“Is it so hard to believe that Lord Gresham might find me attractive?” she murmured to herself.
“My lady?” said her startled maid. “Did you want something?”
Caroline blushed to the roots of her hair. “No, not at all, Beckham. I am being foolish; I must be tired. We shall return home and pursue our shopping another day.”
She turned away from her reflection and walked to her waiting carriage, determined to put all thoughts of Lord Gresham behind her. Caroline was thoughtful on the brief carriage ride home, and upon arriving, seemed to Bunton to be distracted. He gave her an inquiring look as she paused in the hallway, apparently unable to make up her mind.
“I will be in my sitting room,” she said. “But please do not disturb me unless it is important.”
Bunton bowed, and Caroline slowly made her way up the stairs to the sitting room, and ensconced herself at the desk at which she usually prepared her accounts. But today she pulled a piece of paper towards her and began to write. After a few minutes she uttered an exclamation of exasperation and crumpled up the paper.
She pushed back the chair impatiently, and stood, then hesitated, before beginning to pace about the room, a deep frown creasing her forehead. After two or three turns about the room, she stopped before the mantel, gazing into the mirror above it. However, the image reflected there apparently left her dissatisfied, for she turned her head slightly as she looked, first gently touching at the corners of her eyes, then transferring her attention to the edges of her finely carved lips.
With a deep sigh, she returned to the gilt desk she had abandoned, and drawing a clean sheet of paper towards her, began to write again. However, her efforts seemed to give her little more satisfaction than previously, for soon the desk was again littered with discarded stationery, and Caroline looked increasingly vexed. But after an hour or so she seemed to have achieved something acceptable, and she folded the paper, sanded and sealed it, and wrote the direction on it firmly. Hastily, as though not to give herself time to regret her action, she rang the bell, and when an inquiring footman answered, she handed him the missive.
“See that this is delivered immediately,” she said.
The footman bowed, and as he exited, Caroline made a hasty motion as though to call him back. But she recovered her equanimity and stepped back into the room, a pensive look on her face. Seeing the desk covered with rejected letters, she quickly gathered them up and carried them to the grate, where a small fire burned. She sat there for some minutes, feeding the flames, until all evidence of her labor had been consumed. For a further moment she watched the fire, but then she stood and rang again for the footman.
“Send Beckham to my rooms,” she said. “And, if Lord Gresham should call, I will see him.”
With that she repaired to her dressing room, where she kept Beckham busy for an hour as she changed her dress. The maid, unused to her mistress being so exacting, was quite exasperated by the time Caroline was content, dressed in a blue-grey damasked silk robe a l’anglaise, which opened above and below the waist over a cream silk twill underdress. The pattern of golden flowers and leaves embroidered on it, and the gold lace that enhanced the deep ruffles at the elbows were a complement to her wheat gold hair, which she wore in the newest style, piled in loose, unpowdered curls with a wide gauzy ribbon running through them.
“You look lovely, my lady,” said Beckham reassuringly, twitching the wide skirts of the overdress minutely, as Caroline hesitated before the mirror.
“Thank you, Beckham,” said Caroline. “I’m sure it’s due entirely to you.”
She repaired to the drawing room and arranged herself on the settee, a book held negligently in one hand, her profile turned towards the door. Minutes passed, and she stood up, taking a turn around the room. She peeked at herself in the mirror over the fireplace, and tweaked one curl back into place. Then she seized the moment to rearrange the Dresden figurines that decorated the mantle. With a sigh, she stepped back and observed them.
“Whatever is wrong with me?” she asked. But then there came the sound of horses outside the house, and she ran to the window. Peering out, she saw a fine equipage drawn up in front, and she fled back to the settee, once again draping herself on it casually, the book cradled in her hand appearing to occupy her full attention. A few minutes passed, and then she heard footsteps. The door opened.
