Caroline (21 page)

Sitting on a low chair, Caro was clad only in her chemise and petticoats while Rose, her lady's maid, dressed her hair. Pulling up a chair next to her, Natalya declared gloomily:

"You will not retain that good mood long when you hear my news."

"We'll see!" laughed Caro.

"Well, to be honest, any other night I would prefer to dine at home, for Sacha is much better company than Stanley or Robert—or any of these other stiff-necked suitors I am plagued with!" Caro gave her a slightly quizzical look, but Natalya was rushing on. "Tonight, though, I bless Robert and his stuffy parents for inviting me, because Sacha's mistress is dining here and she is a detestable creature who unfailingly sets my teeth on edge."

She paused, her clear blue eyes searching Caro's face, which had suddenly gone pale. "Are you all right? You look as though you've seen a ghost!"

"Why, I'm fine. But Natalya, how do you know she is his mistress? Has he told you so?"

The other girl stood up, smiling bitterly. "He doesn't need to tell me. Sacha does not waste his time on light flirtations—or on women who value their reputations. I am not implying that he has ever stooped to the cheap sort, but he chooses sophisticated women who will not be hurt at the end. Emotional entanglements are to be avoided at all cost."

"Yes, I know," Caro replied in a low voice.

"Do not let Lydia get under your skin," advised Natalya. "She is a cunning woman, very sharp-witted, but it all becomes more bearable when one realizes that she is playing a losing game. I think she hopes to marry Sacha, but it will never occur."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because he will never marry—have we not both told you so already? Besides, Sacha's interest in Lydia Chamberlain in strictly categorical."

"But why does he bring her here to eat with his family?"

"I would guess that she coaxed him into it and he gave in to silence her—probably after one too many brandies. Caro, cheer up! You look so dejected and just moments ago you had the glow of a new bride."

* * *

Grandmere appeared at the secret passageway in Caro's wall right after Natalya left for the evening, and the two allies went down to dinner together. Caro wore her favorite gown of peach-colored gauze along with a stunning emerald choker that Natalya insisted on lending her. Her hair was swept up in curls that charmingly framed her face.

"That gown is perfect for evening," Grandmere pronounced. "The color goes beautifully with the candlelight and your skin. Sacha will be proud of your appearance."

Caro wanted to reply that she doubted that Alec would care how she looked, but instead heard herself saying, "Will you tell me about Alec's... guest?"

Grandmere curled her lips in evident distaste.

"You must mean Lydia Chamberlain. She is a new war widow, but her mourning was remarkably short-lived. The moment that Sacha bought this house in the spring, she devised ways to see him. My grandson has always been appreciative of beauty—especially when it is being offered to him to enjoy at will. That is all the story there is at this time, but I feel certain that Madame Chamberlain has a plot of her own worked out." She paused, squeezing Caro's hand. "Let us descend,
petite cherie.
I am confident that you will not let her get the best of you—or of Sacha, for that matter!"

* * *

Alec was standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for them. Caro's heart fluttered at the sight of him, for he was looking extremely handsome in an indigo-blue coat over a gold brocade waistcoat. His face, brown against his expertly tied cravat, registered amused surprise at the sight of his grandmother.

"Grandmere, can you never enter a house in the normal fashion? I thought you were still dressing!"

She accepted his arm, observing him with bright dark eyes. "I thought that I should accompany Caroline to protect her from our esteemed dinner guest."

"I'll wager that Caro can take care of herself," Alec responded, his face hardening in annoyance. "And I will thank you to hold your tongue, Grandmere. I will not tolerate any little scenes tonight. Lydia is a guest in this house and I expect you to treat her accordingly."

Grandmere arched an eyebrow rebelliously, but kept silent. As they entered the parlor, Caro's gaze was instantly drawn to the stunning woman who stood before the delft tile fireplace. She had hair the color of the flames that flickered behind her, and her skin was milky white in contrast. Tall and slender, Lydia Chamberlain had a face that was both elegant and sensuous with its winged eyebrows, thin nose, and pouting mouth. As they drew nearer, she was astonished to see that the woman's eyes were a vivid shade of violet, and that they assessed her shrewdly.

"Well, well, so this is little Caroline! I have heard a great deal about you, child!"

Nicholai, who stood near Lydia, rolled his eyes.

Repressing an impulse to laugh, Caro replied, "That is very flattering, Mrs. Chamberlain. I am sorry to admit that Alec has neglected to tell me a thing about you!"

The woman's eyes narrowed a fraction as she looked over Caro's head to Alec. "Alexandre, darling," she purred, "I had no idea that your little ward was so mature—or shall we say, presentable!"

"Presentable!" Nicholai exclaimed. "The girl is a raving beauty!"

Lydia eyed him coldly as Alec declared, "I believe I am ready for another glass of wine. Can I get one for you and Caro, Grandmere?"

"Really, Alexandre, are you sure the child should be drinking spirits?" Lydia called after him. Caro found herself staring irresistibly at the other woman. Lydia's dress was fashioned of exquisite lavender silk, cut daringly low, and tucked into elaborate folds in back. Dazzling amethysts sparkled at her neck and in her ears, and Caro was conscious of a painful envy.

