Pen stifled a giggle. “She’s not terribly subtle, is she?”
“A confirmed busybody.” Caroline turned as the viscount arrived. “Ah, thank you, my lord. May I offer your chair back? I would offer you a dance as well, were this the right venue for it.”
“You think I’m showing my ballroom manners too much?” He smiled at her. “Perhaps not the right thing for a luncheon, but when faced with a pair of lovely ladies, I’m afraid reflex kicks in. My apologies. And no, you may not offer my chair back. Please sit, both of you.” He waved to the two empty chairs beside them.
Pen lifted her glass, then let out a little cry of dismay. “Oh dear, how clumsy of me! I’ve spilled lemonade on my dress. Do excuse me while I go freshen up.” She turned a too-innocent expression on Caroline and made a half curtsey to the viscount. “Begging your pardon.”
Oh, the schemer. Caroline watched her go, torn between irritation and amusement. It seemed her friend was in the same camp as Lady Wembley, determined to thrust her and Viscount Keefe together, though Pen’s motives were probably far more mercenary. Surely the viscount was here to look into becoming a patron of some cause—if he was not one already.
She took the chair he indicated and set her lemonade on the table. “I admit, I don’t think I’ve seen you moving in charitable circles before, Viscount Keefe.”
He took the other chair. “I’ve only recently begun doing so. There’s a significant inheritance coming to me, and it seems a shame to just fritter it away on idle amusements when something more meaningful could be accomplished. This has been a most”—he glanced about the room, crowded with knots of well-dressed women—“edifying experience. I’ve found out a great deal about many different charitable efforts.”
The poor man. “I hope you don’t feel too much the fox, with hounds baying at your heels. Sometimes those of us who feel passionately about our causes become rather…tedious in our conversation.”
“I doubt I could ever find you tedious, Miss Huntington, particularly if you were speaking with passion.”
Heavens. She had grown unaccustomed to the flirtations of the ton during her travels. And now that she had the knowledge to interpret such innuendos, it was difficult to feign unawareness. She took a sip of lemonade.
“You might change your mind, my lord, if I began speaking passionately about the Twickenham Boarding School—how the young women who have graduated from there have gone on to become outstanding citizens who benefit their community in ways too innumerable to list.”
She watched to see if his attention would waver, but he returned her gaze, listening with a calmness and an apparent sincerity that surprised her. His fingers traced idle circles on the tabletop as he nodded to her. “Do go on.”
“Viscount Keefe, if you could only walk the halls of the school and see what a beneficial place it is. The pupils—orderly, clean, and well nourished. The teachers and headmistress—firm but compassionate. I only wish there were room for more children. When I see the ones on the street, begging, hungry, ill…It breaks my heart that we cannot help every one. I’ve often thought if we could provide day classes, and competent medical care for them, a dispensary…” She glanced down at her hands, then back up to his green eyes. “But you see, I have grown enormously tedious.”
He leaned forward. “On the contrary. I see you are a soul who feels deeply for others and has the courage and intelligence to do good in this world.”
Heat flared against her cheeks at his praise—far more effective than the idle flattery he had practiced earlier. She indicated the gathering about them. “Miss Burdett-Coutts has any number of estimable projects in hand, and there are others here working on behalf of those less fortunate.”
He glanced about the room, then settled his gaze on her again. “Yes, but are their causes any more deserving than yours?”
“No.” She straightened. “The Twickenham School, a dispensary—they are every bit as deserving.”
“Miss Huntington.” He had a very charming smile. “Would it be too forward of me to ask if I could see this school of yours? I would like to hear more of your plans and see for myself what you have accomplished—and perhaps speak further of your dispensary project.”
Gladness kindled inside her, the first spark she had felt for what seemed a grey eternity. “You would?” She tried not to let her voice sound too eager. “I would be pleased to arrange a tour.”
“Where might I find your direction?”
“Twickenham House, in Mayfair.”
He nodded. “I should have guessed as much. You are kin to the Earl of Twickenham?”
“He is my uncle. But, my lord, I’m so pleased you are interested in my work.”
“I am indubitably interested.” His smile thawed her a fraction more. “May I call upon you Wednesday?”
“I…yes. That would be most agreeable.”
“Then I look forward to continuing our conversation, Miss Huntington.” He stood. “And now, if you will excuse me, I will bid farewell to our esteemed hostess.” He made her a bow, clear green eyes never leaving her face. “Thank you for being such a bright spot in my afternoon.”
Caroline watched as he made his farewells to Lady Wembley and moved with surprising nimbleness through the knots of ladies until he gained the doorway. He looked back, held up a hand in parting, as though he had known she would be watching, and slipped away.
Chapter 17
“Lord Nicholas Havers, Viscount Keefe, has come to call,” the butler said, presenting Caroline a polished tray with the viscount’s card neatly centered on it. “He is in the gold parlor.”
She picked up the card, the cream-colored paper thick and softly napped under her fingers. “Inform him I’ll be down momentarily.”
“Very good.” Jenkins bowed and withdrew, and Caroline resisted the urge to turn to her mirror.
