"Your brother means well," Diana offered with a small smile, one more full of mischief than contrition, "but he simply does not know a thing about a woman's heart or her desires." Caroline could almost see Diana stifle her obvious desire to roll her eyes for added effect. "Could you not steer him towards a man of your choosing?"
"It has been made clear that that man I desire is not appropriate for me." From the mutinous expression on Sophia's face, it was obvious this was a debate she and her brother had engaged in many times.
It was time, Caroline decided, to see precisely where Marcus stood amongst the ranks of the ton's most eligible men. If she had done her job well, he would be a most attractive candidate.
"What about a man such as Lord Breckenright?" Caroline asked as innocently as she could, praying that none of the women noticed the hitch in her voice. "Would Lord Hathaway consider him a potential husband? Or do you not favor him, either, Lady Sophia?" She shrugged when Lady Diana shot her a curious look. "Not that I am advocating you marry quickly, of course, but I am given to understand that he is in the market for a wife and is considered a prime catch. At least according to Lady X."
Lady Sophia scrunched up her nose, though in distaste or something else, Caroline could not be certain. "The Viscount of Mystery. He's handsome enough I suppose." Then she shrugged, as if dismissing the idea of her wedding the viscount. "A little old perhaps, but I am not certain that I could have a love match with him. He seems a trifle grouchy if you ask me. And that is perhaps putting it kindly, I would think."
"I don't believe in love matches." That came from Lady Eliza, much to everyone's surprise. "Well, I mean perhaps they work out for some of our set, but marriage is a business arrangement." Caroline did not miss the color that flooded her cheeks as well. "At least that's what Mama and Papa say."
"I say a love match or none at all!" Lady Diana proclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly before lowering her voice to a more appropriate whisper. Given the passion behind her statement, Caroline knew Diana had given the topic much thought and consideration. "After all, if we are to be leg shackled to a man for the rest of our lives, should we not want to be happy as well? We should at least be able to tolerate the man, don't you think? I, for one, do not wish to spend the rest of my days loathing my husband, unable to stand the very sight of him. Or bed him, for that matter."
In most circles, Lady Diana's words would be bordering on scandalous. That she felt free enough to speak them with Caroline present, especially when the other ladies were clearly her close friends, warmed something in Caroline's heart. It was a strange feeling, but one she quickly decided that she rather liked.
She also knew that she could not possibly use any of this in her next column, even if she had been considering it - which she hadn't been. She should have been, of course, as these topics would make for juicy musings. Yet Caroline found herself unwilling to betray the confidences of any of these women. She liked these ladies with their spirit and shyness and wry humor. More than that, she longed to be their friend, a true friend and not one of the insincere friendships she had played at cultivating over the last few years. At least if they would allow her to be, of course. She hoped they would. The desire might seem silly to some, but it burned inside of her with a passion.
For the first time since she had returned from Northumbria, Caroline felt as if she was a part of society again, not separate from it. And she wanted a friendship with these women more than she could say. Just as she had with her friend Jane.
"I think love, when found, is a rare and precious gift that should be treasured," Caroline finally offered, feeling the need to contribute something useful to the conversation. "If a lady is lucky enough to find such love, she should fight for it at all costs. However, sometimes, we are not so lucky."
Lady Diana eyed Caroline for a moment, as if trying to peer into her very soul. Then, finally, she smiled. It was warm and welcoming and full of everything that Caroline so desperately wanted - acceptance. "You are correct, Lady Caroline. More than you may realize, I suspect." Then she turned back to the others while still including Caroline in the conversation. "But back to the matter of Lord Breckenright. He is a handsome man, but..."
Her words were cut off when a man's heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway. Turning, Caroline was not surprised to see Marcus advancing towards them. She had heard the light but unmistakable thump of his cane hitting the floor before his foot, leaving her no doubt as to who was approaching.
"Lord Breckenright." She dipped into a low curtsey and rose to see Lady Diana watching her, as if seeing things that Caroline would have preferred to remain hidden. When the other ladies curtseyed as well, it was not lost on Caroline that Diana still watched her, a knowing expression on her face.
"Ladies." Marcus dipped a low bow, or as low as he could manage. Normally, he should have bowed to each of them in turn, but Caroline knew many in society excused him from that nicety due to his injury. A memory of bloodstained sheets flashed through her mind and she worked to suppress a shudder, but not before Lady Diana noticed the change in her expression, Caroline was certain.
Caroline also prayed that Marcus was in a far better mood than when they had last parted. She did not wish for him to lash out at her in front of these other women. Especially if he hoped to marry one of them.
"My Lord." Diana inclined her head towards him, her eyes flashing back and forth rapidly between Marcus and Caroline. "I hate to greet you and then depart so swiftly, especially since you do make a charming dance partner, but my friends and I are in desperate need of the retiring room. We were just on our way there." Then she gave Caroline a mischievous smile and something warmed inside of Caroline's heart. "However, Lady Caroline was just on her way from there when we encountered her and engaged in some silly girl talk. You know how it is. Perhaps you would be so kind as to keep her company for us until we return?"
