Caroline longed to run to his arms but instead she sat and waited for the footman to place the steps at the door of the carriage.
Edward himself handed Rebecca out, taking Henry from her arms and kissing her gently.
"How was the carriage ride, my love?" he asked softly.
"Very pleasant indeed. Your son was extremely well-behaved."
"Well, he didn't get that trait from his mother," Edward answered playfully.
It was lovely to see the playful, loving communication between Edward and Rebecca, but Caroline wished they'd just get out of the way so she could see Tom. And then felt instantly guilty for her unkind thoughts.
Edward moved then to help his mother out just as Tom arrived beside their carriage.
"Hello Auntie," he leaned down to kiss the dowager on the cheek. She gripped his shoulders before he could straighten back up.
"I am so very, very proud of you Tom," she said, her eyes filling with tears, "This house is beautiful and I am so pleased to have you home."
Caroline watched the play of emotions on Tom's face and her heart ached for him. He never would have left were it not for her.
"Yes, well," he answered gruffly, "I am glad to be home. And I am very pleased you like the house. I hope you will spend many happy days here."
The dowager patted him on the cheek then turned toward the steps.
Tom stepped closer to the carriage until his large frame filled the doorway.
"And you, Caroline? What do you make of my humble abode?"
His eyes locked with hers, stormy and dark. They caused a flood of longing so strong that she clenched her fists against the onslaught.
"Hardly humble," she laughed, albeit a little breathlessly.
"But you like it?"
"I love it," she answered sincerely.
Without another word he held out his hand and Caroline was reminded vividly of the same action two years ago, on that fateful night when she'd said 'no.' When she should have shouted 'yes.'
She placed her hand in his and was struck by the fact that no matter how often he took her hand, the jolt of excitement was always the same. Would it always be that way? Probably.
Would she ever find it with another? Probably not.
Sighing wistfully she stepped down and surveyed the house once more. There was no point in entertaining such maudlin thoughts.
She had made her decision two years ago and had subsequently killed any love that Tom had felt for her.
It occurred to Caroline that he hadn't let go of her hand. And she hadn't asked him to.
It felt just as if it belonged there.
Tom was staring at her but Caroline was too distracted to notice. Her mind was whirling with possibility.
She had made no real effort to attract a man's attention. From the second he had stood in front of her all those weeks ago, Tom had her full attention.
And one or two disastrous attempts had ended her illustrious foray into scandal before it had properly begun.
In short, her well-laid plans for this Season had gone completely by the way side.
But what if…
No, thoughts of 'what if' were futile. Tom did not love her. And he very probably would never fully forgive her. But she was quite certain that he was attracted to her.
For her own part, Caroline had no interest in any other man but she was well aware that she would have to marry one.
She still wanted excitement in her life, memories of what used to be, before she settled for a husband she could never love.
So, what if Tom were the one to provide the memories? He would never be hers forever after. But could he be hers for the rest of the Season?
Quite suddenly, this house party became altogether more interesting than it had been up until now.
Tom watched the variety of emotions skim across Caroline's beautiful face. God, how he'd missed that face. Missed everything about her.
He'd been nervous all day, wondering what her reaction to his house would be. Hoping against hope that she would like it.
He'd been standing near the window of the drawing room for hours awaiting their arrival. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.
Whatever she was thinking had him completely intrigued. The play of emotions on her face had his attention almost as much as the feeling of her delicate hand still gripped in his hand.
She seemed to come to some sort of decision and the small smile of feminine satisfaction almost made his knees buckle.
How was he going to survive two weeks of such close proximity to her without begging her to be his?
Tom's thoughts skidded to a halt. What? Where had that come from? He didn't want to make her his, did he?
There was no way he could risk his heart again. No way in hell. No way could he let himself love her again.
Love — the most enchanting, soul-destroying, wonderful, and heart-breaking thing in the world. Gathering victims and creating havoc everywhere it went. For some, for the lucky few, it made the stars shine brighter and the world seem conquerable. For others, like him, it tore at the remnants of sanity and hope. Left him feeling more desolate than he ever thought possible, more frightened of the bleak and endless future than he could bear. She had done that. Her and only her. No one person should have that sort of enormous power over another. But she'd had. And he'd never recovered from it.
He'd been burned by that particular flame too badly once before. He wasn't about to risk his very soul again.
But he needed to learn to control this yearning for her. This need that burned hotter every time she was around. He would just have to keep his distance. Yes, that was it. He'd stay away from her. Far, far away. Or at least as far as he could whilst under the same roof.
Caroline turned to him now and smiled invitingly. Was it wishful thinking or did she suddenly look altogether seductive?
"So, are you going to show me around?" She was practically purring, dammit. His blood heated instantaneously.
"Yes," he squeaked then swore silently at the adolescent sound. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, of course. Shall we?" he placed her arm around his and moved to join the rest of the party who had taken it upon themselves to enter the house without him.