“Lord Gresham, my lady,” said Bunton, and Caroline turned, her face displaying faint surprise. Gresham stood before her, dressed with great propriety in a coat of dark grey, with a narrow light blue stripe woven into it. Its pale blue lining was visible in the tails, and he wore a cream waistcoat embroidered in blue and silver. The coat’s slim cut emphasized his broad shoulders and flat torso; Caroline felt a distinct prick of something that was more than mere curiosity, and lowered her eyes.
“Lord Gresham, how kind of you to respond so quickly to my request,” she said, holding out her hand.
Lord Gresham bowed over it gracefully, a smile playing over his lips. “I had the impression that there was some urgency behind the summons. Was I wrong?”
“Er…yes, or rather, no,” replied Caroline. “You - you said this morning that you would like to be of service to me.”
Lord Gresham appeared interested. “I would be delighted to help you in any way, my lady. Is your sister-in-law in a predicament again?”
“No, the duchess is fine,” said Caroline, waving the question away with one delicate hand. “This concerns you - or rather, me.”
“Behold me, all attention. There is nothing I would rather discuss than you - and me.” Lord Gresham sat down on a satin covered chair and gazed at her, his expression blank. “How may I help you, my lady?”
Caroline steeled herself and continued. “Since you returned to London, you have been very attentive to me.”
Lord Gresham nodded, his gray eyes fixed on her face. “Indeed, I have. I make no secret that I find you intriguing.”
“And why do you find me intriguing? I am a widow of eight-and-twenty, with a son, enough money to live life as I choose, and no great desire to cut a dashing figure in Society. Surely most people would find me utterly uninteresting.”
“I am not most people, though I believe you underrate your charms,” replied Lord Gresham. “When we first met two years ago, I found your manner refreshing; you neither pretended to be shocked by me, nor tried to flirt with me. During my absence from England I found that I thought of you often. Perhaps you do not consider yourself to be unusual, but you are a very beautiful woman, who, I suspect, hides a quite passionate nature under a mantle of common sense. While I admire the common sense, I would also like to see the fire.”
“You are very direct,” said Caroline.
“You sent for me and asked me why I appear to be interested in you. You deserve an honest answer.”
“I thought that you once again sought to enrage Adam. Since you were not successful with his wife, it occurred to me that you now thought to try your luck with his sister.”
Lord Gresham gave a short laugh and shook his head. “While I have no fondness for your brother, that madness has passed. I thought myself ill used by him once, but I have since realized I was merely causing mischief for the sake of it. In the end, it came to naught, due, in no small part, to you. I believe I once told you I was not proud of all my actions.” He paused, and then looked at her inquiringly. “I must admit that I continue to be curious as to why you would ask me these questions.”
Caroline leaned forward slightly, and one golden curl slipped over her shoulder and rested on the white skin of her chest. His gaze followed it.
She took a deep breath. “Lord Gresham, would you be terribly shocked if I told you I would accept your offer to be of service to me?”
His eyes narrowed. “In what way would you like me to be - of service, as you put it?”
She stood up abruptly and, turning her back on him, walked to the window. “Surely you discern my intent,” she said uncomfortab
ly. “You have given me to understand that you would not refuse a - a liaison.”
“Ah. That is plain speaking indeed.” She felt rather than heard him rise to his feet and approach her, but he did not touch her. She clutched her hands together.
“You do not answer,” she said in a tight voice. “Pray do not tease me.”
“May I inquire why you would wish for a liaison, as you put it? I thought you held me in contempt, not affection.” His voice was impersonal, but she sensed that he was not without interest.
“True affection has little to do with it, as I understand these things,” said Caroline, striving to make her voice light. “And I do not hold you in contempt. You are very handsome, my lord, and all the town knows you have a great deal of experience in these matters. It is my hope, if your desire to make mischief truly lies in the past, that I can trust in your discretion.”
“Discretion is not something I have been renowned for in my amours, but for you, I believe I could muster some,” he replied. There was a tiny hint of amusement in his voice. “And I’m honored that you do not find me contemptible.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said in a constrained tone.