During dinner, she watched Lydia talk to Alec, her mouth alternately petulant and sensuous. She found herself trying to imagine them naked together, Alec kissing Lydia's long neck. Feeling ill, she barely touched her food, despite Nicholai's cheerful conversation. She watched thankfully as the
pots au creme
were being served and Lydia's cool voice rose above the others:

"Alexandre, now that I realize your ward is an older girl, I would be delighted to arrange for her to meet some boys her own age." Her eyes met Caro's. "Wouldn't you like that, dear? After all, I'm sure that a nice girl like you would not wish to impose on Mr. Beauvisage's hospitality any longer than necessary."

Caro lifted her chin. "I am here at my guardian's invitation, Mrs. Chamberlain. I am completely subservient to his wishes."

One of Alec's mobile eyebrows flew up in amusement and Caro had the satisfaction of seeing Lydia's face tighten with anger. Nicholai squeezed Caro's hand under the table. When she stole a sidelong glance at him she saw that he had his knuckles pressed against his mouth to conceal in irrepressible grin.

Later, when the party had adjourned to the north parlor, Alec slipped away from Lydia. Caro felt his hand touch the nape of her neck and spun around.

"Alec, do not tell me that you are alone!"

"Try not to provoke me," he replied with a reckless grin. "I am feeling warmer toward you after that remark you made about being subservient to my wishes. I confess I was on the verge of laughing out loud!"

"I have a feeling that your—ah, friend would not have appreciated that!" she rejoined, relieved to see that he continued to smile at her. "Why are you looking so pleased, sir? I suppose that you think after what I said you have me where you want me!"

Alec's eyes were gleaming as he leaned down closer to her ear, inhaling the faint fragrance of jasmine. "Would that I did,
cherie,"
he murmured in a low voice underlaid with laughter.

Caro felt her face grow warm under his bold gaze, but she looked up challengingly.

"You are too bold—" her voice broke off as she met Lydia's venomous eyes across the room. Grandmere had engaged her in an impressively polite conversation, but it was obvious where her attention lay. Caro bit her lip. "I think Mrs. Chamberlain is growing lonely. I don't want to impose on your hospitality, you know, so I had better retire now."

The look of regret that flickered in his eyes left a glow inside her. It was only when she was perched on her window seat, clad in a warm bedgown, that her heart turned cold. She had planned to look at the stars and bask in her small glow of contentment, but instead she found herself watching Alec and Lydia strolling on the garden footpaths. They were bathed in silver moonlight, and he had one arm around her shoulders. Caro sat transfixed, watching as they paused and Alec slipped the hood of Lydia's cloak back from her face. They kissed then
,
and Caro felt ill by the end. However, the worst part
c
ame a moment later, when Alec looked up and clearly recognized Caro's white-clad figure staring out of her window.

Chapter 16

As they breakfasted in the upstairs sitting room the next morning, Natalya told Caro that her brother had given his permission for the ball.

"Before Christmas, he said. We have tentatively settled on the sixth, so that gives us little more than a month to set our plans. Won't it be exciting?"

Caro managed a strained smiled, wondering why Alec was suddenly so anxious for her to make her social debut.

"It is very kind of you to go to all this trouble for me," she replied in a rather flat voice.

"Nonsense!" Natalya exclaimed. "I am your friend, am I not? Besides, I shall doubtless enjoy it all as much as you! I've been thinking though..."

"About what?"

Natalya spread blueberry preserves generously over her warm bun.

"Well, about you. May I be frank?"

She felt an instinctive panic, for she had no wish to be frank even with herself. "I suppose so," she allowed.

"Please, do not retreat from me," Natalya pleaded as she reached out to press her hand. "I am convinced that you are in desperate need of a friend; someone your own age. I know that you talk to Grandmere, but she has told me you never discuss yourself. I would not press you on this, but I can see your heart in your eyes whenever Sacha is near!"

Caro almost spilled tea down the front of her green-and-white-striped muslin dress before she managed to return the cup to the saucer.

"Please hear me out," begged Natalya, "for your own sake! Perhaps you will not face the facts, but I can tell readily enough what they are. I knew it the first day, but I let you persuade me that black was white. You are in love with Sacha. Yes! I will not listen to your arguments, for I know what is true. I am desperately afraid that your affliction may be incurable, for I have never known a woman to make a full recovery after losing her heart to my brother. Even the cool, hardened ones are not immune; the only difference is that they have few illusions or expectations. That is why he steers away from young girls like you. What a tangle this is! I cannot think why your father knowingly set you in this snare, unless he tendered some dream that Sacha would marry you. I do not mean to sound cruel, but I must speak the truth before it is too late!"

Caro sat totally speechless, her eggs cold on the plate before her.

Natalya leaned closer. "Do you imagine that I cannot understand because I am his sister? There is something magic about him—an aura that draws people to him like moths to a flame."

"I agree," she murmured in a low voice.

"So you will admit to me that you love him? If you can face it, that will be the first step. I hope!"

When she nodded miserably, Natalya took her cue.

"There is secret about Sacha that I have not told you—a tragic mystery, if you will. Perhaps if you know this you will understand that he has truly lost his vulnerability to love." With wondering dread, Caro waited for her to continue. "Even I do not know the entire story—I have pieced it together over the last few years from different people. Apparently, Sacha met someone during the war, a lady of independence. Her parents were Tories and left the country, but she stayed behind, pledging loyalty to the patriot cause. You may know that Sacha was a spy of sorts through much of the war, and it seems that this girl—Emily, as I recall—sometimes traveled with him when he was on the road alone. His love for her made him trusting, and of course she had no parents to restrict her. The war was a time when few rules of any sort were followed; people simply lived for the moment.