And he was glad that they did. Her close proximity was seeing to it that he was not fit to be viewed by anyone at present.
It was going to be a very long two weeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAROLINE WAS MOMENTARILY distracted from her plans of seduction when she entered Tom's house. It was beautiful. Simply beautiful.
The entrance hall was dominated by a huge staircase above which hung a giant chandelier. It was very similar to her own house at Ranford, though the floor here was solely dark marble and Ranford was black and white. There was a giant mirror on one wall, which reflected the rays of the setting sun and helped to flood the area with light.
"Oh Tom, it truly is beautiful," cried Caroline.
"Yes, well I like it," he said humbly.
"Ah, there you are. Tom, I hope you do not mind but I took the liberty of ringing for tea, since you were taking your time reappearing." The dowager smiled with a twinkle in her eye.
Caroline immediately blushed and moved away from Tom.
"Of course I do not mind, Aunt," he said graciously, "No doubt you will have to act the hostess much more during the coming weeks."
"What you need, my dear, is a wife to run the place."
Caroline's heart thudded at this sentiment, which was foolish.
She felt Tom stiffen at the dowager's words.
"What do I need a wife for, when I have you and Rebecca telling me what to do?"
The dowager looked shocked at his question. Caroline hoped she looked disinterested.
It hurt. It shouldn't. But it did.
"Why Tom, how ridiculous. Of course you need a wife."
They had begun to make their way into the drawing room to the left of them and Caroline prayed that they would finish their convers
ation before entering it.
Whatever chance she had of hiding her reaction from Tom and the dowager, she had no hope of doing so with Rebecca.
"I should think that I am perfectly capable of deciding what I need." There was a hard edge to Tom's voice now.
The dowager either did not notice, or did not care.
"Well then you are wrong," she answered stoutly, "if you think that a man does not need a wife. Very wrong indeed. And what do you have this lovely, sprawling house for, if not to fill it with children?"
Do NOT blush Caroline told herself fiercely as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
"Now, see what you've done? You've embarrassed Lady Caroline. Cease your sermons," Tom told the dowager with mock sternness.
The dowager, for her own part, was immediately contrite.
"Oh I do apologise, my dear, for speaking in such a way in front of a single young lady. But this boy has been infuriating me for most of his life."
Her indulgent smile in the direction of her beloved nephew took the sting out of her words.
Caroline merely smiled and shook her head.
They did not know that the blush was not caused by embarrassment but by the visceral longing that shot through her at the thought of Tom's children. And the torturous pain of knowing she would not be their mother.
As soon as they entered the room Rebecca's sharp eyes took in Caroline's pained expression and Tom's rather stiff one.
"Caro, dearest," she called, "come sit with me. You must be longing for a refreshing cup of tea. And then I think we shall retire to freshen ourselves up. Shall we not, ladies?"
Caroline gratefully moved away from Tom's masculine presence. It was all she could do not to attack him where he stood when she was so close to him.
The gentlemen chose this as their cue to leave and the group agreed to meet back in the drawing room in an hour so they could have a quick tour of the house before dining.
"I fear I may have been a little forward in the presence of your sister, my dear," said the dowager, though she seemed less than contrite.
"Oh?"
"Yes, I spoke of Tom's having babies. Not entirely appropriate conversation for an unmarried woman but not too scandalous, I hope."
Caroline interjected before Rebecca could say something outrageous, or give away her secret love for Tom.
"Truly, your grace, do not concern yourself. I was not embarrassed at all. I am as aware as anyone that a man has to—" Do not blush. She blushed. "Has to make… I mean have children."
Now she knew her cheeks were scarlet.
"Yes, and Tom is no exception. Naturally I would never usually presume to mention such things in the hallway of his house. But I thought, given the parties present, it would be quite alright."
Caroline gaped in astonishment at the sometimes eccentric dowager. Had she meant what Caroline thought she meant?
She glanced towards Rebecca and from the look of glee on her sister's face could only surmise that she had indeed meant that.
"Y-your grace," she stammered, "I would not have you believe that Mr. Crawdon and I — that me and Mr. Crawdon are — that is, we haven't, we don't…"
"Your grace." Tom's butler entered and bowed respectfully to Rebecca. He had just become Caroline's favourite person in the world. "Pardon me, your grace. The carriage with your maids has arrived."
"Excellent. Well, I think we are all anxious to change from our dusty carriage clothes," said Rebecca, standing and moving towards the door. "We shall talk in an hour or thereabouts."
It sounded like a threat. Caroline swallowed nervously and followed Rebecca to the door.
Henry had been taken off for a light meal by his nursemaid, so Rebecca would dress in record time and be banging down the door of her bedchamber in minutes, she guessed.
As it turned out, she was quite wrong. There was no sign of Rebecca or of anyone, save Sally and the young maid who was tasked with pressing Caroline's evening gown.
It had been more than an hour and Caroline had been ready for quite some time but still Rebecca did not come. Perhaps she had gone to see to Henry, though he was usually settled for the night by this time.