Then in a swirl of peach-hued silk skirts, Lady Diana was gone, Lady Sophia and Lady Eliza trailing after her in awe, as if they had no idea what had just happened but were suitably impressed nonetheless. Most likely they did not, for Caroline herself was not certain exactly how she had come to be alone in the dimly lit hallway with Marcus.
So much for her plan to pair Marcus and Diana together, it seemed.
Instead of being angry, as she had anticipated, Marcus simply offered Caroline his arm and began to escort her back towards the ballroom. He was stiff and clearly reticent with her, but then that could simply be attributed to his leg. It had rained earlier in the day, much as it always did in London, and she knew that such weather aggravated the injury. "It appears your friends have deserted you," he finally said affably, as if they had not quarreled so viciously at the Radcliffe affair. "Pity that."
"I would have thought you would be the one to pity at their departure," Caroline replied coolly, deciding now was an excellent time to fish for information regarding Marcus' feelings for Lady Diana. Especially since he was being almost pleasant. Well, pleasant for Marcus these days, anyway. This past week he had not exactly been known for his jovial personality. She had heard that surly was even too kind of way to describe his temper, though at the moment, he did not seem to be in the mood to argue. Not even with her. "Did I not just read that you and Lady Diana were seen together at Almack's the other evening? She would make you a fine wife, don't you think? And you do make a striking pair. That goes without saying, I do believe."
Despite her joyful mood, a stab of something sharp and unpleasant raced through Caroline at her words and she prayed that Marcus did not notice the change in her. Then again, from the sour look that flashed across his face, Marcus was feeling just as unhappy. And perhaps not quite as jovial as he had mere moments ago.
Their relationship, such as it was, had been strained since the night of the Radcliffe affair and the almost-kiss. Or whatever that fit of madness had been, for in Caroline's mind anyway, Marcus had been but one step away from taking her right there on the balcony and slaking his obvio
us need.
Now, it was as if neither of them knew how to behave around each another, the anger of that night having long since cooled, but the reluctance to be the first to admit to being wrong remaining behind. The week they had spent mostly apart had been torturous and had apparently done little to heal the rift that was developing between them.
It saddened Caroline that they had come to this, but she wasn't completely surprised. Nothing stayed the same. Not even her friendship with Marcus. She had learned long ago that nothing truly good ever lasted for long.
"Caro," Marcus warned darkly as he maneuvered past a footstool that someone had simply left lying abandoned in the hallway, "do not press me on this matter. Lady Diana is lovely, as are her friends. However, they are not what I am searching for in a lady. I am not interested in having any of them to wife."
"But Lady Sophia would," Caroline began before Marcus held up a hand to stay whatever she might have said next. He did not snap at her but his expression was thunderous and suddenly, Caroline realized how very tired she was. Tired of gossip and fighting. Tired of her life, really. So for once, she did as he silently requested and spoke no more. However, she knew that this moment was also not the end of the discussion.
With a grunt of disgust, Marcus took a quick look around to ascertain where he was within the Carlyle home before propelling Caroline forward a few feet towards a set of double doors that she knew led directly to the Carlyle 's library. Once they were safely inside and the door locked behind them, Marcus turned towards her with a scowl on his face. This was the angry Marcus she remembered all too well. And once more, she longed for happier times between them. They way it used to be.
"Enough, Caro," he rumbled, a trace of his old anger bubbling up, though he was doing well to hold his temper in check. This time, however, his anger was not directed at Caroline for she was only attempting to help. He knew that, of course. This was not like the night on the Radcliffe's terrace either.
Rather, his anger was directed at himself for requiring Caroline's help in the first place. If he were whole, none of this nonsense would be necessary. "Between you and Lady X, the two of you have thrown more than two dozen debutantes at me over the last week. I confess that it is growing tiresome. Perhaps this scheme of yours was unwise. I might do better seeking out the daughter of a local baron near Derbyshire or someplace as provincial."
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I am sorry for pawing at you the other evening, Caro. I promise that it will not happen again. That does not, I am afraid, mean that I no longer desire you. You know that I do." Then he shrugged, his anger abating a bit. "Though I will promise not to pursue you since you do not seem to welcome my attentions."
Caroline scowled at him in return, unafraid to let him see her displeasure. She had been having a better time with Lady Diana and her friends. "Do you not want a proper society wife, Marc? Are you willing to settle for less, a country miss who will not help you socially?" She ignored his comment about her not wanting his attentions. She had lied enough to the man and did not want to add more falsehoods on top of those already told. "For if that is the case, I shall cease sorting through the young misses of the ton for you and allow you to go about your business on your own. Or was I wrong in thinking that when you agreed to my proposal you were serious about being wed to a proper lady, as you termed it?"
"Damn it, Caro!" Marcus growled, slashing his hand through the air and for a moment, she could see a brief flash of the man who had roared at all of society the night of the Devonmont musicale. "I do want a wife! No. Let me correct that." He was growing angrier by the moment. Well so was she! "I need one, damn it! And a society chit at that! And since it can't be you, yes, I will allow you to help me, interfering chit that you are. But damn it all, there has to be a better way!"
