Leslie Lafoy (41 page)

“Caroline’s come—”

“Where is she? Upstairs?”

“I insisted that they take up residence at my sister-in-law’s. Margaret—”

“They who?” If she’d brought that band of barbarians with her . . .

“Lady Caroline, Lady Simone, Lady Fiona, Mrs. Miller, and Dora,” Haywood supplied to his utter relief. “And all the animals. Margaret—that’s my sister-in-law—insisted that Caroline go with her to dinner this evening at Tristan’s.”

Tristan’s. He knew where it was. And what it was.

“It’s not Almack’s, of course,” Haywood went on. “But she—Margaret—desperately wants to trump Lady Aubrey in sponsoring her—Caroline—and said it would be the perfect place to introduce her to what society remains in London at the moment. To get her feet wet, so to speak. Well, more like damp actually, but you know what I mean.”

Oh, yes. Put Caroline out there and then whistle the sharks in for dinner.

“She practically cackled at the possi—”

“
Which
she?”

Haywood blinked. “Which she what?”

“Cackled!”

“Margaret,” Haywood said. “Lady Caroline doesn’t cackle.” He frowned and then shrugged. “Of course, I never thought Margaret did, either. She sounded positively evil, Dray. I had no idea. She’s always been such a mousy little thing. Of course, I’ve never seen her when John isn’t about so—”

“Why is Caroline here?” he asked, frustrated enough to damn the rudeness and cut to the chase.

“It’s not for me to tell you. She should properly be the first.”

It was Drayton’s turn to blink. Possibilities tumbled one over the other in his head, most of them ridiculous and dismissed out of hand. But one was entirely within the realm of feasible. Delightfully so. “She’s pregnant?” he guessed.

Haywood’s eyes went huge. “She is?”

“Jesus, you’re a plank,” he declared, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

“Are you going to Tristan’s?” Haywood asked, dogging his heels.

“What do you think?”

“Why?” Haywood asked, pulling on his coat as he followed Drayton through the darkened halls and rooms toward the rear of the house.

“To see Caroline!”

“All you’re going to be able to do is look. Maybe exchange a few polite words over a cup of punch. It’s very public.”

“I’m a duke. I can do as I damn well please, when and where I please,” he declared, pushing open the servants’ door and striding out into the rear yard. “John!” he called to his coachman. “Don’t put the carriage away!”

Haywood trotted up beside him. “Well, I must say that you seem to have spent the last few weeks growing a bit more comfortable with wearing the title. Although that attitude may not be for the best considering that those who are at Tristan’s tonight are the same ones who’ll go to Almack’s during the Season. They can make a mountainous scandal out of a single grain of sand. If you look at Caroline for even a heartbeat too long, it will take her years to live it down.”

“I’m not going to look at her too long,” he replied, motioning his driver into the box. “I promise.”

“What are you going to do?”

Drayton yanked open the door. “You’re welcome to toady along and find out.”

As Haywood threw himself inside, Drayton looked up. “Tristan’s, please, John. And hurry.”

CAROLINE SIPPED THE TEPID PUNCH AND WONDERED
whether the next man on her dance card was going to have any more sense than the previous six had had. It seemed to her that at some point one of them would notice the others nursing their injuries and, in a moment motivated by pure self-preservation, remember that he’d asked another woman for the dance first. But, apparently, it wasn’t going to be the next one. She smiled to acknowledge his glance from across the room. If they were both lucky, he wouldn’t be able to escape the elderly lady chattering away at him.

She sipped again and let her gaze wander. Lady Rhys was certainly in a hurry to get to the door for some reason. Caroline turned to see what it might be and smiled. Setting her punch cup on the end of the table, she watched as Drayton bowed to Lady Rhys, said something decidedly brief and then stepped around her and swept the ballroom with his gaze. It met hers, locked, and set him in motion. Oh, he was magnificent, and if any of the other men present had brains in their heads they would know that they didn’t stand a chance against him.

There wasn’t much of a crowd between them, but what there was of one parted to let him pass. One or two of the men spoke to him and while he acknowledged them with a dip of his chin, he didn’t let them delay his advance in
the slightest. Their gazes followed him, then darted to her just before their wives tugged on their sleeves and they bent down to whisper.

Well, she allowed, smiling, so much for the hope of behaving impeccably this evening. He’d violated at least half a dozen rules since he’d come through the door. And, judging by the way the light was sparkling in his eyes, he didn’t care how many more he broke before the evening was done.

For a second she thought he was going to open his arms and her heart thrilled. But he stopped a surprisingly and perfectly proper distance in front of her, his arms at his sides. Even as she struggled with the disappointment, he slowly gave her one of his lopsided, heart-melting smiles and her world came right.

“I see that Haywood finally found you.”

He nodded. “May I have this dance?”

“I believe, sir,” said an imperious voice from her left elbow, “that my name is next on Lady Caroline’s card.”

Before she could do or say anything, Drayton squared up to the man, cocked a brow, and smiled. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Drayton Mackenzie, Duke of Ryland. And you are?”

“Surrendering the dance, your grace,” the other said, sounding as though all the air was going out of him at once.

She felt a bit sorry for the man, whatever his name was, but not enough to offer him even a quick apology over her shoulder as Drayton took her elbow. “That was certainly effective,” she observed as he escorted her to the dance floor. “A bit imperial, but effective.”