Well she couldn't sit here all evening and the party was probably waiting for her downstairs.
Sally had left her, declaring her as fit to be seen, so Caroline plucked up her light shawl, shook out her gown — a new one made by Madame for her — and gave herself one last critical look in the looking glass.
Caroline had been unsure about the colour at first but since it was Madame she had held her tongue. One did not argue with the formidable Frenchwoman who was well known for her delight in bodily removing insolent debutantes from her dress shop.
It was a light shade of rose. A colour Caroline would never have chosen, but she had to admit that Madame was truly a genius. The colour softened Caroline's sometimes slightly stern features. It brought out the rosy hue of her cheeks and contrasted beautifully with her pale hair.
A simple diamond on a thin gold chain and a matching set of diamond earrings were all the adornment she had.
Caroline knew, without conceit, that she looked rather well. And she needed to. If she were to seduce the man who had once loved her and whose heart she had once broken, the man she still loved, then she would need all the help she could get.
Being unsure about how to actually seduce anybody did not help. And she would certainly not be turning to alcohol for courage.
Giving herself a little nod of encouragement in the glass, she turned and made her way down the hallway to the stairs.
There was the very distinctive sound of giggling from Rebecca and Edward's closed door, followed by a masculine growl. So, that explained where Rebecca was. Caroline moved swiftly past trying to block out the noise. They always shared a room even though it was absolutely not considered appropriate by the ton.
Mercifully the dowager was on the other end of the long corridor and would not have to pass Rebecca and Edward's room to get downstairs. For heaven's sake, had they no control?
It mattered not a whit that she would love the opportunity to have the same lack of control with Tom.
Caroline had just reached the foot of the stairs when she noticed the dowager's trusted maid leave the drawing room.
Strange.
The lady curtsied to Caroline then made her way back up the stairs.
Caroline assumed the dowager must have forgotten something upstairs. She entered the room and came to a stop.
Tom was standing, brandy in hand, staring intently into the fire as though it held the answers to all of life's questions.
He looked so deep in contemplation, so troubled, that Caroline felt a strong urge to both turn and leave him to his privacy, and rush to him to offer any sort of comfort.
If she was his and he hers, she would have no hesitation in going to him. As it was though, she felt awkward and nervous.
Which did not bode well for a seductress.
He was devastating; that was the problem. So handsome that her knees quite literally weakened when he smiled at her.
Perhaps she should go. Taking a step back, Caroline winced as the floorboard creaked beneath her slipper.
The noise grabbed his attention and he looked up, his gaze colliding with hers.
She couldn't leave now, even if she wanted to. She was held totally and utterly captive by that look.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TOM LOOKED UP to find Caroline standing in the doorway and she damn near took his breath away.
God help him. How was he supposed to survive being around her and not claiming her for his own in every conceivable way?
But he couldn't, because she didn't want him. That was the material point.
He had tried and failed. She had rejected him.
The pain of that rejection may have killed his pure, untarnished love for her. But it did nothing about the dark lust that plagued his every waking moment and every dream at night.
And the more
time he spent with her, the more he feared the rejection had not killed every other feeling as he had once thought.
Every time there was some distance between them he was able to remind himself that they would never be together. He ran the gauntlet of pain, usually aided by far too much brandy, then pulled himself together again.
Only to see her and have it all fly out the window.
Just like now. Now, when she stood looking at him with those penetrating, wide eyes. That glorious golden hair that he wanted to see against his pillow. And that unrelentingly gorgeous body encased in the purest of silk.
Was she trying to kill him altogether?
He'd been thinking of her from the moment he and Edward had left the drawing room today. What she was thinking? How she was feeling? Whether he had run mad when he had thought she was looking seductively at him, as though she would welcome his attentions. And what her reaction was to that awkward, almost painful conversation with Aunt Catherine.
He'd meant what he'd said. He had no plans to marry. How could he? He would never trust another woman with his trampled heart. He'd barely even glanced at another woman since he'd met Caroline.
He didn't want to think about children, because every time he did he imagined them in her arms.
No, she had ruined any chance of marital bliss for him. And yet… saying so in front of her had been damned uncomfortable and had made him feel guilty which was just ridiculous.
Guilty for what? She had not wanted him. Not the other way around. He would never have said 'no'. To anything she wanted. He would have walked to the ends of the earth for her. But she hadn't wanted him to.
"Good evening, Caroline," he said because the silence was killing him.
Caroline smiled nervously and it was his undoing.
He swore softly.
"How can you be so heart-achingly beautiful?" he asked desperately.
He watched as her eyes widened at his words, her cheeks flushing, hopefully with pleasure.
"You are the first to arrive," he said, striving to be the polite host when all he wanted to do was ravish her.
"Oh." She frowned in confusion. He found it adorable. Get a hold of yourself, man. "I saw her grace's maid, I assumed she had left something in her rooms."
Seeking Scandal Page 16