He moved to her side, and finally touched her, taking her shoulder in his hands and turning her to face him. His fingers moved lightly over her skin in a gentle caress, and she felt a wave of warmth wash over her.
“I’m not laughing, but I am confused.” His gray eyes met hers, and he shook his head slightly. “Why now and why me?”
“Everyone treats me as though I care for nothing but being a paragon of virtue, and am merely a creature of duty without a thought but to care for my family, and my son’s estates. I am tired of being thought of only as a mother, and a daughter, and a sister-in-law, and the sensible one who must act as chaperone, as another female not much younger than I enjoys herself. I want something for myself as well. Is that so wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, it is not wrong. So, you have chosen me because you do not find me repulsive, and you believe that I will be able to handle the practicalities of the matter. Do I understand you correctly?”
She dropped her eyes, and nodded. He slid one long finger under her chin and raised it until their eyes met again.
“I think that is not all there is to it. I’ve wanted you since our first conversation in this very room two years ago. I think that perhaps you felt the same way.”
Caroline shook her head. “You were attempting to seduce my sister-in-law that day. I was very annoyed with you.”
“Annoyed, certainly. But not uninterested. It seems you recall that long-ago conversation.”
Caroline bit her lip and looked down.
“I think we will deal best together if we are honest,” said Lord Gresham.
“Very well,” conceded Caroline, lifting her chin at him defiantly. “I was not uninterested.”
“A small victory,” murmured Gresham. He paused. “Are you sure you want this?”
Caroline nodded firmly.
“And when did you want this liaison to begin?” he asked gently.
Her hands fluttered. “As soon as possible.” She paused. “Today?”
He shook his head at that. “Not today. You must have some time to consider this. I would not take you today and have you regret it.”
“But I have decided on this path today,” said Caroline plaintively, “and now I wish for the die to be cast, and not to worry over my choice any further.
“A plan of this nature cannot always be entirely spontaneous,” he informed her, with a little smile. “Have you thought where this tryst would take place today? I can scarcely carry you off to your bedroom in front of the servants, and it would be the talk of London if you came to my house. I believe your intention is not to completely destroy your reputation. Since you have asked me to take care of the details, I will do so.”
“I suppose I should appreciate your expertise,” said Caroline, tartly.
He squeezed her shoulders lightly and released them, though not without a last lingering touch. “You should indeed. I’m quite horrified at what you must have been imagining. Did you think I would fall upon you immediately here in this lovely salon?”
Caroline said nothing, contenting herself with a glare.
“Very well,” continued Lord Gresham, unperturbed. “I own a house in Mount Street that is currently empty; number 54. It is immaterial why I own this house, though I suppose you can well imagine,” he said, in answer to her inquiring gaze. “If you come to it tomorrow at one-o-clock I shall be there, and we can begin our liaison. If you do not come, I will know that you have thought better of your impulse, and I will not mention this matter again. However, this will be your only chance. I will not be subject to your whims.”
“This is no whim,” said Caroline with a touch of fierceness.
“We shall see tomorrow if that is true.” His voice was calm.
“Are you challenging me?” she asked.
“I would never dare to do that, my dear. The outcome of our previous engagements convinces me that I would lose. I merely offer you the opportunity to think well on this before you proceed. I would not want you to be unhappy with me or with yourself.”
“I will be there at one-o-clock,” she promised, extending her hand.
He looked at it and shook his head. “No, that will not do at all. If we are to be more than mere acquaintances, I think something else is required to seal this bargain.”
“What -” began Caroline, but she broke off as Lord Gresham took her face gently between his hands and leaned towards her, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“I think a kiss would be appropriate,” he murmured. “So you have something to look forward to.”