This was a business call—there was no need for her to primp like a debutante. She gave her skirts a brisk shake and descended to the parlor.
Afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, highlighting the gilt furnishings and the golden brightness of Viscount Keefe’s hair. He turned to her with a smile and bowed over her hand.
“Miss Huntington, you are looking well today. That particular shade of russet suits you most admirably.”
“Thank you. Shall I ring for tea?”
“Actually, I was hoping to coax you for a drive in the park. This sunshine shouldn’t go to waste, and we can discuss your project just as easily in my curricle as here in your parlor.”
She rather thought that an exaggeration, but he was right about the weather. It was a glorious spring day, soft and full of blossoms. She had hardly noticed until he pointed it out. Besides, if he wanted to contribute to her school and dispensary, why, she would row him up the Thames if necessary.
“That would be lovely. Let me call for my pelisse and bonnet and tell my uncle where I’m going.”
A quarter hour later she was settled in Viscount Keefe’s elegant curricle while he drove his matched grays with a light and competent hand. Pale new leaves unfurled from the maples above them and beds of exuberant scarlet tulips edged the road.
“I understand you’ve been abroad,” her escort said. “While England is home, I’ve found travel can be most stimulating. Tell me, where did you go?”
The sun edged behind a cloud and Caroline drew her pelisse closed. “I was in the Mediterranean, helping found an orphanage on Malta.” No need to tell him she had been on Crete, or injured, for that matter. Or under the care of the dark-haired doctor whose face still haunted her dreams. She would stop thinking of him soon. Dear heavens, let it be soon.
Viscount Keefe turned to her, green eyes alight with good humor. “An orphanage on Malta! You seem a busy woman, Miss Huntington. And did you enjoy the journey?”
“The P&O line is quite comfortable, and I did like the climate.”
“How clever of you to have escaped the dreary end of winter. Do you have plans to return to th
e Mediterranean again?”
She looked away from him, across to the gates of Hyde Park. “No. I belong here.”
He drew her then into conversation about the Twickenham School. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and soon Caroline found herself outlining her dreams of what the expanded school and dispensary could be. He seemed interested and engaged, nodding at an idea here, asking a pertinent question there, while deftly guiding the curricle through the park.
They stopped at intervals, conversation interrupted by greetings from various acquaintances, and it was with something of a shock that Caroline realized they had been out for the better part of an hour.
“Heavens, I lost track of the time,” she said. “My apologies for keeping you so long, my lord.”
“Apologies? Completely unnecessary. It is I who should apologize for monopolizing your time, although I can’t say I’m sorry. It is certainly no hardship at all, spending the afternoon in the company of a beautiful and articulate woman like yourself.” He gave her one of his charming smiles. “But before we go back, there’s one more part of the park I’d like to visit. Have you been down the garden drive recently?”
“I must confess I’m more accustomed to taking the bridle paths.”
“Then let me show you one of the chief joys of the park in springtime.”
They soon reached a lane edged on either side with blossoming fruit trees. The light wind blew a scatter of blossoms down, a delicate fall of petals to join the profusion already drifted along either side of the track.
“Here we are. I recommend you hold fast to the side of the curricle.”
He flicked the reins and gave a sharp call, and the horses burst into motion. Caroline gripped the side of the curricle as it began rocking side to side from their speed, her heart speeding too, and soon she found what the viscount was about. The swiftness of their passing kicked up great flurries of petals and she began to laugh out loud as they swirled up in clouds of blossom.
Viscount Keefe pulled the horses up at the far end of the lane. “I thought you’d like that,” he said. “And now you have petals in your hair—the very Queen of the May.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She began brushing petals off her skirts. “Still, you were right. That was a delight.” An unexpected feeling, as though the clouds that surrounded her in a thin, sad mist were beginning to break apart.
“Here.” He leaned over, softly sweeping the last stray blossoms off her shoulders. She noticed his hands were trembling, as if from a palsy, and he followed her gaze. He curled his fingers closed, then abruptly took up the reins again. “It’s time to be getting you home, Miss Huntington.”
Oh dear. Was he ill? She made her voice gentle. “Would you care to join me for tea? We can discuss the school.”
“I’m afraid I must dash off. I have another appointment.” His expression seemed suddenly distant.
“Very well. Thank you again for the outing. It was a very pleasant diversion.” She tucked her hands into her pelisse. “I look forward to your next call. And to discussing my projects.”
The viscount seemed to give himself a shake, and turned to her with a smile that lit his green eyes. “My apologies—my mind does wander occasionally. Although how it could wander while there’s such a lovely occupant in my curricle is beyond me. Of course I want to know more about your school.” They broke out from under the trees and warm sunshine settled into the vehicle. “Will you arrange for a tour? My solicitor assures me my inheritance will be accessible very soon.”
She gave him a smile made wide with hope. “I would be pleased to show you the school—and the building nearby where I’m hoping to house the dispensary. We can go over some of the figures then, if you like.” She and Maggie had always kept detailed notes about the Twickenham School projects. Even without her friend, she felt confident in navigating that aspect of things. Added to the viscount’s interest, she was beginning to feel optimism about the project’s success. What a relief it would be if she did not have to post a letter to Maggie detailing their failure.
