward if she was to behave with anything but cordiality to this man. Angry she might be. Hurt at his indifference. But it wasn’t the first time she had been cut loose from those she cared about. She’d survive.
Despite the ache in her heart.
She took his arm and they promenaded out of the door and down the stairs to the ground floor.
‘Caro,’ he murmured softly. ‘You are well?’
She tried not to put too much import on his enquiry, though politeness had never been his forte. ‘Exceedingly so,’ she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
‘You look fagged. Have they been trotting you too hard? You must not allow yourself to be run off your feet. You will want to be in your best looks for the ball.’
‘Will you be there? At the ball?’ Oh, why did her pride have to desert her now? ‘It is to be quite a grand affair, I understand.’ She hoped she sounded polite, rather than desperate. As if she did not care if he came or not.
‘I will be there.’ He hesitated. ‘Your adopted in-laws do not care for me, I think, or I would ask you to save me a waltz.’ His voice was low and seductive and her insides fluttered wildly. As he no doubt intended.
Memories of their first dance chased across her mind. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Thoughts of good behaviour almost deserted her. Almost.
‘I do not waltz, Mr Read.’
His eyes widened a fraction and then he nodded tersely.
Surely he understood that she would not be waltzing with anyone. There was no further time for talk of a personal nature, for they had reached the front door, where a footman stood ready with her maid.
Blade took her hand in his and bowed low, then kissed her knuckles in a way that felt like possession, but could only be old-fashioned courtesy. Or so she must tell herself, because if he was toying with her, as he apparently toyed with so many other females at the edge of society, she really could not bear it.
‘Until tomorrow,’ he said.
Her heart lurched. She forced a smile. ‘Tomorrow.’
And then she was out on the street and her maid was scurrying along, trying to keep up.
* * *
It was the day of the ball. Blade glared at his reflection in the pier glass. Charlie had kindly lent him his valet to help him dress, but he missed Ned’s practised skills and applying the false hand to his wrist had been an exercise in gritted teeth, ill-concealed embarrassment and utter futility. Until Charlie had come along to help.
If not for Charlie and his bride, Blade would have left London for points far away. They had convinced him that Caro needed as many friendly faces as possible, though in his opinion, he was likely to be more of a hindrance than a help.
And she was not going to waltz.
Something he and Charlie had plotted to take advantage of. Yet more misery to add to this day.
He twitched at the bottom of his coat, took a breath and wended his way to the drawing room, where Charlie and Merry had gathered their exclusive guests attending the dinner ahead of the ball, important people in the world of the beau monde. They were to present a united front. To prove that, in their view, Caro was another unfortunate victim of Bonaparte’s ravages across Europe. Had her fiancé lived, Caro would have married her sweetheart with the full support of the Thorntons.
He ignored the sour taste in his mouth at the thought.
Blade had brought his own big guns, courtesy of his father’s eldest legitimate son. The earl, his father, and his countess were a force to be reckoned with among the denizens of the ton.
Knowing Caro had not yet arrived, he strode into the drawing room, pretending, as he always did, that he belonged. As society dictated, he greeted his hostess and host, then moved on to his father. Blade bowed. ‘My lady. My lord. Thank you for coming tonight. Your support is greatly appreciated.’
‘Blade,’ his father said gruffly.
A surprise, to be sure. His father rarely used any form of address but his last name. A reminder that they were only peripherally related, Blade had always assumed.
‘I was delighted to be asked,’ the countess said, her gaze fixed intently on his face, disappointment shadowing her eyes as it always did when she looked on him. Who would blame her? What wife wanted her husband’s by-blow dropped into her pretty nest?
‘I hope Tonbridge can carry it off.’ Victor, Blade’s next brother in age, joined them. He was very much like the earl, with his dark hair and eyes, whereas Blade took after his mother. ‘Having Stantford here would have set the seal,’ Victor continued. ‘Too bad his Grace is not yet well enough for public functions. Good to see you here, Brother.’
He shook Blade’s hand, his grin infectious. The fact that he raked around town to his family’s dismay was neither here nor there, in Blade’s opinion. He had years before he needed to think about his duties as heir. ‘I thought you had decided to hare off north again.’
Blade liked this new adult version of his half-brother, whom he’d played with when they were children, though they’d had their share of childhood rivalries. They had seen little of each other since Blade took the King’s shilling. He was surprised to realise how much he had missed him.
‘I’ll be leaving soon,’ Blade said.
‘And how do you find the wilds of Yorkshire?’
‘Seething with discontent.’
His brother’s face became grave. ‘Hardly surprising. Prinny is an idiot. As are the rest of them. Do they want to start a revolution?’