"Because you are doing so well on your own!" she tossed back, her own anger rising. God, she wanted this man and it burned that she could not have him. If she were able, she would tear his very clothes from his body right this instant. If he was not in such a fine temper, of course. At the moment, however, she was more inclined to slap him for behaving like such a wretched beast.
Marcus had always possessed something of a temper, even in his youth. It was part of the reason he had been so feared when he had returned from Eton to take his place in society. However, since his return from Bath, what had previously only been temper was now mixed with a healthy dose of anger. Yet for some strange reason, Caroline did not fear him as others did. Perhaps it was because she could see a hint of his old, sensitive heart that still beat beneath all of the bluster.
Or perhaps it was because when she was angered, she was every bit as terrifying as he was. There was that to consider as well.
Marcus advanced on Caroline, yet she did not shrink back. He would not harm her. Of that she was certain. He was merely roaring at her. "I am not so hideous or blind that I cannot find my own chits to dance with every so often! I do not need you throwing them at me at every turn. A least Lady X gives me that much credit!"
At his words, she stiffened. In her quest to make certain that no one connected her to Lady X, Caroline had been a bit more blunt with Marcus when discussing his prospective brides than Lady X was. As the notorious gossip columnist, Caroline used hints and innuendos. She had thought she was being clever. Instead, all she had managed to accomplish, over the course of a week no less, was to make Marcus' infatuation with the fictitious woman grow. Even if he did not admit it, she could tell by the intelligent gleam in his eyes that he was intrigued by the unknown woman. She had seen those same signs in him before when a lady captured his attention.
"First, Marc, you are not hideous so stop speaking like such a ninnyhammer. And what does Lady X know of you? Truly?" she asked, barely reigning in her own fury. She knew she should be happy that Marcus was interested in a woman other than herself. On the other hand, since she was Lady X, his growing interest in the gossip columnist could become a problem she did not wish to deal with. Ever.
"More than you," he shouted, his earlier charm nowhere to be found. "Damn it, Caroline, we were friends once! What has happened to us?"
At that, the very air seemed to seep from her lungs as if she had been physically struck, and she sighed wearily. She was tired of fighting with him and hoped that he was just as tired of quarreling with her, if not more so. It took a good deal of energy to roar at someone, she thought. Perhaps too much.
They were friends. Or they had been. Even though she did not dare return his feelings, it did not have to be like this between them. She despised the anger and fury. She wanted things to be as they had once been. "We are different now, Marc," she sighed softly, hoping that a calm voice might soothe his fierce temper. "The years apart have changed you, and me as well." She leaned back against the sold oak desk that sat in the far corner of the earl's library, resting her palms lightly on the highly polished top. For once, she could not immediately meet his eyes. "I do not wish to argue with you any longer. I detest this fighting and long for the way we used to be together. All I want is for you to take this wife search of yours seriously."
"I am," he insisted, shaking his head and turning away from her as he often did when his left eye refused to focus, not wanting her to see his broken body. From the slump of his shoulders, she could tell that he did not wish to argue any longer either, the fight in him slowly draining away. "But you push this endless parade of chits at me, Caro, acting as if I do not wed within the month, all hope will be lost. It is too much. I am not ready for it." She saw his hand grip his cane tightly for a moment before he turned back to her, his left eye still a bit unfocused. "And Lady X? She does not. She suggests, but she does not push."
Caroline wanted to shout at him that there was a reason for her actions, but she held her tongue. Though they had not seen each other much over the last week, she had still been there, lurking in the shadows, observing. And what she had seen had broken her heart.
She saw him dancing with other
chits, laughing with them and sharing punch. He might not wish to be there but he was actively courting these ladies all the same. The women were engaging in all of the activities Caroline herself wished to do with Marcus but could not. She was not right for him. They were. And he needed to select a bride from their ranks. Which was precisely the reason for her anger. And why she pushed him so hard. Why she presented him with as many choices as she could reasonably manage and not appear like some crass matchmaker.
If Marcus was securely wed, he would no longer tempt her to break her vow to leave him alone. He would be beyond her reach. And Lady X would be beyond his as well.
The hard truth was, he needed a wife. He did not need to spend his time thinking about Lady X, which, given the odd expression on his face when he had mentioned her name, he clearly was. Too much. Thinking of Lady X might lead him back to her and that would be a disaster she did not wish to court.
"Marc." Caroline's voice was barely a whisper. "I am sorry. I did not mean to push you. However, after that event at Lady Radcliffe's, I thought that... Never mind. It is not important." She shook her head. She did not want him to know how much her heart had raced at being held in his arms. He did not need to know how much she wanted to be his wife. She always had. He could never know.
At the sparkling sheen of tears in her eyes, Marcus softened his stance, the last of his anger draining away when he rested his eyes on his old friend. This was not her fault. It was his. If he had been better able to control his desire for her that night, then they would not be in this state. He would not be nearly so angry - mostly with himself. He would also not be so desperate to find a young wife so that he would stop thinking about a woman he could not and should not have. A woman he had not done right by so many years ago when she was desperate for security. Instead, he had left her at the mercy of a man who, by all accounts, including those of the man's own son, had been nothing short of a monster.
A Viscount of Mystery Page 9