His mouth closed over hers then, and she stiffened briefly, a muffled exclamation escaping her. The firm pressure of his lips on hers was almost shocking at first, accustomed as she had become to only the childish pecks of her young son. But almost immediately a warm rush of desire spread across her, like a grass fire in autumn, and she opened her lips a fraction to release a little moan as her hands rose to clutch his wrists. Tristan stepped closer, slanting his mouth across hers, and nibbling a little at her lips before pressing them open further and slipping his tongue into the warm, wet silk of her mouth. She gave a tiny sigh of pleasure and leaned into him as their tongues slid together like liquid desire and her lips tingled with pleasure.
Caroline felt her breasts swelling against her stiff bodice, and she found herself biting at Gresham’s mouth and pressing her full skirts against the bulge she could distinctly feel in his well-cut breeches. He kissed her again, and then let his mouth travel across her cheek to her ear, nipping at the lobe, before allowing his lips to glide across the sensitive skin of her neck, pausing to lick her collarbone before kissing his way back to her lips. She felt an unmistakable heat and warmth in her nether regions, and realized that her feelings were tinder to the fire Tristan’s caresses were kindling.
A sudden surge of common sense made Caroline take a tiny step back, and Gresham straightened. He raised his lips and smiled down into her flushed countenance. “I’ve been wishing to do that, and far more, for some time,” he said. “It was even more delightful than I had anticipated. I believe we shall deal extremely well together.”
“As do I,” Caroline assured him, a bit awkwardly. She realized that she was still clutching his wrists in her hands, and released him slowly. He gave her cheek a caress with his thumb, and then stepped back.
“Until tomorrow, my lady,” he said, bowing elegantly. “I thank you for your interest in me.”
“Not at all, Lord Gresham. It is I who must thank you,” replied Caroline formally.
“That can wait until tomorrow,” he said with a confident smile, and he turned and strode from the room.
Caroline stood a moment looking after him, and then turned to the window, watching as Lord Gresham climbed into his carriage and departed. She pressed her fingers to her mouth for a second, p
ondering again the violent feelings his lips had wrung from her. She had been shocked at the power of them; her husband had been a kind and considerate lover, and she had been very fond of him, but she did not recall experiencing any of the intense emotions that she had just endured. Perhaps it would be best to not follow through; Lord Gresham had given her the opportunity to draw back. But she thought of the mocking look that he would give her the next time they encountered one another in a ballroom, and she stiffened her spine. He would see that she could follow through on any challenge from him.
Chapter 4
The following day, Caroline awoke from a dream of Gresham’s darkly handsome face hovering above hers, and pulled the warm coverlet closer, squeezing her eyes closed as her toes curled in anticipation of their approaching tryst. She pondered for a few minutes how best to get to Mount Street unattended, and then rang the bell for her maid. A few minutes later the door opened, and Beckham entered. She walked across the room to open the drapes.
“Please, leave them drawn,” protested Caroline. “I’ve a dreadful headache.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Beckham, surprise in her voice. She couldn’t recall the last time Lady Eskmaine had complained of the headache. “Will you go down to breakfast, my lady?”
“Oh, I don’t think I can face food, or morning calls,” Caroline said feebly. “Come back in half an hour, and bring me some tea, and a little toast. I’ll try to have that, and then decide what I wish to do.”
Beckham departed, and Caroline lay back among her warm blankets and pillows, luxuriating in her own idleness, and memories of the passionate embraces that Lord Gresham had pressed on her the previous afternoon. Sooner than she really wished, Beckham reappeared with her tea and Caroline had perforce to sit up to let the maid pile pillows behind her, so she could have the tray over her lap.
“What do you wish to wear, my lady?” asked Beckham.
“Bring me the gray twill walking dress, and the coat to match.” At the maid’s evident surprise, Caroline hastened to explain. “Since I’m not feeling at all the thing, I’ll pay a long delayed to visit Aunt Fentbayle; she’s nearly blind and won’t know what I’m wearing anyway.”
Sense & Sensuality: Caroline's After Dark Georgian Romance (The Gravesmeres Book 3) Page 4