Blade cocked his head. ‘I am surprised to hear you voice such an opinion in public.’
‘Think I am an idiot, too, do you?’ He glanced over at his father. ‘Even the earl is baulking at the Six Acts.’
Blade was pleased and proud to hear it. ‘Too bad he didn’t put a stop to them.’
The butler opened the door. ‘Lord and Lady Thornton and Mrs Caroline Falkner.’
At his side, Victor drew in a sharp breath. ‘My word, what a diamond she is. And a widow, too. She will take the to
wn by storm.’
Caro looked magnificent. Beautiful. The gown, a lovely shade of lavender, showed her milky skin off to perfection, and her hair had been pinned into an elaborately charming style. Blade couldn’t have drawn a breath if he’d tried. He jabbed an elbow in his brother’s ribs. ‘A little more respect, if you please.’
His brother rubbed at the offending part of his anatomy and gave him a cheerful grin. ‘Like that, is it?’
Annoyed, Blade glared at him. ‘It is not like anything.’
In case others fell into a similar misapprehension, he edged out of the centre of things and let Charlie and Merry do the necessary courtesies to those who mattered.
Like his father and his brother.
From where he stood he could see the courage with which she endured the introductions. For the sake of her child.
He wanted to hit something.
Or run away. As he had run from his father all those years ago, but it had done him no good then and would not do so now. Besides, he’d never run from a fight and Caro was fighting for her son and the right to the life that had been ripped away by a fellow who hadn’t recognised a treasure worth a king’s ransom.
Finally, she was standing in front of him flanked by her guardian angels, Charlie and Merry. ‘And of course you and Blade are old friends.’
Far more than friends. The thought flickered in her eyes before she dismissed it.
‘Indeed,’ she said, inclining her head at the perfect angle for the illegitimate offspring of an earl. She was magnificent. She would carry the whole thing off without any help from him.
‘How are things going at the Haven?’ he asked in a low voice as the ducal heir helped his wife to a seat near the hearth.
‘Swimmingly,’ Caro said, twiddling her fan. ‘We have three new occupants and one of them has a child.’
‘I assume you will not be returning there.’
‘No. Merry has asked me to help her establish a similar institution here in London.’
He had thought the whole idea for her remaining in London was to find herself a husband. ‘You will enjoy the Season, then.’
She looked doubtful. ‘Merry would have it so. I am not sure I am up to the rigours of town life, but Lady Thornton wants to make sure Tommy, I mean Thomas, has every advantage.’
He couldn’t contain his smile. ‘He will always be Tommy to you, even when he reaches maturity.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘He will. In private.’ She glanced around the room. ‘It is so very kind of everyone to turn out in support of the Thorntons. I hope I do not let them down.’
‘How can you? You have given them their hearts’ desire. Returned a part of their son. Remember, many of those here came for your sake.’
Her gaze darted to his face and away, a slight stain of colour on her cheeks. Damn, did she think he was only talking about himself?
She gathered her composure with her lovely cool smile. ‘Merry agrees with Lady Thornton that I should seek a husband as soon as possible. Thomas needs a father. I can see that now.’
A pang pierced his heart. ‘How is his ankle?’
‘Oh, he is hopping around on crutches and feeling very much the wounded hero.’ She closed her eyes briefly and winced. ‘I beg your pardon. I had no intention of belittling—’
‘Caro,’ he murmured urgently. ‘Between us there should never be awkwardness. Cannot be. The ton watch with eagle eyes.’
The butler was again making a grand entrance. ‘Lord and Lady Robert Mountford.’
The most fascinating petite woman entered on the arm of a gentleman who looked exactly like Charlie, if it wasn’t for the sun-bronzed skin of his face.
‘Robert,’ Charlie said, surging forward. ‘I had no idea you had returned from Italy.’ He shook his brother’s hand and was pulled into a manly hug complete with the obligatory thump to the back.
‘We arrived yesterday,’ Lord Robert said, grinning broadly and being thumped in return. ‘I had no idea you were entertaining until Mother sent us a note. Oh, and by the way, I brought reinforcements.’
‘His Highness, the Prince of Wales,’ the butler trumpeted. ‘And his Grace, the Duke of Wellington.’
Brilliant. Charlie had done it. Clearly, Blade had been right. He really wasn’t needed. He would have left right then, if it wasn’t for Caro hanging on to his arm like a lifeline.
* * *
‘The first ball of the Season,’ Lady Thornton said, watching a set in full swing. ‘And everyone will remember it as the best, too.’
‘Do you think so?’ Caro was beginning to feel overheated by the press of people and there was no respite to be had, for she was on display. Indeed, people were still lined up down the stairs from the front door to the first-floor ballroom, waiting to get a look at her. If dinner had been terrifying, the ball was horrendous.