By the time they pulled up to Twickenham House the viscount had agreed to tour the school on Friday. He leaped from his seat and assisted Caroline down from the curricle.
“Miss Huntington, thank you for the pleasure of your company. I enjoyed my afternoon with you. Friday seems an eon away.”
She shook her head. “You are an outrageous flatterer, my lord.”
“I speak only as my heart commands.” His eyes twinkled.
Caroline could only laugh at that. He released her hand, swung up into the curricle, and gave her a jaunty wave before driving away. To think, if he was impressed by the school…She was composing a note to the headmistress in her mind as she passed through the entryway.
Her mood dimmed immediately when she encountered her cousin Reggie leaning against the doorjamb of the gold parlor.
“Welcome home, my busy little cousin.” He folded his arms. “Losing no time since your return, I see. You look the proper hoyden. There’re twigs in your hair.”
“They’re blossoms.” She resisted the urge to reach up and repair the damage. Show no weakness—always the best strategy when dealing with Reggie.
“Was that the feckless Viscount Keefe I saw you with? My dear, your standards are slipping if you’re keeping company with him.” Her cousin shook his head in mock dismay. “The man is worthless, you know. Flirts uncontrollably with anything in skirts—even you, I would imagine.”
The corners of her lips tightened. “He was a perfect gentleman, which is more than I could say for some.”
“I wonder what his game is? I suppose your dowry is fat enough to tempt some men….”
“Not everyone plays games, Reginald. Some people grow up and do not behave as overgrown children. Now excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do.”
“More of your milquetoast orphans I suppose. A pity you can’t find anything useful to do.”
His spiteful words followed her up the stairs. Oh, the malicious man—never content unless he was spreading sly innuendo. As far as she was concerned, Reggie’s dislike could only make her think more highly of Viscount Keefe.
“Caro!” Pen stepped out of her own room to greet her. “You’re back! Did you have a good time? I’d like you to go over the letters I’ve written. Oh, and your uncle would like to see you in his study at your convenience.”
Caroline smiled at her young friend. “Less than a week here and you are already indispensable. Let me go see what Uncle Denby needs, and then we can work until supper. And I will tell you about my afternoon with Viscount Keefe.”
“Is he going to give you all the money you need?”
Caroline laughed. “We aren’t quite to that point yet, but I think he’s interested. We’ll be going to tour the school on Friday, and I’d like you to come as well.”
Pen nodded, eyes alight. “I’d like that very much. Especially after seeing the bare beginnings of the project on Malta. Now go, go, your uncle is waiting.”
What a mother hen that girl could be. She certainly was taking to life in Twickenham House. Caroline paused before the hall mirror, plucking the last petals from her hair. In truth, Pen was taking to life in London entirely, embracing each new experience with her usual enthusiasm. The theater, the sights—and Caroline had never enjoyed going to the dressmakers as much as when she had taken Pen. The colors and textures of the fabrics had sent the girl into rhapsodies, and they had ordered a number of dresses in various weights and styles. Heavens, at this rate Pen would soon have a topnotch wardrobe by any standard.
Caroline gave her hair a last pat and descended to her uncle’s study. The door was ajar, and he had clearly been waiting for her. He beckoned her in.
“My dear.” He stood and removed his spectacles. “Getting right back to your projects, I see. And your young protégée seems to be settling in well. What a happy girl she is.”
“It’s surprising, given her history.” She sat in the chair he pulled out for
her. “A mother who simply left when she was a child, and a father who has been a ne’er-do-well at best. Still, she’s like one of those wildflowers that can take root and bloom in even the poorest soil.”
“I’m glad you have taken her under your wing.” Her uncle did not resume his seat. “But that is not what I wanted to discuss with you. Caroline, you know that ever since you and your brother came to live at Twickenham House I have considered you as dear to me as a daughter.”
“I know, Uncle. You have been the best of family to me.” Heavens, he looked so solemn. “Is anything wrong?”
“Not at all. In fact, I feel I am finally making things completely right.” His eyes were misty with unspoken emotion. “I would like to formally adopt you. I want you to be my daughter.”
Eyes suddenly hot with tears, Caroline flung herself out of her chair and into his arms. The happy news acted as a key, unlocking the gate of her tears, so that she could not stop. A great flurry of emotions whirled through her, like the swirl of petals she had driven through earlier: she was alone, she belonged, she was brokenhearted, she was whole. It was as if everything she had been holding tightly inside had come loose and swept her away.
Uncle Denby patted her shoulder, then offered his handkerchief when at last she drew in a ragged gulp of air and wiped her eyes.
“I…thank you, Uncle. I am, as you see, quite overcome.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Now your waistcoat is damp.”
“It is a negligible price to pay for your happiness.”
“I have always been happy here. You know James and I always, always felt welcome.”
He cleared his throat. “It is not the same as having the legal status of family, as being my daughter by law as well as inclination. I have given this a great deal of thought. With your brother now master of Somergate and happily married, I wanted to make sure you were provided for as well. As an heir of the Earl of Twickenham.”
All He Desires Page 19