“I’ve grown very weary of all the games,” he replied as the orchestra began to play a waltz. “In fact, my patience is gone.”

“As I can see,” she said breathlessly as he whirled her into position and instantly moved them into the brightly colored circle of gliding, spinning dancers. She stared at the studs in his shirtfront, trying to catch her breath and marveling at how smoothly she was moving, how her feet just seemed to know where they needed to be, where he wanted them to go. What a difference it made to partner with a commanding, certain man. She closed her eyes and smiled, feeling lighter than air and not worrying about the other dancers, not caring where he took her and if they never came back.

Drayton stole a glance down at her face as he moved them to the inside edge of the ring of dancers. So beautiful, so perfect in his arms. As if she’d been made just for him. The very thought of another man touching her, making her smile so sweetly . . . His chest tightening and his blood racing far faster than the waltz tempo, he committed himself to the greatest risk he’d ever taken. “Why are you here, Caroline?”

Her smiled broadened. “I’m bored with mashing the toes of the dancing master at Ryland Castle and came here looking for new men to maim.”

All right, if she didn’t want to give him a straight answer right away, he’d accept it. He’d been the one to put the time and distance between them and made her understandably wary. “Find any of interest?”

“Just one.”

“Oh?”

“Unfortunately,” she said, opening her eyes to study his shirtfront, “I’m not sure if he’s interested in me. Which makes it all decidedly awkward.”

Well, if she was referring to him, he could end awkward right here and now. If she was talking about someone
else, they were going to take awkward to all new heights in just a few moments. “You could send Haywood out to make inquiries on your behalf,” he suggested. “Believe it or not, he can actually be discreet when he puts his mind to it. Of course,” he quickly added, “he can also be decidedly thick when he puts his mind to it, too.”

Haywood, would you please go ask Drayton if he loves me? I’ll be hiding behind this palm until you get back.
How ridiculous. “It seems to me,” she said, finally looking up at him, “that sending someone to ask personal questions on your behalf is rather cowardly. Not to mention more than a bit childish.”

“I tend to agree,” he offered. “If you don’t know someone well enough to ask a personal question yourself, then you really don’t know them well enough to be asking it. I hope you know that you can ask me anything at all. Or tell me anything for that matter.”

“Well,” she began, her eyes sparkling, “I should probably let you know that Lady Aubrey threatened to withdraw her sponsorship if I left Ryland Castle.”

“I’m sure that gave you pause for all of a second or two,” he replied, wishing he’d been there to see that exchange. Lady Aubrey was probably still recovering from it.

“Less than that, I’m afraid.”

“Because?”

He pressed his hand into the small of her back and she happily obeyed, closing the space between them until her bodice lightly brushed the lapels of his jacket as they moved in tandem among the other dancers. “Largely because,” she said, gazing up at him, delighting in their boldness, “I’ve discovered in recent weeks that there are worse fates than the possibility of scandal.”

Drayton grinned, his heart soaring with certainty.
“What could possibly be worse than scandal?” he asked, slowing their dance and easing them apart from the other dancers.

“Doing what others expect you to do,” she answered softly, lifting her gloved hand from his shoulder to brush the backs of her fingers along his jaw. “And pretending that you’re not absolutely miserable for the effort and sacrifice.”

Knowing that her touch had made pretending to be dancing pointless, he drew them to a halt, caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips to press a lingering promise against it. “And you were miserable at Ryland Castle?” he asked as she gazed adoringly up at him, as the orchestra played on and the smooth swirl of dancers around them faltered and came to an abrupt, stumbling stop. “You’ve been missing the wonder and gaiety of London?”

She shook her head. “I came to London because I miss the sound of your voice and the way you smile, the way you shoot your cuffs. Because I miss your integrity and kindness, how you surprise me and anchor me and make me laugh. Because I’m so very tired of sleeping in your bed alone and waking to find that you’ve been there, holding me close, only in my dreams.”

“Do you love me, Caroline?”

She smiled and truth shimmered from the depths of her eyes to wrap gently and forever around his heart.

“That would be incredibly foolish and shortsighted, wouldn’t it?” she whispered.

“Not to mention financially indefensible,” he allowed, releasing her hands to place his on her waist.

“Yes, exactly.” She twined her arms around his neck and smiled up at him, her heart brimming and sure. “You haven’t fallen in love with me, have you?”

“Oh, no,” he offered, shaking his head. “Foolish and indefensible and all that. But I do love sex with you.”

“Yes, there is that,” she said brightly.

“And how I love watching you cut out fabric and pin paper bands around drapes,” he added, his voice a whisper that twined through her soul. “I love how the color of your eyes turns to steel blue when you’re angry and how it turns to smoke when I kiss you. I love the sound of your laugh and all the shadings of your sighs. But most of all, I love your honesty and your courage and how you believe that nothing is impossible.”

“I don’t believe, Drayton. I just hope with all my heart.”

“And what impossible hope of your heart has brought you to London?”

“That you might ask me just one more time to marry you.”

“Oh, darling Caroline,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her and drawing her full against him. Bending his head, he brushed his lips over hers and amid the storm of gasps and choked cries of outrage, grinned and whispered, “You’re going to have to.”