‘With both the prince and the duke in attendance? It is a coup,’ exclaimed her mother-in-law. For that was how Mrs Thornton had introduced her at every turn. My daughter-in-law. When Caro had objected the truthfulness of this, she had waved her off, saying it only wanted the little detail of a ceremony.
The prince had been charming and very condescending to Caro at dinner and at the ball had held her in conversation for several minutes after the first dance had been completed. Then he had left.
But the point was made.
There couldn’t possibly be a scrap of scandal in Caro’s past or the prince would have refused to acknowledge her.
The fact that the Duke of Stantford had offered the prince the stupendous gift of a work of art he had bought in France immediately after the war had sealed his co-operation. How would she ever repay her debt to all these people?
She understood why Tonbridge and Merry were so keen on her acceptance by the ton. She was their good friend. A person they wanted to have as part of their social life. This was their way of ensuring that very thing.
And she could not be more grateful.
But...ever since the start of all this fuss to make her entirely respectable, Blade, her friend and her lover, had become more and more distant. Was it that he did not approve of what his friends were doing? Did he perhaps feel she was getting above herself?
Strumpet. Shameful jade. Her father’s condemnation rung in her ears.
She shivered.
‘I believe the next dance is a waltz,’ a deep voice murmured close to her ear. Blade had come up behind her to stand at her shoulder.
Lady Thornton stiffened. ‘Mr Read, Mrs Falkner has no intention of waltzing this evening.’
Could his timing have been any worse? Could he not have waited until she was standing with someone else like Merry or Tonbridge, which would have allowed her to refuse in a less public manner? She took a deep breath. The challenge in his gaze, the edge of pride, said he expected her refusal. Blast him, he was asking her now so she could show the world she was not the sort of woman to fall for a man renowned for his seduction of lonely widows and bored wives.
‘It is an age since I waltzed, my dear mama-in-law,’ Caro said sweetly. ‘Having watched the last one, I believe I remember the steps perfectly well.’ She dipped a curtsy to Blade and held out her hand. ‘I would love to waltz, Mr Read.’
He led her onto the dance floor.
Ripples of shock stirred the air around them.
‘You should have declined,’ he said in a voice too low to be heard by their nearest neighbours as he whirled her around. ‘Now I will be forced to dance with every wallflower in the place, to stop tongues wagging.’
She stiffened. ‘If you did not wish to dance with me, you should not have asked.’
‘I am surprised Tonbridge did not warn you.’ He smiled at her with seductive charm for the sake of those watching. ‘Tongues are wagging. They know we are both friends of Tonb
ridge and that I recently returned from York. They know you hail from somewhere nearby. Someone let the cat out of that bag. Probably one of the Thorntons. They are very well meaning, but not exactly sharp. You told me you were not going to waltz.’
‘There you go again. Saving the damsel in distress at the risk of your own life,’ she said, a little buzz of anger humming along her veins, making her say what she thought and not what she should. She almost added the word idiot, but it was hard to be furious with a smile on her lips.
He twirled her under his arm and gracefully brought her alongside him for the traverse. ‘You waltz divinely,’ he said.
‘I’ll wager you say that to all of your ladies.’
‘There are no ladies,’ he said. ‘Not any more.’
Something inside her seemed to shatter, but in a good way, as if a fear had broken away and diminished.
‘You really were not supposed to dance with me.’ He spoke truculently, as if he was annoyed that she had robbed him of the chance to...to what? Fight her dragon?
‘I could not be that cruel to a man—’ She broke off.
‘A man?’ he prompted.
Now was not the time for such honesty. Or the place, when it was full of strangers and she did not know how Blade might respond. ‘A man who is my good friend, whom I admire and respect.’
Was it disappointment she saw in his eyes? Or merely acceptance.
He sighed. ‘And so you consign your good friend to the wallflowers.’
‘I am sorry,’ she said as the waltz came to an end. And she was. Dreadfully. But she did not think he truly believed it. And she wished she knew how she could make him understand.
Chapter Sixteen
Blade took a sip of the brandy Tonbridge handed him. It was three days since the ball and Tonbridge had asked Blade to drop in after dinner.
‘To our success.’ Charlie raised his glass in a toast. He sounded smug. As he should. The lady was successfully launched. The brief appearance of Prinny and the extended stay by Wellington meant that Mrs Falkner’s reputation as a respectable widow was assured. No one would ever query the death of Mr Falkner. Not when Thornton had arranged for such a healthy settlement in that dear departed individual’s name to be available when she married again. She already had several suitable men sniffing around, at least one of them with an ancient title.
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